“My name is Dorothy Gasser. The older one is Bern Gasser, and the younger one is Seth Gasser.”
Dorothy, known to be a skilled doctor, quickly sutured the wound on Chloe’s head with deft hands. Afterward, she led him to a table laden with food and introduced him to the family. Each time their names were mentioned, the children greeted him warmly.
“I’m Chloe Evanchester.”
Chloe reciprocated their greetings. Following the pleasantries, his gaze shifted to a certain man who was eating a salad without any dressing. Despite Chloe’s unspoken plea for an introduction, the man continued to eat, ignoring the silent request.
Seems you’ve drawn a line in the sand. Because you’ve already tossed me a handkerchief, you think your job’s done and there’s no point in telling me your name? Chloe grumbled to himself.
At that moment, Dorothy stepped in.
“I apologize. The president only returned to the Empire yesterday. Having spent nearly half his life overseas, he’s not well-versed in our imperial customs, hahaha.”
Dorothy’s laughter rang out merrily, although her temples betrayed her nervousness with a sheen of sweat—an obvious cover-up, from any perspective. Chloe responded casually, as though it were trivial.
“It’s unavoidable when customs differ. These days, even the neighborhood children are preoccupied with learning proper etiquette.”
After Chloe’s remark treating the man as if he were a child, he ceased his methodical chewing of leaves and slowly announced his name.
“…I am Aeon Worth.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Worth. My name is Chloe Evanchester.”
Aeon Worth. Certainly not a name from the empire, perhaps he hails from a foreign land known to Vivianne.
Chloe’s mood lifted at the prospect of reporting this new information to her, and he even joyfully ate a tomato, despite his usual aversion.
The man, Aeon, regarded Chloe with a neutral expression before shifting his attention to Dorothy.
“So, have you chosen a successor?”
“I have many applicants, yet none appeal to me. I’m contemplating whether to promote a subordinate…”
“What about Roxwell?”
“He’s competent, but lacks decisiveness and requires guidance, making him unsuitable for your needs, Mr. President.”
“Sayla.”
“She could be a match, Mr. President, if you don’t mind her flirtatious nature.”
“…Croxer.”
“Mr. President, have you noticed how that young man’s voice shakes when he speaks to you? He’s clearly intimidated by you.”
Dorothy exhaled deeply as she buttered her bread before beginning her meal.
“Why must choosing someone be so arduous? … Bern! Stop bullying your younger brother!”
“Why worry so much when all I need is a simple test once a week? Call Roxwell.”
“Mr. President, you promised I could choose my successor! You assured me you wouldn’t interfere, and now you’re backtracking? None of them even know what Hanna is. The job posting explicitly states I need someone familiar with Hanna, yet all I receive are resumes full of nonsense. This is why I’ll be trapped in the Empire, because of you!”
“Hanna? Are you perhaps referring to Hannarai disease?” Chloe, who had been amusing a toddler with a fork, suddenly inquired.
Dorothy, previously irate with her boss, responded with unexpected astonishment.
“You’re aware of Hannarai disease? How do you know about it?”
“It just so happens…”
“Isn’t it incredibly rare? Only doctors are typically aware of its official name, and even then, only those affiliated with Naingel University. Could you be a doctor from Naingel?”
“…Ah, well. I did study there.”
Chloe scratched the back of his neck and lowered his head, seemingly embarrassed. Dorothy covered her mouth with both hands in shock.
“Oh my goodness! I’m from Naingel too! If you know anything about Hannarai, you must have taken Professor Jean’s class! Is he still the same? When I was there, he was a notorious sugar addict. I can’t recall anyone who wasn’t shocked when he dumped five sugars into his tea.”
“Haha, it feels like it was just yesterday that students were complaining, wondering if all that sweetness was necessary for Hannarai research.”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“Ct, la’r gfjrreglcu ab rff rbwf atlcur cfnfg mtjcuf! Pa’r vfilutaoei ab wffa j ofiibk jiewcer. Tbe’nf mfgajlcis xfqa sbeg ajifcar ecvfg kgjqr; P tjv cb lvfj sbe kfgf j vbmabg.”
