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Translator: Barnnn
A full week had slipped by since the two had taken up their covert residence within the labyrinthine walls of the royal castle. The sheer scale of the place was almost incomprehensible — even the amalgamation of every castle owned by a certain world-famous mouse would still pale in comparison.
At one point, Izumi had suggested that perhaps they could venture into the city, but Takada had immediately dismissed the idea. The latter’s youthful appearance belied the sharp mind lurking beneath it, but it was his skill in negotiation — and the unrelenting stubbornness of a manchild — that always made him unbeatable in an argument. It was maddening.
[I swear, his ‘Art of Negotiation’ skill is downright unfair!]
Fuming in silence, Izumi made a quiet vow to one day get the upper hand on him.
As she casually strolled through the vast castle grounds, her thoughts inevitably drifted back over the events of the past week.
Just as they had predicted on the very first day, their abilities had grown at a staggering rate. Their primary skills had developed so much, in fact, that they had even begun to branch off.
Eye of Appraisal
∟Eye of Insight
∟Eye of Truth
Stealth
∟Concealment
∟Camouflage
“Insight and Truth?” Izumi had asked one evening, looking curiously at the new branches of Takada’s abilities.
“Yeah, it’s a bit confusing, isn’t it?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Well, the ‘Eye of Insight’ allows me to gauge someone’s emotional state, to read their psychological condition with frightening clarity. Paired with my ‘Art of Negotiation,’ it could be… very persuasive, let’s just say. The ‘Eye of Truth,’ on the other hand, is more about objects — figuring out the authenticity of things, like books or art, determining who really made a painting, that kind of stuff. It also applies to intangible things, like discerning the truth behind information or even someone’s feelings.”
Izumi nodded in understanding. “So, you can essentially read someone’s emotions while also figuring out if what they’re saying is true? Sounds like you’d be pretty much impossible to deceive.”
“You’ve got a scary talent for saying brutal things with a smile, you know that?”
“Do I?”
“Besides, your skills are looking pretty brutal, too.”
“…Yes, I’m aware.”
“I mean, I can kind of guess from the names, but why don’t you explain them a bit more?”
“Sooo… simply put, ‘Concealment’ lets me hide information from my status window. If someone tries to appraise me, they’ll see only the things I want them to see — but I’m guessing it wouldn’t be quite as effective against someone with your level of expertise. And ‘Camouflage,’ well… I’m not quite sure how it works yet, but it seems to let me alter how things are perceived.”
“…Damn, that’s even worse than I imagined.”
“Hmph. Rude.”
Izumi proceeded to explain her skills in detail: Concealment could erase evidence of presence that the standard Stealth wouldn’t mask, such as footprints and traces of objects being moved. Camouflage allowed her to temporarily change a target’s appearance and voice, and even deceive their perception of pain or touch for a short time.
“These are the kind of skills any spy would kill for…”
“Kill for?”
“It means they’d really want them — really, really want them.”
“Sounds like an idiom that could show up on an exam, don’t you think?”
“Well, when and if you’re back to Earth, and it does pop up, feel free to thank me for the trivia.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath. My school’s an integrated system from junior high through high school — no big linguistic exams for me.”
“Wow, sounds like someone’s a rich kid.”
Izumi went on to further refine her Concealment and Camouflage skills, and before long, she found that she could extend their effect not only to herself but also to Takada, temporarily masking his presence and appearance.
With this newfound ability, they no longer had to remain glued to each other’s side, gaining the freedom to gather information more efficiently.
Takada spent his days buried in the treasury or archives, poring over state records, wading through convoluted tax data, and losing himself in dense volumes of historical accounts. The sheer intensity with which he tackled the nation’s documents left Izumi in quiet awe — and, if she were honest, a touch of fear. His dedication was relentless, and she knew in her heart that she could never maintain that level of focus.
Meanwhile, Izumi wandered the less glamorous areas — the servants’ quarters, the back entrances used by merchants, and the soldiers’ training grounds. She slipped through these spaces with ease, eavesdropping on idle chatter, piecing together fragments of conversations that could prove useful. Each night, she reported everything she had learned to Takada.
