Swept Away, I Became One Of Them (3)

I had managed to gather herbs, but I ran into trouble because I lacked the materials needed for manufacturing.

A man who looked like a wandering peddler sat up from where he’d been lying down and spoke to me.

“I’ve got standard-grade manufacturing tools. Would you like to buy them?”

His timing was perfect, and I had no reason to refuse. When I nodded, the wandering peddler demanded a whopping two hundred silver. He said it was the usual price, so I had no choice but to pay. I gathered up the tools, picked a suitable spot, and began adding herbs and pounding them according to the recipe that had surfaced in my mind.

In the middle of the night, the sound of pounding herbs rang out; more than that, people seemed intrigued by the fact that medicine was being made right before their eyes.

One by one, people came closer, and soon they sat around me, watching the process of the medicine being made.

It was burdensome. Their stares were hot on my skin, and I could read on their faces exactly how curious they were about what kind of medicine I was making.

I was getting more attention than I wanted, and even the two mercenaries besides the mercenary woman looked interested.

Because I felt pressured to produce a proper medicine, I managed to focus. After pounding the herbs one by one and stacking them neatly to the side, I picked up something called a “heating lamp,” and information on how to use it surfaced in my mind.

“Infuse… mana? How am I supposed to put mana into this?”

I had never handled anything like mana, so the instruction felt alien. To be precise, it sounded impossible—but the interesting part was that a vivid, sensory feel for how to infuse mana began to take shape.

It seemed my aptitude was kicking in.

It was a strange sensation. When I focused according to that feeling, the heating lamp began to emit warmth.

People stared in wonder, going “ohh,” and the mercenary woman beside me looked a bit surprised and asked,

“Do you know how to use mana?”

“A little… I’m not skilled.”

That was true. If “mana” was only needed to run a heating lamp, then I was using it, so it wasn’t a lie. The mercenary woman seemed amazed to hear it.

I still wasn’t sure what mana actually was. But I had to keep working. A gentle fragrance began to waft from the heated, pan-roasted, pounded herbs.

I saw people chatting about the scent. After turning off the heating lamp, I set aside the fragrant herbs and repeated the same pan-roasting process with the rest.

As the herbs dried well, each gave off its own distinct aroma. After finishing all the roasting, I set them on the ground, then took “pine-resin powder” from the kit and mixed it with water until it formed a lumpable paste.

Then I took an appropriate amount of the roasted medicinal mix and kneaded it together with the pine-resin paste. I rolled the mass into tiny pills about the size of a fingernail.

People watched with fascinated expressions and, mistaking the pills for a finished product, asked me,

“What effects do those pills have?”

What I was making now was a “mind-and-body sedative.”

As the name implied, it dulled startled hearts and over-sensitive nerves to aid recovery. When I explained that, people were amazed.

“I’ve never heard of a medicine like that… is it real?”

At the words of the wandering peddler who had sold me the tools, a few people looked at me with suspicion, so I said,

“This is medicine I’m making for myself. I startle rather easily. And there’s no point doubting me—I’m not selling it.”

People looked disappointed. But from here on, I wasn’t going to make medicine just for me. I also wanted to douse that peddler’s hostility with cold water.

The looks I was getting were the kind reserved for quack apothecaries, and it sparked some needless defiance in me.

‘Sell me your tools and then call me a quack? I don’t like that.’

Honestly, I wanted to throw everything down and lie back, but I had given my word to the mercenary woman, so I decided to make a wound-treatment.

I doubted they would trust an ordinary wound remedy, so I searched my memory for a plan to make an “emergency wound treatment.”

That one required using a considerable amount of “mana” in the manufacturing process, but it wasn’t the time to worry about that.

So I started pounding herbs again. The emergency wound treatment used four herbs in total.

A herb to help coagulation, a herb to promote wound closure, a herb to fight inflammation, and a herb to ease pain. A basic wound remedy could be made by combining these four; the recipe indicated that if I infused small amounts of mana during the roasting and pounding, the medicinal effects would be strengthened and the drawbacks removed.

The recipe also indicated that such remedies naturally carried slight toxicity.

Some components simply didn’t agree with the human body. But if I drove those elements out with mana, the emergency wound treatment would be complete.

It didn’t seem like a typical recipe, but I wanted to prove it with noticeable potency. I began the process, and as I infused small amounts of mana along the way, sweat began to bead on my skin.

It made me think that mana, as a force, might be tied to stamina—but I just kept doubling down on focus.

With the tap-tap sound, a gentle medicinal fragrance spread; because I was channeling mana to enhance the effects, a clarity far beyond the earlier scent wafted across the clearing.

Everyone watched, holding their breath, and I also poured my whole heart into the work.

After finishing the pounding, I pan-roasted the blend with the heating lamp again, then mixed the pine-resin paste a bit thicker and began combining it with the roasted mix.

