I Was Mistaken for a Saint in a Dark Fantasy

Lunchtime at the clinic. The morning consultation had passed like a storm, and a moment of peace had arrived.

I filled a cup with water and flicked my finger.

Crackle. Bubble, bubble.

Using the matchstick beside me as a catalyst, a small flame ignited, and the water instantly boiled.

Even if I can’t use practical magic, I can manage lifestyle magic as long as I have a catalyst.

Even without magical sensitivity, I can brute-force this kind of crude miracle by just pouring in magical power.

For the record, and it goes without saying, casting magic this way doesn’t make you a mage.

You’re not going to brandish a matchstick in front of demonic beasts, are you?

When the water was sufficiently boiled, I mixed in some instant coffee mix... no, some herb powder, and stirred.In a world without electric kettles, magic was an excellent substitute for home appliances.

”Hmph.”

I took a sip, and it tasted awful.

Is it because I used a matchstick as a catalyst?

Forget heat control; there’s no elegance to it either.

No wonder nobles use expensive tea ceremony sets or butlers who specialize in tea.

I’ve tried it once, but I don’t think I’ll be making tea this way again.

”Whoa...”

Still, this magic wasn’t a complete failure.

Because Eri, who had been munching on a sandwich across from me, was staring with wide eyes.

Hmph. Who am I?

A genius who mastered the basics of magic in just three months at the age of 12.

From the perspective of a performance meant to show off, this magic was a success.

”Teacher, was that magic just now? The fire thing.”

”Yes. It’s called lifestyle magic.”

”Can I learn that, too?”

Eri’s eyes sparkled as she pulled her chair closer.

Her fervent expression made the corners of my mouth lift slightly.

That’s right.

If you’re my assistant, you should be bold like that, not intimidated.

Not just give up because you’re from the Limbus Pit.

”If I had that, I wouldn’t need matches, and it would be convenient when walking at night. Just a snap of the fingers, and poof! fire.”

Her explanation, complete with hand gestures, was quite passionate.

I could see the pure curiosity and sparkling admiration of a teenage girl.

Thanks to her, a pleased smile formed on my face.

A typical fantasy novel teacher would probably say, ’Yes, child, I see talent in you,’ and teach her at least the basic breathing method.

But in this world, I couldn’t do that.

”No.”

”Huh? Why?”

”Eri. How old are you?”

”My birthday hasn’t passed yet, so I’m eleven.”

Only a few months different from me.

”That’s why you can’t. At least wait until after your birthday to ask again.”

Eri pouted.

”What does age have to do with it? I’m smart, too.”

”It’s not a matter of intelligence.”

I casually set down the tea I was drinking.

I was drinking it for the concept, but this stuff is disgustingly bad.

”You can’t learn magic before you’re 12. It’s forbidden by law.”

”Huh? Where is there a law like that?”

”Here. In the Empire.”

It really exists.

Moreover, it’s a law where if you don’t follow it, scary men from the Imperial Court come down to get you.

”You’re not just saying that because it’s a hassle to teach me, are you?”

”No. It’s actually dangerous to learn magic before the age of 12.”

”What’s so dangerous?”

”You could end up ruining your body and never being able to use magic again.”

Eri put down her sandwich and focused on my words.

”Really? What’s the principle behind that?”

”To use magic, your mana circuit has to mature. There are individual differences, but the period for the circuit to fully grow is safely estimated to be up to age 12.”

”I could develop faster, couldn’t I?”

”True. But you could also be slower.”

There’s no way to know if this mana circuit is complete.

It’s just a rule of thumb to judge that it’s safely completed by the age of 12.

And this was a painful lesson learned from the Empire’s long history in its book of wrong answers.

”Magicians are rare, and mages are even rarer. The Empire doesn’t want to lose talent for such a ridiculous reason.”

That’s why it’s blocked by law.

This is a law that applies without exception to the lowest class, commoners, nobles, and even the Imperial Family.

”So, unless it’s a special, exceptional case, you can’t learn magic before you’re 12.”

”What’s the exception?”

”Awakening on your own without anyone teaching you, a situation where you might die if you don’t learn magic... well, there are various others, but none of them apply to you right now.”

”Maybe secretly...”

”Don’t even dream of it.”

In this hopeless, dreamless dark fantasy world, do you think the Imperial Court that has maintained power for 1000 years is a joke?

If you break that rule, they find out like ghosts, and The Enforcers will come.

