What Was With This Country… Two Emperors? (5)

All I could do before the bowing Empress was bow even lower.

I snapped my head down so fast it almost hit the floor and said, perhaps a bit abjectly,

“I don’t think I did anything so grand. I’m not an imperial subject, and I don’t consider this some special talent. I was just lucky, able to make a good medicine, and someone happened to need it at the right time.”

I gave the best answer I could and waited for the Empress’s reply—but what came next, I wasn’t sure whether to call it an answer or merely a reaction.

“Heh. You’re amusing. I didn’t expect to regret so much that you aren’t one of my people.”

She seemed to want to claim me, but I refused that in my heart. Getting tied down somewhere was the last thing I should do. This world was essentially medieval. She might treat me kindly now, but one day she could sour and cast me off.

And if she decided I was valuable enough to use, she might try anything. That, I absolutely declined.

“Thank you for seeing my meager skill kindly. The hospitality has been generous, and if I can make enough medicine to aid the recovery, I’d like to experience the wider world.”

“Already thinking of leaving? Do you find my hospitality lacking?”

“It’s more than I deserve; I hardly know where to put myself.”

This felt dangerous. I shouldn’t presume to guess at the Empress’s thoughts. The wisest course was to finish the job and slip away. I thought so, and believed my judgment sound.

“They asked the size of the scar. So I said to bring her—I wanted you to see for yourself. She’ll be here shortly.”

“…I… don’t think she’s someone I can meet just anyhow…?”

“I, before you, am not someone to be met ‘just anyhow,’ either. Yet it seems you don’t find me difficult.”

A chill ran down my spine. My life flashed before me, as if I were one wrong word away from ruin.

‘Ah… is life just emptiness?’

Inwardly I cursed the Apoca Kingdom’s hero-summoning as my mind revved like a storm. I needed the right words to wriggle out of this noose.

Desperation wrought a small miracle.

“How could I fail to recognize such majesty and beauty, a sovereign great enough to lay aside authority and thank a mere free citizen for her child’s sake? It’s just… may I, a lowly man, truly look upon your precious jewel of a daughter? In dread, I beg pardon and ask!!”

Well said. Jin-woo, you might live! I praised myself in silence. The Empress laughed. So did Agnes behind her.

They watched a desperate man and laughed—two women with wicked senses of humor. I chewed them out silently with my head still lowered, then stopped thinking.

If my inner voice slipped out, my future would be a gutter.

“You do have a smooth tongue. It is that precious child you are healing. You may think well of yourself. And how long will you keep your head bowed? As I said, I didn’t come to admire a free citizen’s crown.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

I snapped my head up—then angled my gaze to the ceiling behind the Empress.

They laughed again. One must never forget gaps in rank—especially when facing the de facto ruler who could steer the juggernaut of an empire.

An emperor—someone who could brush a free citizen like me into the abyss as if flicking dust from a shoulder.

Ah, terrible. I’d pictured it: a slave, condemned to brew potions forever. My grim vision was broken by a newcomer.

A flock of ladies-in-waiting swept in, and between them came a woman in a pure-white dress. Her face was veiled with cotton gauze; that told me enough.

The scar was on her face. I felt a pang of pity.

She was a woman. Not knowing how deeply a woman felt about her face would be idiocy. No wonder both Emperor and Empress cherished their daughter and were grateful for a medicine that could erase a facial scar.

“I was told you summoned me.”

Her voice was lovely—like jade beads rolling, as the old phrase goes. If the voice was such, what of the face?

“Have you applied the medicine?”

“…The constant tingling has eased a great deal.”

“I see. I’m glad it works.”

“I’m only grateful that Your Imperial Majesty took such care of me.”

“You’re speaking stiffly again, Riana. I’m your mother. When will you call me ‘Mother’?”

“Even between parent and child, I cannot speak lightly to the Empress, pillar of the realm. Forgive me. But I’ll stop speaking so stiffly.”

Her diction shifted suddenly, yet without discord. The Empress looked satisfied even with that.

A curious mother–daughter pair. Then I felt the Princess’s gaze on me. Through the veil I saw a blurred silhouette; I couldn’t make out her features.

“You’re the one who made the medicine I’m using now, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Are you feeling any discomfort?”

“No, none at all. In fact, the wound used to burn so hot it hurt every time. Today, after applying what you sent, the heat has subsided—I feel almost refreshed.”

