A meal was offered to the unexpected visitor.
“Mmm~♪”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” was eating out of the packed biscuits, served at the back patio sofa. She raised a happy hum.
Fujiwara wanted to eat some too, but he figured she was still hungry. She was eating even the crumbs. Now, though, he was forced to attempt to keep his eyes unfocused, since the Miss had taken off her full body armor, now in her underwear.
“Would you like a second helping?”
Fujiwara raised a quiet voice, noticing the tea cup in front of her was emptied.
“Uh-huh.”
“Just a moment.”
Fujiwara retrieved the cup that was proffered, and poured into it coffee from the large thermos, and added the flavors he brought out for the guests. The primary one was goat milk, though it is quite difficult to drink on its own. However, due to its flavor and smell, it is good for Café Au Lait, giving the bitter coffee a buttery taste.
For Fujiwara it was blasphemy to add anything to this glorious, bitter coffee, but people whine ‘It’s too bitter, you can’t drink it’, so it couldn’t be helped.
“There. Please be careful, it’s still slightly hot.”
“Yes,”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” carefully sipped the coffee from the teacup, while chewing. He moved to take the bag, thinking she was satisfied, but this made her visibly angry with wide eyes, so he thought better of it. She promptly began eating more biscuits, before she let out a “…Fu,” clearly still not satisfied. Apparently, the full paper bag had run nearly empty. He scrambled to think of snacks he could make, though there was probably only (burnt) bacon and eggs.
“By the way… Is your injury really alright?”
“Hmm? Oh, uh, yes it’s all… right, mm.
It seemed as though she forgot it.
Fujiwara finally focused on the injury itself. On her pottery-like, pristine white skin was the strange-to-see purple discoloration, swollen. It was pitiful seeing it in this state. At first he had thought it was broken, but no matter how many times he pointed it out, she seemed to forget immediately after.
“I… Had to fight a Hungry Tiger while tired… and exchange this injury… for the stupid thing’s life”
“Wouldn’t it be better to treat it immediately?”
“I, mm… decline.”
“…”
Fujiwara let out a sigh.
He could guess why.
She was still hiding her roots. When going for treatment, they’d remove her full body armor. When they noticed that she was a top notch beauty with a naturally pretty face, rumors would spread and they’d look into her background.
“Nom… need to go… mm,”
“What do you mean?”
“I, uh… My hunger is satisfied, nothing scares me now.”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” explained in a way Fujiwara didn’t quite understand, laughing dauntlessly as she ate another fragment of a biscuit.
Then, Fujiwara saw the reason.
Although there was no small amount, one couldn’t see Magical Power unless they focused hard, and this young lady’s body was overflowing with absurdly high amounts of magic power. This sort of phenomenon is associated with powerful mana. In the situation where blood magic needed to be converted into magic and was consumed, if too much was let out, an overflow state could be obtained.
But, she was just eating, so Fujiwara wondered what on earth could have triggered the magic. He had seen no gestures or other triggers to cause it.
“… Are you possibly a ‘Divine Protection’ mage?”
“Yes, sort of.”
Sometimes called “Divine Protection”, some people were born with magic circuits within their body. As easy as they breathe, they can use specific magic. Of course, it still consumed their blood magic, but they didn’t need any incantation or trigger. Such a person wasn’t valuable in the time of magic, but in the Dark Ages or even into this later period, there have been people who have won wars and repainted history with this ability, too. They were often subjects of worship as ‘Living Gods’ in ancient times, but the history of this ‘Divine Protection’ ends there, as they get less attention.
“Ah, I see.”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” tendered her left arm. The injury was being healed with a scary pace. The purplish, now red, discoloration was being thinned out, and the damage was healed past the extent even a prayer from the temple could heal it.
“…”
Fujiwara finally remembered to breathe.
He understood why she was so strong. She had extremely strong magic circuits, which gave great resilience, healing, and reinforcement to her body.
When using this much magic power however, one must consume a great deal. When hungry, you’d be unable to use that magic anymore, so she couldn’t handle her armor.
