A while later, Eureka scanned Jon’s coffin and nodded in satisfaction. “The corruption has slowed down. He has enough strength to endure several months without experiencing any further damages. But after that… the corruption will continue until it kills him in about two years.”
“We’re successful. At a great price.” Eureka glanced at all the bottles scattered on the floor and flinched. “How much did these cost you? Twenty thousand crystals? Well, glad you dragged him away from death’s door just a bit.”
Eureka truly meant her words—she could find more about Jon’s secrets this way.
Although Angor was no way near satisfied. Before coming back to the Old Earth, he thought he could at least make Jon last for 20 years or so. If so, he would have enough time to find a thorough cure. Yet… the remaining time was cut down to ten percent.
“You look so sad. Wasn’t planning to spend so much money, eh?” said Eureka.
“I bought these potions to help my teacher. There’s nothing to be sad about. Miss Eureka, we… can’t wake him up from the coffin, can we?”
“You want to talk to him?”
“Yes.”
“You can. But this will, of course, allow the corruption to work faster. Without the ice coffin, he only has about two weeks. Didn’t you say that you will find a way to cure him?” Eureka crossed her arms and gave Angor an “I dare you to try” look.
“I meant it, and I will.” Angor was encouraging himself rather than answering Eureka’s question.
“I’ll wait for your success then.” Eureka walked away.
Angor spoke again before Eureka fully left from the entrance.
“Whatever happens to Jon, he must be free.”
“Free? Pfft. The moment he set foot in this world, a pair of invisible and unbreakable shackles already locked him in place. The world’s consciousness will judge, then determine his end. Or a wizard might find him first and deal with him. Which do you prefer?
“Even someone like us can’t find true freedom, much less a mortal.”
When Eureka’s distant voice could no longer be heard, Angor remained behind, left in his own thoughts.
He partially agreed with what Eureka said. In fact, even Angor himself wasn’t sure whether he was helping or denying Jon’s freedom by keeping him alive in a coffin.
However, he wasn’t going to worry about this problem too much. His only wish right now was to revive Jon. All other disagreements or moral disputes had to wait.
He spent the rest of the day in the ice room until he made sure he’d never forget the tarnished form of his dear teacher.
…
The sun was bright today, and the entire vicinity of the manor smelled like fresh flowers.
Angor made plans to shut himself in a seclusion period to look for solutions. Before doing so, he had to have a talk with Tulu first. He was a recruiter of Brute Cavern, and he didn’t wish to leave Tulu hanging in Grue Town should the seclusion take him too long.
At the manor’s gate, he saw Auri running to him with a big smile while carrying a food basket.
“Head Maid Mana made some milk crunchies for you, young master!” Auri looked at Angor’s gentlemanly look and blushed. She was fully aware that she was only a house servant, but she couldn’t help it.
“I picked up some different tastes while I was away, but I still like these. Tell her that I said thanks.” Angor accepted the basket while trying not to dig in right here.
He stored the basket in his bracelet and kept heading away. Auri quickly caught up with him.
“Anything else you need?” Angor gave her a curious look.
“But, sir, I used to be your personal servant. What are you doing these days? Please tell me if I can help you!”
“Huh? Oh, there’s no need. I’m already used to being alone—”
Auri’s eyes almost watered up.
“Sigh… Alright. I do have a favor to ask.” Angor made sure the maid wasn’t sobbing. “I need you to summon Mana and my brother to the main hall later. I have something to tell them.”
Auri happily hopped away to do her errand.
Angor wasn’t lying, he did need to introduce someone to his family—the Krakoks.
While on his way back outside, he saw all the servants working in the fields or gardens giving him polite salutations, and he also returned the gestures.
The farmer who tried to chase Angor away the other day sighed in great relief. He was glad that the young master of the family was so kind and tolerant like how others used to tell him.
Angor moved to the fence gate of the manor. He glanced at the owl that was pretending to be sleeping on a tree and walked outside.
On his way to the sheriff’s hut, many people in town also greeted him nicely. Grue Town was a small place, and most of its inhabitants remembered him from his childhood.
“Did you finish your study, Mister Padt?” An old, smoking scholar called out to Angor while sitting under the shade of a tree.
“Mister Parsel! Did Mister Dim teach you to use a hookah?”
“It’s the other way round, boy. Dim learned this from me. That peasant from a remote village wouldn’t have heard about this wonderful creation of humanity if not for me telling him. And he smokes way more often!”
“Often my a*s, you old fart. You’re just too broke to buy more leaves, aren’t ya?” another bulky man said while walking out of a house nearby.
Dim was Parsel’s neighbor, and the only blacksmith in town. Dim used to work for Padt Manor, but Angor’s father allowed Dim to get an early retirement when the man found a wife.
Dim and Parsel had been neighbors and friends for decades. Outsiders wouldn’t see them as friends because these two tended to talk to each other by swearing, which was their usual means of communication.
“The viscount can’t wait to see you back, my friend!” Dim greeted Angor while forcefully taking Parsel’s smoking instrument. “Don’t do this sh*t in front of Mister Padt, aye? Aren’t you some big-a*s bookworm from a famous institute? Know your manners.”
“Cough… What do you know about manners? You always kept this thing in your hand when talking to Mister Padt several years ago!”
“I’m worried about you, you fool! Go find a doctor and have your throat checked, will ya??”
Parsel wanted to get his hookah back but failed to do so since Dim was both younger and stronger.
“Damn you. I know you want to give up smoking for whatever reason, but don’t force this on me!”
Angor watched them arguing without interfering in any way. As he remembered, blacksmith Dim used to be the big smoker. He wondered what happened in these four years that reversed the situation.
“Huh? Nothing big happened to the town,” Dim said, after hearing Angor’s question. “Only those refugee f*ckers. They always sneak into town and take our stuff when no one’s looking. Heck, one day, I saw an asshole pulling Parsel’s cattle away. When we found them, they already set up a fire and enjoyed their meat. Curses… Even if George can lock up some of them in prison, it won’t help us. Those b*stards are desperate, you know? They have nothing left.”
Parsel moaned, “That animal was my friend! And they ate him…”
“They have nothing left…” Angor muttered.
“Yup. And we can’t just go out there and kill people randomly, so this only left us with one option, which is to constantly keep an eye out for them. But their number is increasing, I tell ya.” Dim spat out a smoke ring. “When is this freaking war going to end? If this keeps on, the entire Yamei won’t be so safe to us.”
“He’s right.” Parsel agreed along. “I sure don’t want to become one of them one day, I need some smoke every day to calm my mind—hey, Dim! Why are you smoking MY pipe? Give it here!”
Parsel and Dim began to wrestle with each other again.
“Don’t worry about it.” Angor gave them a determined look. “Grue Town will be safe even if the entire Goldspink falls.”
Parsel and Dim had no idea why Angor could say such a thing, but they somehow felt reassured when looking at Angor’s sincere attitude.
They watched Angor go away. Parsel stopped going for his hookah and said to his neighbor, “I don’t know why, but I feel better all of a sudden.”
“Same here.” Dim nodded. “Seeing young Padt back, I have the feeling that Grue Town is in good hands. I mean, an extra pair of good hands.”
“Do you think Padt Manor will lift their bars and return to their usual?”