Their current lodging was a room shared with the men who handled the stables and served the knights. It was surprising how few slept there, likely due to the early mornings and unpredictable night shifts that kept them away.
Despite the ease of access, it was by far the filthiest, most foul-smelling place they had stayed during their time here.
Izumi had had enough of that; she planned to suggest that they move somewhere else first thing tomorrow morning.
And now, ready for today’s report, she called out to Takada as he re-entered the room, his hair damp from having washed in the empty chamber next door.
“Perfect timin’, boss!” she said, her voice somewhat gruff, “Got some juicy intel for ya today!”
Takada paused, raising an eyebrow. “…The hell do you think you are, a shady informant?”
“I was going for more of a sushi chef vibe, actually.”
“…Uh, sorry?”
“Apology accepted. Anyway, Takada-san — I think I might’ve just cracked the case behind your fourteen-year-old body.”
“No way! You actually figured it out!?”
“Sure did! Though I can’t take all the credit — the real breakthrough came from one of the lowest-ranking kitchen staff. By the way, he works for the Third Princess — who happens to be a thirty-something and recently divorced. Wink-wink!”
“Well, I don’t think we can exactly walk up and thank him for that, can we?”
Izumi shrugged. “It is what it is.”
Earlier today, Izumi had been gathering information in one of the cafeterias frequented by the servants.
The place was a constant buzz of conversation, most revolving around trivial gossip: where to find the best coffee, which squad had the buffest soldiers, or which official had been caught in an affair and subsequently stabbed by his furious wife — topics women reveled in.
Still, there were good pieces of information to be found. She caught mentions of which regions harbored the strongest Mystic Beasts and debates over which nation’s cuisine reigned supreme — details that could be useful for future travels. As she moved between tables, weaving effortlessly through the crowd, she occasionally plucked a piece of food from someone’s plate, enjoying herself as she did so.
Spotting a man balancing an overflowing plate of potato chip salad and stir-fried chicken substitute, she seized her chance. If she didn’t act quickly and snatch a piece before he began eating, she’d have to endure the unsettling notion of an indirect kiss with the bearded old man. That was something she was utterly determined to avoid. With her presence perfectly cloaked, she edged closer, her hand inching toward the chicken substitute, when another figure approached.
“Den, man! You’re off early too, huh? How about we grab a drink later tonight?”
“Ah, I’d love to, but not this month. Or next month, for that matter.”
“Why not? You short on cash?”
“Yeah, pretty much. My second son’s coming-of-age ceremony is next month.”
“Wait, didn’t he turn fifteen last month? You’re telling me he still hasn’t gone?”
“That’s the problem… I MIGHT HAVE spent all the donation money on drinks. Now I’ve gotta scrape together some spare change fast and get him to the Church. Otherwise…”
“Your wife’s going to kill you, huh?”
“Nah, my SON will. He’s always been a big kid, but recently he’s gotten even bigger. No doubt about it — whatever skill he gets from the ceremony is going to be combat-related.”
“Oh yeah, that’s a given. Every guy dreams of getting a combat skill, right? Imagine, though, if he ends up with something like sewing. That’d be priceless.”
“Don’t even joke about that. I’ve been praying to the Goddess for a good skill every day. Anyway, no drinking until after next month.”
“Got it, man.”
Izumi, listening closely from the shadows, couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Den. She decided, in a rare moment of restraint, to leave his plate untouched. Instead, she reached over to the other man’s tray, swiping a piece of fruit. It tasted like a perfect cross between a pear and a peach, its sweetness lingering on her tongue.
Using her Camouflage skill to imitate the two male servants’ voices with unnecessary precision, Izumi reenacted the entire conversation. She had expected Takada to be impressed, perhaps even amused, but instead, he simply rested his chin on his hand, eyes narrowing in thought.
Realizing he was deep in contemplation, she stifled a sigh of disappointment, knowing he would be lost in his own mind for a while.
In the meantime, she pulled out her dinner from her ring-shaped Magic Bag. It had been only a week since they’d arrived in this world, and though she wasn’t yet tired of the pre-prepared meals from her backpack, she knew they couldn’t rely on them forever. Eventually, they’d have to source food from elsewhere. Her habit of stealthily acquiring snacks from the cafeteria was preparation for that — or so she told herself. She popped a piece of cucumber kimchi into her mouth just as Takada snapped out of his thoughts.