“But, such a valuable thing, must it be hidden?”
Hiding such a strong “Divine Protection” is no small deal. You would get special treatment at the guild, a lot of privileges, and free work at the church.
There was no real disadvantage to allow this Divine Protection to be known. This was the same as being marked as nobility (tl: loose tl, confusing paragraph)
“Only you may know. This is a matter of fact, don’t speak about this again.”
“Yes, but,”
“You know that I told you not to tell others. You don’t need to know why.”
“I understand.”
Fujiwara had no plans on divulging her identity. The privacy of the customer is paramount.
Nothing could be gained if the customer didn’t trust you.
“…By the way, how’s the stomach?”
“Uhm, it’s full.”
“Are you satisfied? Would you like anything more?”
“I’ve had enough. It was almost too much.”
“I see, if you want more, it’s available.” While saying so, Fujiwara placed the bill on the counter in a natural movement.
“…Huh?”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” looked at the bill in confusion.
“I think it’s about time for pay. Fifty biscuits rings up to about a thousand Gerun.”
Fujiwara responded with a dazzling smile.
Of course, trusting you isn’t the main tenant of sales. Fujiwara worked in the service sector, and the top policy was ‘sales’. The reason why Fujiwara was so devoted to serving her food, gave her three refills, and even fifty biscuits, why was it?
“Huh?”
Yup. Miss Footsteps of Death made a puzzled face, unsure what to do.
◆
There’s no such thing as an unfair charge.
Obviously, those biscuits were goods to be sold. It was natural to demand money for them. Even if the customer is unaware of the gold bill, Master had a saying that, above all, “My home isn’t a charity case”, was how Fujiwara justified it.
It was totally unrelated to being threatened by letter, nearly getting killed after treating her poison and giving her free goods. It wasn’t him being spiteful over such trivial things, no, not holding a grudge. Definitely not revenge, was how he justified himself.
It was Fujiwara’s turn to be haughty.
Miss “Footsteps of Death” had turned rigid like a stone statue.
“Well. This certainly is a shop, and those biscuits are goods I ate. Therefore, the charge is OK.
“Thank you.”
‘Okay, that promise occurred’, Fujiwara was relieved.
“But, isn’t twenty Gerun a biscuit profit a bit too excessive?
“What are you saying? A customer was nearly dead out there just now. If you weren’t found, you would have starved to death, what a fearful thing. These biscuits encouraged you on. I think twenty Gerun profit is cheap as it is.”
“But, but,”
“Hey, if you won’t pay, I’ll call the militia police.”
“You’re threatening me?”
“If you can’t pay, that’s dine and dash.”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” promptly made a deep curtsey, trying to pass Fujiwara out the entranceway to leave the store. Of course, he blocked her.
“I never said that… I wouldn’t pay, I’m just saying that price is just too high…”
She lost composure, uttering a cry.
It’s mostly as she said. At the tavern-coffee-shop with the extremely long name, a biscuit was five Gerun. Even one alone was many times higher than an ordinary shop’s biscuits. For reference, one thousand Gerun was considered the amount of eating at a fancy restaurant, eating and drinking for a large group.
Fujiwara made a gesture to stop and calm down, proposing suddenly “I see. Why don’t I discount them to one Gerun for the full fifty”, after thinking for a while.
“Hold on. Why did you give this discount so suddenly?”
Fujiwara drew out his dusty business smile that he hadn’t used in years, smiling and smiling.
“Don’t you get it?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s meant to call your life worthless, a worthless frame that wouldn’t even be picked up off the roadside.”
“U, Ununununu… I’ll pay! Be nice, I’ll pay, I’ll pay a thousand Gerun! You sly glasses!”
So proud, this reaction was better than Fujiwara had hoped, but with this, the sale of the biscuits was completed.
“Thank you very much.”
Fujiwara dipped his head deeply, almost far enough for his glasses to fall off.
He remembered his master’s words in a case prior. “Seriously, I really found a vengeful, vengeful ghost, just because they were a little mean…”, though he felt those were groundless charges.
