After enjoying lunch at that popular restaurant, we set out to walk through the city once again.
"It was delicious, just as the reputation suggested," I said.
"The flavor certainly explained why it’s become so popular so quickly," Eleanora agreed.
"Apparently, the person running the kitchen trained at a very prestigious establishment," Yudum added. "I heard they were planning to go independent with their master's blessing and chose this city after hearing the economy was on the rise."
"I see... I’m sure they did their research, but it still takes a lot of nerve to dive headfirst into an unfamiliar town."
Since we were both relative newcomers to Gimul, it might be worth stopping by to chat with them if the opportunity ever arose.
Speaking of chatting...
"Shall we head over to see Calm and the others soon?" I asked.
"The shop should be starting to quiet down for the day by now," Yudum replied.
With that, we made our way toward the main branch of the laundry shop.
"And then! That man, honestly! He’s just so slovenly!"
"I know, right? Ours is the same way. I keep telling him to stop before the kids start mimicking him."
"It’s like having an extra, oversized child in the house... Oh?"
In front of the shop next to the laundry, I spotted a trio of familiar madams holding a neighborhood gossip session. They noticed us approaching and waved. Since ignoring them wasn't an option, I detoured past the laundry shop to say hello.
"Hello there. Is everyone doing well?" I asked.
"Thanks to you, yes. How about you, Ryoma-kun?"
"We haven't seen you around lately," another added. "Were you out on adventurer business?"
"I was actually away for about a week working as a Ducal House Technician. I just got back to town, actually."
When I looked over my shoulder, my two companions gave the ladies a polite bow. Eleanora was dignified and a bit stiff, while Yudum wore a soft, approachable smile. Their expressions were polar opposites, but they were both undeniably striking, causing the madams to stare with wide eyes.
"My, what a treat for the eyes."
"Were Yudum-san and Eleanora-san out with you? Good work to you both."
"To be personally requested by the Duke... you really are something else."
The ladies were already revving up for a full-on conversational barrage, so I had Eleanora retreat inside to notify Calm of our return. Yudum aside, Eleanora probably wouldn't have been able to handle their momentum; I could already see her looking overwhelmed.
"So, what kind of job was it this time?"
"Wait, Kiara. This was work for the Duke. You shouldn't pester him for details," Pauline chided.
"Oh, a little bit is fine," I said.
The existence of the Miasma Land and my training in curse magic weren't state secrets, so I gave them a broad summary. As I spoke, their expressions clouded.
"So you were stuck in the mountains for a whole week for that?"
"I’ve heard the name and that it’s 'something bad,' but I never knew the details."
"Miasma sounds terrifying..."
"It’s dangerous if handled poorly, but as long as you take the right precautions, there’s no need to worry," I reassured them. "We have measures in place so it won't appear in the city, and if it ever does, we’re set up for early detection. Isn't that right, Owner?"
"Exactly," Yudum chimed in. "While I was preparing to take over management of the site, the curse specialist I was introduced to taught me everything I needed to know about monitoring miasma and safety procedures. Thanks to that, my management duties have a seal of approval, and I’ve even learned how to suppress the curse I’m under."
"My! You were able to do something about that rumored curse?"
"It’s not completely broken yet, but this Misanga reduces the symptoms enough that it doesn't interfere with my daily life."
"Hmm? What's so special about that piece of string?"
The question didn't come from the three madams, but from a child's voice. I realized that Leni, Pauline’s daughter, was peeking out from the flower shop next door.
"Oh, Leni, you were there too? I didn't notice."
"I was helping in the back. I just finished what I was asked to do. Ugh, it’s so hot I can’t stand it. Anyway, is that string actually something special?"
Asked again, I explained the application of curse magic I had learned from Master Rosenberg. I could use it intuitively, but explaining the theory to others was surprisingly difficult. Still, I managed to get the point across to the ladies and Leni.
"So, it’s not that the string itself is magical, but there’s a specific meaning in the form of the Misanga weave?" Leni asked.
