Chapter 2
*
The godfather had collapsed.
Right after healing magic was cast, he’d improve for a while, only to get worse again three days later.
'A textbook case of malaria.'
At least, if you could call it that.
In my hands right now was a medicine that could cure malaria.
I immediately used quinine on the godfather.
“Yulian… that medicine….”
“It’s a treatment for southern fever. Its effects have already been verified on other soldiers, so please rest easy.”
“You’ve been making… something like that all this time?”
The godfather closed his eyes after saying that.
He hadn’t died—he was just asleep because he no longer had the strength to speak.
I immediately began quinine treatment on the sleeping godfather.
After giving him the medicine, I stayed up all night in a corner of the sickroom.
The healers periodically cast healing magic,
and the servants took turns wiping the sweat from his forehead.
In between, I counted the godfather’s breaths, took his pulse, and recorded how his fever was trending.
Three days passed that way.
Before, around this time, the fever would have surged again.
But this time, it didn’t.
And then the next three days, and the three days after that as well.
The malaria symptoms no longer appeared.
'It worked.'
On the morning of the ninth day.
The godfather sat up on his own and asked for water.
The head butler hurriedly brought him a glass of water, and the healer rushed over.
From the hallway, I could hear someone burst into tears.
Amid the commotion, I quietly stepped back.
The godfather recovered safely and got out of bed.
Then, as I turned away, the godfather called out to the back of my head.
“Yulian. Thank you. Is there any reward you would like?”
“I know you’re having a hard time, but may I ask one favor?”
“Speak.”
“I’d like to use the godfather’s name to supply this medicine to the merchant guild.”
“…Is that all?”
“That’s enough.”
Thanks to that, I was able to cleanly solve the quinine distribution problem.
'As expected of a misunderstanding story, things are going way too smoothly.'
*
After being saved by quinine.
As promised, the godfather signed a contract with the merchant guild under his own name.
The merchant guild immediately began selling quinine, and before even a few months had passed, the medicine started spreading throughout the southern region.
The military in charge of the southern front also began paying attention to quinine.
Originally, the military had to deal with malaria and demonic beasts at the same time.
But with quinine’s appearance, they could now focus entirely on the demonic beasts.
As a result, word came from the merchant guild that the military had decided to sign a large-scale contract for quinine.
And then, a few days later.
'Today was the day the results would come out.'
That day had finally arrived.
Early morning.
As soon as I woke up, I stood in front of the mirror to get myself ready.
When I stood in front of it, I saw a gloomy boy with a face like he’d already seen it all.
Unusual black hair with the blue sheen of raven feathers.
Below that, cold grayish-blue eyes.
Downturned eyes with half-closed lids.
I tidied the boy’s messy hair in the mirror and tried to guess what kind of character he had been in the original work.
'Just from the way he looks, I feel like in the original I must have been a quiet, gentlemanly character.'
He was probably a dignified, poised genius with some kind of backstory.
If not, then fine.
Either way, I decided to shape Yulian’s character in that direction.
Calm, gentle, and always speaking softly—a church-boy type.
'…Good. That should do it.'
I’d been doing it since I was four, so by now it was practically second nature.
I made my face look somewhat gloomy, while still keeping its kindness, and turned away from the mirror.
I was in the middle of finishing my mirror routine and changing clothes.
Knock, knock.
A knock came from outside the door.
“Young master, did you sleep well?”
It was the head butler’s voice.
“Yes, I’m up.”
“The lord is waiting for you in his office. He asked if you could stop by for a moment before breakfast.”
The office, first thing in the morning.
I had a feeling I knew what this was about.
It had already been several months since I started selling quinine with the godfather’s help.
It was about time the results started showing.
“Understood. I’ll go right away.”
*
The godfather really does treat me like his own son.
Of course, he sent me to the annex, where the only servant was the head butler, and left me there almost completely on my own,
but still, since I was the son of a dead friend, he would buy me the books I wanted and make sure I never lacked pocket money.
A young master with his own place in the capital, all the essential education, and a steady allowance?
At this point, there was no doubt the godfather really treated me like his own son.
If not, then whatever.
Anyway.
The godfather had called me to the main house’s office.
When I opened the office door and went inside, I saw the godfather seated at the desk, with the head butler standing guard beside him.
He looked gaunt, as if the aftereffects of malaria still lingered.
Or maybe it was related to the time I once heard the godmother muttering outside the godfather’s room that, as expected, being an only child was worrying.
“Yulian. About the medicine you made.”
“Yes, you mean quinine.”
“Yes. About your request that the military take quinine at a lower price, I have something to say about that matter.”
“Yes. What is it?”
“The military placed more orders than we expected.”
The godfather picked up a sheet of paper from the desk.
