Volume 6 Chapter 49 I’m King
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Recently, my castle—often called Sabroa Castle—has been growing in popularity. As I stepped into the rooftop garden of the second bailey, Sar-Sar spotted me and hurried over, clutching a shovel.
Behind her, a fluffy little hen dashed about, chased closely by a cluster of tiny yellow chicks, their soft chirping filling the air. I guess that’s why they’re called chicks—because they go “hiyo hiyo.”
”Welcome back, Master!” Sar-Sar called out cheerfully.
Without thinking, I scooped her up into a high lift.
”No, that’s not what I meant!” she protested, a bit annoyed.
The village kids love this, but I’m pretty sure there’s a cultural gap here.
This building was originally meant to be the base of a towering spire, but we stopped construction. It would have seemed too ambitious, and with lightning striking tall towers, people might say it was the wrath of the gods. Ironically, a lightning rod would have made it safer.
Though the tower never rose, the rooftop is slightly elevated and gets plenty of unobstructed sunlight. Seeing the potential, I thought of turning it into a hanging garden. But when we put a thin layer of soil down, Sar-Sar started raising chickens here. So now it’s all her domain.
At my feet, delicate flowers that look like portulaca are blooming wildly. The chickens peck at them mercilessly, but the flowers multiply even faster. New vines stretch over ten centimeters overnight. They’re not as aggressive as wall barley, but they’re tough.
Sometimes, these flowers show up on the dining table. They taste a little green, sour, and slimy—like aloe vera, maybe? Whatever they are, they seem healthy enough.
Covering the rooftop with this greenery might help cool things down in the hot season ahead. Below, about twenty households live here, including Sar-Sar’s family.
There are still plenty of vacant rooms. I thought about turning them into barracks or workshops, but that would ruin the peace of this place.
Noise is a real problem. Maybe soundproof walls? No, we have enough land—we should separate residential areas from industrial zones completely. Mixing them is dangerous. We need to keep life healthy and cultural.
I worried about the chickens making the place smell bad, but so far, it’s been fine. Sar-Sar takes excellent care of them.
Already, about ten young birds are running around, having shed their downy fluff. Chickens breed fast, and they’re perfect for food. We grow plenty of barley for feed, and unless whales show up, we can keep increasing their numbers.
”Are you going to eat those chicks?” Sar-Sar asked, looking up at me with concern.
If I said yes, she might run off with the chickens.
”It’s not good to have too many. That’s what the important person at the church said.”
”I’m properly managing the numbers,” I replied. “They say up to eighty birds is okay.”
Ah, so you’re really following the church’s rules. Different from Hero Farm’s free-range style.
Cramming chickens into cages is super efficient, but if you have strict breeding limits, it doesn’t matter. Chickens raised with little movement have fattier, tender meat and are popular with some food connoisseurs in this world.
Hunting quail might be faster than raising chickens, but even small girls can handle chickens, so it’s more practical. Plus, fresh eggs are a huge advantage.
In this world, eggs are more of a luxury than meat. Hard to compare with Japan, but imagine a leather craftsman working all day just to afford one egg. It feels like tens of thousands of yen—like Matsutake mushrooms.
Hero Farm disrupted the market by selling eggs at discount for a while, causing chaos. I wonder how it will settle.
I use eggs Sar-Sar delivers to show off my maxed-out cooking skills.
Because everyone expects eggs to make food delicious, I can’t surprise them much with mayonnaise or pudding. They always say, “This is super delicious, isn’t it?”
Egg recipes similar to those on Earth have been known among foodies here for a long time. I might as well give up on trying to impress with eggs alone.
Honestly, a simple sunny-side-up egg might be the most luxurious way to enjoy eggs—pure and simple. Above all, I love it.
”Ah, it’s the king!”
”Your Majesty!”
Kids from the royal capital group appeared in a swarm, Malik among them. They all held seedlings.
”We learned about cuttings from Sister Erin,” one said.
”Sister Erin is amazing. All her cuttings take root.”
Well, she’s an elf, so it makes sense. I’ve heard elves can hear the language of plants.
It sounds crazy, but it seems they can sense signals plants emit.
Even with cheat-like Mind Communication, talking to plants would be impossible. Well, maybe with Al Raune, it could work. I should try it someday.
The children planted seedlings next to the hedge. So that’s buddy lemon, huh? It’s still small, but with cuttings, it might bear fruit in a few years.
