An unprecedented incident occurred: a book got sulky.
Ian let out a deep sigh as he stared at the grimoire huddled in the corner.
“Come now, Touch of Re-creation. I truly don’t know why you’re upset. I’ve never used you as a blunt weapon, nor as a shield.”
[Woom.]
“Was that vibration meant to say I still don’t get it? Then how am I supposed to know? You could at least say something.”
[Woom!]
“It’s not my fault you can’t speak.”
[Woom……!!]
“Ugh, forget it. Just stay like that. I’ll be reading this one.”
Giving up on communication, Ian picked up the Record of the Deep Sea and opened it. The grimoire fluttered its body as if delighted to be chosen, accepting his touch.
As he gently stroked the cover, the pages turned without any resistance.
Ian leaned back against the bed and began to reread the introduction slowly.
‘The introduction isn’t particularly special.’
It merely recorded the pseudonym of the Outer God and the inscribed magic, with its true name concealed.
Not much different from the Touch of Re-creation. He skimmed through and turned the page.
[The author and original master of this grimoire, the Master of the Outer Sea, bears deep goodwill and curiosity toward this first-time, 100% compatible subject. She swore before the Ruin of Constellations that she would bring no harm to the master, save for the drawbacks of the magic itself.]
The Ruin of Constellations.
An unexpectedly grand-scale statement appeared out of nowhere, but it was no longer surprising. He already knew that Outer Gods were unidentified entities swimming beyond the universe.
What mattered was the mention of a 100% compatible subject.
Fortunately, there seemed no need to worry about being driven mad by insanity.
This was welcome news amidst what he’d heard. It seemed the only thing to be careful about was being devoured in turn by the summoned creatures.
‘Still, just in case, should I start carrying some meat around?’
The thought crossed his mind, but he soon shook his head. It didn’t seem like it would help.
The weakest creature living in the Outer Sea had only been satisfied after devouring three human-sized aberrations and one large beast carcass in one go.
To prepare that much meat, he’d have to lug around at least five cooler boxes stuffed full. That was far too inefficient. Better not to summon at all.
Besides, once it was confirmed that even the weakest creature craved that much meat, the stronger ones would undoubtedly wolf down twice as much.
If he stocked up on meat for them in advance, bankruptcy was all that awaited at the end.
‘It’s better to summon according to the situation.’
Truth be told, aside from the money issue, he couldn’t exactly haul around cooler boxes every time he went on a request.
Maybe if he were a mage with nothing but his body. Ian was an alchemist who normally lugged around all sorts of items anyway. If he added cooler boxes to that, he’d lose any flexibility to handle other situations.
If summoning magic were instantaneous it wouldn’t matter, but otherwise, meat was nothing but dead weight.
“Mmm….”
After organizing his thoughts, Ian fetched a glass of cold water and returned to bed. While reading the grimoire, he shifted his gaze to see that the Touch of Re-creation, which had been stuck in the corner, had crawled to the center of the room.
“…….”
[…….]
Silence flowed between Ian and the grimoire. Neither spoke, but an oddly awkward atmosphere hung in the air.
[Woom!]
It was the Record of the Deep Sea that broke the silence. Perhaps displeased that his attention had wandered to the Touch of Re-creation, the Record of the Deep Sea trembled and repeatedly opened and closed its cover.
It was a clear expression of jealousy. Ian sighed deeply and stroked the Record’s cover. Then he quietly extended his other hand.
“……Summon.”
As he murmured with intent, the grimoire in the middle of the living room was pulled into his grasp.
The Touch of Re-creation, which until moments ago had been shuddering, now accepted his touch meekly without the slightest movement.
It meant its anger had subsided somewhat. Or maybe it had simply given up.
In any case, he couldn’t let the two grimoires keep being jealous and pushing each other away forever.
Ian stopped reading and placed the grimoires on the table.
“Let’s sort out the traffic.”
He set both grimoires neatly side by side and sat on the bed.
Since simultaneous use of the grimoires was impossible, the only option was to handle them according to the situation. Sometimes he’d need only the Touch of Re-creation, other times the Record of the Deep Sea. If they kept getting jealous every time, it would be nothing but poison.
They probably wouldn’t be so unreasonable as to throw tantrums on every request, but he couldn’t keep soothing them every time something like this happened.
He wasn’t some nanny or lover.
As long as they were in a symbiotic relationship, they had to make concessions where needed.
He didn’t really think it would come to this, but there was always a tiny chance they might fight and lunge at each other like he’d seen in the community, thinking ‘If I can’t have it, I’ll destroy it.’ So he had to prevent that in advance.
With that thought, Ian opened his mouth with a stern expression.
“I won’t tell you not to be jealous, but let’s not have you showing it and getting sulky. If I die, you’ll be in trouble too.”
It felt rather strange, talking seriously to books that gave no answer but just hummed and vibrated. Still, he continued to the end.
“I will also treat you all as partners and treasured books. If you want anything else, write it on a page and show me.”
[Woom.]
[Woom! Woom!]
