Chapter 327 : Chapter 327
Chapter 327. The Abandoned Collection Area (3)
The office of the Mage Tower’s Labor Administrator, Gaspen Augustus, was—as always—filled with stacks of documents and the faint scent of ink.
Tap. Tap.
The steady rhythm of his fingers drumming against the desk came to a halt.
The reason was the report just delivered by Vargas, the supervisor of the Magical Beast Dissection Area.
“So… that young man……”
A low murmur escaped Gaspen’s lips.
Surprise flickered in his eyes.
The image of a rookie laborer who had appeared through the pouring rain only days ago, tearing an entire doorknob off as he entered, rose vividly in his mind.
From their very first meeting, the man had left an impression too strong to forget.
Still, he had not expected him to catch that person’s attention.
Gaspen looked at Vargas standing before him.
“And what did you think, seeing him yourself?”
Vargas was one of the laborers Gaspen trusted and valued the most.
A man who had silently endured the Mage Tower’s hardest labor for over a decade, his steady temperament and keen eye for people made him reliable.
“You mean Radel?”
Vargas paused briefly, sinking into thought.
What surfaced in his mind was what had happened earlier that morning.
As always, the Magical Beast Dissection Area was filled with the stench of blood and a chilling cold.
On massive worktables lay piles of magical beast corpses delivered through the night. Between them, Radel moved briskly, directing the rookie laborers.
“Didn’t I tell you not to hold the knife like that?”
Radel’s voice was calm, yet laced with a sharp, blade-like severity.
One of the rookies he corrected puffed out his lips and retorted.
“I-I can’t put strength into it properly.”
“Yeah! Your way is too hard!”
Another laborer who had been watching chimed in.
Complaints that had built up over days of working under Radel’s command finally burst out.
“We have our own way of doing things too, you know?”
The rookies’ resistance was unusually strong that day.
But Radel paid no attention to their grumbling.
He stopped the hand that had been separating the tough carapace from the flesh of a Grave Beetle.
“Then is it fine if you keep using that way and end up losing a hand?”
Slick.
Radel calmly drew his knife out of the beast’s abdomen.
Then he flicked the dark-red blood clinging to the blade onto the floor.
Plop.
A few droplets splashed onto his cheek.
“There isn’t even a priest here. Who do you think will reattach your hand for you?”
Even Vargas felt a chill crawl up his spine at the sheer menace of it.
There was no mage, no priest—no one who could use healing magic.
Crushed by Radel’s presence, the rookies’ faces drained of color.
“N-no, that’s not what we meant……”
“We’re just… a bit tired……”
Their voices faltered and shrank back.
Radel stared at them for a moment, then nodded calmly, as if nothing had happened.
“Sure. You can have complaints. But when you’re working, focus. All right?”
And then he smiled.
A smile worn on a face still speckled with blood.
For some reason, it felt unsettling.
“O-of course!”
“Focus, yeah! Focus!”
In Vargas’s view, the rookies assigned to the dissection area were not pushovers.
Had they been sent to a different workplace, they would likely have dominated the rookie group with ease.
Yet even they shrank like mice before a cat in front of Radel.
He was clearly no ordinary man.
Sorting through his memories, Vargas gave his report.
“There’s nothing in particular to criticize. Just as you expected, Sir Gaspen, he didn’t need to be taught how to work.”
Gaspen nodded.
“I see. Anything unusual at all?”
“Well……”
Vargas hesitated, then mentioned what came to mind.
“Come to think of it, he asked for some of the Grave Beetle flesh we processed today.”
“Grave Beetle?”
Gaspen’s eyebrow twitched in curiosity.
Grave Beetles were magical beasts often sought by mages for research because of their mana-absorbing carapace.
Their flesh, however, was tough and useless—something no one ever bothered with.
“Yes. Since it wasn’t a part the mages needed, it was going to be discarded anyway, but he insisted on taking it.”
There was no way he meant to eat insect-type magical beast flesh… or so one would think.
Both men found Radel’s behavior puzzling.
Gaspen murmured softly,
“He really is a bit peculiar.”
But perhaps that very peculiarity was why that person had taken an interest in him.
Someone who rarely took a liking to anyone.
Even Gaspen, who had remained in the Mage Tower for decades, could count on one hand the number of proper conversations he had had with that person.
After pondering for a moment, Gaspen asked,
“How much did you tell him about that person?”
“Nothing beyond what the other laborers know. Just that he’s an eccentric old man who manages the Abandoned Collection Area.”
“Good. Keep pretending not to know, for now.”
Gaspen continued,
“That is what he wants.”
***
Clang—
The bell announcing dinner echoed faintly through the Mage Tower’s lower levels.
But Radel did not head toward the laborers’ cafeteria.
Instead, he walked in the opposite direction, carrying a carefully wrapped bundle against his chest.
Gaspen and Vargas had assumed he had not taken the magical beast meat to eat it, but they were thoroughly mistaken.
“Lucky day.”
Radel hummed to himself.
Grave Beetles were insect-type monsters that lived deep within mana-dense underground ruins or ancient royal tombs.
