I started going to the pharmacist’s barn. No one asked me to do it. The old man never said, “I will make you my apprentice,” of course. Yet, when the afternoon comes and the village work slows down for a bit, my feet naturally turn toward that barn on the edge of the village.
— If I have a trade in my hands.
That thought has not left my head lately. I am an outsider who cannot fight, with all stats at 1. In the castle, they only looked at the numbers and threw me out as useless. Even in this village, I am only being kept here because they said, “If you are useless, we will cut you.” That night with the monster and the ditch clearing in the water channel are still counted as useful for now. … But I do not know how long that will last.
However, a skill is different. The skill of making chopped medicine work cannot be taken away by anyone, unlike numbers. No matter where I end up in this world, I will probably be able to make a living.
… Not talent or strength, but just getting back as much as you put in. That felt like one of the few paths open even to me. That is why I wanted to learn. Even so, learning it was much further away than I had thought.
“…Rough. With chopping like that, the effect is cut in half.”
The roots the old man chopped are even and neat like millet grains. Mine are all different in sizes, crushed, and only juices ooze onto the chopping board. Even though I am supposed to be using the same small knife to chop the same roots, the finished result is completely different. On the shelf, grass with names I do not know are tied in bundles and hanging in a row. The “Sun Grass” used for stopping bleeding seems to work really well once dried and made into powder.
The “Silver Moss,” which prevents wounds from becoming infected, grows only in the damp rocks of the forest, and in the corner of the dark barn, it faintly glowed a pale, bluish light even after drying. … In the plants of my previous life, there were none that glowed like this. When that happens, I suddenly think that this really is a different world.
In the very back of the shelf, a single bundle that remains brightly blue even after drying is put away with a cloth covering it. Even when I ask what kind of grass it is, the old man does not answer. “It is still too early for you.” That is all.
… It seems he has no intention of showing everything in his house to an outsider. I have no intention of peeking forcefully, either.
— Is it not just about strength?
In this world, things are mostly decided by numbers. Guys who get strong skills raise them to double and triple digits and go up. Someone like me with all 1s just spills out at the very bottom. … That is what I had thought.
However, here, there is a place that cannot be reached by that ruler alone. The hand movements that the old man’s long years have memorized. Which grass, how much, and in what order. Skills that are not listed on numbers or the status window and cannot be reached by half-hearted hands were definitely here. To me, that somehow felt like salvation.
“…More, finer.”
“Yes.”
While being scolded, I brush away the falling bangs with the back of my hand, roll up the sleeves of my frayed school uniform, and grip the small knife again. I am still far from millet grains. Even so, I feel like they have become a little more even than yesterday.
On the path toward the barn, Theo was waiting.
“Yuu! Is Maro here? Is it here today?”
I feel like he has grown taller by the width of a finger since the last time we met. Children really grow up in no time at all.
When I let Maro down from my shoulder, Theo gently wraps it in both hands and rubs his cheek against it. Maro twitched its ears as if it were annoyed.
“Yuu, lately you have been going to old man’s place, is that true? Is it not scary?”
“It is not scary. He is just a little quiet.”
Theo made a face that seemed to understand with a “Hmm” and kept stroking Maro. … When this child grows up, what will I be doing? I suddenly thought about things like that.
That was the first time medicine made by my hands worked on a person’s wound. It was around the time when the wheat was growing tall. During the village-wide irrigation canal construction, a village man cut the back of his hand deeply with a sickle. The bleeding would not stop. I instinctively took out the Sun Grass healing ointment from my waist pouch, which I had kneaded after learning from the old man. I washed the wound and pressed it on gently. … Will it work? Even though I made it myself, half of me felt like I was praying.
The next morning, that man—Theo’s father, Halo—visited me at the fields. He is one of the prime working men who inherited the field and stayed in the village.
“Hey. … That thing worked. The swelling went down, too.”
He said just that bluntly and walked away. However, as he left, the look in his eyes when he glanced at me had a slightly different color from the distant sizing-up until then.
“An outsider helping the pharmacist.” From that day on, I started hearing such voices here and there in the village. That evening, when I talked about that in the corner of the barn, the old man did not even stop his hands from working the mortar, and said,
“…With that kneading level, I suppose it is a passing grade.”
And then he muttered that. With that, he fell silent again. … I think this is probably his own way of giving his utmost praise. For some reason, feeling ticklish, I looked down and held back a laugh.
That night, in the straw bed, the usual window floated up behind my eyelids.
‘Daily Reward — Experience +1’
…Today, it is 1, huh. Ever since that day I was driven out of the castle, how many nights have I crossed? Every night, without forgetting, one, two. The numbers that have piled up have grown enough to make the window from the day of banishment look very small now. —And yet, my level remains at 1 as before. The next step is still far ahead. Whether I work or sleep, they pile up automatically one by one. Whether these numbers will ever turn into something someday is still unknown, after all.
However, today is about more than that. The medicine I chopped worked on a person’s wound.
It does not pile up automatically just by sleeping like numbers do. My hands respond as much as I have learned. … This kind of real feel is much surer for me right now.