The day after the interview, I was busy practicing my new signature.
Or rather, the signature that was supposed to be mine.
The merchant had somehow managed to create a more convincing version of my signature than I could.
After practicing on nearly fifteen sheets of paper, I was about to take a break.
Just as I was about to stand up—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three firm knocks echoed through the house.
Who visits people this early in the morning?
Placing the pen aside, I opened the door.
Standing outside was a man dressed in dark blue clothing. He had an enormous mustache that curved upward into two sharp points.
Behind him waited a carriage accompanied by several mounted guards on horses.
And upon his chest rested some kind of crest.
"Darcy Sinclair?"
"Uh... yes?"
The man nodded.
"I am an Imperial Messenger. I carry a letter bearing the Emperor's seal.
The moment I heard that, my brain stopped working.
"...What did I do this time?"
"Huh?"
"Nothing! Never mind," I corrected quickly, sweating. "So... what does the Emperor want with me?"
"Nothing, sir! " the messenger replied warmly. "His Majesty is thoroughly pleased with your immense bravery and wishes to congratulate and reward you personally. Therefore, His Majesty is organizing a grand Imperial Banquet on September 2nd, 1753. It will honor the brave saviors of Dunford, as well as the dedicated doctors and physicians working tirelessly to eradicate the unknown tropical disease—which has now been officially named Frestraz, in honor of Doctor Frestraz, who sacrificed his life to isolate the cure in the tropical regions."
He handed me a letter.
"Here is your imperial invitation. It contains all the necessary protocols and logistics regarding the banquet. It was personally dictated by His Majesty, so ensure you read every single word with the utmost care."
Wow, that was a massive, completely unnecessary information dump about the dead doctor. But anyway, as long as I'm safe... wait, did he say I'm getting a reward? Wow. Guess my luck is finally turning around! Haha!
The messenger wasn't done. "Additionally, as a token of his imperial gratitude, His Majesty has dispatched a sum of ten million Lochu to each member of your party. The funds will be deposited directly into your personal accounts today."
"..."
"How much?"
"Ten million Lochu."
"For each of us? Or is that the total split for the whole team?"
"It is ten million each, Mr. Sinclair."
...Holy Emperor! Glory to Emperor ! I hereby pledge my absolute, undying loyalty to the throne until death and beyond!
I cheered internally.
At this rate, I wouldn't need to work for decades.
Maybe even longer if I spent it carefully.
After a brief, frantic discussion, I ran to the back room to check my adventurer status card. The moment I saw the glittering, absurd balance officially updated in my account, the messengers prepared to head back to the Imperial Capital.
As they left, I realized there wasn't just one messenger.
There were five.
One for each member of our group.
Man, it must be nice to have so much infinite, blind money that you can afford a custom, high-tier royal courier for every single person.
But then... a massive problem struck me. I couldn't actually read the letter. I still didn't know a single word of Horwet.
So I decided to find Carl and have him read the letter for me.
I went to his house, which was right next to mine, but one of the neighbors informed me that he had left for the town library a short while ago. With nothing else to do.
I headed toward the library.
It's midday now, and today is quite windy.
By now, I've learned that kids get scared of my face.
Sometimes adults too.
So I started wearing a mask whenever I go outside.
Honestly, it works surprisingly well.
Every time I remove it during an argument, people suddenly lose all confidence and start trembling.
Well... trembling might be the wrong word.
It's more like disgust.
I swear I was considered at least somewhat above average-looking before I came here.
The library was close to the Baron's mansion.
Or manor.
Or whatever rich people call giant houses.
Either way, it was big.
I went inside and started looking for Carl.
After searching for a while and finding nothing, I asked the librarian.
"Oh, him?" the librarian said. "He's on the second floor studying diseases."
Diseases?
Why is he studying diseases?
Is he sick?
I immediately rushed upstairs.
Unfortunately, I couldn't actually read the signs.
I had no idea where the disease section was.
So I was forced to search one section at a time.
Eventually, after checking several shelves, I found him in the third section.
Carl sat in the farthest corner of the room.
Several books were scattered across the table in front of him while he quietly read another.
I walked over and pulled out a chair. "So here you are... what are you doing?"
Carl didn't look up from his page. "What do you think people do in a library, Darcy?"
"I mean, what exactly are you studying?"
"De Novo Spiritual Mutations," he replied smoothly.
"....The hell is that?"
"It refers to a sudden, spontaneous mutation in a person's spiritual pathways when their biological parents possess no such genetic traits," Carl explained, finally closing the book slightly. "In short, I am trying to scientifically dissect your specific case."
"Yeah... good luck with that," I chuckled, leaning back. "Find anything useful yet?"
"Nothing," Carl sighed, looking slightly annoyed. "I've checked every medical archive in this archive, but it appears you are the first documented case of a complete spiritual void in recorded history."
"Well, you know, I'm perfectly fine. My life is great. No physical drawbacks except the fact that I can't throw cool magical fireballs, so I really don't think you need to waste your time researching me."
As I sat there, I noticed a fresh newspaper resting on the left side of his table, sporting a massive, bold headline that featured the words Dunford Heroes. By this point, I had finally memorized exactly what the word "Dunford" looked like in Horwet, mostly because I lived here and saw it plastered on every shop sign in the bazaar.
"Oh, is that an article about us?" I asked, pointing at it.
"Yes."
I picked it up, stared at the complex, swirling letters for three seconds, realized I couldn't read a single piece of info, and promptly set it right back down.
An awkward, heavy silence settled over the table. Carl was reading exactly how a normal person should in a library, while I sat there like an absolute illiterate fool who couldn't decipher a single letter of the alphabet.
