✦ Chapter 26 – Socrates (4) ✦
「Translator – Creator」
𒋝𒋝𒋝𒋝𒋝
“The Philosopher’s Stone? You’re saying… this is that legendary Philosopher’s Stone? The one from stories?”
“Shh! Keep it down, you idiot! Do you want to cause a riot in Bronde?!”
I frantically shushed Maurice as he peppered me with questions, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Afterwards, he let out a short, bitter laugh and said,
“As if the ring from the Imperial Family and the Hero candidate medal weren’t enough, now you’ve got the Philosopher’s Stone? Nothing surprises me anymore.”
Yeah, for real. It’s like collecting parts of some ultimate set.
Maybe I should just wear them all at once?
Ring on my finger, the medallion on my chest, vial strapped to my waist…
“So… are you actually going to drink it?”
“Of course I am. What, you expect me to throw it away?”
“Ugh, you’re seriously going to just chug down a potion made by alchemists without a second thought? You know their stuff has a terrible reputation for side effects, right? Don’t come crying to me when you wake up with horns on your head.”
Maurice grimaced, his reaction entirely understandable given the context.
This world was rife with rumors about potions going wrong. People drinking vitality potions and being unable to sleep for days, or downing healing potions and sprouting extra fingers.
‘…The permanent change thing is a little scary, to be honest.’
If it was just a temporary effect, I wouldn’t hesitate to experiment, but the fact that the changes were irreversible made me think twice.
What if I ended up with twelve fingers? Or worse, four… you know… down there?
How could I possibly live with that?!
“…Eh, I’ll just have to trust the old alchemist, I guess.”
I’d heard he was the greatest authority on alchemy, even in his old age.
If someone like that had vouched for its effectiveness and safety, nothing too disastrous could happen, right?
Pop—!
I uncorked the vial, eager to see what kind of powers it held.
And then, without a moment’s hesitation, I downed the contents in a single gulp.
“Well? How do you feel? Notice any difference?”
“Ugh… not really.”
Well, it tasted awful. I’d foolishly hoped that the reddish color meant it might taste like strawberries.
There were no noticeable changes to my body. If anything, the lingering aftertaste just made me feel a bit nauseous.
What the heck? Why isn’t anything happening?
Don’t tell me that old alchemist scammed me, using his master’s reputation to peddle fake goods?
What kind of cruel joke was this?!
Woooong—!
“Huh? Wh-what the…!”
“Gasp! What’s happening!”
Maurice and I exclaimed in unison.
A strange light was emanating from my solar plexus.
It was a brilliant and pure light, reminiscent of the holy power wielded by priests.
And finally, when the light faded…
“…What was that?”
I looked down at myself, puzzled.
I did feel a bit healthier than before.
More energized?
But, aside from that, nothing seemed significantly different.
So, what exactly had changed?
As I pondered this mystery, examining myself for any visible transformation…
“!”
…it hit me.
I knew, instinctively, how the Philosopher’s Stone had affected me.
“Hey, Maurice, hand me some of that paper and a fountain pen.”
“Huh? Why all of a sudden?”
My friend, looking a bit bewildered, passed me the paper and pen. I stretched, limbering up.
Then, as I brought the nib to the paper…
Scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble!
My hand flew across the page, words appearing with almost supernatural speed. There was no hesitation, no pausing to think.
It was as if I already knew exactly what to write.
“Alright! Done with the report!”
“Wha-?! Al-Already?”
Ssssshh—!
Maurice stared at me in shock, then at the stack of completed pages, still warm to the touch, wisps of smoke rising from the freshly dried ink.
Dumbfounded, he glanced back and forth between me and the report and asked,
“I mean, I know you’d already done all the research and stuff, but… Doesn’t that usually take you hours? You finished in less than ten minutes?!”
“Yeah. Looks like the Philosopher’s Stone really did affect me.”
The young alchemist had said it alters the user’s properties and grants them mysterious abilities, right?
‘I’ve been so overwhelmed lately with reports, studying, and playwriting that I barely had time to breathe.’
Maurice had been a huge help, but I’d still been pulling all-nighters for days.
There were times when I wondered, ‘Am I going to collapse at this rate?’
It seemed the Philosopher’s Stone had detected my “functional need” and responded accordingly. Maybe I could now churn out entire plays in a single sitting, if I really wanted to.
Of course, I still needed a solid foundation of knowledge and a steady stream of ideas…
“And what else? Do you not feel any other differences?”
“Other differences?”
“Being able to write faster is impressive and all, but… come on, this is the Philosopher’s Stone we’re talking about. There has to be more to it than just that.”
