Chapter 16: The Allure of the Spirit

Renki, observed by both Hay and Briana, peered through his mask with an air of profound curiosity and posed a question.

“I understood they were all wiped out, so does that mean the fairy folk belonging to the ‘Good Fairies’ are still alive?”

“I wouldn’t know. There hasn’t been a single report of monsters being sighted since the extermination war a century ago. If any survived, they’re likely living deep in hiding somewhere.”

Briana offered a shrug.

“Why would they live in hiding?”

“Because they fear being branded as demons themselves, and subsequently slain by humans.”

Hay supplied the answer, and Briana nodded in understanding.

“Precisely. I’ve heard that, in times past, even innocent fairy folk were frequently targeted for extermination.”

Hay idly tapped the parchment with his quill, his gaze fixed on the word ‘Orc’ he had penned.

It struck him as peculiar, realizing that the monsters he had only ever encountered in games and novels on Earth were, in fact, tangible realities in this world.

‘Just as I was reincarnated from Earth into this person, there’s no telling someone from this world hasn’t been reincarnated onto Earth.’

Perhaps all the legendary creatures of Earth had their origins here.

Though he had spent over fifteen years as a mercenary, frequently clashing with magical beasts, he had never once faced true monsters—demons—and had, in fact, all but forgotten their existence.

To Hay, demons were nothing more than the devils from the scary tales his parents had spun for him as a child.

They were on par with the ghosts of childhood lore, like the ‘red toilet paper, blue toilet paper’ variety, or the simple boogeyman.

“Now that I think about it, Ms. Lamperche, you truly seem to know a great deal.”

“That’s simply a benefit of the education I received as a child. Shall we proceed?”

Briana reopened the book.

“Come to think of it, today marks our final lesson.”

Hay remarked. Twenty-five days had already passed since he began his studies with Briana.

The Philsman mercenary group, originally intending to stay for only about two weeks, had extended their time in Nudan after failing to secure a suitable commission.

However, they had just recently secured a contract with a merchant caravan setting out from Nudan, and were scheduled to depart tomorrow.

As a result, he could now largely read and write, save for a few words he hadn’t yet had the chance to learn.

“Where did you mention you were headed?”

“Peshul. And speaking of which, Mr. Styles, have you given any thought to joining our mercenary company?”

At Briana’s proposition, Hay let out a soft chuckle, setting down his quill.

“I have no such intentions.”

Though it was a firm refusal, Briana met his gaze with a smile, utterly devoid of displeasure.

“I rather suspected as much.”

“Did Captain Philsman instruct you to try and ‘entice’ me, Ms. Lamperche?”

“It’s purely my own eagerness. Mr. Styles, I have a strong feeling you would be an excellent fit for our mercenary company in many respects.”

“What precisely is it about me that both you, Ms. Lamperche, and Captain Philsman seem to trust so implicitly, prompting this desire to recruit me?”

“An A-rank mercenary and a low-level spirit user—that speaks volumes. Ranks, after all, are unerringly truthful.”

He supposed that was true enough.

The captain of Briana’s mercenary company, fully aware of Hay’s status as a spirit user, had consistently extended invitations to him.

He had even offered a freelance contract, simply for the opportunity to work alongside him.

Unlike official affiliation with a mercenary company, a freelance contract permitted termination at any time—a method Hay had consistently favored.

He had indeed promised to consider it, but regrettably, Hay’s personal plans and their expedition schedule simply did not align.

Had their schedules coincided, he might very well have signed on.

“Then, might you be free this evening?”

Briana reiterated her question, prompting Hay to raise an eyebrow.

“Time is hardly an issue for me. Why do you ask?”

“The Captain mentioned he’d like to share a meal before we depart. All our mercenary company comrades will be gathering.”

‘A final farewell dinner before their departure, then.’

“Would it be appropriate for me to attend such a gathering?”

“There’s no reason why not. You’ve already become acquainted with our folk in passing, haven’t you?”