I’ll need to transplant them somewhere bigger. Maybe an orchard?
If I let chickens roam the orchard, though, won’t they eat wall barley seeds mixed in?
Wall barley is worse than weeds—it’s a serious pest. I think keeping chickens away from there is smart. The downside is fewer chickens.
In the experimental rice field I made, carp farming is going well, better than ducks.
If I raise ducks, whales might appear and cause trouble, so carp it is.
In Japan, there’s a method called koi farming, but I personally prefer loaches for eating. It might seem gross at first, but grilled loach beats eel.
Sadly, there are no loaches here. Crucian carp seem a bit different from Japan’s too, but that’s expected in another world.
I wanted to keep watching the chicks pecking around, but I needed to move on.
By now, Shea-Shea must know I’m back. I have to show myself soon or she’ll get upset.
I walked slowly, lost in thought, until I reached the office. Inside, I felt Shea-Shea’s presence.
I’d been slacking, pushing work onto her, so facing her felt awkward.
No, I’m a king! I just need to stay dignified.
I knocked, took a deep breath, and stepped inside confidently.
My right hand and right foot moved forward together—that’s the ancient martial art called “number walking.”
”Ah, Your Majesty, you’ve returned. I apologize for being busy and not greeting you sooner.”
Shea-Shea’s tone was unusually formal. This was bad. She was angry.
Her eyes were sharp, not smiling at all. It was intimidating.
My combat strength is higher than hers, and I’m the king, but somehow I felt like I couldn’t win. Unfair.
I decided to apologize anyway. That’s probably best.
”I’m sorry. I had important matters to attend to. I regret causing trouble without consulting you.”
”Miss Floria said those in power should not apologize lightly. Do you still not understand?”
Oops. That made her even angrier.
”I’m sorry, but in Japanese culture, apologizing is a virtue…”
I tried to smooth over the tension with a simple apology.
”Culture of another world is irrelevant. Understand that careless apologies equal surrender. Got it?”
She told me a story about a king who lost his country by apologizing too easily to his subordinates.
Even though it was a lecture, it was interesting. But I felt treated like a child.
I’m used to Miss Floria treating me like a kid, but Shea-Shea is younger. That felt weirdly embarrassing.
Maybe I understand a little the feelings of a perverted gentleman who enjoys baby play?
”If that’s the case, I won’t apologize. Sorry for pushing all the work onto you suddenly… it must’ve been tough. I thought I could leave everything to you, Shea-Shea.”
I didn’t want to act high and mighty, but I want dignity and presence.
Maybe gaining weight, growing a beard, or a deeper voice would help… but no rush.
”Thank you for overestimating me. I only do what I can. There’s a pile of work waiting for Your Majesty’s approval. Please manage it well.”
Shea-Shea pointed to a neat stack of straw paper by the desk.
In our country, we decided to use straw paper for everything except diplomatic or important documents. Compared to parchment, it costs less than a fraction and is very thin.
Even the Adventurer Guild rarely uses parchment anymore. It’s practical.
Straw paper is weak against fire and water and gets tattered in ten years, but for daily office work, it’s fine.
Nobles refusing to use it are just stubborn.
Thin paper is mass-produced now in Mr. Ginchi’s workshop. It pairs perfectly with the ten-year pen, allowing smooth writing.
Mr. Ginchi improved the pen based on fountain pens brought by summoned heroes. It’s an eyedropper type and extremely durable. The claim it lasts a thousand years is a lie, hence the “ten-year pen” name.
Before, fountain pen copies circulated mostly in the royal capital, but Mr. Ginchi’s workshop is on another level—probably better than Earth’s. The price is reasonable too, just a few gold coins.
Still, it’s expensive for commoners. Shea-Shea was the first among my acquaintances to use it.
Miss Floria loved it so much she bought dozens at once.
Compared to quill pens that need constant sharpening, these are convenient.
I bought many for office use, but they disappeared quickly—everyone secretly took one home.
Yakou caught the culprit but ignored it since most were acquaintances.
The culture is different, and it’s my fault for leaving them unguarded.
So, I personally engraved names on all civil servants’ pens and gifted better ones than the stolen ones.
I did the engraving myself, but Mr. Ginchi asked if I wanted to make it a side job. I’m the king—this put me in a bind.
By the way, Mr. Ginchi and Zenom have reconciled without me noticing.
They thanked me, but I don’t remember doing anything special.
Their fight was over something trivial. Maybe time healed it.
