Chapter 9

9. Junior Disciple (1)

The tiles on the floor, the pipes connected to the walls, the steam in the air. After being declared the winner by Joseph, Oliver went to the shower room set up in the basement to wash his body. This was the first time he had ever washed with warm water, so it felt quite unfamiliar, but it wasn't bad at all. It was much easier to wash with warm water than with cold, and the clotted blood came off easily just by bringing his face close to the water stream.

After washing up, Oliver dried himself with a towel and went outside. The clothes he had left in the basket were gone, replaced by new ones he had never seen before.

“...”

Oliver stood there, unsure of what to do. Where had his clothes gone?

He was considering going out to look for them when a voice came from outside the door.

“Hey... Are you done?”

“Yes?”

“Are you done?”

A voice he had never heard before. He answered anyway.

“Yes.”

“Then... Get dressed and come out. I'll show you where you'll be living.”

Oliver spoke to the strangely trembling voice.

“There's a problem.”

“Problem?”

“Yes, my clothes are gone.”

“What... What do you mean, clothes?”

“Yes.”

“I threw them away. Since you have new clothes in the basket, just wear those. Even if you're a junior disciple, you're still a formal disciple. You need to maintain your dignity for Master's sake. Why? Is it an important piece of clothing?”

“No. No, it's not.”

“Phew...”

A sigh of relief came from the other side of the door.

Oliver took out the new clothes from the basket and put them on. A white shirt, blue jeans with suspenders, and a black jacket. They were a bit big for him, but it wasn't a problem. In fact, he was grateful. These were the best clothes he had ever worn in his life, though he himself didn't care much about it.

After getting dressed, he opened the door and went outside. A young man, about five years older than Oliver, was standing there.

“... I'm dressed.”

“Y-Yeah? Then... Follow me.”

The man, oddly stiff, moved awkwardly. He seemed to be treating Oliver like a subordinate but was also cautious. When Oliver looked at his emotions, he saw fear.

Oliver didn't understand why he was acting this way, but he soon dismissed it.

They passed through a corridor that resembled an anthill and arrived at a large dormitory. There were about ten people there. The number was similar to when he was a temporary disciple, but the size and quality of the rooms were clearly different. There were proper iron beds, one for each person, and beside each bed was a storage shelf and a small desk for personal items. It was a far cry from the damp, straw-filled pens he had lived in before.

“This is where you'll be staying.”

“...”

Oliver turned his head and stared. The young man, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, wiped his brow and said,

“Even intermediate disciples don't get private rooms. Only senior disciples can have them.”

Oliver asked,

“Will I be staying here? I...?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, you're a junior disciple now, so you'll have to stay here, won't you?”

Oliver tilted his head, as if he didn't know. Because he really didn't know.

He had only wanted to become a junior disciple to learn black magic; he hadn't thought about improving his living conditions at all. In fact, he hadn't even considered it.

Just to be sure, Oliver asked again,

“Can I really stay here?”

“Yeah, that's your spot.”

The young man pointed to the corner, the worst spot. Oliver approached and examined it. The bed was dry and free of mold, with a warm-looking blanket, a sturdy storage shelf, and a clothes hanger.

“Hmm, if you don't like your spot—”

“I like it.”

“You like it?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Oliver expressed his gratitude as he had learned to do, and the young man let out a barely noticeable sigh of relief. He then gathered his courage and spoke again.

“Then... I'll tell you about a few rules.”

Rules. Oliver perked up his ears.

There were rules in the orphanage, in the mines, and in the upper factory. Breaking them meant a severe beating, and sometimes even expulsion, so he rarely focused as much as he did now. He was finally going to learn black magic, and being expelled would be a shame.

“What are the rules?”

“Well... Nothing special, just about the roles you'll have as a junior disciple. First, I'm the room leader, so you need to follow my instructions.”

“Yes... Room leader.”

“You don't have to call me 'sir'... Anyway, let me explain again. Junior disciples are formal disciples, but they are the lowest rank within the family. Temporary disciples and servants are not formal family members. Do you understand?”

Oliver didn't know what servants or the family were, but he nodded anyway.

“Good. Servants will take care of meal preparation and room cleaning, but we have to clean important places. For example, classrooms, laboratories, workshops, and studies. Master likes cleanliness, so we have to clean every morning. Do you understand?”

Oliver nodded again.

“Besides, we also have to do small errands for senior disciples and assist in experiments.”

“Experiments?”

“Yeah, just follow orders obediently.”

“Um... Room leader, can I ask a question?”

“What, what is it?”

“When can I receive Master's teachings?”

“Um, junior disciples usually receive training once every two weeks. Sometimes it's once a month. Most of the time, you'll study independently based on the lesson content.”

“Ah...”

A strange sense of disappointment flashed across Oliver's blank face. It was certainly good to have regular classes, but it was too infrequent. He had thought he would have new classes every day.

The room leader, sensing his disappointment, tried to comfort him.

“Master is busy teaching senior disciples and managing the business, so it can't be helped. And don't try too hard.”

“Why not?”

Oliver asked sincerely. Why shouldn't he try hard now that he was a disciple? The room leader hesitated, then mumbled,

“Well... Um, never mind. Just don't worry about it. This is all I have to tell you. Do you have any more questions?”

“No.”

“Good. Then, let's get along well... Oh, right. Check the drawer to see if you have a notebook and a pencil. If you don't, you won't get them until the next regular distribution.”

Oliver opened the drawer and checked. As the room leader said, there was a notebook that had turned yellow with age and a half-used pencil, along with a dirty eraser.

