Ever since Yuria's lessons began, she had been growing by leaps and bounds.
Was it any wonder—the original author himself had called her one of the most talented characters in the whole story?
"Astonishing" was truly the only word that fit.
"Baal, I did what you taught me yesterday."
"You already finished all of it?"
"Yep. Look."
Perhaps she'd wanted to show off early.
Yuria, who had come running to me without fail today as well, clasped her two hands together and gathered mana.
*Whoosh!*
The mana that answered her call transformed into flame and shot upward, and I couldn't help clicking my tongue in disbelief.
...This is absurd.
A child who hadn't even been learning magic for a full month, and she could already perform elemental conversion of mana.
People often think of magic and picture things like fireballs, elemental spells of that sort.
But in this world, elemental magic wasn't something one could wield so easily.
That was precisely why non-elemental spells tended to dominate the lower circles—first, second circle magic.
With non-elemental magic, you were essentially using mana to directly cause a phenomenon.
With elemental magic, you had to convert the mana to match that element's properties, and only then exert physical force with it.
In other words, it required one additional process.
And not every mage could freely use every element, either.
Even I could handle fire, ice, and lightning at a level befitting a 7th Circle mage, but my mastery of the rest wasn't nearly as high.
Of course, once you climbed to the higher circles, this kind of difficulty distinction stopped mattering much.
Time magic, spatial magic—these fell under the category of non-elemental magic, yet were far more advanced in nature.
*Still, it's remarkable, no question.*
But even granting all that, if you asked whether this child's growth rate was something that made sense—no, absolutely not.
I myself hadn't properly manifested elemental magic until I was nine.
Which meant Yuria, right now, was barely a year younger than I'd been at that point.
But the length of our respective training periods was worlds apart.
She had already reached the 1st Circle at age six and had been learning magic ever since.
If this child had only started learning magic a few years earlier, what might have happened?
It was a shame, in a way—and yet it left me looking forward to what was still to come.
"Baal, was Yuria good?"
"'Good' doesn't even begin to cover it. I'm truly proud that you're my disciple, Yuria."
"V."
By now, Yuria's little "V" sign had become a kind of signal.
Sometimes it wasn't, but most of the time, it meant she was feeling proud of herself and wanted to be praised with a little extra effort.
*Pat. Pat.*
And the method for that was very simple.
Stroking her head, full of affection.
"Ahem."
That only made her puff up with pride even more, straightening her neck importantly.
But honestly, it was so cute that I couldn't help breaking into a doting, fatherly smile.
Ugh, whose disciple was she, to be this adorable?
"Well then, I suppose I have nothing more to teach you today. Let's put off today's lesson for later."
"No more?"
"You can't run too fast, too soon. Take it easy."
"But Yuria wants to get strong faster than Baal."
"You little rascal."
That kind of resolve deserved praise, certainly, but right now was a time to rest.
*Her mana core is unstable.*
That was my judgment, having heightened my perception and looked inside Yuria's body.
No matter how overwhelming a Star's Blessing like Gluttony was, no matter how close to infinite the mana she'd absorbed from chaos mana might be, Yuria's body was, at its foundation, still frail.
It wasn't for nothing that her brain had forcibly severed so many branches—emotion, pain, and the like—just to lighten the burden on her body.
And with a body like that, she'd only just begun learning magic and had pushed herself all the way to elemental conversion within a single month. It was plain to see that everything from her mana core to her body as a whole was screaming in protest.
*I should have her rest for at least two days.*
Withdrawing my heightened perception, I scooped Yuria up into my arms just as she was.
The so-called princess carry, as it's commonly called.
"Baal?"
"A disciple who won't listen has to be made to rest, whether she likes it or not. Come now, let's go see Lyriette's room."
"Lyriette said she was going to do her homework."
"Then I suppose we'll just have to lure her out to play with us instead?"
She, too, had been running herself ragged this past month.
