Chapter 31 - Flirting and Slimes
Note: The latter half contains some painful descriptions related to injuries. Please proceed with caution if sensitive to such content.
She found a shop selling pale and black ale but couldn’t find red ale, so she decided to search at stalls further away.
When she finally located a stall that sold red ale, there was already one customer there. Standing a little distance behind the person, she waited her turn.
"Excuse me, miss."
At first, she thought the man was talking to someone he knew. Dahlia shifted her gaze to other stalls, but then she felt a tap on her shoulder.
Turning to the passageway, she saw a man with red hair, just like her own, and blue eyes. His smiling face was completely unfamiliar to her.
"I’m talking to you."
"What is it?"
Dahlia responded, thinking he might ask for directions.
"Are you here alone?"
"No, I’m with someone."
"Someone? A girl?"
"No, a man."
"A man who makes a lady buy drinks for him? How rude. Forget about him and come have a meal with me. It’s on me."
"No, thank you. I don’t want to keep my companion waiting, so excuse me."
Thinking the conversation was over, she turned to order red ale from the stall.
But before she could, the man grabbed her left wrist tightly, causing a slight twinge of pain.
"I feel like we were fated to meet. Can’t you spare me a serious moment to talk?"
"I refuse. Let go of my hand—it hurts. If you don’t, I will retaliate."
"Your retaliation would probably be adorable."
The man, still gripping her wrist, leaned in close and brought his lips near Dalia's ear.
His warm, alcohol-laced breath was deeply unpleasant.
"Why don’t we run away together and leave the man waiting for you?"
He pulled her toward his chest. She planted her heels into the ground to resist, but her cups fell, and her handbag slid from under her arm.
Dahlia held her breath, gripped the magic bracelet on her right wrist, and swung it downward in a diagonal motion.
With a loud *clang*, a pillar of pure white ice shot up between them.
The man, startled, stumbled back and landed hard on his rear.
"Damn, a mage?!"
He cursed before scrambling to his feet and running away.
She muttered softly to his retreating back, "Actually, I’m a magical toolmaker."
She was relieved that neither of them seemed to be injured.
Before her was an ice column about 15 centimeters thick and 80 centimeters tall, rolling slightly on the ground. The freezing ring had functioned perfectly.
"I’m sorry for the trouble."
She bowed to the stall owner.
"No, no, you were amazing! I’m sorry I didn’t step in to stop that idiot sooner!"
The elderly woman selling red ale waved her hands apologetically.
"And your partner’s late!"
When Dahlia turned around, she saw a man in a black cloak standing there, holding her fallen handbag. He had come to check on her because she’d taken longer than expected.
"Sorry I’m late. I shouldn’t have let you go alone..."
"It’s fine. I’m completely okay!"
The dejected look of the man in front of her reminded her of a guilty dog with its ears drooped, which made her panic.
"Um, let me move the ice now."
“"Leave it there. I’ll move it to the side later. In this weather, it’ll melt quickly. No need to dirty your clothes over it."
"Thank you..."
"Hold on."
The woman disappeared for a moment before returning with two large cups of red ale.
"Here you go. If you like it, come back and buy more next time."
"But—"
"Today, it’s a free sample for two. Next time, come with your boyfriend."
"Thank you. I’ll come with my friend next time."
“Is that so... Well, good luck, young man..."
It was unclear what exactly she was wishing him good luck for.
When Dahlia tried to take the cup, she realized her hands were shaking, and her heart was racing. She hadn’t realized fear like this could hit her after the fact.
"Sorry, Volf. Can you hold these for me?"
"Of course. I’m really sorry..."
Noticing Dahlia's shaking, the young man, now even more weighed down by a heavy, gloomy air, accompanied her back to the park.
"I’m sorry again. I should’ve been the one to go. Failing to protect you makes me unworthy of being a knight."
"Don’t worry about it. It was just a coincidence, and I’m fine."
"No, you’re not. I made you feel scared, and I should’ve anticipated you might get hit on."
"I honestly never thought about it. It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever been hit on."
"What? Never before?"
He asked, clearly shocked. She couldn’t help but smile at his expression.
It was true—this was her first time being hit on, in both her past and current lives.
"Not once. I’ve never been approached like that by a man before. I'm really amazed by the power of makeup."
“Dahlia, by that logic, would that make me the first one to hit on you?"
"Huh? But you weren’t hitting on me; you were looking for me."
"...Is that how it is?"
"Anyway, let’s drink before it warms up."
They returned to their bench, clinked their cups lightly, and finally began to relax.
The red ale was as fruity and delicious as she remembered. It was surprisingly chilled, making it even more refreshing.
"Was that just now the Freezing Ring?"
"Yes, although it was a modified version. I aimed it at an angle to avoid hitting him, but adjusting it was harder than I thought."
"You could’ve just frozen that guy solid, honestly."