“Tbe’gf delaf rxliifv sbegrfio. Yc atja cbaf, Ljccjgjl cffvr ab yf qea ab jc fcv rbbc. Ktfgf’r cb megf, jcv atf agfjawfca lr lcreoolmlfca. Ujalfcar wera ecvfgub mbcrajca afralcu ab agjmx atf vlrfjrf’r qgbugfrrlbc, jcv vef ab lar gjglas, la vbfrc’a gfmflnf wemt jaafcalbc ogbw jmjvfwlm rbmlfalfr. Ljv atf gbsji ojwlis yffc joofmafv, j megf kbeiv tjnf yffc obecv lwwfvljafis. Oemxlis, P’nf cfnfg fcmbecafgfv j Ljccjgjl mjrf ja ws tbrqlaji.”
Dorothy, who had been attentively listening to Chloe, inquired with the tender smile one might see on a grandmother observing her grandchildren,
“Monsieur Evanchester, if it’s not too much trouble, could I inquire about your current place of employment?”
***
“You became his personal physician?!”
Startled by the shout, Eaven, who had been dozing on a perch, flew out the window. Vivianne lunged at Chloe, aiming to grab his collar, stood on her tiptoes, and thrust her face close to his.
“What the heck were you doing out there?”
“I was working.”
“For that damn Dawn?”
“Of course, haha. Professor Jean has always been trusting, so naturally, his students are too.”
“What are you really up to?”
“What do you mean?”
Vivianne, exasperated, exclaimed, “You’ve never even donned a doctor’s coat for fun, much less been a doctor!”
“Carpe diem—you must seize the opportunity when it arises, Vivianne,” Chloe retorted triumphantly, his chin raised. Vivianne was rendered speechless by his confident proclamation, seemingly unworried about the consequences.
“If I pose as his attending physician, we’ll have a better chance of learning about the man, perhaps even more than the information hidden in Fog’s heart. The doctor is rumored to be one of the closest confidants – isn’t that how Fog gets their information in the first place? Ha ha! Just wait, Vivianne. I’ll uncover something about Dawn and return.”
“…I’m at a loss. A personal physician… I never imagined I’d be more astonished than when you said you were dining with the Chancellor. Even then, it was just temporary, but what if he is truly ill?”
“That’s precisely why I came to your house. When will grandpa arrive?”
“Grandpa? He should be here shortly. …Hold on, you’re counting on my grandpa to fix all your problems?”
Vivianne softly pinched the bridge of her nose, pausing to think. Chloe offered advice upon seeing her distress.
“Vivianne, how will you survive in this tough world if you’re so timid?”
“I’m not being timid; you’re just excessively bold. Even if my grandfather is a doctor, how do you expect to manage when you’ve only learned the basics? It’s not a mere disguise for a day or two; you’re his main caregiver, and if anything happens to him, you’ll need to be by his side all day.”
“That’s exactly what I was aiming for. There’s so much information to gather.”
“Chloe! This isn’t bravery; it’s recklessness!”
“Don’t be so angry. Without a certain degree of boldness, how can you accomplish anything? If I’m certain that person is unrelated to Dawn, I’ll make a quick exit. Remember, I’m also a master at escaping, or have you forgotten?”
Chloe picked up the newspaper that was spread across the kitchen table and indicated the bold headline on the front page.
[Phantom Thief Astar achieves yet another record-breaking escape.]
Chloe extracted the watch from his pocket and presented it to her. It was a timepiece that was hard to resist pilfering, overshadowed as it was by the Viscount’s aura. Vivianne, foregoing argument, promptly claimed the watch.
“…So, this is the famed Astar loot that’s been the talk of the town in the papers.”
“It will fetch a good price, won’t it?”
“Definitely. The black market goes wild for such items. Isn’t there a premium on goods pilfered by Astar? It’s ironic how those who despise their merchandise being sold illicitly still do it… The Viscount claimed he was wronged and pleaded with me to find it for him. What should I do with the money?”
“What line of work is Viscount Randolph in?”
“He’s the head of Grosset School. They hosted a grand charity event last month.”
Vivianne, Fog’s rising star appraiser, had already gathered all the relevant information. She never failed to meet Chloe’s expectations.
“If it’s Grosset, then it’s a school in the 9th district. Ha, a welfare project. I can hardly fathom the amount he must have pilfered and evaded detection.”
“Well, Grosset is the number one place to donate in order to improve your image.”
“Then we should redirect it to the rightful recipient who was meant to benefit from the donation.”
“Gotcha.”