So much so that even Abel had started to feel a wall between them and no longer even bothered challenging her.
Partway through, I'd borrowed the power of Phantom Resonance to roughly gauge Lyriette's skill, and it was on an entirely different level from when she'd first crossed swords with me in Lord Oden's body.
For children this diligent, giving them a reward once in a while was simply a virtue befitting an adult.
"Is there something you'd like to do, by any chance?"
"Yes. There is. Playing house."
"Playing house?"
Of all things, to hear the words "playing house" come out of Yuria's mouth.
Now this was a scenario I hadn't quite anticipated.
Had she learned this game from the friends who'd visited the estate the other day?
Even so, it made me wonder whether ten-year-olds even played house in the first place.
*Well, Yuria's mental age does run a little young, all things considered.*
Not so much "mental age" as a slight lack of common sense.
If anything, that made her free from the constraints of common sense.
For instance, the idea that certain things were too childish for this age, or that men should wear this kind of clothing and women that kind.
Maybe that was precisely what made this possible.
Well, in any case, if she wanted to do it herself, I had no reason to stop her.
Though whether Lyriette would want to join in was another matter.
"Then I suppose I'll have to try coaxing Lyriette into it. What role should I play, by the way?"
"Baal is the daddy."
"The daddy, is it."
"Yep. And Yuria's going to be the mommy."
Exactly the role distribution I'd expected.
Playing house usually went this way, after all.
"Then Lyriette must be playing the daughter."
"Lyriette said she'll be the mommy too."
"...Hm?"
"I asked her yesterday if she wanted to play, and she said she'd be the mommy too. So we're both mommies."
"......?"
What was this.
This was rather different from the innocent, pure-hearted game of house I'd imagined children playing.
"...Yuria, first of all, this country doesn't permit polygamy."
"It's fine. Lyriette said she'd change it."
Change what? The law?
***
After being tugged back and forth between my two "wives" for nearly an hour, my arms had gone numb.
Not a figure of speech—I mean literally tugged.
They'd grabbed each of my arms and pulled, like it was some kind of tug-of-war.
I would have liked to play a little longer, but I had a summons and had to head to the study.
*Creak.*
As always, when I opened the door, the peculiar scent wafting from the piles of books and papers greeted me.
"You've come, Baal."
"Yes, Brother. You called for me?"
"Mm. Sit down for a moment."
Edmund closed the book he'd been reading and gestured toward the chair set across from him.
It had been quite a while since we'd talked one-on-one, just the two of us, and it left me feeling a touch awkward.
"I heard about it. Yuria's progress has been remarkable lately, I'm told?"
"She's keeping up well. I finally understand why mages take on disciples once they're older."
"I suppose so. There's nothing quite as gratifying as watching a promising talent grow."
"By the way, why did you call me here? I doubt you called me all this way just to ask after Yuria's progress instead."
I'm not overly fond of long preambles, so I cut in at this point.
Edmund muttered something like a complaint in response—
Something about how it had been ages since we'd had a proper conversation as brothers, and wasn't I being a little too cold about it.
I nearly fired back a black joke about who exactly had been "cold" about a year ago, but held my tongue.
That really might have left him incapacitated.
"It's nothing much—there's simply been some rather troubling rumors circulating in the duchy lately."
"Troubling rumors?"
"Yes. Have you heard of the black market before?"
"Well, I've heard of it, but..."
The black market, or the underground market.
In a world like this, it was the sort of marketplace that always existed just beneath the surface.
From banned drugs to forbidden grimoires.
Even human trafficking ran rampant there—a rotten, stinking cesspool of a place.
"To be honest, if it were the usual sort of business, I'd have turned a blind eye. There are precious few major cities without a black market to begin with."
"I understand that much myself."
I wouldn't go so far as to call Edmund a highly capable head of the household, but at least when it came to the black market, even I found it hard to be too harsh a critic.
That was because, in this world, the black market functioned as something everyone used, at least somewhat openly, in secret.
