Chapter 29: Sorrow (1)
[The origins of black magic have yet to be fully revealed. Several decades after the birth of magic, black magicians began to emerge one by one. There are various theories, such as demonic interference or the side effects of magical experiments, but the most widely accepted hypothesis is that black magic began as an imitation of magic. — Observations of a Magician on Black Magic —]
Oliver continued to turn the pages and read.
This book, written from the perspective of a magician, explained over the course of 200 pages why black magic was an evil discipline and why it had to be eradicated.
It argued that black magicians were evil because they were an inferior race without magical power, and possessing power that was far beyond their means was the primary reason for their wickedness.
To prevent such disasters, it suggested a systemic approach, proposing that humans without magical power should be forcibly segregated, and their reproductive abilities should be removed to naturally eliminate inferior genes.
What could he say?
Maybe because he lacked formal education, Oliver felt that these arguments were narrow-minded and illogical. There were contradictions as well...
Perhaps that’s why he found it quite amusing.
Knock-knock.
The sound of someone knocking on the door. Oliver looked up.
"What's the matter?"
"Yes, Master. I’m sorry, but... it’s time for the task."
At Mari's voice, Oliver checked the clock.
She was right. It was time for the task.
"Yes, just a moment."
He placed a bookmark in the book he was reading and stepped out of the study, where he saw Mari waiting with her head bowed.
"Emotions have arrived from both the Anthony Family and the Dominique Family. They've been moved to the workshop."
"Good work."
Oliver said this and began heading toward the workshop.
The workshop, the largest space in the Joseph Family headquarters, was already filled with numerous people.
From senior disciples to temporary disciples, everyone was there.
"Have you arrived, Master?"
“““““Have you arrived, Master?”””””
As soon as Oliver entered, Peter and the other disciples all bowed respectfully to him.
It wasn’t merely due to power but genuine respect from their hearts.
It wasn’t particularly strange. After all, he had single-handedly negotiated with both the Anthony and Dominique Families.
However, their attitude wasn’t just because of that.
"Is everyone here?"
“““““Yes, Master!”””””
Normally, during this time, the temporary disciples and lower disciples would be doing chores.
Oliver provided them with as much education as possible.
The reason wasn’t anything special.
Since he had essentially taken over the family in Joseph’s place, he felt at least a minimum sense of responsibility to act like the master.
"Before we begin the lesson, I’ll be performing a task. It may not be immediately useful, but watch closely."
The temporary disciples and lower disciples, who had received very little education, along with some intermediate and senior disciples, all watched him with eyes shining brightly.
"Where are the materials?"
"Oh, just a moment."
Mari directed some temporary disciples to bring over a box.
The inside of the box was divided into tight compartments, with vials containing emotions inserted into each slot.
"Mother’s Love and Wrath. The ratio is 8 to 2. I checked it carefully."
Oliver inspected the box. It was exactly 8 to 2.
"Could you open the vials for me?"
Mari gestured, and the temporary disciples quickly opened all the vials.
"All done."
"Thank you. Please step back for a moment."
At Oliver’s request, Mari and the others nearby moved away.
Once there was enough space, Oliver extended his hand into the air. Soon, each vial began to tremble and then spilled out its contents as if vomiting emotions.
"My god..."
"...Ah."
"Amazing. Beautiful."
Each disciple marveled at the scene unfolding before their eyes.
Well, it was understandable. Even Oliver found it beautiful.
The sight of countless emotions gathering and merging into one was indeed stunning.
Bzzzzzzz―――――!
As the two contrasting emotions merged, a repulsive reaction occurred. With the volume of emotions being quite large, it was rather dangerous.
Sparks large and small spread around, but even those seemed beautiful to Oliver.
What would happen if he made a mistake here?
Perhaps the factory wouldn’t be destroyed, but the basement might collapse.
"......"
As the repulsive reaction between the emotions grew stronger, everyone sensed that something was wrong, but just then, Oliver clasped his hands together as if squeezing tightly, and the surging emotions calmed down.
It was as if the previous repulsion had been a lie.
Oliver spread his hands wide, and the synthesized emotions smoothly flowed back into the vials.
"Please close the vials and check if the emotions have been properly allocated."
The disciples, who had been entranced by the magical scene before them, snapped out of it and hurriedly followed Oliver's instructions, closing the vials and checking the quantities of emotions.
"...Everything is fine here."
"This box is good too."
