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Translator: Barnnn
“Does this meet your approval?”
“Yes, it’s perfect. Now, may I present our request?”
“Of course! If there’s anything you’d like crafted, Master Hal, we’ll strive to make it a reality!”
In the conference room of the Crafters’ Guild in Bezbaro, the one grinning devilishly wasn’t some Dark Overlord, but Hal — ostensibly Ize’s partner.
[His grin is so sinister…]
So sinister, in fact, that a slight chill rippled down Ize’s spine, drawing her thoughts back to the events after they’d left Haradory.
◆
They had set out from Haradory yesterday morning, pausing only briefly along the way, and reached Bezbaro by mid-afternoon.
The journey had been smooth; what awaited them was not. Their first order of business was to seek an introduction to the artisans at the Crafters’ Guild. But the receptionist at the door, with a sneer as cold as mountain frost, dismissed them outright.
The Guild held sway in Bezbaro, and to outsiders, it was a bastion of unwelcoming authority — haughty, imperious, and unyielding.
The disdain in the receptionist’s gaze, as if she were staring at something unfit for even the trash heap, left Ize frozen and wounded. She stood dazed in the aftermath, while beside her, Hal bristled with fiery determination.
It wasn’t anger exactly; it was the stubborn resolve of a supply manager who just had to see his job through — to wrangle what they wanted from even the most uncooperative producers.
After being turned away, they sought refuge in a nearby eatery. Over plates of stir-fried vegetables, Ize studied Hal, whose furrowed brow betrayed a mind deep in thought.
Then, without a word, he began pulling items from his bangle-shaped Magic Bag, arranging them on the table.
Most were wooden trinkets — a keychain carved into an awkwardly dancing bear, a lacquered pencil case, a ballpoint pen of polished wood, and a personal set of chopsticks…
Among the array, Hal plucked a small object, turning it over with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
[A marquetry bookmark?] Ize blinked in curiosity. “What are you going to do with that?” she asked.
“Hmm, good question. Maybe I’ll use it to pick a fight with the Guild…”
“Excuse me? What?” Her jaw dropped. [Hal, have you completely lost your mind!?]
As Hal carried out his plan, it became more and more perplexing.
He marched into a local woodcraft workshop, showed the bookmark to the artisans there, and asked if they recognized the maker.
It was a futile question — the item had come from Earth, after all.
Yet, Hal persisted, repeating this strange ritual at workshop after workshop, until there were none left to visit.
By evening, they returned to the modest inn they’d secured for the night. Ize, exasperated and still in the dark, finally demanded answers.
“So… what are you trying to achieve, exactly?”
“I’m not certain yet,” Hal admitted, lounging on the bed with an unconcerned air. “But my guess is someone from the Guild will pay us a visit tomorrow. Maybe the day after.”
“What? Why would they come to us?”
“They will,” he said with absolute confidence.
“Hal, explain,” Ize insisted.
“All right…”
Hal sat up and faced Ize. He held up the bookmark, twirling it between his fingers with a dexterity that made it seem to flutter like a butterfly. His sinister grin was back, sharp and gleaming.
“Ize, this village thrives on forestry — especially woodcraft. Their pride in their craftsmanship runs deep — probably deeper than anywhere else. So, imagine what happens when a completely unfamiliar piece of work shows up — something they’ve never seen before.”
“They’ll… want to see it?”
“Exactly. They’ll want to examine it, touch it, and figure out how it was made. Even if they can’t watch the crafting process, they’ll want to learn from someone who’s familiar. The more prideful the artisan, the stronger that curiosity will burn.”
“And the Guild, as their leaders, will feel the same?”
“The bookmark we showed today must be the talk of the workshops by now. The artisans will wonder if the Guild knows about it or if they’re keeping some revolutionary technique under wraps. That pressure will force them to act.”
“Meaning… they’ll have no choice but to come find you?”
“Exactly!”
Hal thrust the bookmark toward Ize triumphantly.
As she squinted, her expression almost comical — like a dragonfly had alighted on the tip of her nose — she voiced her concern,
“…Isn’t this dangerous? What if someone tries to take the bookmark by force?”
“We’ll rely on your Perception for that. But my gut tells me it’ll be fine.”
“If you say so, Hal, I’ll trust you. But I’m staying on guard the whole time we’re in this village.”
“Understood.”
The next morning, much to Ize’s astonishment, the Crafters’ Guild came to them.
A group of old men arrived early, their faces alight with excitement, their presence marked in blue on the Perception map.
Standing by the doorway, Ize stared, mouth agape, while Hal cracked a smug grin that practically shouted:
[See? I told you so.]
◆
The discussion quickly moved to the Guild’s conference room, and from that moment, Hal took center stage. It was a performance worthy of applause, an act so commanding it could have rivaled veteran enka singers: practically a “Hal on Stage.”
While Ize struggled to follow the whirlwind of technical jargon and negotiations, Hal and the Crafters’ Guild exchanged a cascade of ideas and agreements.