“There was some interesting intel in that conversation,” Takada said — and at the same time, he reached out. “Mind if I have some of that kimchi too?”
“Go ahead,” Izumi replied, pushing the container toward him. “But what about my performance? How was it?”
“…You nailed the vibe. But the way those deep, gravelly voices came out of your face? A bit unsettling, honestly.”
“Guess I’ll have to work on that. Anyway, what’s your take on all this?”
“First off, the fact that the coming-of-age ceremony happens at fifteen but isn’t tied strictly to the birthday? That’s huge. My birthday’s next week, so knowing I don’t have to do it on the exact day is a relief. Second, the donation money — it’s not exorbitant if even a low-level servant can save up in two months. The real question is whether we’ll be allowed to take the ceremony as kids without a guardian… but if it’s affordable, we should manage. Third, the skills. It seems like the ceremony grants you a skill based on what you’re naturally good at. And lastly, the Church and the Goddess. Considering all the supernatural stuff we’ve been experiencing so far, it’s as if She’s calling us — influencing us to go to Church and see Her.”
“Totally. Which got me thinking — maybe you were de-aged to fourteen so that you’d have to attend the ceremony.”
“It’s very likely. I just hope we don’t get an up-close-and-personal visit from the Goddess herself, though…”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”
“Yeah, no way around this… All right, thanks for the info, Ichikawa-kun. At least now we know what our first step is once we leave the castle — The coming-of-age ceremony.”
As he spoke, Takada began dumping a pile of coins onto the table, the assortment clinking and jingling as they landed in a messy heap. There were far more than Izumi had anticipated.
“You got all these from Converter?”
“Not quite. There’s a bit extra from a side gig.”
“A side gig?”
“Yeah, while I was going over those tax records, I found some… discrepancies. I pointed them out to the guy in charge, and he gave me this.”
Takada pointed to a gleaming gold coin, its surface freshly minted, starkly contrasting the worn and chipped coins that surrounded it.
“…How much do you think it’s worth?”
“I have no idea. It looks valuable, but if it’s hush money, it could be chump change… We don’t have a clear picture of how common it is, so it might be best to avoid using it at the Church.”
“Agreed. But do you think the remaining coins will be enough?”
“That’s hard to say. We could always play the part of clueless kids and ask the Church directly about the amount required…”
Izumi tilted her head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re still younger than the de-aged me, Ichikawa-kun. I figured you might be able to pull off the innocent, pure child act and ask them without raising suspicion.”
“Innocent is a bit of a stretch. I’m just smaller compared to the locals here.”
“Nah, that can’t be right — they’re just of the average Nordic size.”
“That’s still plenty big.”
With their course of action settled, the first objective was clear: to attend the coming-of-age ceremony at the Church.
Yet, before they could proceed with that, they needed to gather information on their summoning and assess the current political landscape of the kingdom and its neighbors.
Takada estimated that this would take no more than another week. Izumi placed her trust in him, confident in his ability to handle the task.
Sighing softly, Izumi poked at her post-dinner dessert — a mizumanju, a translucent jelly-like confection filled with sweet red bean paste. She longed for the comforting warmth of green tea or roasted barley tea to complement it, but unfortunately, the only decent match she had in her Magic Bag was cold buckwheat tea. While she had also bought jasmine tea and lightly sweetened black tea, neither paired well with traditional Japanese sweets.
Takada, on the other hand, was more of a coffee and mineral water guy. Since their arrival in this world, he had lamented the lack of drink variety. His mood had brightened considerably, however, when he discovered he could indulge in the rare regional sake he had directly procured from a producer.
Yet, the following day, the high-proof sake proved too much for his fourteen-year-old constitution. He spent the day rolling around like a zombie, clutching his bottle and groaning, “This sucks…”
Then, by the day after, Izumi caught him cheerfully decanting the sake into another container. “I’ll drink as much as I want when I’m back in my adult body,” he muttered to himself with a grin.
At that moment, Izumi made a silent vow to herself: she would never grow up to be an adult like him.
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