"No issues here."
"No problems!"
The emotions were evenly distributed in all the vials within the box.
After ordering the completed emotions to be set aside, Oliver immediately began the lesson.
"As I mentioned before, divide yourselves into groups 1, 2, and 3."
At his command, everyone separated into their respective groups.
Group 3 consisted of some temporary and lower disciples.
Group 2 was made up of a portion of the lower disciples and intermediate disciples.
Group 1 included some of the intermediate disciples and the senior disciples.
For reference, Mari and Peter were placed in Group 1, and Oliver had them bring out the prepared vials for practice.
"Group 3, shape the emotions. Don’t make them sloppily; make them properly. Once you’re able to do that, work on changing the shape faster than the speed of speech."
Group 3 followed Oliver's instructions without a word.
"Group 2, use basic black magic like Hate Bullet or Black Shield with emotions, but hold them in your hands until you can no longer maintain the magic. Then, release the black magic and practice using the emotions again for another black magic spell."
Group 2, too, followed Oliver’s orders without complaint.
"Group 1, you saw what I did earlier, right?"
They all nodded, visibly nervous, remembering the earlier task of mixing Mother’s Love and Wrath.
"Try mixing the emotions in the vials."
An unexpected statement.
Yet, no one objected. The progress they had made from Oliver’s lessons was indescribable.
Though individual results varied, one lesson from Oliver was more valuable than several months under Joseph’s tutelage.
"Don’t worry. With a small amount, the repulsive reaction won’t be as severe, and since the emotions have similar properties, it will be easier."
He was right.
The emotions Group 1 were tasked with mixing were Hatred and Wrath, which, while slightly different, were almost the same in essence, making them easier to blend.
Thus, Groups 1, 2, and 3 gathered in a semicircle and each practiced their tasks.
Oliver walked among them, pointing out any mistakes.
"The shape is distorted. Do it properly."
"I’m sorry!"
"Don’t let the emotion control you, control it. You’re wasting too much of it."
"Yes! I understand!"
"Faster, it’s too slow."
"I’ll fix it."
"You made this mistake again. Correct it."
"I’m sorry. I’ll fix it."
"The mix didn’t work. I’ll separate it for you, try again."
"Th-thank you."
Whenever someone made a mistake, Oliver would fix it and provide tips as needed.
Compared to Joseph’s time, his teaching was much more lenient and forgiving.
Ironically, it was this leniency and patience that encouraged the disciples to practice more actively, and the more mistakes they made, the faster their skills improved.
Although Oliver was one of the youngest among them, the disciples who received his guidance began to see him as their true master and teacher.
Time continued to pass, and the practice was gradually reaching a stable rhythm.
When there was nothing more to point out, Oliver mechanically walked around the disciples, observing them, and at one point, he suddenly grabbed someone and asked a question.
"...May I ask how you ended up here?"
The temporary disciple from Group 3, startled, responded.
"M-me, sir?"
"Yes. Your emotion’s shape is collapsing. Fix it."
"Oh! I’m sorry..."
"...How did you come here? If it’s difficult to talk about, you don’t have to."
After some hesitation, the temporary disciple opened his mouth.
"Well... I was living with a group of beggars in the countryside, and after I hit the leader and ran away, I met Master Joseph."
"Ah, so you met Master that way."
"Y-yes..."
Afterward, Oliver asked other disciples, at random, how they had ended up joining the Joseph Family.
Orphanages, construction sites, slums—each of them had their own stories, and Oliver nodded mechanically as he listened.
"Then, how about your story—"
"—Oliver."
In the middle of his questioning, Mari interrupted. She was sweating as she worked on synthesizing emotions.
"Yes? Mari."
"Today’s practice time is over."
Oliver checked the clock.
"...That’s right. All right. Good work, everyone. Clean up."
At his words, those who had been sweating as they struggled to control the emotions sighed in relief and put the emotions back into the vials.
Everyone seemed exhausted, yet there was a sense of satisfaction that hadn’t been there before.
Understandably so, as they had been training daily, improving their skills as black magicians.
If they continued at this pace, becoming true black magicians wasn’t just a dream.
"...So, is the work done for today?"
Oliver asked Mari about the schedule, and she pulled out a notebook like a secretary to check.
"...Yes, Master. The processed emotions just need to be delivered to the Anthony and Dominique Families through the apothecary. There’s nothing else to do."
At that moment, Peter stepped in.