The numbers written there were… one, two, three, four…
Good heavens. How many digits is that?
I expected to make a lot, but this is beyond what I imagined.
At this rate, I could probably live off the interest alone for the rest of my life.
'If there are this many orders, isn’t that a good thing?'
Why is this a problem?
Could they be trying to seize the patent rights or something?
As I was worrying about that, the godfather continued.
“If we accept everything as is, you’ll take quite a hit on the share you were supposed to receive, so why don’t you think it over once more?”
Ah. So that’s what this was about—profit sharing.
“Do you really have to cut your share?”
“….”
In truth, when I introduced this medicine, I made one agreement with the merchant guild.
I agreed to forgo part of my share in exchange for selling it to soldiers at half price.
“Of course, in places like the demon realm, mosquitoes kill as many soldiers as the demonic beasts do. I nearly died myself. But was there really a need to go this far?”
“Godfather. But if the medicine is too expensive, the soldiers won’t be able to buy it. Not every soldier is a noble.”
“….”
“Since the merchant guild said they couldn’t make it any cheaper, I’m the one who should take the hit.”
Soldiers’ pay was miserable no matter what world or country you went to.
And quinine’s cost was pretty steep, too.
So I made this deal partly to build goodwill with the soldiers, too.
'You can make money later. With quinine, I need to build my image first.'
My goal wasn’t to become some rich nouveau riche.
Since I was the protagonist now, my goal was to become the empire’s greatest doctor, one whose name would live on in history.
'And soldiers never forget the people who treat them well.'
I’m proof of that—I spent my time in the South Korean military still trying to find the same razor over and over.
Honestly, maybe it was just because I’d gotten used to it.
'And this is what the protagonist should be.'
Above all, in a misunderstanding story, doing things that don’t make money is exactly the sort of thing that ends up making money.
In the end, a choice like this would come back as even greater gains.
“It’s fine. Please proceed as is.”
“Yulian. You may still be too young to feel it, but two percent is by no means a small share. You might regret this later.”
“It’s fine. Money can be earned later, but a person’s life can’t.”
“….”
The godfather fell silent for a moment.
The head butler standing beside him also seemed to stop, notebook in hand.
'It looks like that worked pretty well?'
But the silence lasted longer than I expected.
Could the emotion really be that deep?
Wanting to give them enough time to savor the feeling, I waited calmly.
At last, the godfather took off his glasses, pressed lightly at his brow, and let out a sigh.
“… Fine. We’ll proceed as is.”
“Thank you.”
“Now go on. Study hard again today.”
“Then, if you’ll excuse me.”
I bowed respectfully to the godfather and walked toward the door.
“Ah, Yulian.”
Just as I was about to place my hand on the doorknob, the godfather called me back.
“Today is your birthday. Happy 10th birthday. If there’s anything you want, tell me.”
When I turned around, the godfather was smiling faintly.
It was something I felt I’d heard somewhere before.
As if… I’d heard it even in a dream.
“… Thank you.”
I didn’t cling to the feeling that something was about to surface.
Instead, I bowed once more and stepped out of the room.
As I walked, I suddenly remembered where I had heard those words.
'Come to think of it… it might have had something to do with the nightmare I had this morning….'
But as though a thick fog had settled over it, the dream’s contents would not come into focus.
I shook my head and hurried on again.
There was plenty to do after making quinine.
I wasn’t so free that I could dwell on a dream I couldn’t even remember.
=======================
▽▽▽ This is a forgotten story. Or perhaps a story that had been prepared. ▽▽▽
There was a boy.
He wanted to be the sun, wanted to be loved, wanted to save the world.
At one time, the boy had even been called a prodigy.
But being the first to shine didn’t mean you could rise the highest.
Even when night grew deep and the stars climbed all the way to the top of the sky, the boy could only drift around in the grass.
The boy was not a star.
A pitiful little insect that could only barely give off light by borrowing the darkness of night.
He was 「Glowworm」.
*
For the glowworm, the world was harsh.
The parents who should have given him love died before he even had memories.
The new parents who were supposed to give him love died before they could even give it.
And when the boy fell, no one reached out a hand to him.
All he had left was a revolver and a single cheap lead bullet.
The boy opened the cylinder and, with his dirt-stained hand, shoved the bullet inside.
Then, with trembling hands, he brought the gun’s muzzle to his temple.
If, right now, there were still someone in this world who loved him.
What would they have said to the boy?
After much thought, the boy muttered the words he wanted to hear.
“Happy 10th birthday… Yulian.”
Bang—!
With a single gunshot, the boy’s body toppled over the grave.
The city did not react to that gunshot.
And so it seemed as though the boy’s story had come to an end.
“…Hah.”
The boy, who had kept his eyes closed, let out a gasp, a cold breath spilling out with it.
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