Chapter 40 : The Tree That Gives Without Sparing

“A gift? I don’t need one.”
Ever since she was young, her parents had warned her repeatedly: If someone offers you candy to follow them, say “No, thank you,” and refuse. Nothing in the world is free. Offering a gift out of the blue was a scammer’s trick. She might understand if there was a convincing reason, but enlightenment? Saving face? What nonsense was he spouting just because words came out of his mouth? He was no different from cultists babbling about “You have a good physiognomy” or “Your ancestors’ merits seem high.”

[…The opportunity to obtain the clue will never be given again.]
[Are you sure you want to refuse?]

You, scram. Where do you get off interrupting adults talking? As she glared, the status window faded away.

“Ho, are you serious? Enlightenment is one’s own achievement, so congratulations are welcome, but you won’t accept a reward… How commendable! It’s not easy to have a kind heart that surpasses talent. I shall be especially generous and grant you two wishes!”
[You have successfully appealed to the key NPC’s preferences!]
[The reward increases!]

Somehow, this felt familiar. The Golden Axe and the Silver Axe? Impressed by honesty, so you give everything? Does Western fantasy have similar fairy tales? Of course—Aesop’s Fables. The Korean mountain spirit version was just an adaptation.

“Hmm.” Lena pondered. How do I shake off this scammer? Seeing how quickly he came up with an excuse after she refused, he was a formidable opponent. Should I ignore him and run, since I’ve seen all I needed to? I can’t just beat up a white-haired old man for trying to pull a fast one… wait.

Lena erased her wariness and preconceptions, observing him as he was. She trusted her keen eye—intuition accurate ninety-nine percent of the time, paired with eyesight that could analyze every muscle fiber. Seeing through someone’s true intentions was no challenge. Through unfiltered eyes, the blacksmith held no malice. Metaphorically, it was like grandparents wanting to give something—anything—to a grandchild visiting after a long time.

Come to think of it, didn’t he say no one visits? Lena clicked her tongue inwardly. Tsk tsk, old people get so lonely. People in this era probably didn’t know lonely elderly folks were a major social issue. Is it so hard to visit occasionally, show your face, and chat? Do they think “Treat them well while they’re here” came out of nowhere? As a polite youth respectful to elders, Lena dropped her suspicion and grinned.

“Are you really giving me a gift? No taking it back later.”
“At my age, going back on my word would be disgraceful!” The blacksmith chuckled heartily.

Lena concluded: He really is lonely. Trying to entice her with a gift was true, but it felt like giving candy to a cute neighborhood kid. No need to be wary then. She spoke without reservation.
“Then, can you fix this one thing for me?”
“Alright, is it swordsmanship guidance you seek? Or perhaps you intend to pry my know-how from me? Yes, boldness is the privilege of youth! I shan’t hide anything out of narrow-mindedness but wholeheartedly pass on everyth—”
“This.”

Lena held out her hand. In her slender, pale grasp lay a single sword.
“Please make this look rough and ugly so others won’t recognize it.”
“…”

Asclif’s Lost Glory. Asclif, said to be a famous noble family of the Empire. It was her possession—she’d found it—but what if they claimed ownership and dragged her into a legal dispute? This was her desperate measure to avoid that misfortune. Tampering with it herself felt risky, but with a blacksmith—an expert—right here, missing this chance would be foolish.
“Please.”
“…”

Ruin a masterpiece sword. The blacksmith’s eyebrows twitched violently at the request.

“Oh, you really can’t recognize it now.”
The handle’s finish was roughed up, the pommel replaced, the crossguard’s shape altered. The blacksmith couldn’t bring himself to touch the blade of the masterpiece, it seemed, altering only the other parts—but that was enough. Even to Lena’s untrained eye, the sword, once among masterpieces, now looked like a crude work by a novice.
[Asclif’s Lost Glory (Damaged)]
Even its name changed. Now, it’ll be really hard for anyone to recognize it. Even if someone does, I can just insist otherwise. Lena smiled with satisfaction.

“Keung.” The blacksmith, on the other hand, looked miserable. His trembling hand as he passed the sword wasn’t from fatigue but confusion—wondering if this was right. Well, he was a true craftsman who’d shown the “This isn’t the pottery I wanted” moment before her eyes. Ruing a masterpiece must’ve been agonizing.