Hal explained techniques and provided samples of work. The Guild, in turn, offered a fee for the knowledge and a percentage of sales should the techniques be commercialized.
At first, Hal refused the sales percentage outright, but the Guild’s fervent insistence eventually persuaded him to accept a slightly reduced share.
Additionally, they agreed to set up a common account — one linked to the Crafters’ Guild, Adventurers’ Guild, and Merchants’ Guild — to facilitate financial transactions no matter where Hal and Ize traveled. This account, often used by Guilds or high-ranking adventurers, carried maintenance fees, but the Crafters’ Guild generously covered those costs, deducting them from future sales revenue.
Hal’s strategy of “picking a fight with the Crafters’ Guild to get their attention” had paid off spectacularly. Yet, their ultimate goal wasn’t the plan’s success alone; this was merely a stepping stone for what came next — something even Ize hadn’t known about at the outset.
◆
“A bath…?” the Guild leader repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” Hal insisted. “We’re avid bath enthusiasts and would love to incorporate bathing into our travels. I’ve already drafted a basic concept and was hoping you could introduce us to artisans who might help bring it to life.”
“I see. Such a passion for baths… You’re almost like the Fastidious Sage! Very well! We’ll arrange for you to meet our finest artisans.”
“Thank you so much!”
“It’s late today, so tomorrow we’ll send someone to guide you to their workshops.”
“That’s incredibly generous of you. Thank you.”
“No, no! If there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to ask!”
By the time the discussions ended, the Guild members personally escorted Hal and Ize back to their inn.
Ize, barely processing how the old men bowed deeply outside the door, simply allowed herself to be led inside.
“…For now, I just want to rest,” she muttered, slumping as they entered the room.
“Yeah, let’s do that,” Hal agreed.
Though she hadn’t actively participated in the discussions, the sheer mental effort of listening to complex negotiations had left her drained.
She wanted to thank Hal for taking the lead, for paving the way to their next step, but her brain was too fogged with exhaustion.
“…Ize, you okay?”
“Mm, I’ll be fine after some rest,” she murmured.
“Got it. I’ll keep the room dim. If you wake up in time for dinner, go ahead and eat, okay?”
“Mm… Thanks, Hal.”
“You’re welcome.”
As Ize curled up under the thin blanket, she felt the warmth of Hal’s hand resting gently on her head.
It was a simple touch, yet it carried a kindness she’d never quite known on Earth. A small smile tugged at her lips as she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
◆
She woke as if being pulled from the depths of a dark sea, her mind sluggish and heavy.
Still sprawled on the bed, Ize let her gaze drift lazily toward the faint light in the room.
Hal sat nearby, perched on the edge of the bed, his face illuminated by the soft glow of his tablet.
In that moment, he looked oddly parental, like a father quietly preparing for the day ahead.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice rasping with sleep.
“Hmm?” Hal glanced up. “Just jotting down notes from today’s transactions. Want something to drink?”
“Maybe just a little.”
“Gimme a sec.”
Hal set the tablet aside and returned moments later with a steaming cup, placing it carefully on the table beside Ize.
Ize stared at it blankly, still too groggy to move, when she felt his hand press gently against her forehead.
“No fever… You’re still tired?”
“No, I’m — oh, wait… actually…” She hesitated, her words tangling. “I…?”
“Hmm?”
“Ah, sorry. I just woke up, so…”
“Hah, I could tell. You sounded out of it.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. You don’t need to be so formal with me, you know.”
“W-well…” Ize hesitated for a moment. “It’s just… Hal, you really seem like an adult today.”
Hal blinked, taken aback. “Huh!? Where’d that come from?”
“I don’t know… it just hit me. Usually, I don’t notice the age difference, but today, watching you handle the Guild — you were calm and confident, standing your ground over money and technical stuff. It made me realize… you’ve really been out there, working like an adult.”
“Hah!” Hal cracked a small grin. “So, you think I’m cool now?”
“…On second thought, I think I saw an illusion.”
“Wow. Harsh.”
“Just kidding. You were cool, big bro.”
“Really? Thanks. Glad to know my efforts paid off. Looks like we’ll get to meet the artisans after all.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Yeah, me too. It’s exciting.”
Finally sitting up, Ize reached for the cup of tea Hal had prepared. The aroma of herbs wafted up as she took a sip — it was the sleep-promoting blend they’d bought in Haradory.
Beside it on the saucer were simple cookies, the same kind they’d sampled at the festival. She nibbled at one absently while Hal proceeded to explain financial matters from his tablet.
His words swirled in the air, phrases like “income and expenses” and “profit and loss” weaving together like some arcane spell. Her already sluggish brain struggled to keep up, and the herbal tea amplified her eagerness to tune it all out. It wasn’t that the subject itself was dull — perhaps it was Hal’s talent for leaning into his edgelord tendencies; it was his delivery that felt like he was incanting a sleep spell.
Ize’s consciousness teetered, her thoughts slipping further away, until finally, she succumbed. Eyes fluttering closed, she drifted off mid-sentence.
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