Once they’re dispatched, not just a baronial family, but even a count’s family must be prepared for clan annihilation. They’re that scary.

Obviously, erasing a slum street like this from the map would be nothing to them.

”So wait a year.”

”Then can I learn it then?”

”Maybe.”

Honestly, I’m not sure either.

I don’t know if the Central Magic Management Bureau will grant permission.

Magic is treated almost like firearms in this world, so you have to register from the start to learn it.

After learning, you have to do a magician or mage registration.

They even refuse to grant permits if you seem dangerous based on the type of magic, your criminal record, and your origins.

Because of that, permits for magic are rarely issued to those from the slums.

It’s gotten even worse since some crazy person from the slums went on a rampage in Sanctum Hill about 100 years ago.

’If I say I’ll take responsibility, they might grant a permit.’

Well, that’s something to think about when the time comes.

”Now, if you’re done with brunch, let’s prepare for the next patient. We’re only doing the morning consultation today and leaving work early, so it’ll be a bit busy.”

”What was the afternoon schedule?”

”I have an experiment to run at Wangcho’s slaughterhouse today. We’re going there.”

”Okaaay~”

***

When we arrived at the slaughterhouse, Wangcho’s subordinates were in the middle of butchering pigs.

Carefully separating the lungs to be used for newborn surfactant,

the process of cautiously separating the pancreas for insulin so it wouldn’t be damaged.

Recently, the process of separating the small intestine and scraping its insides was added.

Beside me, who was wearing a crow mask, Eri pinched her nose.

”Ugh. It smells like crap. You’re not making medicine out of that crap, are you?”

”No. I’m making it from the intestines.”

I will make ’Heparin’ from these pigs’ small intestines.

The medicine that dissolves blood clots.

It’s also an ultimate weapon that can be used in internal medicine.

’With this one thing, I feel like I could even start a fraudulent cult.’

Even in this world, a stroke or myocardial infarction caused by a blood clot is the worst kind of disease, incurable even with divine magic.

If I administer Heparin to such a person and make them rise, it would be no different from God’s miracle or the Second Coming of a Saint.

If I add the line ’Rise and walk’ on top of that,

Wow, Isekai Jesus complete.

Of course, I have no intention of creating a fraudulent cult.

No matter how much of a misunderstanding genre protagonist I am, if I create a fraudulent cult with the intent to deceive people, the protagonist’s plot armor will disappear.

Unless the genre is picaresque or xianxia, I needed to avoid such evil deeds as much as possible.

”But, Teacher.”

Eri asked, peering into the bucket filled with washed small intestines.

”Is this medicine really necessary?”

”Absolutely.”

”Hmm...”

Eri tilted her head.

This is a world where the concept of a blood clot hasn’t even properly taken hold, let alone the principle behind strokes.

It would be hard for her to understand why it needs to be dissolved.

”Well, if Teacher says it’s necessary, I guess it is.”

I quietly watched Eri as she shrugged.

Actually, I’m making this medicine for her.

The PNH (Paroxysmal Nocturnal Hemoglobinuria) she suffers from has a high incidence of strokes caused by blood clots.

She’s fine now, but by the time she’s over 20, the risk will increase exponentially.

Therefore, if I can’t cure her PNH, I’m at least making Heparin in advance to prepare for a stroke.

’Thanks to magic, controlling the enzyme temperature has finally become easier.’

On top of that, I’ve recently become able to control temperature with magic.

The water needs to be maintained between 37 and 40 degrees for the enzyme to work properly and create Heparin, but before, I didn’t have the technique to finely adjust this temperature.

I’ve managed to solve that to some extent with magic.

’Just as I thought. This was an event pushing me toward the alchemy route.’

And gaining confidence in which direction to develop my magic thanks to this incident was a bonus.

”Hey, you son of a bitch!”

Just then, a shout from beside me cut through my thoughts.

It was Wangcho.

A middle-aged man in an apron was grabbing a young man, who looked like a newbie, by the collar.

”Do you know how much one of these intestines is worth? Huh?!”

”I-I’m sorry!”

”The value of this one small intestine is more than your intestines...”

Wangcho, who was yelling, made eye contact with me.

A moment of silence.

And then he continued speaking, his tone of voice slightly lowered.

”...is not more precious... but still, be more careful! If it gets damaged like this, we can’t deliver it!”

”I’m sorry...”

”Sigh. I’ll just dock a little from your monthly salary. I was originally going to deduct the full amount of the damage you caused, but since you have to keep working here, I’ll only take one day’s worth. No complaints?”