"Exactly. Back in my hometown, there was a trend among children to use them for wish-making. The idea was that if you wore the Misanga until it naturally snapped, your wish—whether for academic success or getting better at sports—would come true."
"Ah, right, those kinds of things," one of the ladies said.
"Those were popular when we were kids too... Wait, what was that one? Writing the name of the person you liked on a piece of paper and throwing it into the fireplace?"
"That’s the one! I did that years ago and got yelled at by my parents for wasting paper and ink!"
"You did things like that, Mom?" Leni asked, skeptical.
"What, do kids these days not do charms?"
"We do stuff, but I’ve never heard of that one."
Given that curse magic was real, I couldn't rule out the possibility that some effect might manifest if a child’s fervor was strong enough... but it seemed that even in this world, "good luck charms" were just a standard part of childhood play. And apparently, the generation gap applied to them just as it did on Earth.
"Anyway, the reason I use a Misanga is because of that 'good luck charm' image and because it’s easy to wear," I said. "To be honest, even if a child makes one, it’s still just a braided cord. It’s not going to snap easily. I think the real secret is that if you persist at something long enough for the cord to wear out and break, you'll naturally improve regardless of the charm."
There was a concept called the 10,000-Hour Rule—the idea that mastering any field requires about ten thousand hours of practice. If you spend an hour a day studying, that’s ten thousand days. If you spend ten hours, it’s a thousand days. The core of success was always persistence.
"Come to think of it, the charms from when we were kids usually had conditions like 'keep doing it until it happens,' rather than just doing it once," one of the madams recalled. "Or 'the wish won't come true if you quit halfway.'"
"That was it. I did it every day, which is why I got scolded for the paper and ink. My mother was always cooking anyway, so she never said anything about the firewood for the fireplace."
"So if you do it until it comes true, the charm worked. If you quit and it doesn't, it’s because you stopped the charm. It sounds like a bit of a scam, doesn't it?" Pauline laughed.
The others joined in, and once the laughter subsided, Yudum offered a thought.
"But those kinds of charms are harmless and quite sweet. They’re strictly for play."
"True. If people actually abused curse magic, I’m sure things would get much uglier."
"Ah... that might be a bit of a tangent, but there actually are people who use real curse magic for the 'academic success' Ryoma mentioned," Yudum said. "For nobles, having poor grades as a student can haunt you for the rest of your life. Shady specialists will discreetly offer spells to help with studies, or you hear rumors of parents seeking out curse specialists. I heard those stories a lot when exams were coming up. They rarely ended well."
"Now that you mention it, Yudum-kun, you were born into a noble family, weren't you?"
"You're always so friendly that I almost forget."
"Is it really all as... dark as they say?"
The ladies knew Yudum was the third son of a noble house, but since he had earned their trust through his kindness, they spoke with him without reservation.
Yudum showed a moment of hesitation, but the madams' curiosity won out. The story he told with a bitter grimace was a heavy one.
Poor grades, a lack of confidence—the reasons varied. If the target of the curse was the person requesting it, he said, that was their own choice and relatively 'fine.' The real problem was when the target and the client were different people.
"Usually, it’s a parent requesting a curse be placed on their child," Yudum explained. "They do it for the child’s sake, thinking it’s for the best, without understanding the danger. It ends up scarring the child so deeply that studying becomes the last thing they’re capable of. The most common method I heard of was making someone feel intense anxiety or terror if they left a certain area or stopped a specific action. It effectively pins the child to their desk, forcing them to study. I’ve even heard of spells that paralyze the body so they can't even stand up."
"Ugh... just hearing that makes my skin crawl..."
"Those spells are meant for restraining criminals; there are supposed to be strict regulations on them. You’d think it would be obvious that using them to force a child to study would lead to disaster. I had a classmate once whose parents hired a specialist to place a curse that 'allowed them to escape their anxiety only while they were solving specific workbooks.' They were so afraid of the terror returning that they obsessed over the books until they stopped eating and sleeping. It was discovered and removed, but even when the curse is gone, the memory of the fear remains. They became so terrified of studying itself that they had to drop out and spend years in recovery."