After a brief moment of consideration, Hay shook his head.

“No. With Renki present, I believe it might prove uncomfortable.”

“If that’s your concern, you needn’t worry. I specifically told them to bring Renki along. Alan, you see, adores Renki.”

Alan was the name of the Philsman mercenary captain.

Hay glanced back at Renki, who conveyed his disinclination with a subtle flicker of his eyes.

Observing this, Briana merely shrugged.

“It’s regrettable, but if Renki is unwilling, then there’s nothing more to be done.”

“My apologies.”

“Not at all. It’s quite alright.”

Briana once more opened the book.

“Where did we leave off?”

“Ah, we had just covered: ‘Among the malevolent fairy folk, the most widely known are Orcs, Trolls, and Goblins.'”

Briana proceeded to read the next sentence.

Even on this final day, the lesson persisted until the hourglass had completed its fourth full rotation.

****

“Thank you for everything. I’ve learned a great deal, thanks to your guidance.”

Hay remarked as he stepped out of the room.

“Not at all. It was a genuine pleasure to teach you, Mr. Styles, largely owing to how diligently you followed along. You are quite remarkable, Mr. Styles, with excellent concentration. Truthfully, I hadn’t anticipated you’d be able to memorize so many words in less than a month’s time.”

“That’s simply a testament to having an excellent teacher.”

“I hardly did anything, aren’t you perhaps flattering me a bit too much?”

“I assure you, those are not empty words. I genuinely appreciate your excellent tutelage during this time.”

“It was merely my duty, after all. And on that note…”

Briana extended her palm. Hay let out a burst of laughter as he handed her a small coin purse.

“Thank you for your kindness to Renki as well. It’s not a large sum, but I’ve added a little extra.”

“You truly didn’t have to. I’ll make good use of it. Still, it’s a genuine pity. If you were to join us, I could even teach you runes—this time, entirely free of charge.”

Hay recoiled visibly, waving a dismissive hand.

“Runes number over two thousand characters! I’m not even a wizard; runes are truly…”

“Haha, indeed, you’re right. I’m merely jesting. I haven’t even mastered a thousand runes myself. Should you ever change your mind, please feel free to bring Renki and visit us in ‘Angel.’ Alan, you see, has been eager to share a drink with you, Mr. Styles.”

“You’re not, by any chance, planning to get me intoxicated and coerce me into signing a contract, are you?”

“I am not, but Alan just might be.”

As they exchanged pleasantries and laughter, they found themselves, almost without realizing it, outside the inn.

“Please, go on in. I’ll bid you farewell again when we depart tomorrow.”

“You truly don’t need to go to such trouble.”

“We ought to bid a proper farewell, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Very well. Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Mr. Styles, please head inside. And Renki, do your best with your remaining studies.”

“Yes, Ms. Briana.”

Briana stroked Renki’s head a few times, then waved a parting hand as she walked away.

Her orange hair, catching the sunlight, seemed to glow as if ablaze with white fire.

If fate truly willed it, they might cross paths again, but after tomorrow, he wondered if he would ever again behold Briana upon this vast expanse of land.

“Let’s head inside as well.”

Hay re-entered the inn ahead of Renki.

“Renki!”

Just then, Mr. Torres’s daughter, Meylin, darted forward as if she had been eagerly waiting, linking her arm through Renki’s.

“Uncle, are you finished with your studies?”

Meylin’s eyes sparkled as she inquired. When Hay nodded in affirmation, she flashed a wide grin.

“May I take Renki? Sister Mila said she’d be telling stories of the Northern Hero in the square, and I wanted to go with Renki!”

“Meylin, I can’t. I truly need to tidy my room.”

“That trifling task can certainly wait!”

“Precisely. I can handle that trifling matter.”

Hay readily agreed with Meylin, much to Renki’s evident consternation.

“Go on, enjoy yourselves. I intend to simply lie down and rest anyway.”

