Episode 48: “A Sore Loser’s Excuse”
“…Monsters?”
“Lately, our fields in Epfel Village have been attacked more often… My dad and some other men in the village have been doing night patrols. I said I wanted to help too, but they told me kids have to stay home at night.”
“Mm-hm, and then?”
Yuria nodded along, exaggeratedly encouraging, prompting Adam to continue.
“A month ago, my dad died from a spreading sickness. Since he was the one running the patrols, everyone got kind of lost without him, and more people started saying they’d just leave it to someone else and move to the city instead… my mom started saying stuff like that too.”
Wealthy landowners with large farms often had others manage their land while they lived in the city themselves.
Adam’s family was probably reasonably well-off too, in that same sense.
“But I really love Epfel Village. I want to keep living there with everyone, so I don’t want anyone to have to leave. But I also want to put my mom at ease, and I have a little sister — I want to protect her too.”
“That’s admirable, thinking about your sister like that.”
“No! It’s only natural that I’d support my family in my dad’s place. I’m the oldest son. That’s why I want my dad brought back to life, even just for one day, so he can teach me all kinds of things. If I can do that, I think I can put everyone at ease!!”
Adam looked at Yuria with eyes full of expectation. He probably assumed Yuria was the shop’s owner.
(This is going to be a pretty troublesome request, honestly…)
Going by what he’d described, whatever monster countermeasures Adam’s father had been running were most likely the kind of thing any ordinary farming village did — nothing built around magic.
Which meant they’d need to gather information from a third party as well.
Unlike the last commission, this wasn’t something Fiine’s magic alone could resolve.
And even if the commission were completed, there was no guarantee it would actually satisfy Adam.
He was determined to take his father’s place, but at the end of the day, he was still just a child.
There was no way the villagers would extend him the same trust they’d given his father.
“…U-um, the money might not be enough, maybe…”
After some hesitation, that was what finally came out of Fiine’s mouth.
Adam startled at Fiine suddenly speaking up, and Yuria introduced her.
“This is Fiine — she’s the owner of the magic doll shop. I’m her assistant, Yuria.”
“…Miss Owner. Is the money really not enough?”
Adam’s expression clouded over.
But he quickly composed himself, looking back at Fiine with eyes full of confidence.
“Then I can pay more. If I ask my mom, it’ll be fine! My family’s actually pretty rich, you know!”
Whether his family’s finances could cover it, and whether his mother — the actual head of the household — would agree to commission the magic doll shop at all, were two entirely separate questions.
Even if Adam’s mother did end up paying the fee, the client in that case would be her, not Adam himself. A contract couldn’t be formed on Adam’s wishes alone.
“So, um, we really can’t say anything for sure unless you bring your mother in, or, I mean, we just can’t take this on trust based on what we know right now…”
Hearing this, tears welled up in Adam’s eyes.
“Please, Miss Owner!!”
“Eh? Ah, no, um…”
Being bowed to through tears didn’t change reality one bit.
(This is exactly why I’m bad with kids…!)
She looked to Yuria for help, but their eyes didn’t meet.
If anything, Yuria took Adam’s hand and gave a firm, decisive nod.
“We’ll take the commission. Leave it to us.”
“H-hold on, Yuria?!”
Fiine shot to her feet without meaning to, and Yuria turned to her with a bright, cheerful smile.
“Come on, it’s not like we’ve got any other commissions lined up anyway.”
“Please!! I’ll ask my mom, and I’ll definitely have the money ready, I promise…!!”
“Ugh…”
With both of them looking straight at her, Fiine let out a sigh.
She had no way of turning this down gracefully now.
“…Whether we actually take the commission or not still depends on getting the full details first.”
All that was left for her to say was this — nothing more than a sore loser’s excuse.