Apparently, that person had to seek help from a Mental Health Curse Specialist. The teacher who told the class about it said they were "lucky"—others in similar situations either remained broken or took their own lives. Yudum had been sternly warned never to touch such things.
"The problem isn't just that parents are ignorant," Yudum continued. "It’s that there are malicious curse specialists who ignore the risks for money. Some do it for side cash, and some are actually tutors who use the spells secretly to boost their own success rates."
"People like that exist? How horrifying..."
"I don't care how much I need to learn, I’d never want to be cursed for it," Leni added. "And if I ever had a tutor, I’d absolutely refuse."
Pauline and Leni's reactions were perfectly healthy. I felt the same way. I’d heard stories of "tiger parents" back on Earth, but as someone who’d never had children, I couldn't wrap my head around it.
"Well, at least that kind of thing is illegal and the laws are strict, right?" I asked.
"Exactly," Yudum said. "In the end, those people are just fraudsters who prey on weaknesses. Proper curse specialists follow the law and do work that actually helps people. I’m sorry for bringing up such a dark topic."
"Don't be silly. We’re the ones who asked," Pauline said, smiling.
The ladies laughed it off, telling Yudum not to worry. They were truly bright, good-natured people. I figured it was time to move the conversation along.
"Any power is only as good as the person using it, I suppose," I said. "Speaking of use... Kiara-san, your husband is a woodworker, right?"
"He is. Why do you ask?"
"I’m going to be managing that Miasma Land and the surrounding mountains, and I’m planning to start regular maintenance. I was wondering if it would be possible to make wooden boxes from the thinned wood we clear out. The lumber still needs to be dried, so it’s a ways off, but I’m expecting a large order volume with some specific requirements. I wanted to consult with someone who knows the trade."
I was picturing something like the folding plastic containers I’d used during my part-time moving jobs. They were light, sturdy, and saved a ton of space when folded.
I’d need storage for the reclamation work, and if I was going to outsource the production of Misangas and incense, I’d need a way to transport them eventually. I wanted to do some research before placing a formal order, and if Kiara’s husband could handle it, that would be even better.
"Oh, taking care of the mountains too? You really are a busy one," Kiara said. "To answer your question, yes, it’s possible to make boxes from thinned wood. The amount we can handle and the timing would depend on whether it’s just my husband or if the apprentices—including our son—can help. My husband supervises them all personally, so the quality would be solid."
However, Kiara’s expression turned slightly apologetic.
"But... we usually buy pre-sawed lumber from a wholesaler. If we have to saw it ourselves, we’d have to charge more for the labor. Plus, my husband mostly does furniture and small goods. If you’re just looking to burn through a massive amount of thinned wood, we might be too small-scale for you. If you don't want it to go to waste, a proper carpenter or a lumber wholesaler might be better equipped."
"I was thinking about that, but... Yudum-san, the quality of that wood isn't great, is it?"
"It’s from a mountain that was neglected for a long time," Yudum confirmed. "The quality varies wildly compared to managed timber, and a lot of it is crooked. A sawyer could process it, but it would take a lot of extra effort and result in a lot of waste."
"I see... That might make it a hard sell for a wholesaler then," Kiara noted.
Wholesalers were businesses; they wouldn't want to deal with poor-quality stock when they had established sources for prime lumber. Kiara was being polite, but dropping off bad wood at a shop you didn't have a relationship with would just be a headache for them.
"That's why my plan for now is to just use as much as possible for things we need immediately," I said. "I don't mind the extra labor costs if it means getting good products."
"Well, if you're okay with that, Ryoma-kun, come by our place sometime. I’ll make sure we help however we can."
"I appreciate it. If you have any other ideas for using thinned wood, please let me know. So far, my only ideas were firewood or maybe starting pottery as a hobby."
When I casually mentioned my current status, the madams' eyes seemed to sharpen. Did I say something weird?
"Everyone? Is something wrong?"
"Ah, sorry. I just remembered what we were talking about before you arrived," Pauline explained.
"We were just saying that firewood prices have gone up lately," another added.
"Firewood prices? At this time of year?"