Ultimately, delegating such tasks to Vivianne was simpler. Vivianne, who had been raised alongside him since childhood, was akin to a younger sibling for Chloe. At times, she would treat Chloe as if he were her naive younger brother, and vice versa.
Vivianne, even as a child, possessed a sense of romance and justice uncommon in these times. Her primary aim was to employ the power of art to rescue the world from the scourge of war, and her secondary aim was to channel the warmth of Astar’s ill-gotten gains to positively impact society.
“…If it becomes too dangerous, make sure to get out of there. You’re aware that a person with no information available is more dangerous than the emperor, correct?”
“Of course.”
Vivianne, touched by Chloe’s substantial donation, eventually ceased her persistent nagging. She recognized that her words were futile; after all, she knew him best.
“Don’t just barge in there and act like Astar simply because you want something.”
“I won’t, don’t worry.”
Moreover, even if he assumed the role of Astar, nobody would suspect he was Chloe. Vivianne was the sole confidant of his true identity, given his expertise in disguise.
By exploiting people’s vulnerabilities and defenses in this manner, it’s only a matter of time before I acquire all the Ashtartes. Naturally, that includes the most precious of the Ashtartes, Dawn, regardless of its form.
Chloe’s eyes, alight with the dreams of Dawn, burned with unyielding desire. Once fixated on an objective, he wouldn’t rest until it was within his grasp. Vivianne, familiar with Chloe’s tenacity, merely closed her eyes and shook her head, resigned to the fact that there was nothing she could do to stop him.
A primary care physician- he’s now tasked with mastering a medical skill he had never learned. A misstep could land him in prison for a century, charged not with theft, but with fraud. Despite Astar’s confidence in never having failed, worry gnawed at her. Vivianne, removing her fingers from her temples, inquired,
“Okay. So when do you start your new job?”
“…Chloe! Is that you, Chloe?”
The wooden staircase groaned under the weight as a distinguished elderly man caught sight of Chloe and ascended the steps briskly. He was a towering figure, his white beard bushy and his biceps as robust as Vivianne’s thighs.
As he neared, he flung the bag he was carrying onto the ground and, in one fluid motion, hoisted Chloe into the air. Chloe, nearly his equal in height, was taken by surprise and accidentally struck him in the arm. To avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, Chloe quickly raised his arms and pushed away from it, exclaiming,
“Grandpa, I’m 24 years old, please stop doing this!”
“Oh, come on, kid, not you too? You’re starting to sound just like Vivi when she was ten!”
“Well, at least ten-year-old Vivianne wasn’t sweeping the ceiling with her hair!”
After spinning Chloe around, the grandfather gently set him down and playfully tousled his blonde hair. Chloe recoiled slightly, but the old man just grinned widely.
To Vivianne’s maternal great-grandfather, Jean, Chloe had long been a part of the family, not merely through blood ties. The nephew of his granddaughter-in-law, Chloe was as much a great-grandchild to him as Vivianne was.
“So, there you are. It’s been almost a year since you left. How’s the journalism career shaping up?”
I once briefly posed as a reporter, but what’s this about a foreign country? I had asked Vivianne to concoct an excuse for her grandfather whenever he inquired about my well-being, yet it appears she has fabricated a story sending me overseas.
Chloe stole a glance at Vivianne behind her grandfather, who quickly gestured to the west. Understanding the cue, Chloe spoke nonchalantly.
“Indeed, that’s precisely why I’m here. In the Western Kingdom, it’s become quite fashionable to flaunt esoteric knowledge, and newspapers disseminating such intriguing information are facing scrutiny. My publication is preparing a feature on an obscure disease that lacks refuge, and I was hoping you might assist me. After all, grandfather, you are the leading expert on Hannarai.”
“Haha, it appears that their curiosity signifies a life of ease. Isn’t it said that the emperor there rejects all appeals for clemency?”
“Grandfather, their intentions are benign. The more that’s known about Hannarai, the more people may want to help those who are afflicted. So, I implore you, please help me.”
With a covert gesture, Chloe placed his hand to his mouth and whispered to his grandfather, Professor Jean of Naingel, ensuring Vivianne remained unaware.
“If you agree to help, I’ll present you with a box of sugar cubes, and Vivianne will be none the wiser.”
“Deal.”
“What are you two doing, making deals behind my back?”
The old man responded, “It’s nothing, Vivi. I’m just tired, probably from the house call I made today. Could you please make me a cup of coffee?”