Other differences, huh?
There was definitely something different about me, but it wasn’t as obvious as my enhanced writing speed.
If I had to describe it, the changes the Philosopher’s Stone was causing in my body might need to be observed over the long term.
Perhaps the newly acquired skill was just the tip of the iceberg.
Maybe, over time, new ‘transformations’ might occur in a chain reaction?
“Of course, the power you get is writing-related. Just like our great Phantom. Maybe you’ll actually become the Hero of the Pen, capable of some transcendent, writing-based ability?”
“Who knows.”
What could such an existence, fitting the title of ‘Hero with the Pen,’ truly be?
Would I shoot attacks from my pen like the alchemist throwing flames in that anime?
Or would I be able to use calligraphy to conjure magical Chinese characters, like those characters from the educational comics?
Or maybe, like Green Lantern from DC Comics, I’d be able to physically manifest my imagination?
That would be fun.
[Burn, oh fire! Blow, oh wind!]
Everyone likely had such fantasies about incantations at least once during childhood, right?
“By the way, there’s still half left. What do you plan to do with the remaining portion?”
“Hmm, you’re right… What should I do?”
The vial was still half full, the liquid sloshing gently.
But I couldn’t bring myself to swallow another drop. My instincts were screaming at me, warning me that consuming more of the Philosopher’s Stone might be dangerous. Like… life-threateningly dangerous.
So, I subtly suggested to Maurice,
“How about you try some? You’ve been a great help to me.”
He’s been my assistant, supporting me so I could focus solely on writing.
As a token of appreciation, he deserved to share in the benefits of the Philosopher’s Stone.
However, much to my surprise, he refused.
“No thanks. I’m happiest as I am now. I have no desire to use a potion to change myself into something other than the current Maurice.”
“Really?”
Now that he mentioned it, Maurice had always had a strong sense of self-worth and an incredibly positive outlook on life. Being around him never got boring.
It was a bit annoying, honestly, seeing him so effortlessly happy and popular, but I decided not to press the issue.
After all, there’s no rush to dispose of the remaining potion immediately.
‘It’ll come in handy eventually, I’m sure.’
I slid open the drawer and stored the remaining Philosopher’s Stone inside.
Just as I was locking the drawer, making sure no one could get their hands on the remaining potion…
“Waaaaah—!!”
A sudden roar erupted from the dormitory hallway.
It sounded like a battle had broken out. What were those academy students up to now? Another drunken pillow fight, perhaps?
It wasn’t uncommon for young students to get carried away and lose all sense of decorum after a few drinks.
I was just about to dismiss the noise as such when I heard something specific that caught my attention.
“Anyone who’s read Phantom’s works, come out! We’re starting the rating war nowww-!!”
“…Huh?”
What war?
✧❅✦❅✧
“We hereby declare that we will no longer be lumped in with those uncultured barbarians! We refuse to be called Bronde students!”
“Wowahh! It’s war!! Let’s show those plebs what true appreciation for art looks like!”
“…So, what exactly is going on?”
We were standing on the balcony of our dormitory, enjoying the breathtaking view from high above.
Maurice chuckled as he answered my question.
“Remember <Dialogues>, your latest work?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“Well, the students who were moved by your work decided to create a public review board. They wanted to go beyond just passively consuming art and actually engage in critical analysis and evaluation. I think they called it… Rotten Melon?”
…Rotten Melon? Seriously? Was that supposed to be this world’s version of Rotten Tomatoes?
Anyways, those strange kids of the academy, when did they even come up with that?
“But as the critiques developed, opinions clashed, and competition sparked. As the competition turned into a feud, they started sabotaging the ratings. It eventually devolved into a full-blown rating war.”
“A rating war?”
“I heard they started by manipulating the ratings on the board. They boosted the scores of their favorites and tanked the scores of everything else. But like they say, if your tail’s too long, it’ll get stepped on, and with everyone doing it, it eventually led to…”
“Alright, enough. I get the picture.”
I let out a chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief.
I leaned against the railing, gazing out at the academy grounds below. The sun had set, and the full moon hung high in the sky. It was past eight in the evening.
Down below, under the glow of the magical lamps, three distinct groups of students were facing off against each other, their voices echoing through the courtyard.
One group held aloft a red banner emblazoned with a laurel wreath.
Another waved a blue banner with a turtle ship.
And the third brandished a green banner with a staff.
The students, each representing their chosen faction, glared at each other, ready to brawl at a moment’s notice.
— End of Chapter —
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