It would be one thing if it were the dead of winter, but it was still summer. We were nearing the end of the season, but it seemed far too early for a price spike. I looked at Yudum, who seemed equally surprised, confirming he hadn't heard anything about a firewood shortage.
"I guess neither of you were in town to hear about it. The price went up about two days ago," Pauline said. "And when we say 'expensive,' we mean for this time of year. Some people probably haven't even noticed, and I wouldn't have either if I weren't an owner."
"The hike is still minor... but if it’s rising now, it makes you wonder how high it’ll go once it actually gets cold. That’s the worry," one of the ladies noted.
"Exactly! Even a small difference adds up. And you can't just stop using firewood once winter hits."
"Everyone knows that skimping on fuel and catching a cold in the freezing weather is a losing game. Last winter was unusually brutal, remember? The weather’s been strange this year too, so the three of us were just worrying about whether we should buy in bulk now while it’s still relatively cheap."
"Ah... that’s a dangerous trend," I muttered.
The "oil shock" from my history textbooks flashed through my mind. Similar problems happened in every era. I’d seen it plenty in my old world, especially with limited-edition goods.
But unlike hobbyist merchandise, firewood was a daily necessity and a winter lifeline. Whether you had it or not was literally a matter of survival.
The madams' logic was perfectly natural—they wanted to keep their families safe. But if a large number of people started panic-buying out of anxiety, the market stock would vanish. Demand would outstrip supply, prices would skyrocket, and the anxiety would only intensify. It was the start of a vicious cycle.
I was sure the Jamil family and the Commerce Guild would step in before it got that far, but...
"I understand. I’ll check in with the Commerce Guild soon and mention the thinned wood to the Guild Master," I promised.
"That... well, if anyone can do it, you can, Ryoma-kun."
"That would be a huge weight off our minds."
"There are existing suppliers to consider, and the wood needs time to dry before it can be used as fuel, so please just think of it as one possible emergency measure for now," I cautioned.
"Don't be so modest. You worked your heart out for the city last year too. Anyone who knows that will find your help reassuring."
Just as Pauline finished speaking, the church bells echoed through the street.
"Oh, is it that time already? My, time really does fly when you’re having fun."
"I hate to cut this short, but I need to get started on housework and dinner. Well then, see you all tomorrow. Ryoma-kun, make sure you come by the shop!"
"I will! I'll bring some box samples with me."
Wait, I still had some Kareppashi wood powder left over from making the incense. I wondered if I could use that to make molded firewood briquettes, like Ogalite. A woodworker's workshop would have plenty of sawdust, too. Reusing that could open up even more options.
Regardless, the neighborhood gossip session was over. Pauline and Leni headed back into their shop, while Yudum and I walked to the laundry shop next door.
"We kept Eleanora-san waiting," I noted.
"She’s probably deep in a business meeting with Calm, so I’m sure she’s fine," Yudum replied.
"True. It’s only been a short while, but even a little time away from the city brings plenty of new developments."
Chatting idly, we stepped through the door of the laundry shop... and I froze in my tracks.
"Ah, Owner, welcome back! Calm is in the—huh? What's wrong? Why did you stop?"
"Owner? Are you okay?"
It was that moment—when a problem that had been nagging at me for ages suddenly clicked into place with a single flash of inspiration. It was so simple that I couldn't believe I’d even been struggling with it. Finally, I understood what Fernobelia meant when he said I already had the necessary information. The secret to helping Kormi socialize had been right under my nose the whole time.
"This is it!!"
My joyous shout echoed through the shop, startling the few customers inside.
Five days had passed since then. After a frantic round of preparations, I had rushed out of the city, using Space Magic to cross the distance to Kormi Village in record time. Now, the gates of the mansion where I’d fought so hard just a month ago stood before me.
But this time, the gates were flung wide to welcome me. At the threshold stood the figure of a child modeled after myself, his expression and posture practically radiating his excitement.
"Ryoma!! You're back!!!"
"I'm back, Kormi."
I’ve never been a parent, but I imagine this is exactly what a child feels like when they’ve been waiting a long time for their family to come home.