“Wow! Let’s go! Hurry, Renki!”

“Huh? Ah, wait—”

“Oh, why not! You got permission! Let’s go quickly! What if we’re late and miss the beginning?”

Meylin whined, forcibly dragging Renki along. Renki looked back and forth between Meylin and Hay, his eyes pleading for help.

“Have fun.”

Hay offered no assistance.

“Th-then, I’ll be back.”

He reluctantly bowed and allowed himself to be led away by Meylin. Hay chuckled softly as he watched the two figures recede.

Meylin, three years Renki’s senior, was remarkably astute when working, yet in moments like these, she seemed even younger than Renki.

Hay ascended to his room.

In Renki’s stead, he gathered the scattered parchments, discarding the unnecessary ones into the waste bin.

His gaze then fell upon the clumsy drawings Renki had sketched on some of the parchments.

The drawing skills were rudimentary. There were animal figures, seemingly depicting Thea, Kelpie, and Sylph, alongside crude renditions of houses and trees.

Clearly, his studies had not been particularly engaging.

In such moments, he was truly just a child.

“What did he write? R-nyahel? Kel, perhaps?”

Hay fumbled to decipher the hastily scrawled letters in the corner, written with a magic pen.

It wasn’t a word, and the ending was so blurred it was illegible. It seemed to be nothing more than random scribbles.

Hay collected only the parchments Renki had written on, intending to let Renki sort through and discard his own work.

After tidying up, he unfolded a new parchment. On it, he began to write large Arabic numerals.

There was still much he needed to teach Renki.

****

Since his first summoning, Hay had summoned Sylph daily.

Tonight, once again, Hay sought out the forest, summoning Sylph, who diligently showcased their singing prowess. Hay sat quietly, eyes closed, simply listening.

Occasionally, he would call forth Thea or Kelpie, gently stroking them until he had to send Sylph back.

Hay neither praised Sylph’s singing nor, naturally, offered any criticism.

At some point, Sylph ceased showcasing their vocal talents and instead settled docilely on Hay’s shoulder or lap, coaxing him with affectionate gestures to be petted.

It was much like a puppy seeking its owner’s attention, despite having the appearance of a griffin.

Lacking a clock, he couldn’t gauge the precise time, but this ritual typically lasted for about one to two hours.

This continued for two weeks.

“Sylph, won’t you make a contract with me now?”

He asked Sylph, gently scratching their head with his finger.

Sylph, who had been purring contentedly like a cat, suddenly stared intently at Hay with the piercing eyes of a bird of prey.

Hay awaited a response. However, Sylph neither affirmed nor denied.

Sylph’s demeanor suggested they were deliberating, ‘Should I accept them or not?’

Regardless, Sylph would eventually contract with Hay, sooner or later.

If Sylph had no intention of forming a contract with Hay, they would not have answered his summons every time.

Sylph’s hesitation to readily contract was merely their way of enjoying a bit of push-and-pull with Hay.

The problem, however, was that Hay wasn’t playing along at all.

“If not, then so be it. Perhaps you and I aren’t meant to be.”

Hay shrugged, maintaining a nonchalant attitude that conveyed, ‘I have nothing to lose if we don’t contract.’

Sylph, seemingly displeased, narrowed their eyes and glared at Hay. Then, as if sighing, they puffed out their chest significantly before drooping their head.

The next moment, Sylph sprang up from Hay’s lap, flapping their wings—larger than their body—and soared into the air.

“Will you contract?”

Sylph rumbled in their throat, a clear affirmative.

‘Caught them.’

Hay smirked.

He extended his hand, and Sylph settled onto his palm, feeling utterly weightless.

Hay recalled what Hellheim had told him.

‘Spirit users often forget, but for a spirit, the contractor is a lifelong companion. They share in joy and sorrow. They unconditionally stand by their spirit user, no matter what mistakes they make. Sometimes, even to death.’