They’ll probably share their story someday—the tale of craftsmen once called masters, filled with rivalry and friendship.
The fountain pen Shea-Shea uses now is my present. It’s an early prototype with her name engraved.
I cut a tiny jewel and set it in the fitting, making it special and slightly decorative.
Actually, you can find many tiny jewels in the nearby sand.
They’re too small to process and basically worthless, but I used all my skills to cut them brilliantly.
They sparkle beautifully despite their size. I used sapphire for excellent clarity and color.
Cutting the stone was tedious, but setting it with prongs was detailed work.
Without my skill, it would’ve taken forever.
Only the best dwarves can do such precise work. It’s not just craftsmanship, but the sense to make small things look good.
I realized how meticulous I am making it—half proud, half self-critical.
I used gold and mithril lavishly in the clasp, but the material cost was negligible because it’s so small.
Still, the girls love it, thinking it’s cute, so it was worth it as a gift.
It’s handmade, labor-intensive, but not expensive.
When I gave one to Miss Floria, she bragged about it to noble friends.
That caused a surge in custom orders for micro jewelry, confusing the dwarves.
I think it’s a business opportunity, but dwarves prefer large gems.
Supply is low, so the market might fizzle before the trend grows.
Too bad.
If I weren’t king, I’d try to mass-produce them. Oh, the Valley of Trials… No, Uno would definitely scold me.
I want to perfect my craft more than rule as king.
If Ms. Nina revives, I’d like to run a blacksmith shop with her—that feels more like me.
Mass-producing rings like a fool for Uno was frustrating but fun in hindsight.
I’d like to do it again someday.
Helping Mr. Ginchi develop gadgets from other worlds also sounds exciting.
Let those who love war and politics handle that.
How did it come to this?
But the world isn’t safe for craftsmen to work peacefully.
Non-dwarf craftsmen have it rough, and I want to improve that.
I also want to fix food, especially taste, and succeed at rice farming.
Looks like I have to keep being king. I’ll do my best.
Shea-Shea finished another document smoothly and added it to the growing pile.
I battled mountains of paperwork at Tizzy’s place, but here, these thin papers mean way more pages for the same stack height.
Thousands of pages… just looking makes me dizzy.
Thankfully, Shea-Shea’s handwriting is beautiful, and she summarizes well.
Compared to this, Tizzy’s subordinates’ documents were like puzzles.
Shea-Shea alone equals the work of ten mediocre clerks.
No, if those clerks are incompetent, they create more useless work.
I’d choose one Shea-Shea over a hundred of Tizzy’s people.
I now see how valuable a competent bureaucrat is.
Miss Floria spotted Shea-Shea’s talent instantly. Amazing.
Mr. Laken made this talented woman do menial cafeteria work. Foolish.
Let’s learn from him as a bad example.
He was mediocre but not incompetent.
We must find talented people buried in obscurity.
I don’t have an eye for talent, but I rely on those who do.
Of course, many jobs don’t need talent.
The goal is to put the right people in the right roles.
It’s a mix of highs and lows.
Luckily, as a new nation, we aren’t bound by family lineage or tradition.
That alone gives us a big advantage now.
Working silently alongside Shea-Shea, we steadily tackled the mountain of paperwork before us. By the time the maid came to light the lamps, we had already completed nearly half of it.
The vegetable oil lamp cast a dim glow—hardly ideal for detailed work—but Shea-Shea supplemented it with light magic, filling the room with a gentle, steady brightness that didn’t strain the eyes.
Spending time like this alone with a cute girl was more than enough motivation. Shea-Shea, who half-jokingly called herself my fiancée, probably had some feelings for me… I think. Maybe.
It was a nice atmosphere. Maybe I was lucky after all. This kind of moment, quietly working side by side, would probably become a precious memory someday. Not in a romantic sense—just… peaceful. Fulfilling.
But no matter how warm the feeling, hours of focused work start to take a toll. Even if she was highly capable, Shea-Shea wasn’t a cheat character from a game. Overworking could wear down anyone.
”Shea-Shea, aren’t you getting tired? Let’s call it a day,” I suggested gently.
”No. We must finish today’s tasks. If we don’t, the lower departments will suffer for it.”
Her voice wasn’t sharp or accusing. She was simply stating facts. No sarcasm, just responsibility.
Too serious for her own good. Not just strict with others—but even harsher with herself. If left unchecked, she’d work herself into the ground.
