■ Sweet My Home □
The master of the Emerald Tower.
Esmeralda of the Slicing Wind.
That’s our Master.
Approximately 130 years ago, as a member of the Hero Party, Master made a significant contribution by severing the head of the previous Demon King and was subsequently elevated to her current position as the Mage Tower Master.
Seated at the top of the Emerald Tower, dissatisfied with the existing inefficient magic system, Master developed her own vision breathing technique and founded a school, which is the Eternal Snow school that I belong to.
The historically unprecedented fusion of Qi Technique from the Eastern Continent and Elemental Magic from the Western Continent caused a tremendous sensation in academia. However, Master insisted on single-line succession and refused to teach the school’s magic to anyone, until eventually, after a hundred years, it was me who barely inherited its progress.
…Saying this makes me really feel the generational gap.
Anyway, there is one secret about Master.
It’s the fact that she remembers her past life and is a reincarnated soul.
Unlike me, who was reincarnated into this world from the modern era, Master used to be a martial artist from a world where concepts like the Nine Great Sects or the Demon Sect actually existed.
She belonged to a sect located at the Tianchi of Mount Baekdu, considered a sacred mountain for the people.
She was Bai Yuwook (白如玉), the 17th leader of the Changbaek Sect (長白派).
When I first heard this, I thought it was quite the coincidence.
Even though we were born in different worlds, Master and I share the same roots.
For some reason, maybe because of this, the secrets of the school that I learned while drinking national pride tea felt closer to martial arts than magic.
The names of the magic techniques I use are subtly reminiscent of wuxia stories for this very reason.
In short, it’s all Master’s fault.
After concluding my meeting with Master, I left the Emerald Tower after promising to visit again soon. Of course, since my identity must not be revealed yet, I instructed Olivia, the secretary, to keep quiet.
We haven’t set the date for the operation yet.
Timing is crucial, after all.
The assassination of King Oscar must occur at just the right time—not too early, not too late—for the Demon King’s Army to advance and plunge the capital into confusion, allowing them to seize control.
Meanwhile, a new hero might appear, but if someone could slay the Demon King after merely training with a sword for a few months, humans would have already dominated the continent long ago.
Anyway, meeting Master after such a long time improved my mood, so I decided to enjoy my rare return to the capital fully.
Upon hearing my plan, Dorothea licked her lips and asked,
“So, are we going out for drinks now?”
“Not really. I’m heading to where I’ll stay tonight.”
Dorothea immediately looked deflated, but alas, it was only around 3 PM, so I had no intention of accompanying her.
Contrary to Dorothea, Barnett, who has no interest in alcohol, asked,
“Where are you going then? Another inn?”
I wagged my finger at her words.
“Why bother? We’re in Oz, and I have a house here.”
During the ten years I studied magic under Master, I didn’t just play around. Utilizing the knowledge of a modern person, I created various convenient magical tools, and the royalties from selling them provided me with enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life.
And since I entrusted all financial management to Master before embarking on my journey anyway, my account wasn’t frozen or anything.
I took precautions because if cunning bankers somehow got wind of my d*ath, they’d likely swallow all my assets and pretend nothing happened.
Together with the two of them, I entered a high-end residential area slightly away from the bustling center of Oz.
Fittingly for one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the capital, the passersby were all dressed in fine attire.
Some frowned upon seeing my shabby clothes, but once I pinned the medal I retrieved from my pocket onto my chest, those looks quickly disappeared.
Ah, if a high-ranking mage dresses casually, it’s not dirt—it’s fashion.
With confident strides, I approached the front of a three-story small mansion.
There were several pieces of mail stuffed in the mailbox due to the long absence of the owner, but there were no signs of a break-in, thanks to the automatic electric trap installed to repel intruders unless they enter through normal means.
What if someone tried to scale the wall abnormally?
Well, in that case, I can only pray for their peace. They’re surely either dead or ruined by now.
I dusted off the keyhole and inserted the key I retrieved from my pocket, turning it.
Click!
With a crisp metallic sound, the gate to the mansion opened.
Ordinarily, a maid I personally hired would have been managing the house, but since the journey I embarked on could have been fatal, I didn’t want to waste money unnecessarily and dismissed her on the day I left.
Having worked there for a long time, I gave her a generous severance package, so she probably had no complaints.
I even gifted her a house to live in with her siblings, so she’s likely doing well now.
“Though it may seem modest since a man lived alone here, please come in.”
Holding the mail stuck in the mailbox, I crossed the gate and entered the garden.
The knee-high grass that had grown wildly tickled my skin, but with a flick of my fingers, I cleared it all in just a minute.
I piled up the cut grass in one corner of the yard and gathered all the dust stirred up by the gust of wind, sending it all to the neighbor’s house.
Dorothea, who was curiously looking around my mansion, saw the pile of weeds in the corner of the yard and asked if I intended to burn them. When I replied affirmatively, she shot a beam from her fingertip, instantly reducing them to ashes.
Excited, I asked what the incredible technique was, and Dorothea arrogantly replied that it was a plasma beam.
When I jokingly asked if she could sh**t it from her eyes too, she retorted asking if I was crazy.
“It would be cool though.”
“All the moisture inside your eyes would evaporate if you did that.”
Although disappointing, if the creator of the technique says so, there’s no arguing.
As we entered the mansion, everything remained exactly as it was when I left the capital with the Hero Party.
Although some dust had accumulated, all the furniture made of solid wood was intact.
I told the two of them that there were plenty of rooms, so they could unpack wherever they liked, and then I promptly opened all the windows on the first floor to ventilate the place.
As the stale air escaped and fresh air flowed in, the place finally felt livable again.
Using wind mana delicately, I sucked up all the dust from the first floor like a vacuum cleaner and expelled it outside into the yard, making the dusty living room shine like new.
Once the cleaning was mostly done, the two women descended from the second floor, where the guest rooms were, and gasped in amazement at the transformed first floor.
“Wow, wind magic is truly versatile.”
“It’s especially useful in daily life. There are many places where you can use it.”
At Vanessa’s compliment, I shrugged confidently, prompting Dorothea to glare at me irritably from beside.
Anyway, with the basic cleaning finished and it being about lunchtime, we decided to have a late lunch.
The ingredients came from the pantry.
Thanks to the permanent preservation magic I cast, the food stored in my pantry doesn’t easily spoil or rot.
So even after one and a half years, the vegetables I sliced roughly still smelled as if they had been harvested just a few days ago. I combined them with leftover dried meat and boiled them in milk to make a stew.
The only food I know that’s as easy to make, diverse, and cost-effective as stew is Korean rice soup.
Thus, stew is essentially the Western version of rice soup.
Boil! Boil!
Thanks to the powerful heat, the milk stew was ready in no time, and I transferred the pot directly to the dining table.
The rich and slightly sweet aroma of milk stimulated everyone’s appetite.
Without waiting for anyone to go first, we all dished out generous portions of the stew.
The varied textures of the vegetables, the wild and intense meat flavor, and the creamy milk taste that encompassed it all drove us to keep eating more.
Since breakfast was just a few scraps of bread early in the morning, we hadn’t eaten for nearly eight hours and devoured the stew in the pot like covering one’s tracks.
Barnett, who usually claimed to eat only her favorite foods, ended up scraping the bottom of the pot with a ladle.
With full stomachs, a warm home, and plenty of space to rest, we decided to take a short nap in our respective rooms until sunset.
Is there a heaven? This is heaven.
“……”
I woke up again at 6 PM.
Reassembling on the first floor, we headed toward the night streets of the capital to drink, as Dorothea had suggested earlier in the day.