Yeah, I seriously need to learn Horwet as fast as possible.
After about two minutes of painful silence, a soft, familiar voice broke the quiet.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy. Good afternoon, Mr. Carl."
I turned around. It was Lyra.
"Oh, good afternoon, Miss Lyra," I smiled under my mask. "What brings you to the library?"
"I'm researching my father's condition."
"Oh."
That sounded reasonable.
...Wait.
Wasn't this the disease section?
What did diseases have to do with a curse?
As I was trying to figure that out, I noticed something else.
Lyra was smiling while reading a letter.
Not just smiling.
Giggling.
Like a little girl reading exciting news,It definitely wasn't the Imperial invitation. I had one too.
Then something suddenly hit me.
...Wait, wasn't the entire reason I came here to have Carl read my letter? What the hell am I doing wasting time?
I tried to ignore my curiosity.
I didn't want to blatantly pry into her private life, but I couldn't control my overwhelming curiosity when I saw her smiling so genuinely at a piece of mail.
"Miss Lyra..." I leaned forward slightly. "Whose letter is that? You look incredibly happy reading it."
"Oh, it's from my mother."
"Wait... you have a mother that's alive?"
The moment the words left my mouth, I realized something had gone horribly wrong.
"I mean—is she alright?"
I didn't know silence had levels.
But somehow the silence in the library increased by one.
Carl gave me a side-eye.
Lyra's eyes widened.
"...Alright, I apologize."
I rubbed the back of my neck.
"I kind of assumed your mother was dead."
After a brief moment, Lyra smiled awkwardly.
"It's alright. I've never really talked about her, so I can see why you would think that."
"And yes, she's fine."
"Oh."
That was good.
"And where is she?"
"She's in Ejorus."
"Ejorus?"
She nodded.
"For the past year, she's been helping researchers and scientists study the spiritual disturbances affecting the continent."
"Is she a scientist?"
"No."
Lyra shook her head.
"She's an adventurer, the continent experiences constant fluctuations in spiritual frequencies. Communication with the outside world becomes almost impossible because of it."
She carefully folded the letter.
"The researchers finally discovered the cause of the disturbances. My mother was the lead adventurer assigned to protect them during the expedition."
"So they're coming back now."
"Damn..."
I leaned back in my chair.
"Your mother sounds cool."
Lyra smiled proudly.
"Yes. I'm very proud of her."
She then placed several documents onto Carl's table.
"And Mr. Carl, here are all the research-funding requests currently available within the kingdom."
"Research what?"
"Oh.", Lyra looked toward me.
"Mr. Carl asked me to gather information on researchers who are struggling with funding."
I turned toward Carl.
"Really? Why?"
Carl closed another book.
"I wanted to see whether there are any worthwhile research projects worth investing in."
Then he looked at Lyra.
"And what about the land listings?"
"Oh, there are quite a few available."
She shuffled through another stack of papers.
"Most of them fit the requirements you gave me. However, there is one property that is both the closest and the cheapest."
Carl raised an eyebrow.
"What's the catch?"
Lyra immediately answered.
"People think it's cursed."
Now she had my attention.
"What kind of cursed?" I asked.
"People who tried living there suffered severe organ failure. Kidneys, liver, lungs..."
She paused.
"It was as if their organs were slowly burning from the inside."
"..."
"Pregnant women frequently gave birth to stillborn children. Some residents reported their skin peeling off in sheets."
I sat up slightly.
"...What?"
"Furthermore, the deep caves in that region intensely glow with a brilliant blue and green light, even during the brightest hours of daylight. Anyone who travels there reports a persistent, heavy taste of metal in their mouths. It's a deeply cursed place."
The more she spoke, the more uncomfortable I felt.
"Researchers who investigate the area often become ill. Many die young."
She flipped another page.
"There are also reports of bones becoming unusually brittle after prolonged exposure within the deeper cave systems."
The room fell silent.
"People have attempted to settle and develop the area multiple times, Countless lords have tried to colonize and civilize the area over the centuries, but every single expedition failed catastrophically."
She shook her head.
" Now, it's just completely abandoned. It's a massive fifteen-kilometer radius zone located about 230 kilometers south of here. Because it's completely useless, the entire territory is selling for dirt cheap—just ninety million Lochu."
The territory is officially designated as a cursed zone called Decayspire"
Carl shook his head immediately. "That doesn't sound like a viable piece of real estate I'd care to own. Are there any other listings within that price bracket, Lyra?"
"Wait."
I interrupted.
Both of them looked toward me.
"Carl, why do you want to buy land and fund research projects anyway?"
Carl looked genuinely confused that I needed to ask.
"Because there is a saying."
He folded his hands together.
"If you work for money, you'll spend your life working."
He pointed toward the documents.
"If your money works for you, then it will keep working even when you aren't."
"..."
That actually sounded smart.
"Alright."
As they continued to chat, my mind completely froze.
The detailed descriptions Lyra had just reeled off... the internal organ burns... the skin peeling off... the glowing blue-green subterranean caves... the persistent metallic taste in the mouth... the brittle, crumbling bones…
Wait a damn minute.
My eyes widened behind my cloth mask as a wave of realization hit me like a freight train. That isn't a magical curse at all... That is a literal, highly concentrated radioactive material deposit! That's Acute Radiation Sickness!
As my modern brain frantically struggled to process the fact that there was a massive nuclear hazard sitting just a few hundred kilometers away, I looked back over at Lyra and Carl, who were casually discussing real estate options.
Hold on... isn't Lyra the wealthy daughter of the ruling Baron of this entire town? Why on earth is she running around acting like Carl's personal real estate assistant?