Ordinary commoners rarely had occasion to visit it.
But the nobility—especially the higher-ups of reasonably prestigious families—had likely all passed through its doors at least once.
That's precisely why the black market usually had considerable backing.
Even if soldiers stormed in and wrecked the place once, the actual proprietor was never caught, and could simply set up shop somewhere else without a scratch. That was exactly the reason why.
"But this time, things are a bit different. From what I hear, the main items to be auctioned off at this black market sale are illegally trafficked slaves."
"Slaves, is it..."
So that was it.
I'd wondered why Edmund was being unusually proactive about this—and of course, it just had to be the single most uncomfortable subject imaginable.
Truth be told, the slave system was legal in this country.
Which meant there was ordinarily no need to trade through the black market at all—one could simply go to a licensed slave merchant and acquire whatever slaves one needed.
In fact, under the name of "slaves," noble houses in need of labor procured them precisely this way.
So then why would there be slaves traded specifically through the black market?
The reason was obvious.
Because they weren't part of a legitimate route.
"As you know, the only slaves the Empire permits to be traded are hostile peoples—the northern tribes and the like."
"Right."
"But word has come in that this black market sale will include a considerable number of illegal slaves—elves, and fallen nobility among them."
I hate to put it this way, but from their perspective, they'd struck it rich.
Elves, fallen nobility.
Both belonged to the rarer category of slaves traded on the black market.
Particularly if a high elf, or a fallen noble's daughter of exceptional beauty, went up for sale, she would fetch quite a price.
"So I'd like you to investigate the inside of this black market operation."
"And what will you be doing, Brother?"
"I intend to lead our private soldiers and surround the perimeter the moment I get word from you. If even one of them escapes, the same thing will happen all over again."
"Hmm..."
So he wanted to hand the single most crucial task to me, the strongest fighting force in the family.
Edmund's expression had darkened as he made the request.
He was probably feeling guilty for handing me such a dangerous task.
Well, I supposed. In the past, he wouldn't have needed to ask me at all—he'd have thrown himself onto the front lines personally.
But thanks to the side effects of that drug, his combat ability had dropped considerably.
He must have judged that if things went wrong, even by the slimmest chance, it could prove dangerous for him.
"Very well. I'll take it on."
"Truly? Thank you!"
Having finished weighing the matter, I nodded readily.
Edmund's darkening expression brightened at once.
Though it didn't brighten completely—a trace of guilt still lingered, which was very much like my elder brother.
"I'm a member of House Argent too, you know. There's nothing to thank me for. It's simply a matter one ought to attend to. Besides, you're not yet in a state to take on this kind of dangerous work yourself."
"That you understand is exactly why I'm thankful. I'll be sure to repay this debt."
"I told you, there's no need."
If anything, his overly earnest display of gratitude was making me feel embarrassed on his behalf.
Though ever since I'd taken up magic and set aside the sword, my sense of belonging to House Argent had admittedly grown a little thin.
Still, I had never once denied my own blood, nor tried to shirk its duties.
Before I was Yoo Shin-woo, I was Baal Argent.
"When is this scheduled for?"
"I intend to carry it out at dawn tomorrow, straightaway."
"That happens to work out well."
"Works out well, you say? Here I was worried I might have called on you too suddenly..."
I shook my head at Edmund's words.
Strike while the iron's hot, as they say—the timing was, in fact, quite good.
More than anything,
"I'm meant to go into town with the children tomorrow, you see. As long as it's not tomorrow, I don't much mind."
"...Lately, there are times I truly wonder whether you're really my younger brother."
Well, that's the same thing the old man always says.
Ironic, that I can't even deny it.
In any case, our conversation seemed to have concluded, so I left the study to spend what time remained playing with the children.
*I should probably tell them to sleep separately tonight.*
Lately, the three of us had been sleeping together almost every night.
Both of them might be a little disappointed.