”Having a strong sense of duty is admirable, but you need to look after your health too,” I said, trying to sound encouraging.
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she gave me a sharp look, eyes intense with urgency.
”It’s almost harvesting season. The settlement period is coming. If the people can’t pay even a single gold coin, some of them may fall into slavery.”
”I understand. But we’ve already consolidated their debts into one manageable account to prevent that, haven’t we?”
The cardinal once mocked me for being too kindhearted. But I wasn’t trying to be a saint. I expected the people to work and repay what they could. It was unrealistic to expect full repayment from everyone, but as long as we stayed in the black overall, that was fine.
Besides, it cost resources to train them. If we lost our workers to slavery because of short-term debts, it would be a bigger loss in the long run.
And then there was the issue of leaked skills. Even the simplest know-how was hard to recreate from scratch. Letting other lords acquire that knowledge would be a painful mistake.
”Your Majesty’s subjects are fortunate. But people in other countries aren’t. Half the world’s trade now passes through our kingdom. Please don’t forget the extent of your influence.”
If distribution were delayed, even by a few days, or if scheduled cargo failed to arrive before the settlement date… it could cause a tragedy. The kind of nightmare you’d expect in *The Merchant of Venice.*
I hadn’t thought much about the situation outside our borders. I suppose things like that had always happened. But Shea-Shea wanted to change that.
Mr. Raoh once said that simply improving the distribution hub wouldn’t be enough. Still, in just a short time, the traffic had increased dramatically.
Maybe it was due to the financial year-end, but the number of carts entering and exiting the capital had clearly skyrocketed compared to the previous year. And even if we’d had the space back then, the city wouldn’t have been ready to handle that volume.
It reminded me of Japan’s era of rapid economic growth—how building better roads boosted the entire economy. Maybe this world was entering a similar phase.
At first, I just wanted to build things with concrete. But now, everything I did had ripple effects—some bringing happiness, others hardship. It felt like too much, sometimes. Still, if more people ended up smiling, maybe it was okay.
”I get how you feel. But Shea-Shea, you don’t have to push yourself so hard. We should celebrate—our reforms have already saved a lot of lives.”
In every decision, there were good and bad outcomes. People often forgot the good quickly and remembered the bad for far too long.
No matter what I did, someone would resent me for it. That was fine. I’d take all the blame. If anyone should be the villain, let it be the king from another world.
Pushing those thoughts aside, we quietly continued working overtime.
So this is what they call unpaid overtime, huh? Being an adult’s no joke. Not that I’d even thought about overtime pay before.
This world didn’t really have standardized timekeeping, after all. No clocks. Just sunrise, sunset, and midday.
From what I observed, most people got up with the sun, ate, worked for a while, and stopped when it felt right.
Officials typically started around noon and went home by sunset. That’s about four to six hours of work per day. It might sound easier than Japan’s full-time grind, but without modern appliances, even daily life outside work was exhausting.
People without jobs often spent their entire day at home, supported by simple staples like wall barley.
Even among nobles, there was a culture of chatting over duties and heading home once tired. Honestly, many probably didn’t work a full hour. Miss Floria, though, always seemed buried in work—probably a side effect of how capable people were constantly loaded with more tasks.
As for night shift guards, a three-shift rotation seemed standard. But since they decided it among themselves, some might be on duty nearly all night, depending on their stamina.
From an Earthling’s perspective, there was a lot to criticize in this world’s work culture. But maybe no one had ever thought to change it before because things somehow kept running.
Still, if we were going to fix it, now seemed like a good time.
I wanted to create a system where responsible people wouldn’t be the ones constantly getting burned. I considered introducing a timekeeping system but leaned toward performance-based rewards instead.
Independent craftsmen already earned more based on effort, and many of them worked relentlessly. But I’d also seen examples of governments forcing unrealistic productivity and ending up with disastrous results.
In the end, every decision fell on me.
Being a king carried far more weight than any Japanese politician. If we had a parliament, at least the power and the blame could be shared.
Interestingly, there had been democratic movements in this world’s past. Some city-states still held votes—though only to choose a festival’s main character. A trace of lost ideals, perhaps.
Back on Earth, I used to think democracy was the ultimate system and monarchy was a relic. But now… I wasn’t so sure.
Fashion and politics both seemed to follow the lead of the strongest power at the time. Currently, that meant the Larse Empire and the Totoana Empire—yet their systems were nearly identical.