A meal was offered to the unexpected visitor.
“Mmm~♪”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” was eating out of the packed biscuits, served at the back patio sofa. She raised a happy hum.
Fujiwara wanted to eat some too, but he figured she was still hungry. She was eating even the crumbs. Now, though, he was forced to attempt to keep his eyes unfocused, since the Miss had taken off her full body armor, now in her underwear.
“Would you like a second helping?”
Fujiwara raised a quiet voice, noticing the tea cup in front of her was emptied.
“Uh-huh.”
“Just a moment.”
Fujiwara retrieved the cup that was proffered, and poured into it coffee from the large thermos, and added the flavors he brought out for the guests. The primary one was goat milk, though it is quite difficult to drink on its own. However, due to its flavor and smell, it is good for Café Au Lait, giving the bitter coffee a buttery taste.
For Fujiwara it was blasphemy to add anything to this glorious, bitter coffee, but people whine ‘It’s too bitter, you can’t drink it’, so it couldn’t be helped.
“There. Please be careful, it’s still slightly hot.”
“Yes,”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” carefully sipped the coffee from the teacup, while chewing. He moved to take the bag, thinking she was satisfied, but this made her visibly angry with wide eyes, so he thought better of it. She promptly began eating more biscuits, before she let out a “…Fu,” clearly still not satisfied. Apparently, the full paper bag had run nearly empty. He scrambled to think of snacks he could make, though there was probably only (burnt) bacon and eggs.
“By the way… Is your injury really alright?”
“Hmm? Oh, uh, yes it’s all… right, mm.
It seemed as though she forgot it.
Fujiwara finally focused on the injury itself. On her pottery-like, pristine white skin was the strange-to-see purple discoloration, swollen. It was pitiful seeing it in this state. At first he had thought it was broken, but no matter how many times he pointed it out, she seemed to forget immediately after.
“I… Had to fight a Hungry Tiger while tired… and exchange this injury… for the stupid thing’s life”
“Wouldn’t it be better to treat it immediately?”
“I, mm… decline.”
“…”
Fujiwara let out a sigh.
He could guess why.
She was still hiding her roots. When going for treatment, they’d remove her full body armor. When they noticed that she was a top notch beauty with a naturally pretty face, rumors would spread and they’d look into her background.
“Nom… need to go… mm,”
“What do you mean?”
“I, uh… My hunger is satisfied, nothing scares me now.”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” explained in a way Fujiwara didn’t quite understand, laughing dauntlessly as she ate another fragment of a biscuit.
Then, Fujiwara saw the reason.
Although there was no small amount, one couldn’t see Magical Power unless they focused hard, and this young lady’s body was overflowing with absurdly high amounts of magic power. This sort of phenomenon is associated with powerful mana. In the situation where blood magic needed to be converted into magic and was consumed, if too much was let out, an overflow state could be obtained.
But, she was just eating, so Fujiwara wondered what on earth could have triggered the magic. He had seen no gestures or other triggers to cause it.
“… Are you possibly a ‘Divine Protection’ mage?”
“Yes, sort of.”
Sometimes called “Divine Protection”, some people were born with magic circuits within their body. As easy as they breathe, they can use specific magic. Of course, it still consumed their blood magic, but they didn’t need any incantation or trigger. Such a person wasn’t valuable in the time of magic, but in the Dark Ages or even into this later period, there have been people who have won wars and repainted history with this ability, too. They were often subjects of worship as ‘Living Gods’ in ancient times, but the history of this ‘Divine Protection’ ends there, as they get less attention.
“Ah, I see.”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” tendered her left arm. The injury was being healed with a scary pace. The purplish, now red, discoloration was being thinned out, and the damage was healed past the extent even a prayer from the temple could heal it.
“…”
Fujiwara finally remembered to breathe.
He understood why she was so strong. She had extremely strong magic circuits, which gave great resilience, healing, and reinforcement to her body.
When using this much magic power however, one must consume a great deal. When hungry, you’d be unable to use that magic anymore, so she couldn’t handle her armor.
