CH 7

“Good morning.”

“Yeah, good morning—Wait, you’re already up? Did you actually only sleep for half an hour?”

“If I slept through the whole afternoon I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. I’m not stupid. This was just a nap to rest my brain.”

“Why you gotta be so rational all the time? If you’re tired, just sleep.”

“Anyway, it’s time for my magic training. I’ll be in the back transmuting some water. The rest of you, get the store ready for tomorrow. Well, clean up, I suppose.”

“What about our inventory?” asked Marie. “We’re almost out of consumable goods.”

“That’s not a problem. We’ll remain a general store in name, but I’m not going to waste my time mass-selling products with low profit margins. That might work for other people, but not for me.”

“So are we going to open to the public like this? If you want to do proper business, you should resupply—”

“The previous owner tried to do ‘proper business.’ It didn’t work. This town has its own rules.” And when he tried his luck with some shady business, it only made things worse. He took his own life with a rope.

Stella turned to Beck. “Go to the Stock Company and tell Leroy I’ll need some of his men tomorrow. Say that we’re going to debut a new product and give free samples on the first day.”

“Y-You can’t be serious! I can’t tell him what to do! He’ll kill me!”

“He won’t. I’m his new money tree. Even now, he’s probably dreaming of all the money he’ll make selling that elixir. He doesn’t want anyone else getting their hands on it, of course, and he’ll plan accordingly. In other words, you’re completely safe. There’s nothing to fear.”

“Uh, I don’t know if it’s that simple . . .”

A product was never more valuable than when it was exclusive. With full control over the offer, the prices were only limited by customer demand. And considering it was the only thing in this world capable of reversing the destructive effects of drugs on the brain, Stella’s elixir would undoubtedly be in high demand. Healing magic could not accomplish that.

“What’s that elixir you’re talking about?” asked Rye.

“A miracle cure that can beat an addict’s broken brain back into shape. It’s what paid off my debt.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?!”

Her face was a mix of surprise and disbelief. On the one hand, she probably wanted to say it was a lie; on the other hand, she knew Leroy wouldn’t fall for something so obvious. Stella had enough money to buy slaves—that was proof enough on its own that she was telling the truth.

“What the heck are you? How come the daughter of some common trader like you knows magic and so many other things? It doesn’t make any sense!”

“It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t! C’mon, what’re you hiding?” she asked eagerly.

Does she think I’m just going to say it? “If you can tell me with all the details exactly how and why you were born into this world as a human, then I’ll tell you everything.”

“. . . The nerve! Because God wanted it to happen, why else? It’s all part of God’s plan!”

Stella snorted. There are no gods. As far as she could tell, they were mere figments of human imagination. “Wrong answer. Come back when you’ve figured it out.” She paused for a moment. “Beck, why are you still here? Do you have a death wish?”

“. . . Huh?”

He gaped at her with his dumb Beck expression. Beck never changes.

“I recall giving you an order. I know I can’t expect much from a Beck, but you’re testing the limits of my human patience.” She picked up a pair of scissors from a nearby shelf. Rusty, but they’ll do the job. “If you want to keep your testicles, go. Now.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am! I’m going!” He gave a stiff salute and dashed out the door. Stella replaced the scissors on the shelf.

“Damn . . . You’re too rough on him. Well, whatever. I’m not about to feel sorry for a company thug.”

“It might look that way, but deep down he’s enjoying being used by a ten-year-old child like me. Next time, pay attention to his face. You’ll see pleasure and satisfaction there, each time stronger than the last. He has masochistic tendencies.”

“. . . Wait, you’re joking, right?”

“No, although he would deny it himself. You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you, Marie?”

Marie gave a small nervous nod. “It doesn’t look like he’s seriously opposed to it. It’s just . . . just a feeling, though.”

“No way. Seriously?” Rye looked disgusted. She sat down on the floor and, under her breath, added, “That’s creepy.”

Stella wholeheartedly agreed. Still, warped fetishes like this were part of human nature. She should learn to accept them—or, at the very least, to observe them without averting her eyes.

“Miss Stella, are you sure you’re ready to open for business?”

“Yes. I’ve got what I need to start earning a living. I’m not interested in building a thriving business. In due time I might leave you two in charge, though. Then you can do whatever you like.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being openhanded or just not thinking,” said Rye. “I mean, I don’t think you’re dumb, at least.”

Stella giggled. “I’ll let you come to your own conclusion.”