Speaking of which, Princess Auroora belonged to the Totoana faction. Aligning with a major bloc would stabilize our position, eventually. But we had to choose carefully. Backing the wrong horse could be fatal.
I wanted to consult Miss Floria, but she was in the capital, and we’d just missed each other—thanks to some meddling from the cardinal.
Guess I’d have to ask Mr. Raoh instead.
* * *
The teleportation gate located beneath the castle was the most important facility in our entire kingdom.
It wasn’t just a trade link to the Dwarf Kingdom far in the north. It also provided rapid access to remote mines and ancient ruins rich in mysterious artifacts.
Combined with the capacity of my magic bag, it effectively made our country a resource powerhouse, closely tied to the world’s leading industrial and technological advancements.
Honestly, it felt like a cheat code. If we truly wanted to, we might even conquer the world. Not that I ever planned to.
Still, it did bother me that the underground prison was located so close to such a vital structure. Even though thick concrete walls separated them, it felt risky.
But according to the dwarves, building a prison beneath the castle was a longstanding tradition—aesthetic and symbolic. Apparently, most castles in this world followed that blueprint. I couldn’t help but think it was a security oversight.
Ironically, the prison had never been used. It was pristine. It contained various cell types—spacious ones, cramped ones, solitary confinement. I’d heard that back in the day, royal jailers were well-versed in the traditions of incarceration. These days, it wasn’t necessary to hire specialists.
In short, I could assign prisoners randomly, and it wouldn’t matter much. Of course, I still intended to treat them humanely.
I stepped into a solitary cell meant for nobles. A bit bare, but not bad. If I had to be locked up, this wouldn’t be the worst place.
With a rug and some tapestries, it could become a fairly comfortable space. Thanks to the underground setting, the temperature stayed pleasant year-round.
Compared to the dungeon in Castor’s mansion, it was a huge upgrade—especially in terms of waste disposal. This castle had proper plumbing. Flushing toilets gave off the scent of civilization. While not quite a washlet, the bidet system was popular, particularly among the women.
Honestly, it seemed like a waste not to use such a fine prison.
The holding cells in the guardhouse were already seeing plenty of use—mainly for drunkards. I might borrow some ideas from that.
And now, the time had finally come to use this prison properly. It felt like all that preparation had been for this very moment.
Should I start taking out the prisoners I’d stored in the magic bag? But first, I needed to consult the jailer.
I’d considered asking the Antfolk, but they were busy managing the rice fields. Burdening them with extra duties would lower the quality of their work.
Instead, I decided to ask Oka, the orc girl, and Rin, the goblin girl. It was simple work—feeding the prisoners through a small door. Should be manageable.
This time, the prisoners weren’t the docile ones I’d rescued from the Castor estate. These were the Gorigan soldiers captured in Hollowvale—forty-seven in total. I wasn’t even sure we had enough solitary cells.
For now, I pulled the first one out of the magic bag.
”It’s dark! I can’t see! Help me!!”
What an unseemly outburst for a warrior. Couldn’t even handle darkness?
”Calm down. Behave, and you’ll be treated.”
”Are you with the Duke? Is this a temple? I surrendered properly! Sir Baron Gorigan will pay the ransom, so treat me already! I can’t see—what’s wrong with my eyes!?”
Negotiations with Baron Gorigan would probably start soon, but from what Tizzy predicted, the man had no intention of paying ransom. His plan was likely to stall, hoping we’d get tired of holding the prisoners.
That might’ve worked on the soft-hearted Duke Mineley. Not on me.
Worst case, I could sell them to the Great Temple. It wouldn’t earn much, but it saved me the trouble of managing them. I didn’t care about profit—if Gorigan suffered damage, that was good enough.
Of course, the prisoners had been teleported directly, not stored in a bag. From their perspective, barely any time had passed since the invasion.
I hadn’t even deployed the Indra Gun yet… This was going to be tricky.
But if I kept them in the dark for a few days, I could fudge the timeline. With no sense of time, they’d have no way of knowing how long they’d been here.
I planned to divide their meals into seven small portions a day. Even if they got suspicious, without any proof, it would hold.
They kept whining about treatment, so I pulled out an old potion from the magic bag—one of my failed practice brews—and poured it on the first prisoner.
It fizzed impressively, but it had no real healing effect. Still, it didn’t hurt them either. Just the right balance. The placebo seemed to calm them.