"Master, I have a suggestion."
"Hey, Master should rest—"
Oliver stopped Mari and asked.
"What is it?"
"I don’t mean to bother you, Master, but we need to resupply materials... If you permit it, I’d like to go with some others to fetch them."
Oliver thought for a moment before speaking.
"I’ll go too."
"What? No, Master, it’s not necessary—"
"No, I want to go collect the materials myself. Prepare for it, please."
...
Oliver put on the black magic item, False Face, and teamed up with Mari and Peter to go out and collect emotions.
The first place they visited was a familiar inn.
It was the same place Oliver had gone to collect emotions for the first time.
When Peter knocked on the door, an old woman came out.
"Huh? Who is it?"
"Are the fruits ripe?"
"Ah... I figured you’d be coming soon. I have three ready. Come in."
The old woman gestured for them to enter.
Just like before, they followed the narrow hallway and stairs to the second floor.
There were three small rooms, and the sound of a baby crying could be heard.
Everything was the same as the last time.
"Is the child’s mother here?"
Creak. The door opened slowly, and a woman peeked out.
It wasn’t the woman Oliver remembered.
"Ma’am?"
"Yes, that’s right."
The woman opened the door as if she was familiar with them.
Her eyes lacked life, and there were dark circles beneath them. The baby was crying on the bed.
"Waaaah! Waaah—!"
The baby’s loud cries echoed in the room.
While Peter confirmed the woman’s condition and handled the payment, Oliver asked the old woman.
"Where did she go?"
"Huh? Who?"
"The woman I saw last time."
"Oh, her? I kicked her out. She said she needed money for the child’s illness, but she sold her emotions on her own. She’s no longer useful, so I got rid of her. Turned into an empty shell. Why do you ask?"
Oliver stood still after hearing that.
While Peter and Mari were busy extracting Mother’s Love, Oliver, lost in thought, stared blankly outside.
Once they finished the task and left the inn, Oliver remained silent for a moment.
Mari cautiously asked.
"M-master... Is something wrong?"
Objectively speaking, it wasn’t that big of a deal.
It wasn’t like the woman’s emotions were especially beautiful.
But, for some reason...
Oliver felt a strong desire to see her again.
It wasn’t something he had to do, but his innate curiosity was awakened.
An irritating itch that he couldn’t quite scratch.
Oliver closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them with determination.
As he focused, the emotions around him grew clearer, and the range of his perception expanded.
The more he concentrated, the more his eyes ached, as if he were staring directly at the sun.
But Oliver didn’t care.
The pain in his eyes was nothing compared to the frustration of not satisfying his curiosity.
His vision expanded beyond one area, and at that moment, he found the faint glow of her emotions.
"...Found her."
With those words, Oliver abruptly began moving.
Without understanding what was happening, Mari and Peter followed him.
After walking a long way along the main road, they turned into a narrow alley.
There, among beggars and vagrants, Oliver found the woman.
She was thin and ragged, wrapped in filthy rags, with a bottle of alcohol beside her and a nearly dead child lying next to her.
It was the same woman from whom Oliver had first extracted Mother’s Love.
"...Huh?"
The woman, now gaunt and unrecognizable, looked up at Oliver with vacant eyes.
She didn’t seem to remember him, but it didn’t matter.
As if it were a habit, the woman shamelessly offered the dying child in her arms, begging for money.
"My baby is sick. Please, have mercy and give us some money. My baby needs medicine."
Even without the smell of alcohol, Oliver could tell the woman was not in her right mind.
The Mother’s Love he had seen before was completely gone, and only a shallow selfishness remained in her hollow self.
Peter whispered, sensing the situation.
"She’s become an empty shell, Master."
Oliver didn’t say anything.
He just stood there, silently staring at the woman holding out her child like a beggar’s bowl.
A complex emotion swelled inside him—grief, emptiness, frustration... It was hard to describe.
"Please, sir. Just a little. My baby hasn’t eaten in days. My baby is sick. Please..."
Oliver alternated his gaze between the empty woman and the dying child.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
"Give her... some money."
Peter, glancing at Oliver, handed over a small amount of money.
The woman dropped the child and scrambled to the ground like a dog to collect the coins, while Oliver quietly watched her.
Then, without a word, he turned and began walking back the way they had come.
Sensing the heavy atmosphere, no one dared to ask questions, and then Oliver murmured.
"Ah... She was beautiful."