“What are these for?”

“Hmm... To write something when you start learning black magic?”

***

During his free time, Oliver left the basement and went up to the ground floor.

Unlike when he was a temporary disciple, he didn't have to do factory work, so he had more free time than he expected. However, he didn't come up to the ground floor without a reason.

Oliver passed by the sausage boxes and miscellaneous items and went to the workshop, where the factory workers were cleaning up. The floor was littered with crushed meat scraps and trash. When the temporary disciples saw Oliver, they lowered their eyes and bowed their heads.

Now Oliver was a formal disciple, above them... Of course, it wasn't just that.

Seeing the sudden change in his fellow workers' attitudes, Oliver tilted his head in confusion.

They envied and admired him, felt angry and afraid of him. The room leader had a similar aura, which was truly incomprehensible.

Oliver approached one of the temporary disciples.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Huh? Oh, yes?”

“Where is Supervisor Marie?”

The worker said Marie was in a corner of the factory, and when Oliver went to check, he found her standing alone behind a large, rusted red grinder that wasn't being used.

Oliver subconsciously checked her emotions. She looked extremely sad and dejected.

“Supervisor Marie?”

Oliver politely knocked on the grinder and called her.

She seemed to have been lost in thought and was startled. When she saw Oliver, she looked surprised, then frowned.

“Oliver... sir.”

“Yes, hello?”

Oliver greeted her, but her frown deepened.

From the light, she seemed displeased, but he couldn't understand why. She spoke again.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have a favor to ask.”

“Favor? Ha... Are you joking?”

“No, I'm not.”

“Then, how can someone who became a formal disciple in less than ten days ask a favor from someone who has been a temporary disciple for six years?”

She was probably trying to mock him, but unfortunately, it didn't work on Oliver. Not understanding the sarcasm, he answered honestly.

“To learn black magic properly, I need to learn letters and numbers, but I've never learned them. I heard you know how to, so can you teach me?”

“...”

Marie was silent, looking bewildered.

Oliver, sensing her confusion, asked carefully,

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong... No, you didn't do anything wrong. How could someone who became a formal disciple so quickly make a mistake to someone like me?”

“Oh, then that's good.”

“Ugh! Good?!”

Frustrated by Oliver's attitude, Marie finally exploded.

Her scream echoed throughout the factory, and when she came to her senses, she covered her face in frustration. Despite this, Oliver maintained his calm demeanor.

“So, I did something wrong... I don't know what, but I'm sorry?”

Marie, looking exhausted and defeated, sat down.

“No... I'm the one who's wrong. Born in a poor family, I barely got a chance, but I have no talent and am rotting here. Whose fault is it? It's all my fault. You haven't done anything wrong.”

Her voice sounded resigned, but Oliver could see her emotions.

She hadn't given up and was still clinging to something, but at the same time, she felt anxious and afraid. Her emotions were like a whirlpool, somewhat beautiful.

Not knowing how to respond, Oliver stood there until she regained her composure. After a while, she spoke again.

“So, you want to learn letters and numbers?”

“Yes, I heard you know how to. You studied, right?”

“Yes... I studied. I had to. But why are you asking me? Most of the junior disciples can write.”

Oliver, finding it difficult to answer, looked up and said,

“Well... It's... a bit, you know?”

“A bit what?”

“It's hard to explain, but the light I see when people look at me is like that of children in front of a supervisor.”

Confused by his explanation, Marie frowned again, but Oliver added,

“I came from the mines, where the supervisor was scary. All the children were afraid of the supervisor and lied to avoid punishment. But the junior disciples look at me with the same light.”

Although his explanation was disjointed, Marie understood.

The junior disciples were afraid of Oliver...

Or rather, was it normal? After all, he had unilaterally toyed with and killed Tom, who was essentially a junior disciple. But there was something more surprising.

“... You can read emotions?”

Oliver tilted his head.

“Maybe? Why?”

“Good heavens... That's the second stage of enlightenment. The first stage is just seeing emotions. It's unfair... When did you start reading emotions?”

“Um... From the beginning?”

Oliver's calm answer. Marie, too tired to be angry, could only laugh in resignation.

She thought she had acknowledged the unfairness of the world, but today she realized it was an illusion. How could it be so unfair?

She was so sad and desperate that she couldn't even cry. Then, Oliver, oblivious to her feelings, asked again,

“So, about the letters and numbers?”

“Aaah! Really...! Why should I help you? I don't know when I'll become a servant! I don't know when I'll get another chance! Why should I use my precious time for you? Why?!”

Marie spoke from her emotions. After a while, when she had calmed down, Oliver spoke again.

“I heard about servants before coming up here. What are servants?”

Another off-topic question. But without the energy to be angry, Marie answered in a weak voice,

“... Servants are slaves who serve the well-off formal disciples. They cook and clean until they die. It's the end of the line for temporary disciples who can't advance like me.”

“Are you sad now?”

“Of course I'm sad. Damn...! Do you think I came here to be a maid for life? Of course I came here to become a black magician. I don't have much time left! And you want me to use that time for you? For someone with the talent I don't have?! That's not fair...”

Marie covered her face in pain as soon as she finished speaking. It felt like an invisible weight was crushing her.

If left alone, she might have collapsed under the weight in a few days. Fortunately, that didn't happen.

“... Supervisor Marie said that the next time I ask for help, I should bring something?”

Marie lifted her head slightly.

“If you teach me letters and numbers, I'll teach you something too.”

“What...?”

“Black magic.”

Marie's head snapped up.