But what can you do? He shouldn’t have offered wishes then. Since it was a legitimate request, Lena felt no guilt.
“…Where did you obtain this sword?”
“Why do you ask? Do you know what this is, Elder?”
“Know it? Of course I do. Asclif’s Glory—is it not the heirloom of the Asclif Ducal family?”
“Gasp!”

Busted! Lena’s hair stood on end. She’d only thought about ruining it so others wouldn’t recognize it, not that the blacksmith might know it himself. Emergency! Emergency! Alarm bells rang in her head. How loose-lipped elders can be. If he whispered this as a “secret,” by tomorrow the whole neighborhood and their relatives would know. Blacksmiths probably had their own community—if word spread there, the original owner would find out instantly. Trying to take the easy way out had landed her in deep trouble.

Still, there was a chance to fix it. “My second wish! I’ll say it now! Keep the identity of my sword to yourself!”
[…The opportunity to obtain the clue will never be given again.]
[Are you sure you want to refuse?]

The status window flickered with resignation, but since she couldn’t read it anyway, it didn’t matter.
“I had no intention of blabbing to others. I’m simply curious.”
“Aha.” Seems I was paranoid. Relieved, Lena answered honestly.
“I found it.”

She really did find it—though it was in a dragon’s lair.
“Hoh.” The blacksmith’s breath was a mix of admiration and lament.
“They say divine objects have owners. It seems that connection has led to you.”
“You really won’t tell, right? You absolutely mustn’t spill this secret—which only we should know—to your spouse, kids, grandkids, or friends. Don’t think ‘How dare she make a craftsman ruin a masterpiece! This is righteous revenge!’ and hold a grudge later either.”
“Keung, I said I understand. You have no trust.”
“Well, your face looks miserable, Elder.”
“That’s because you didn’t ask for my guidance. It pains me to say it myself, but to waste such a fine opportunity on such trivial work…”
“?”

Lena was puzzled. He’s weaker than me. In crude terms, a weakling… offering guidance? It sounded like the world turned upside down. Her intuition stayed quiet—no hidden trump card. Ah, maybe he means blacksmithing? That could be. She’d learned the basics by watching, but it was just that—basics. Still, she wasn’t keen on blacksmithing. After mastering the Knight’s Destiny, she’d set her sights on becoming a mage. Even if she took up blacksmithing someday, it’d be far off.

“Hehe, it’s okay. I can’t trouble you, Elder. I’ll manage on my own.” For Lena, this was her politest refusal. What guidance could a weakling offer? It wasn’t something to say to an elderly person—especially one offering it out of goodwill. Right, what matters is the heart. Nitpicking facts and getting offended was for rebels green in social graces.

“Hoh, I was mistaken. You’re a child who attained enlightenment alone, intent on building a solid foundation without relying on others. Truly commendable! A pillar of strength has joined our knight order!” The Elder wasn’t offended—he seemed pleased.
“I shall grant you one more wish!”

Wow! Amazing! Wishes are duplicating! I thought it was the Golden Axe and Silver Axe, but it’s The Giving Tree.
“Just say the word. Though I’m old, I can always make time for a promising child like you.”

Ah, I see. That’s how lonely you are—trying to keep me by your side like this. Lena felt pity, disappointed in the Red Rose Knights. Kids these days don’t know how to respect elders. She was about to offer to chat with him—
“Ah.”
“Is there a problem?”
“It seems my companion is looking for me.”

She sensed Celine moving in the distance—the meeting must be over. Her walk for fresh air was done.
“I see.” The blacksmith’s reply was stiff. Wrinkles creased his taut, age-defying skin, his expression downcast and melancholic.
“I’ll come again later.”
“…You will?” He brightened instantly.
“Keep the two remaining wishes safe. I’ll come back to use them, so look forward to it.”
“Alright, don’t forget—be sure to come again.”
“I will.”

She’d wondered what to use those wishes for—this was a good excuse. She could ask for a tour of the knight grounds next time.
“I’ll come again next time!” Lena dashed outside with her farewell. Then it hit her: Ah, we didn’t introduce ourselves. She checked above the blacksmith’s head for his name.
[Knight Commander Reinhardt]
“?”

Knight Commander? Not a blacksmith? Lena tilted her head but dismissed it. The status window must’ve messed up. It had labeled Mykol as “George’s Crew Action Leader” instead of a bandit—probably the same deal.
[Obtaining the crucial clue necessary for quest resolution has been postponed!]
The status window flickered, as if relieved the worst was avoided.