Stella focused. She was in the back room, with her left hand on top of the Magic Crystal and her right hand raised, creating a ball of light. This was meant to increase her mana pool by conditioning her body for magic use—the longer she could keep it up, the better. She aimed the light at a nearby water bottle, adding a transmutation spell and holding both steady.

A bout of vertigo; the ball of light shattered. Stella groaned. This was far from adequate. I’ve managed to transmute the water, but it shouldn’t be this hard. I can’t even keep it up for more than ten seconds. How long will it be before I can do it without the crystal? As glad as she was to have been born into this world, this body of hers was an utter disappointment. No energy, no mana, highly prone to sickness; walking for an hour was enough to tire her out; no friends and family; no wealth to speak of but this sorry store. I can have all those things eventually, she told herself. It’s fine. There’s no rush.

But it didn’t help her heart stop pounding. Could she really get all these things in just fifty years? Her powers had gotten her out of debt, and now she was on her way to start making some money. That, however, wasn’t her final goal. She wanted to do things, to learn all there was to learn, to enjoy her fifty years to their fullest without taking a break. All this training wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

Stella clicked her tongue and smacked the ledger off the table. It smashed into the wall. There was a storm in her chest, rising to her throat. She wanted nothing more than to throw a tantrum. This is probably some human thing. I must embrace it, then.

‘Master, it’s only yer second day, eh? Calm down, or you might ’ave an accident. Then you’d end up losin’ even more time, eh?’

“I know. I’m trying, but I can’t calm down. Why can’t I calm down?”

‘Those are the ’uman emotions you sought after so badly. I bet yer feelings are still in turmoil over the death of yer parents, eh?’

“. . . I see.”

For a while, Stella didn’t say anything. Then she nodded and, with a deep breath, created another ball of light and resumed her training, trying as best she could to settle her pounding heart and focus. It only made her more impatient; she was too unstable. Is Clever right after all? she asked the void inside her head. It didn’t answer, but anyone would have said, “Only you would know.” She didn’t know, though, and now she was at a dead end. What would Rye do in her place? Ask her god? Stella couldn’t do that; she knew there was no such thing.

Either way, I have to keep working. We’ll have a lot of customers tomorrow. If I can only exert myself for a few seconds at a time, I’ll just have to do it again and again, as many times as I need.

“Miss Stella, you’re so pale . . . !”

As soon as Stella returned, Marie stopped what she was doing and ran to her side looking worried. She had seemed uncomfortable addressing her as “Master Stella,” so Stella had allowed her to go with “Miss Stella” instead. That was still much better than Rye, who just used her name without any titles. In truth, though, Stella didn’t mind it either way. They were her property; there was no reason to nitpick. Well, unless it’s Beck. If he ever gets cheeky with me, I will rediscipline him, no matter how long it takes.

“I’m fine,” she told Marie. “I just trained a little too hard. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“But your face . . .”

“You were pale before,” said Rye, “but now you’re so pale your face looks kind of dark. If you close your eyes—”

“—I’ll look like a corpse, right?” Stella giggled. “That’s pretty funny.”

“I’m not joking. There’s no color on your face.”

Stella ignored her and walked toward the line of wooden barrels. These barrels had been lying around in the storehouse before she’d had them brought here (by Beck, of course). There were six total, and they were filled with the water she had transmuted during this training session. Naturally, Beck had done all the carrying back and forth as well. This was hard work. It should last me a while.

“This barrel on the left will be fifty coppers per glass. A hundred for the one on the middle, and five hundred for the one on the right.”

“Hm? I thought they were all the same. And five hundred? Is anyone gonna pay that much for a drink?” asked Rye.

A loaf of bread was around thirty coppers; five hundred was about the cost of eating for a day. “Not at first. The leftmost barrel is for the general public; the middle one is for those looking for something stronger; and the rightmost one is for those who have lost their minds. If they get this far, they won’t care about the price.”

“. . . So each one has different effects, huh.”

Rye hesitantly touched the rightmost barrel. She didn’t seem very keen on trying it out. Even Beck was inching away from it, probably thinking she might test that one on him as well. She had to disappoint him, though; that would just be a waste of good merchandise.

“The one you drank earlier is what we’ll sell to the general public. This one is two times stronger, and this one is over three times stronger,” she said, pointing at each barrel in turn. At the last one, she added, “If I’m not wrong, this one will go beyond refreshing into the territory of pure pain. It’ll be like drinking lava—your tongue, throat, even your stomach will feel like it’s on fire. The first few times will be tough to endure.”