The Touch of Re-creation responded gravely, and the Record of the Deep Sea vibrated actively. The Record immediately opened its cover wide to show him a sentence newly written beneath the introduction.
[This grimoire wishes that its master, ‘Shin Ian’, would sleep with it placed beside him.]
A simple request. Ian said he would, and turned his head toward the Touch of Re-creation.
Just then, the Touch of Re-creation had also revealed its request.
[I wish for my cover to be maintained frequently.]
Fortunately, this too was a modest request. Ian granted the grimoires’ wishes on the spot, then read them alternately to fill in his lacking knowledge.
Fortunately, no further incidents of the two grimoires being jealous of each other occurred after that. Thanks to that, Ian could focus entirely on reading.
‘As expected, in terms of versatility alone, the Touch of Re-creation is superior.’
The magic inscribed in the Record of the Deep Sea wasn’t actually that special.
It merely contained vast descriptions of summoned creatures’ traits and explanations; apart from summoning magic, the other spells were more ordinary than expected. Of course, magic that ignored water pressure or pierced through the darkness of the deep sea seemed quite useful, but not enough for everyday use.
In contrast, the Touch of Re-creation recorded many spells for daily life—for instance, magic to clean a messy room or smooth out wrinkled clothes. Light, handy spells. Not only that, but it also contained quite a number of spells useful in combat.
For the time being, Ian planned to focus more on these magics rather than alchemy.
He couldn’t rely solely on self-made tools forever.
If by any chance all his alchemy items were to disappear, it was right to prepare in advance.
“First, shall I try the magic that lets me scale walls….”
Muttering to himself, he drew the magic circle inscribed in the Touch of Re-creation and chanted the incantation.
It was a long while later that the lights went out in his room.
*
[Why are all the kids these days so loose?]
[UnicornLoveDog]
How can there be so few pure ones? I’m using magic right now to find virgins, and there’s hardly any.
Stop having so much sex!
[Upvotes 0] [Downvotes 0]
[Comments]
- BugInEar: What the hell are you doing that you’re looking for a pure body?
ㄴ UnicornLoveDog: Magic.
ㄴ BugInEar: I see.
ㄴ UnicornLoveDog: I’ve been at this for months, and I’m even dodging the Management Bureau’s tracking just fine, but f***, I can’t cast the spell because there’s no one with a pure body.
ㄴ BugInEar: And so? You’re not touching regular people, right? If you get caught, the Matron won’t leave it alone.
Standing in the alleyway staring at his phone, the man clicked his tongue and turned off the screen.
“Who cares what the Matron does. If they were going to ostracize me, they shouldn’t have accepted me in the first place.”
A statement that would have been deeply unjust in the Matron’s ears.
But there was no Matron here; all that existed were the thick stench of alcohol and piled trash.
This was the man’s beloved, both endearing and nauseating scent.
“Hoo.”
He shoved the phone into his pocket and dripped red liquid from a glass bottle onto his eyes. Then his lips moved gently.
“Seek out a clean body. Show me that flesh.”
Crzzzt.
The whites of his eyes dyed red. The man pulled his hood down low and stared intently at the citizens roaming the streets.
‘Non-virgin, slut… damn it. Even the ones who look underage are all so filthy—’
Just then, a certain man entered his sight. He looked ordinary, neatly dressed. Around college age.
‘A clean human.’
At last, he’d found the ingredient he’d been searching for. The man poured artificial tears entirely into his eyes to wash away the blood, then followed the young man’s footsteps.
Leaving the bright streets for a dark alleyway. The young man, sensing something off, looked back and spoke to the mage who had been trailing him.
“Excuse me, who are you? Are you a stalker? Why do you keep following me?”
“I’m not a stalker.”
The mage grinned and strode up to the young man. Then he hurled the glass bottle in his pocket onto the ground.
Along with the clinking sound, the blood inside spilled out. The blood wriggled as if it were a living creature, then surged toward the young man and blocked his airway.
“Urk!? Kkuh-eup?!”
The young man flailed in panic as the blood covered his face. The mage waited from a short distance until he lost consciousness.
Moments later, the young man’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed. The mage immediately poured water over the blood to wash it clean, hoisted the young man onto his back, and tossed him into the car parked nearby. He didn’t forget to wave at the CCTV.
He bound the young man’s wrists to the grab handles in the back seat. He meticulously tied his ankles with five cable ties to prevent escape, and layered tape over his mouth so he couldn’t scream.
With that, the preparations were done. The mage hummed a tune, sat in the driver’s seat, and inserted the key.
“About 5 liters of blood can be drawn from one human… if I manage it properly, I can use it for a few months. Nice.”
It was just as the mage snickered to himself and started the engine. The phone vibrated, and a message flew in.
He checked it.
Letters in English reflected in his eyes.
[Eddie: Is there a mage in Korea who recently picked up a new grimoire? If so, let me know.]
A message from an old business partner, arriving after a very long time. The man skillfully turned the car while tapping the keyboard with his other hand.
[Me: $5,000.]
[Eddie: Damned bastard. Send your account info.]
The man chuckled and sent his account details.