The recipe said the order in which herbs were combined changed the medicinal profile. The treatment I was making was intended to close wounds as fast as possible. After a suitable blending, I placed it in an appropriate container for after-ripening and left it open to let moisture evaporate. The gentle aroma drifting out smelled quite convincing.

“…What medicine is that?”

At the peddler’s question, I pointed to the mercenary woman.

“I promised to make a wound treatment as thanks for her help. This is it. Applied to cuts or gashes, it should work quickly.”

The mercenary woman looked a bit flustered.

“I’ve got no money to pay. Wound treatments are expensive, right?”

I didn’t know whether wound treatments were pricey or not. But a promise was a promise, and I had no intention of taking back something already made.

“Once the moisture’s gone, you can seal it and carry it around. I’d have preferred to make it as a drinkable potion, but I believe direct application works better for this, so I made it a topical. You can keep it tucked in your clothes.”

“…I’ve never heard of a medicine like that!”

The wandering peddler flared up again. I’d just followed the recipe that surfaced—why was he like this? So I said,

“If you don’t believe me, I can prove it in a moment, can’t I?”

“…It’s obviously a lie. What proof?”

I couldn’t understand why he was picking a fight with me. I was wondering what his problem was when the mercenary woman spoke.

“I’ve never heard of a topical wound treatment either. You don’t need to lie. I’ll just be grateful for your kindness. And this lovely scent—I think it’s worth carrying for that alone.”

“It’s not a diffuser, you know.”

She didn’t understand what I meant, but soon I could tell the emergency wound treatment was finished by the soft glow it gave off.

I realized I was the only one who could see that glow. I’d figured out that when any product reached a perfect state during manufacturing, it gave off a faint light; seeing the finished treatment now, I said,

“Do you happen to have a dagger?”

The mercenary woman gave me a puzzled look.

“Why…?”

“I want to make a small cut to demonstrate the treatment’s effect.”

She looked as if to ask why I had to go that far—but then,

“If it’s a wound, will this do?”

The man acting as mercenary captain raised his arm and showed a small cut on his forearm. A fairly long scratch with a scab. He must have gotten it fighting the goblins earlier.

“That should do. It might sting a little—please bear with it.”

“…Anything’s fine as long as the wound heals. I’m used to pain.”

He offered his arm, and I scooped a little of the emergency treatment with a spoon and spread it evenly over the wound.

The mercenary captain, who had been frowning slightly, spoke.

“It’s quite itchy. Not so much painful as… yes, itching is right.”

Then his mouth slowly fell open as he stared at the wound. People do that when they’re shocked.

Just then,

“…You… how did you do this?”

With eyes shaking in disbelief, the mercenary captain grabbed my shoulders and demanded an answer.

“Eh? Wh-what’s wrong?”

“Even high-grade potions don’t make a wound heal this fast!”

At his words, everyone stared between me and the mercenary, then leaned in to check the wound. Seeing it start to clear up cleanly, they could only gape at the unbelievable reality.

It could have just been a small incident—but the problem wasn’t that simple.

The wandering peddler apologized to me first, and most of the people present now wanted to buy medicine from me.

But the mercenary woman, sensing their intentions, drove everyone back, brought the other two mercenaries over, and spoke to me with a serious face.

“That medicine you made—if it hits the market, you’ll get kidnapped.”

“…What do you mean?”

She sighed and said,

“Everyone here saw that the ingredients weren’t complicated. But no one believes you can get results like this from those ingredients. Everyone sensed how exceptional your aptitude is. That’s why your talent makes you a target.”

“She’s right. You could get dragged off by the wrong group and spend your life making medicine until you die.”

At the captain’s words, I got goosebumps. I finally understood just how reckless a thing I’d done.

The sly-looking spearman mercenary spoke up as well.

“If you can mass-produce and sell medicine like that, money won’t be your problem. So here’s a proposal—why not hire the three of us mercenaries?”

My head spun at how it had come to this, but as the spearman said, going it alone suddenly felt wrong.

For safety alone, I had to consider it.

“Someone like you might become a slave if you contract with a single mercenary company. But with three reputable companies like ours, it’s safer.”

The coachman, lingering nearby, chimed in.

“He’s right. The Hawk Mercenary Company, the Iron Lady Mercenary Company, and the Mantis Mercenary Company are all trustworthy. They’re honest, with good reputations.”

Hearing this much, I felt my hopes for a quiet life slip away. To think all this, just because of one treatment—it was ridiculous, but in a grim world steeped in war, a medicine that closed wounds fast needed no explanation. The mercenaries kept saying as much.

And someone like me, who could make such medicine, would inevitably become a target for many groups—and, they exaggerated, perhaps even catch the Demon God’s ear. In the end, I nodded and agreed to set plans with them.