IBML 08

Chapter 08

I rubbed my eyes roughly and headed toward the pottery workshop. Rekalin was walking beside me. As if by magic, people seemed completely unbothered by his presence.

It was fine that he helped handle the supplies, but now accompanying me too?

I tried to show just a hint of my discomfort, but Rekalin didn’t even blink.

“What kind of vase would be suitable?”
“You decide, Assistant.”

No, I’m saying, it’s mortifying having you watching me. Of all places, to run into my superior here…

I muttered under my breath while looking at the vases on display.

I was buying a vase to keep the flowers that Kalian had given me.

I planned to buy a vase with a long neck, place the bouquet inside, and hang a flower crown over the mouth. To let them dry properly.

“I’ll take this one.”
“You can buy a more expensive one if you like.”

Ah, so this is one of those rare chances to “legally” use my superior’s money.

Technically it’s more like using the company card, but either way, it’s still Rekalin’s money.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just take this one.”

Carrying the vase that Rekalin had paid for, I headed to the main road to catch a carriage.

But Rekalin stopped me with a single remark.

“If you’re going back to the mansion, I’ll escort you.”

It seemed he planned to use teleportation magic. Since the vase was heavy, there was no need to bother with an uncomfortable carriage ride.

I gladly accepted his offer.

Rekalin held out one hand and said,

“There was once a newspaper article about this. What is the number-one magic that office workers want to learn?”
“Teleportation?”
“No, that’s second place.”
“Then what’s first?”

The thin silver-rimmed glasses on Rekalin’s face reflected the light, hiding his eyes.

“The magic that eliminates your workplace entirely.”

Before I could even reply, “Well, that does sound like it could be number one,” a wave of blue magic instantly enveloped our vision.

“Ugh, uhhhk.”
“Seems the assistant gets motion sickness from teleportation. My apologies—I should have asked first…”
“Ughh, uhhk.”

As soon as we returned to the mansion, I collapsed on the floor, violently retching. Rekalin had guessed I was prone to teleportation sickness.

“Teleport sickness is fairly common. After a few tries, you’ll get used to it.”

I nodded slightly while still lying down, but my mind was elsewhere.

A few more times? No, thank you. Absolutely not.

“…Couldn’t you use some healing magic?”
“That won’t cure motion sickness immediately.”

A surge of magic rose and fell from his hand. My stomach felt slightly better, but I still felt awful inside.

Luckily, nothing came back up, but the turmoil inside was excruciating.

In the Empire—no, the continent—there were no magical means of travel like warp gates. Carriages and ships were the only standard options.

The continent had been at peace for centuries thanks to treaties, and magic had developed brilliantly over time.

It was said that applying magic to objects was difficult, but looking at the gradually commercialized magical tools, that was mostly nonsense.

Yet warp gates didn’t exist, all because the original author wanted the protagonists to enjoy themselves during carriage or ship rides.

The original story was rated 19+—so aside from a single scene, that was it—but I wanted to be angrier about the lack of warp gates than my unjustly doomed future.

Slowly, I lifted myself from the floor and said,

“I think I’m okay now.”
“You still look pale.”

I shook my head and glanced toward the dining area. Dinner was impossible; I clearly needed rest.

Tch, I wanted to meet Kalian too.

I carefully cradled the vase and headed to my room.

“Thank you for today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Please go ahead.”

I planned to shower immediately and dive into bed…but then,

“Assistant, the Duke sent some honey water.”
“Honey water?”

Apparently, I looked that pale, so just before bed, Rekalin had sent Emma to deliver honey water.

I should thank him personally, right?

The next morning, I was lucky enough to meet Kalian. I greeted him.

“Good morning, Rife.”
“And to you, Assistant.”

For some reason, Kalian looked slightly disappointed.

Today, I was determined to ask his preferences. I stepped forward and said,

“Please give me at least two flowers. I didn’t get any yesterday.”
“Oh, right, yesterday.”

He pulled a colorful bouquet from behind him, saying he wouldn’t let me experience any more mishaps.

“They’re beautiful again today. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“And Rife, I have a question for you.”

He blinked at me as if prompting me to speak.