So it had been a burn. Poor thing. Burn scars rarely faded; when flesh melted, returning to its former state was nearly impossible.

But the recipe in my head told me: It’s possible! With that, I spoke with a bit more confidence.

“With long-term care, you should be able to regain your original skin. As for this medicine…”

It probably sounded like a huckster’s spiel, but I continued.

“It also has brightening and soothing effects, and replenishes moisture. Even women without scars could apply small amounts as skincare and see a real boost in beauty. It functions almost like hwajangpum—cosmetics. So I’ll prepare enough for after your scars clear, too; you may rest easy.”

At that, a prickling wave of gazes made me flinch.

The Empress, Agnes, and a crowd of ladies-in-waiting—all stared at me, eyes sharp.

Had I misspoken? The mood went suddenly grave, and I began to shrink, when the Empress asked:

“Was what you said… true?”

“Uh… for now, yes, but… why—”

I cut myself off, realizing my blunder. Women in the other world were sensitive about skin. I remembered faces collapsing at the sight of one tiny wrinkle.

And here would be no different. I had erred—spectacularly. My stupid mouth.

‘Jin-woo… you’re done.’

Just as I was savoring the feeling of the sky falling, the Empress said:

“I heard the process is arduous. Tell me: how arduous?”

“…You bundle the herb in this cloth… and drain the juice by channeling mana.”

That was the whole recipe. But the trick lay in how the mana was used to press the juice. It wasn’t enough to just pour in mana—there was a flow to it. You had to thread mana through the points where the fibers twisted, to express the juice.

It was like compressing the medicinal efficacy. Explaining in detail would bore them, so I summarized; Agnes looked astonished.

“Apothecary—can you use mana?”

I didn’t see why that part shocked her, but I nodded and said,

“Most of my medicines require mana to make.”

“I see… I suspected it wasn’t crude work, but I didn’t expect such secrets.”

At Agnes’s surprise, the Empress asked,

“What shocks you so?”

“Your Majesty, this apothecary is no ordinary apothecary. He may be a master mage—or comparable in skill.”

“No! I don’t know how to fight!”

I answered on reflex, cutting Agnes off, but I had to make this clear.

“I only handle mana when compounding. Please think of it as a slightly unusual aptitude.”

“That can’t be…”

Agnes looked unconvinced. The Empress glanced between us, raised a hand to gather attention, and spoke.

“That is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is: is what you said true?”

“…It is.”

“Good. Then I shall make you an offer.”

Here it came. A bleak future loomed—but I decided to listen, then plan my escape.

“The empire will purchase your medicine at a high price. Whatever the quantity, we shall buy it all. I want you to stay at the palace and produce enough for everyone to be satisfied.”

The offer was milder than I’d feared; I doubted my ears.

It was a cheap-herb medicine—and they’d buy it at a high price? This wasn’t idle talk. And since she said I could “stay at the palace,” it didn’t sound like confinement.

It was tantamount to saying I could go out, so long as I met the requested volume—just keep compounding the scar medicine.

“However, your person may be at risk. Hm… yes. Agnes, detail two knights from the Order to guard him. Apothecary, take that as protection and give it your all.”

“As you command…”

She answered, but—this didn’t feel right…

Protection was a nice word; it might be surveillance. I couldn’t tell if I was being paranoid or perceptive—but my lodgings had just been decided.

“I—I mean, I will devote my whole heart!”

After various formalities, it was time to examine the Princess’s scars. The careful hands of the ladies-in-waiting lifted the veil; the Princess’s face was revealed—scarring ran across one whole cheek, down the nape, and onto the bare shoulder below. I suspected there were more on the body.

“Is it unpleasant to look at?”

“No. I was only thinking how much you must have suffered.”

I meant it. And seeing the still-beautiful face that remained, it felt all the more tragic.

“That heat still rises from the wounds, as if dragging out the memory. But what you made calms that heat.”

“I’m glad the medicine works.”

She smiled—radiantly. It was a heart-catching spell—a “bewitching smile.”

But!! This was a battlefield where a mere free citizen could not display desire.

Keeping a poker face, I did the math. From the amount on the back of my hand and the extent of the scars, she would need at least a bottle a day. Judging by the condition, even with effort it would take at least two months to normalize—and I tasted the despair of two months of hard labor.

“At minimum, five bottles a day… this is hell.”