PBP 18

chapter 18

“Leon— were you eating well?”

When I returned with the biggest smile I could manage, Hyperion greeted me with only his cranberry juice emptied—the rest of the food barely touched.

“Y-yeah, th-this was good.”

The sailors sitting nearby kept stealing glances at Hyperion. Getting this much attention at once must’ve made him nervous; no wonder he couldn’t swallow properly.

“There’s a lot of other tasty stuff too. Or is it not to your liking?”

Just then, Nereus suddenly appeared—looking so clean and unbothered that it was hard to believe this was the same man who’d been beaten senseless by Gilbert earlier.

“Stop messing up my hair.”

…he said, while messing up my hair with a grin.

Nereus scrubbed my head like he was petting a shedding dog, laughing heartily. Then he threw together various things on the spot and made a huge sandwich, handing it to Hyperion.

“Our meals are kinda… you know. Rough.”

“N-no, it’s fine. Where I’m from, meals are separated into timed groups, so… I like this. It feels fr-friendly.”

“Really? Must be hard, kid.”

Watching Hyperion slowly ease back into eating thanks to Nereus’ lead, I finally left the dining hall and headed toward the room where the medicine was being prepared.

‘It’s going well.’

Distilling worked properly, and the substance had separated. I admired the cacao leaf extract with satisfaction when Gilbert set down a jar and a small sack beside me.

“Here, you said you needed these.”

“Thanks.”

He’d brought honey and flour—ingredients needed to make pills. First, I mixed the remaining charcoal and ground herbs into the thickened decoction.

After a few mixes…

“……”

“…Want me to do it?”

“Mm-hm.”

Gilbert started mixing with the same skill he used when whipping meringue. Thanks to the expert touch, air incorporated smoothly, making the mixture thicker and firmer.

After adding flour and honey and mixing again, the blend turned into a dough. I tore small portions off, rolling each into balls smaller than a pinky nail. Finally, I coated them with powder and set them to dry.

“But doesn’t this take a while to dry?”

“Yeah. If we use the oven with a magic-circuit installed and bake them at low heat, it’ll go faster. But natural drying takes longer.”

‘We don’t even have a magic dryer.’

If we had one, we wouldn’t need an oven at all—but it was expensive, so even Ethan hadn’t requested it.

So we’d have to settle for natural drying.

“Where did you even learn all this?”

“I saw it in a near-death flashback.”

“……”

Ah… Gilbert let out a flat response.

“But you’re giving all these pills to that kid?”

“Noo, these are for our family. Thirty minutes after meals, three times a day. Take them for two days straight, then for the next three days take them before sleeping—everything gets cleared right up.”

“So you learned this after being sick yourself?”

“Yep.”

It wasn’t a lie. I just woke up as my younger self afterward.

“For Hyper… Leon, I’m only giving the recipe. And only information an eight-year-old could plausibly recall.”

“Says the six-year-old.”

“So, don’t like it?”

“Of course not. It’s perfectly fitting for a six-year-old. Nothing weird.”

He said this while sitting beside me, rolling pills at terrifying speed. His tone was flat, but his loyalty was blinding.

I shook the pure cacao extract and slipped into Ethan’s room to “borrow”—not steal—some ingredients.

Ethan was apparently out interrogating—well, openly prying everything out of—the orchard keeper, so borrowing was easy.

Still, just in case he got surprised later, I left a tiny note listing what I took, the amounts, and my name, tucking it under his paperweight.

While I continued working on something else, Gilbert watched curiously.

“What’s that?”

“Medicine for Leon. I’ll make our family’s batch later.”

“Polaris.”

I looked up from admiring the jade-colored liquid when Gilbert spoke in a serious tone.

“Hm? What?”

“That boy’s not it.”

“……”

“He’s too skinny and looks like a scholar. I don’t think so.”

—said Gilbert, the skinniest person on the entire ship.

“Sure, he shines like well-polished gold, but he’s not some treasure to be sold. Looks don’t matter. What matters in a person is—”

“Character?”

“Being strong enough to fight fifty people alone. At minimum, he should be able to beat Nel.”

“…Is that even possible?”

This whole conversation felt wrong. Gilbert continued:

“But he has to adore you, and he must never use force or threaten you. Anyone who tries even a little? Absolutely not.”

“…?”

“Anyway, that’s the conclusion.”

“What conclusion.”

“Daddy thinks he’s not great. You should wait ten more years. Polaris, you’re way too young to date—”

“I said I don’t want to.”

Gilbert was truly, honestly—

Basically the same kind of guy as Nereus.