Pitch-black cells were probably unsettling. I made a makeshift bean lamp using a dish of oil and a wick. It wouldn’t last an hour, but if they slept quickly, they’d be fine.
”This is a magic-sealing collar. Break it, and the cost will be added to your ransom.”
That part was a lie. It was just a failed prototype. Still, it looked the part.
The collar was fake, but this place truly did seal magic and skills.
The dwarves had embedded a massive sealing formation into the floor during construction. Without a special key, proper mana control became impossible.
Not entirely unusable, but extremely difficult. A few might still manage minor enhancements or cause overloads, but for most, it was enough.
Of course, true experts would need specialized items to restrain.
If someone escaped despite all this, I’d consider recruiting them. Practical magic talent was rare and valuable.
I didn’t care for scholars who only knew theory. According to the spirits, current magic theory was fundamentally flawed anyway.
Once the prisoners learned they could be ransomed, they became surprisingly compliant. But Baron Gorigan likely wouldn’t pay for his underlings.
Serving a poor lord was a sad fate. In the end, money decided everything—no matter the world.
To save space, the better-behaved ones were grouped together. They disliked solitary confinement. Most feared being alone.
Four of them claimed to be nobles. Seemed like trouble, so I gave them solitary cells. When I threatened to send them to the Grand Temple, they quieted down quickly. I’d heard the Temple was full of greedy priests—it must be worse than I thought.
Once everything was settled, I left instructions with Oka and Rin. Their job was simple: give bread and water at regular intervals.
Still… this was their first time working independently. Would the two of them be okay?
I could only hope.
Notes:
• Malik – A brave slum boy who tried to protect a girl from Agito, a summoned hero, and was helped by the main character after being injured. The main character sees him as courageous and worthy of respect, noting his toughness and life-or-death resolve to protect the girl, whom he seems to care for deeply.
• Erin – A timeless elf living in a quiet cabin surrounded by bees, Ms. Erin is over 100 years old and once the wife of a wealthy villager. After her husband’s death, she gave up luxury to live simply, sharing rare honey with select villagers—mostly children. Graceful yet intimidating, she’s known for her mysterious beauty, ageless presence, and surprising fondness for meat. She occasionally grants small blessings to the MC—subtle enchantments or quiet words that linger with unexpected power.
• Shea-Shea – Mauro’s daughter. Hurt by Alexander. Became an eager fiancée after advice from protagonist.
• Miss Floria – Elegant, silver-haired noblewoman in her 40s, referred to as an ‘older sister’. Judge of the Supreme Court and Baroness. Former tutor of Princess Auroora. Initially stern but warms up, showing a playful side. Close with Ms. Nina (Princess Auroora’s doll copy), treating her like a sister. Trustworthy and explains legal matters clearly.
• Ginchi – Male. A dwarf, scientist, artist, and seeker of truth. Ms. Mahal’s acquaintance. He is a skilled artisan, researcher of homunculi, and monopolizes high-precision glass tubes. He is wealthy, rational, and critical of both dwarfs and Earth’s civilization. He has a rivalry with Mr. Zenom.
• Yakou – A newly created kunoichi spirit with high specs from Mubiel. She pledges loyalty to the Narrator as her ‘Lord Shogun’ and seeks to punish villains.
• Ms. Nina – Doll Princess (Auroora 217), renamed by the protagonist. Beautiful blonde, ~168 cm, slim waist. Wears adventurer attire. Made from artificial parts and wooden limbs, resembling a princess. Knowledgeable, can read, write, and use basic healing magic. Reliable partner, often saves the protagonist with her skills.
• Nina – Doll Princess (Auroora 217), renamed by the protagonist. Beautiful blonde, ~168 cm, slim waist. Wears adventurer attire. Made from artificial parts and wooden limbs, resembling a princess. Knowledgeable, can read, write, and use basic healing magic. Reliable partner, often saves the protagonist with her skills.
• Tizzy – Claims to be Duke’s daughter, a noble with advanced magic skills. MC and Ms. Shirakaba lover.
• Mr. Laken – The Toyata village head and guild branch manager
• Raoh – Pakkyamara. An infamous, scheming, but somewhat incompetent senior adventurer known for meddling with hero summoning rituals; often gets beaten up as a result. The one who want japanese food.
• Baron Gorigan – A neighboring noble, managing a modest but wealthy mine; involved in recent conflicts and associated with a noble family with historical ties to the royal family.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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