“And you’re meaning to sell it?!”

“Of course I am. Some people should be able to brave that pain and find pleasure on the other side, where the burning gives way to the sweetest, most refreshing feeling in the world, like a blizzard after a firestorm. I’m just helping them get there. Once they get a taste for it, there’s no turning back. I can’t wait to see it happen firsthand.” Stella laughed, then sat down. She was too tired to stand.

“Are you all right?” asked Marie.

“Never been better. But I think I’ll turn in early tonight, after dinner. I meant to go shopping for some reading material, but I suppose that’ll have to wait.”

“Reading material?”

“Yes. Mostly books. I want to absorb all the knowledge and history that I can. Some other time, I suppose.”

“You’ve got quite the busy life, huh,” said Rye. “Exercising, training, studying, developing new products . . .”

“What did you expect? I only have—”

“—fifty years, I know. I’ve heard that a lot in the two days I’ve been here.”

“If you know, then stop making me say it. It’s—”

“—a waste of time, right? Thought so. But for someone who hates wasting time, you sure like talking.”

“I just hate repeating myself. I don’t think getting to know you humans is a waste of time at all. I want to do it, in fact. Well, unless it’s humans like Beck or worse. That’s actually next to meaningless.”

‘Poor Beck’s included?! Sheesh!’

“Of course. There’s an absolute limit for how low I’m willing to stoop, and he’s just below it. I can’t do anything about that, I’m afraid. If I tried to set the bar any lower, I’d probably want to kill myself out of self-hatred.”

The “Beck bar,” she should call it. As she had learned by interacting with Beck, there was probably no point in having a conversation with any humans below it. All thugs were much the same, with the same past and experiences, with little to no variety. Her time would be lost on them.

‘ ’Orrible, eh! Just ’orrible!’

“W-Why am I even alive . . . ?”

“Oh, Beck. You’re here?”

“I was here all along . . .”

Now that he mentions it, maybe he was. He’d sent her message to Leroy as she’d asked, so she decided to comfort him. “Don’t worry,” she said. “True, you were as insignificant as a dung beetle before, but now your life finally has meaning. You’ll be so delighted working for me that you’ll soon forget all about those days.”

“. . . Uh, all right. As you say.” He let out a defeated sigh.

He was lucky to even be alive, though he didn’t seem to realize it. Stella had killed his partner, but if the coin had fallen on the other side, it could well have been him instead. Was it really their fault, though? It was Glenn who went into debt. Beck and his partner just got caught up in the whole affair. Who was to blame, the scammer or the scammed? A difficult question, but Stella didn’t care either way; she had acted to protect herself, not to exact justice.

“Forget about Beck,” said Rye. “What’s this thing gonna be called? You’re not just going with ‘tasty water,’ are you?”

“I’ve thought up a name. Very poetic. It’s got that human flavor. ‘Tears of falling stars.’ What do you think? Doesn’t it sound like the name of some rare gem from a foreign land?”

“I think it’s a great name.”

“Too great. It’s not like you at all. Why’d you choose that name?”

“The light used to make it is bright and makes me think of the stars, and the bubbles burst in your mouth like the most delicate tears.”

‘Keke! You ain’t foolin’ me! What’s the actual reason, eh, Master?’

“They say the stars are uncountable, right? Well, so are the scum of this town, and they’ll be falling for this soon enough. Can’t you imagine them, drinking glass after glass while bawling with joy?”

“. . . I shouldn’t have asked.”

Rye sighed and got up to help with the meal. Marie had already cut the ingredients; it should be ready within the half hour. Stella relaxed on her chair and tried to recover some of her energy while Beck wiped the floor with a cloth. It was his bed, after all—right here with the merchandise. According to him, he’d been used to sleeping huddled together with other people at the company. This should be much the same.

For Marie and Rye she had reserved two staff bedrooms, whose very existence implied that, once upon a time, the owners of this store had been wealthy enough to hire live-in staff. I don’t know when that was, she thought, but it was certainly before I was born.

“Well, then. Let’s see what the morrow has in store for us.”

‘Master, you should probably take it easy tomorrow, eh? Yer body can’t take another whippin’ so soon.’

“I’m fine. I’ve been having the time of my life. I had no idea there was such joy in watching the changes of daily life. The world responds to my touch, and if I say something, I get an answer. I couldn’t have asked for more.”

A smile framed her pallid face. She laughed, and had a coughing fit.