* * *

We decided to escort the well-fed, now-healthy Hyperion back to Naval Division 13. Since Nereus was too dangerous to show his face openly, Isaac—with his clean, harmless appearance—acted as Hyperion’s guardian.

Isaac held both mine and Hyperion’s hands tightly as I whined while swinging our arms.

“Isaac-daddy, Isaac-daddy! Before we go, let’s stop by the telegraph station and get a magic carrier pigeon seal. Daddy said it’s okay!”

“The Captain did?”

“Mm-hm!”

Magic carrier pigeons were different from regular ones. Originally, the Sixth House had branched into a Seventh—but that family was completely consumed by the “Darkness,” a threat only Seers faced.

That erased family was Opium.

Before they vanished, Opium collaborated with magicians to create the “magic carrier pigeon.” It was the only legacy they left behind.

And it had incredible functions.

When you applied for a magic pigeon at the telegraph station, you were given a sealing wax stamp engraved with a bird design. If you sealed a letter or light package with it, it transformed into a beautiful magical bird and flew to the intended recipient.

The drawback was that you needed either your own registered code or the recipient’s code to send the message. But that wasn’t a problem for me.

“Leon, let’s get yours too. Okay?”

“M-mine? But…”

“Daddy said it’s fine. I don’t have any friends on the ship. Can we? I’d really like it.”

I stared at Hyperion as I asked; his face reddened again as he nodded shyly.

‘He’s been so bashful since he was little. What do I do?’

Isaac’s grip on my hand tightened.

“Isaac-daddy, if you’re about to say something stupid, please don’t.”

“I don’t say stupid things.”

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

“…Fine.”

We each received our sealing stamps. Isaac said I might lose mine, so he put it on a long chain and hung it around my neck.

He tried to make Hyperion’s into a necklace too, but I stopped him—I wanted to do that part myself.

Then, leaving Isaac in the main hall of the station, I dragged Hyperion into a quiet corner.

“Leon, take off your shoe.”

“What?”

“Hurry.”

To others, it might’ve looked like I was bullying him, cornering him with a hand on the wall—but that wasn’t important.

‘A kid who went missing and suddenly returned—there’s no way the Navy won’t investigate.’

Especially a kid the Parus family probably wished dead. The Navy was supposed to ignore noble status, but Parus wasn’t like other nobles.

So, when Hyperion returned, they might inspect his body under the excuse of a health check.

‘If I’m overthinking, good. If I’m right—also good.’

Hyperion hesitated, then removed one shoe.

“Just one.”

I lifted the insole, pushed Hyperion’s seal stamp inside, and pressed the insole firmly back down.

“It’ll feel a bit uncomfortable, but deal with it. Opium-made things don’t break from something like this.”

Hyperion looked confused, not understanding why I did all this.

“I don’t want you to lose anything that’s yours—your belongings, your status, your future. None of it.”

“M-my things?”

“Yeah, Leon. Your family doesn’t love you.”

Hyperion’s eyes trembled as if hurt.

‘But if he doesn’t deny it… he must’ve already known.’

Kids aren’t clueless—they just pretend not to know when fear makes pretending safer.

“But I care about you.”

“……”

“You’ve known me for less than a day, but things like this happen. Just like your family, who spent your whole life with you, doesn’t love you… someone who met you recently can treasure you for a lifetime.”

In truth, we had known each other for years—more than that—but those memories vanished. So maybe it was unclear whether the boy in front of me was the same Leon.

Even so, I couldn’t let go of my past memories. So the boy now was Leon, my friend.

…And if this let me save the Caelum Pirates and Nereus, even better.

“You have to write letters. I will too.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t ever let it get taken. I won’t lose mine either.”

“Yeah. I promise.”

After he answered, I handed him a small slip of paper.

“Memorize this.”

Written on it was the early-stage treatment for a disease that would later be called White Root. Not the final cure—just the starting point.

Originally, the cure was discovered far later. If Hyperion shared this hint early, casualties would drop, and his position in the Navy would grow stronger.

“Memorize it, and when you return to the 13th Division and they ask what happened, tell them. Okay?”

Of course, I left out the cacao leaf part. You could still make the medicine without it.

‘I’ll send that part separately to the medical association later.’

Who would give away profitable knowledge for free? I’d keep the valuable parts for myself.

Anyway—getting the magic pigeon stamp and giving Leon the recipe felt like crossing a major mountain.

Even if magic pigeons only worked when you knew the recipient’s code, that didn’t bother me.

I’d already memorized every code I needed before regressing.