"It didn’t seem serious enough to call the guards just for grabbing my hand... By the way, if I fine-tune the ice adjustment function, it might be possible to create something like a pseudo ice blade."
"...Could that be enchanted onto a sword?"
Noticing that Volf’s "obsession with magical swords" had been triggered, she decided to press the topic further to lift his mood.
"I'm not sure about adjustment functions for a sword, but it might be possible to add just a freezing effect. With my magic power, though, it would probably end up being something like 'a sword that stays cold for a little while.'"
"On a summer expedition, you could use it as a pillow to fall asleep quickly."
"Volf, if you use the blade as a pillow, your neck would get sliced."
"And then, I could atone for my sins and rest peacefully in eternal slumber..."
"Don’t wrap it up so dramatically!"
Dahlia wondered if she should either get used to his antics or stop reacting altogether.
Whenever they talked, the conversation always seemed to veer into strange territory.
As they finished their red ale, Volf turned to her and asked.
"On the way back, I was thinking of stopping by a weapons shop to buy a dagger. Do you want to wait at a nearby café? Or is there another store you'd like to visit?"
"Can’t I just go to the weapons shop with you?"
"You wouldn’t mind going to a weapons shop?"
"Not at all. I’ve always wanted to see one, but my father wouldn’t let me."
"That’s surprising. I had the impression your father would encourage you to go check it out."
"When I was a child, he always said, 'If you get too absorbed, you might cut yourself,' and wouldn’t allow it."
"Well, weapons are dangerous, and it’s mostly men in those shops. As a father, it makes sense he’d be worried."
"No, I was at fault too, and I do regret it..."
Dahlia’s gaze grew distant as she looked toward the trees at the edge of the park. The vibrant green of early summer seemed to sting her eyes.
"When I was at the academy, I boldly declared, 'At my age, I can handle going to a weapons shop alone!' But the very next day, I got burned by a slime. After that, my father told me, 'You are absolutely forbidden to go to a weapons shop alone,' and I promised him I wouldn’t."
"A slime burn... Oh, during that time you were developing waterproof cloth?"
"Yes. I was experimenting with various kinds of powdered slimes and chemicals. While testing ratios and types of slime, I was half-asleep after staying up all night, and instead of using a glass spatula, I mixed it with both gloved hands."
"Slimes have strong acid; they can dissolve people and animals without issue."
"Indeed, and I accidentally created a particularly potent solution. It completely melted my gloves. And unlike blue slimes, the paralysis toxins from black slimes don’t dissipate even in powdered form. My hands went completely numb and were paralyzed, with no sensation or pain."
"This is turning into a horrifying story with a predictable outcome..."
Volf lowered his head, pressing his forehead with his left hand.
"Realizing I couldn’t handle it myself, I told my father, 'Something’s wrong with my hands.' He immediately pulled my hands out of the bucket, poured a potion on me, called a carriage, and sent me to the church. My hands were wrapped in sheets, and even during treatment, they didn’t show me my injuries. So, I never actually saw how bad the burns were."
"...Dahlia, how much did the donation cost?"
"Um, if I remember correctly, it was two gold coins."
"That wasn’t just a burn. Even with a potion applied first, that level of cost means your finger bones were probably visible."
"What?"
"That’s an awfully dull reaction. Two gold coins mean it was a severe injury. That’s not something to laugh about!"
"A severe injury...?"
She was shocked. No matter how many times she asked her father, he’d only ever referred to it as "a rather bad burn."
"Serious injuries can cause people to panic when they see their bones or blood, leading them to die from shock. That’s probably why your father wrapped your hands in sheets. Even knights sometimes die from slime-related injuries. Black slimes, in particular, are resistant to fire, water, and wind magic, and they’re incredibly hard to remove once they latch on."
"Wait, black slimes are resistant to fire, water, and wind, and hard to remove?"
"Dahlia, that’s not the point right now."
Volf’s golden eyes glinted coldly, a sight so intimidating it made her want to apologize in tears, no exaggeration.
"If you’d been alone when you got injured like that, you wouldn’t even have been able to leave the tower. You’re not doing anything dangerous like that anymore, are you?"
"...No, I’m not."
Volf scolded her seriously, and his stern demeanor was surprisingly intimidating.
As Dahlia listened solemnly, he launched into a lengthy lecture about the dangers of slimes. Then, as if suddenly realizing something, he covered his mouth with his hand.
"...Sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up."
"No, I genuinely regret what happened."
Reflecting on the severity of the injury, she could understand how worried her father must have been.
She also began to see why he wouldn’t let her visit a weapons shop alone.
"I finally understand now. When I talk about the Scarlet Armor, your troubled expression makes so much sense. In my case, I guess worry makes me nag..."
It felt like they had reached a terrible mutual understanding and self-understanding.
But oddly enough, it wasn’t unpleasant.
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