“What are your preferences? Favorite foods, colors, that sort of thing?”
“Well, I don’t really have any particular dislikes. I like everything.”
“Surely you must have something you especially like?”

He paused to think, then smiled brightly.

“Assistant, I really like everything. You can’t go through life picking and choosing, can you?”

Kalian was unusually firm, his eyes sparkling with intensity.

I flinched slightly at his gaze. He continued to smile.

“Oh, I just remembered. I especially like what Panar and Paul like. They like madeleines, and since they’ve known my profession for a long time, they like green…”

I nodded, listening to him all the way through. It gave me a slightly eerie feeling—probably just my imagination.

After parting with Kalian, I headed to the office.

The red carpet over the unnecessarily long staircase was soft underfoot. It helped me think.

To summarize, the preferences Rekalin and Kalian shared weren’t very useful.

Technically, I could use them somehow, but what I really wanted were personal likes—favorite foods, places, things like that.

Rekalin’s preferences, while not exactly what I expected, were fine. He wanted someone earnest, diligent, and determined—his ideal type.

Kalian matched that perfectly. I had to figure out a way to use that to my advantage.

It was understandable that their answers were lackluster. A relatively new assistant asking such questions would naturally cause discomfort.

I entered my office with these thoughts. Oddly, the door wasn’t fully closed.

“Huh, Duke?”

Rekalin stood in the center. He wasn’t sitting at his desk as usual.

The morning sunlight backlit his face, hiding most of his expression.

But he held something in his hand—a long object, not the fountain pen he usually used.

“Here, Assistant.”
“Ah, thank you for the honey water yesterday.”

He took long strides and handed me the object.

“This is… a wristwatch?”

Inside a glass box tied with a gold ribbon was a wristwatch.

The silver hour and minute hands ticked along with a navy second hand, connected by a neat gold-brown strap.

The marbled gold-brown pattern reminded me of my own eye color.

“It’s a gift. Thanks to it, I got to meet you outside yesterday.”

Rekalin spoke matter-of-factly, without a blush or shy smile. I guessed the “outside” he meant was the meeting about the watch. I had been curious, and now it was clarified.

“It seems expensive. Is it really okay for me to accept it? It won’t violate any anti-bribery laws?”
“I’m not well-versed in legal matters.”

Don’t joke about that—it’s scary. Rekalin continued, noticing my wary gaze.

“Anything over 100,000 Milra incurs restrictions. This watch is 99,900 Milra, so it’s fine.”
“…”
“It’s an inauguration gift. A Duke’s assistant shouldn’t wear a worn-out watch, after all.”
“…So that’s why you were looking at my wrist before?”
“Yes. Apologies if it made you uncomfortable.”

I shook my head.

“Thanks for explaining. I feel better now.”
“The steward suggested giving you a minor noble title, saying a Duke’s assistant should have appropriate authority.”

I blinked in disbelief.

A minor noble title? The kind commoners work tirelessly to obtain?

Of course, it would only apply while working as a Duke’s assistant, but still…

And he was giving it as an inauguration gift—well, it was the steward’s suggestion, not Rekalin’s.

“However, considering the assistant’s temperament in the interview, I thought it might be burdensome. That hasn’t changed even now.”
“….”
“Think of it as a bonus. If you don’t want it, return it—or I can convert it to Milra.”
“No, thank you. I’ll wear the watch properly.”

I opened the glass box and slipped the shining watch onto my wrist.

The stiff leather clung to my wrist.

He quietly watched me strap it on.

A cool sandalwood scent came from nearby Rekalin. I wondered if he liked sandalwood.

Recalling his earlier words, I caught a familiar keyword—interview.

There had been many strong candidates for the position: the eldest sons of high nobles, scholars who lived only for study, ambitious journalists, and a knowledge-hungry woman—me.

Through the first written exam, the second group interview, and the third individual interview, candidates were filtered down. In the end, I was chosen: me, Lasha Berni.

Rekalin had wanted someone whose temperament matched his, even if slightly less capable.

What about me matched his temperament?

Life is all about timing, and I had planned to ask him now while the mood was a little soft—but fate did not allow it.

“Then, let’s get to work.”

Ah… he truly was a workaholic.