Vivianne glanced at Chloe, who seemed more daunting than her grandfather, before heading downstairs to prepare the coffee. Jean hung up his coat and repeated his usual mantra.
“I’m eager to retire, but that can’t happen until this confounded Hannarai is resolved… There’s no cure, it’s challenging for patients to monitor their progress, and it’s exceedingly rare. I try not to dwell on it, but if just one of my patients were royalty, perhaps it would end sooner.”
“Grandfather is dedicated to his research, day and night, so it’s bound to be put to rest soon.”
“It is my desire. Despite my repeated requests for the imperial family to reveal the Ashtarte responsible, my pleas are ignored, so then…”
After adjusting his attire, Jean quickly drew a chair from a nearby table, seated Chloe, and then took a seat opposite him. With his hands clasped on the table, Jean inquired,
“So, Mr. Reporter, where shall I begin with the tale of Hannarai? From the start? Very well. It has been quite some time since I last told you this story. Pay close attention.”
***
Once upon a time, there was a young girl named Hanna Rai.
She harbored a deep love for a boy, unwavering and true.
Come sudden rain or fierce blizzard, she ventured out with her umbrella to meet him.
This umbrella was no ordinary one; it was a work of art, exquisitely crafted. The golden lace threaded into its transparent fabric caught and reflected even the faintest light, casting rays of sunshine, while the bronze adornments on its handle chimed in ephemeral harmony with the raindrops.
A friend had created this masterpiece for Hanna. who despised gloomy weather.
Hanna longed to share the joy she felt with each rainfall with the boy. Alas, her affections remained unreciprocated.
The boy always looked down on her, who came to greet him.
Those who have never felt the pain and cruelty of an unrequited love would never understand. It would have been easier for her to let go if the boy had uttered even a single word of disinterest. She yearned to relinquish her feelings to find comfort, yet Hanna’s heart was no longer her own.
Day after day, she faced neglect from the one who held her heart. Hanna wished for oblivion, thinking how wonderful it would be to understand his feelings. And then, a miracle occurred for Hanna. The umbrella she carried caught the attention of Tipurya, the god of truth.
The deity, observing the earnest wish of the umbrella’s owner, blessed it, declaring,
“Poke the person whose feelings you yearn to know with the tip of your umbrella. In a month, you will learn their true emotions.”
Hanna, heeding these words, prodded the boy with her now enchanted Ashtarte umbrella. The boy, poked on the side, raised an eyebrow, showed no further reaction, and continued on his way.
With a mix of anxiety and anticipation, Hanna awaited the month’s end. Astonishingly, a month later, she witnessed the boy, his eyes red and bloodshot, being apprehended by security after a violent outburst that injured many villagers. Fortuitously, there were no fatalities.
Shaken, Hanna made her way to the Temple of Tipurya to seek answers.
The deity replied simply,
“Oh, I forgot to mention. The emotions that surface are for the most influential person in his life, not the one who inflicted the wound. The boy has harbored anger towards a singular figure. But fear not, he will be liberated from the umbrella’s sway within a day. It’s true, this may recur occasionally, but he will be so consumed by intense emotion that he won’t retain any memory of it. Be assured, you are not the most influential person in his life. However, it won’t be long before you become just that. How could he overlook the one who bestowed upon him the curse of madness once a month?”
And so, it was revealed, Tipurya was a cunning and malevolent god.
With that, he vanished, leaving behind only the rare Ashtarte.
A person pierced by that umbrella loses their rationale and undergoes intense emotions monthly. After a day governed by instinct, their memory of the events fades.
The blessing of Ashtarte from Tipurya evolved into the Hannarai disease, named after Hanna, a malady without a cure.
Should your strongest emotion towards a significant person be anger, you would wreak havoc for a day.
If it were sorrow, you would weep until day’s end.
If joy, your smile would last the entire day.
If it were sexual…?
In the end, did Hanna receive the reaction she was hoping for?
– – –
Translator’s Corner:
TLing how Tipurya spoke drained the life outta me. Why do gods have to talk in such a convoluted way ahaha.
So, if ML has Hannarai… and he likes Astar as a secret fanboy… and if his feelings are of that nature… HMMMMM ahahaha huehuehue kekeke (maniacal giggling continues)
Tysm for translating this gorgeous novel! Ur translator’s note 😏
Aw! Thank you for your sweet comment! I shall use it as fuel for my motivation. 💖