Back when he had been a Hunter in his previous life, Radel had once been stranded in a dungeon for days. Driven by hunger, he had caught and eaten a Grave Beetle by chance.
Once the carapace was removed and the flesh properly grilled, it had tasted surprisingly similar to rich, nutty shrimp.
They were rare magical beasts, so when he had seen that massive corpse in the dissection area, his mouth had watered uncontrollably.
“I can’t keep something this good all to myself.”
At his muttering, the Spirit of the Library—still disguised as a book—screamed in his head.
* “You’re planning to have dinner with that old man again today?!”
The same spirit who had vehemently tried to stop him the night before.
But with a quest on the line, Radel needed to open the old man’s heart.
And nothing worked better than sharing good food.
How many people had he won over with meals so far?
Inette, Edward, his academy seniors— even Leon.
A smile curved Radel’s lips.
“Yes. I plan to eat together. He’s quite a good cook too.”
The tomato stew the old man had made the night before had been excellent.
A simple meal, but made with freshly harvested vegetables, its flavor had been rich and sincere, letting the ingredients shine.
- “Yesterday was just luck! Why do you keep eating food from some suspicious old man whose identity you don’t even know?!”
“Don’t worry. Today, I’m the one cooking.”
Reassuring the spirit, Radel passed through the Abandoned Collection Area with practiced ease and arrived at the vegetable garden.
As before, the old man sat on a worn chair, wearing his straw hat.
“Sir, I’m here.”
“And why have you come again?”
Radel grinned.
“To pull weeds. Wasn’t it a bit too soon to talk about fertilizer?”
He bowed politely, picked up a hoe, and headed into the garden.
THUNK! SWISH!
Once again, Radel’s hands worked deftly among the weeds.
The difference from yesterday was the old man’s gaze as he watched him.
After Radel had worked for a while, the old man spoke from behind him.
“It’s about time for dinner.”
Radel inwardly cheered and stood up, brushing dirt from his hands.
“Would it be all right if I treated you tonight?”
In front of the hut, Radel opened the bundle he had brought.
Inside was carefully prepared Grave Beetle meat.
Not just that—there was also a small brazier, various spices, and a kitchen knife made of orichalcum.
It was time for the grilling skills that had once brought even a griffon to its knees to shine.
The old man crossed his arms, watching silently, as if to see what would happen.
Radel quickly prepped the meat and lit the fire.
Sssss.
The sound of meat sizzling spread through the quiet collection area.
With practiced movements, Radel flipped the meat, sprinkling herbs and salt to draw out its best flavor.
The savory, salty aroma drifted through the air.
Even the beastified plants writhing nearby seemed to pause.
“Please, try it. It should be good.”
Radel handed a piece of well-cooked meat to the old man.
The old man hesitated briefly, then accepted it and put it into his mouth.
The moment his chewing stopped, a bright notification rang in Radel’s ears.
Ding.
[The target’s Favorability has surpassed 20!]
Success.
Judging by the increase, it had clearly suited the old man’s taste.
“Hm……”
The old man chewed silently, then stood up and entered his hut.
Moments later, he returned carrying two steaming bowls.
“Have this as well.”
Inside the bowls was warm potato soup.
“Thank you for the meal.”
The moment Radel took a spoonful and tasted it—
‘Hm?’
An odd warmth spread through his body.
Not just heat—something deeper, like the gentle vitality that filled him after drinking a high-grade recovery potion.
The lingering internal damage from the dragon battle began to loosen and ease.
- “T-this is……!”
The Spirit of the Library cried out in shock.
- “This soup isn’t ordinary food! I can feel mana in it!”
The spirit could only sense the mana, but the effect Radel felt was far greater.
This old man was not merely a master of herbology.
There was an alchemical power woven into his cooking.
Healing people with ordinary food—something even potions struggled to accomplish.
Radel bowed deeply.
“Thank you, sir. I can feel my body relaxing.”
“If I feed you well, you’ll come back and pull weeds again next time, won’t you?”
The old man spoke lightly, popping a few more pieces of meat into his mouth.
“But don’t expect me to easily tell you about the fertilizer. It’s a secret technique I’ve never shared with anyone.”
“Then I’ll have to pull weeds even more diligently.”
Radel smiled.
The night deepened.
The two of them ate meat and soup in silence, sharing a quiet meal.
As the meal drew to a close, the old man spoke first.
“Have you found out anything about me?”
At the casual question, Radel replied just as calmly.
“I heard a little. That when Gaspen was still a laborer, he worked under you.”
“Gaspen? Yes, he did learn the work from me. He’s a mage now—became the Mage Tower’s labor administrator.”
Radel said,
“Then he’s your disciple.”
At that, the old man gave a bitter smile.
“A disciple……”
There was a complexity in his expression that could not be explained by merely staying in the Abandoned Collection Area.
“A disciple, you see… is like a child to a master.”
Radel quietly waited, placing the remaining meat on the brazier.
The old man’s story began to drift into the night air of the collection area.
“I had two disciples like children to me.”