“But, such a valuable thing, must it be hidden?”
Hiding such a strong “Divine Protection” is no small deal. You would get special treatment at the guild, a lot of privileges, and free work at the church.
There was no real disadvantage to allow this Divine Protection to be known. This was the same as being marked as nobility (tl: loose tl, confusing paragraph)
“Only you may know. This is a matter of fact, don’t speak about this again.”
“Yes, but,”
“You know that I told you not to tell others. You don’t need to know why.”
“I understand.”
Fujiwara had no plans on divulging her identity. The privacy of the customer is paramount.
Nothing could be gained if the customer didn’t trust you.
“…By the way, how’s the stomach?”
“Uhm, it’s full.”
“Are you satisfied? Would you like anything more?”
“I’ve had enough. It was almost too much.”
“I see, if you want more, it’s available.” While saying so, Fujiwara placed the bill on the counter in a natural movement.
“…Huh?”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” looked at the bill in confusion.
“I think it’s about time for pay. Fifty biscuits rings up to about a thousand Gerun.”
Fujiwara responded with a dazzling smile.
Of course, trusting you isn’t the main tenant of sales. Fujiwara worked in the service sector, and the top policy was ‘sales’. The reason why Fujiwara was so devoted to serving her food, gave her three refills, and even fifty biscuits, why was it?
“Huh?”
Yup. Miss Footsteps of Death made a puzzled face, unsure what to do.
◆
There’s no such thing as an unfair charge.
Obviously, those biscuits were goods to be sold. It was natural to demand money for them. Even if the customer is unaware of the gold bill, Master had a saying that, above all, “My home isn’t a charity case”, was how Fujiwara justified it.
It was totally unrelated to being threatened by letter, nearly getting killed after treating her poison and giving her free goods. It wasn’t him being spiteful over such trivial things, no, not holding a grudge. Definitely not revenge, was how he justified himself.
It was Fujiwara’s turn to be haughty.
Miss “Footsteps of Death” had turned rigid like a stone statue.
“Well. This certainly is a shop, and those biscuits are goods I ate. Therefore, the charge is OK.
“Thank you.”
‘Okay, that promise occurred’, Fujiwara was relieved.
“But, isn’t twenty Gerun a biscuit profit a bit too excessive?
“What are you saying? A customer was nearly dead out there just now. If you weren’t found, you would have starved to death, what a fearful thing. These biscuits encouraged you on. I think twenty Gerun profit is cheap as it is.”
“But, but,”
“Hey, if you won’t pay, I’ll call the militia police.”
“You’re threatening me?”
“If you can’t pay, that’s dine and dash.”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” promptly made a deep curtsey, trying to pass Fujiwara out the entranceway to leave the store. Of course, he blocked her.
“I never said that… I wouldn’t pay, I’m just saying that price is just too high…”
She lost composure, uttering a cry.
It’s mostly as she said. At the tavern-coffee-shop with the extremely long name, a biscuit was five Gerun. Even one alone was many times higher than an ordinary shop’s biscuits. For reference, one thousand Gerun was considered the amount of eating at a fancy restaurant, eating and drinking for a large group.
Fujiwara made a gesture to stop and calm down, proposing suddenly “I see. Why don’t I discount them to one Gerun for the full fifty”, after thinking for a while.
“Hold on. Why did you give this discount so suddenly?”
Fujiwara drew out his dusty business smile that he hadn’t used in years, smiling and smiling.
“Don’t you get it?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s meant to call your life worthless, a worthless frame that wouldn’t even be picked up off the roadside.”
“U, Ununununu… I’ll pay! Be nice, I’ll pay, I’ll pay a thousand Gerun! You sly glasses!”
So proud, this reaction was better than Fujiwara had hoped, but with this, the sale of the biscuits was completed.
“Thank you very much.”
Fujiwara dipped his head deeply, almost far enough for his glasses to fall off.
He remembered his master’s words in a case prior. “Seriously, I really found a vengeful, vengeful ghost, just because they were a little mean…”, though he felt those were groundless charges.