”Huh? Yes, sir!”

The newbie hastily gathered the scattered pieces of small intestine from the floor.

Then he disappeared as if fleeing.

Eri watched the scene with admiration.

”Wow, Wangcho’s personality has gotten so much milder.”

”...”

What on earth do you do when I’m not looking for this child to judge you like this...

Having finished training his employee, Wangcho walked over with a deep sigh.

”You’ve arrived, Teacher Schnabel.”

”Wangcho. You’re working hard.”

”The small intestines are being prepared smoothly. However...”

Wangcho scratched his head.

”The process yield is good... but, hah, we’re getting some complaints.”

”Complaints?”

”From the butcher shop bastards. They’re raising a fuss that the small intestine casings are being delivered too late, that they don’t have any casing (*small intestine casing) to make sausages. They’re making a scene, saying they’ll have to close shop tomorrow. The nerve of those unprofitable fools... I can’t just go and bury them either.”

Ah, I see.

Sausages are a serious matter.

As someone who makes sausages by stuffing the filling into casings myself when I cook, I can relate.

”Are there many complaints?”

”A ton. Just this morning, three butcher shop owners came and raised hell. Teacher. Can’t something be done about this?”

”Hmm.”

I rested my chin on my hand and thought.

”How are you handling the process?”

”Huh? Well, just as you ordered. Cut it open and scrape it hard with a spoon so as not to damage it...”

That’s the problem.

When are they going to finish scraping all those small intestines with a spoon?

They seem to be trying to scrape it delicately because the small intestines are precious, but doing it that way will inevitably delay the casing delivery.

Besides, scraping with a spoon actually tears it more easily.

”Instead of that, do this.”

I picked up a small intestine that hadn’t been processed yet.

I found a beer bottle rolling in a corner of the slaughterhouse, broke it leaving only the mouth, and made it into something like a funnel.

I pushed the small intestine inside it and said to Eri.

”Pull it through.”

”Ugh... it’s slippery.”

Eri grabbed the other end of the small intestine and pulled.

As it passed through the narrow opening of the bottle, the mucosa from inside the small intestine was pushed out and gushed toward the mouth.

Splat. Sploosh.

From the other side came a transparent, thin membrane, with the mucosa cleanly removed.

It was a perfect sausage casing.

At the incredibly easy process, Wangcho’s jaw dropped.

”...Is this okay? It’s for medicine, so shouldn’t we still be scraping it carefully??”

”The mucosa doesn’t need to be scraped delicately. Even if you scrape it roughly, there’s no problem using it for medicine.”

”Then the casing...”

”This method will actually damage the casing less than a spoon. The process will be faster, too.”

”Aigoo... they say if you’re ignorant, your body suffers. It seems I’m fated to never escape the Limbus Pit.”

Afterward, I discussed with Wangcho about a funnel to replace the beer bottle.

The principle was nothing special, so we decided to have one custom-made by a blacksmith.

The separated casings go to the butcher shops, and the remaining mucosa to me.

Isn’t this killing two birds with one stone?

”Thank you, Teacher.”

”I’ll take the mucosa.”

I had Eri carry the container filled with mucosa.

One might ask what I’m doing to a young girl, but that’s why I took her in as an assistant.

And something I learned after feeding her a lot recently is that this child is stronger than me.

Is it because she has the potential to be a mage?

...Still, it hurts my pride a little.

”Let’s have lunch in Civitas Square today.”

I said to Eri, who was carrying the container of mucosa beside me.

Usually, I’d eat a lunch box because of the afternoon consultation, but today I had to go up for afternoon research.

I have to rent the upper-level laboratory to make the medicine.

”Really? Can we go to a buffet?”

”Of course.”

Lunch that day was a buffet.

Seeing her eat meat so well even after visiting the slaughterhouse, I thought she had a strong stomach.

***

A few months passed like that.

The Heparin extraction was going smoothly, and the clinic was still busy.

Winter in the Red-Light District was cold, and there were many patients.

It was about the same as previous years.

’Is this my second year in the Red-Light District?’

Around this time last year, I was busy with the birth of my youngest sibling.

The heavy snow season will probably start soon, too.

’I should make the medicine in advance.’

Too many people died during last year’s heavy snow season.

I can’t be here myself, but I should arrange it so those who need medicine can get it from Wangcho.

’I should also tell him not to punish anyone who steals food from the clinic if it comes to that.’

You never know.

There might be a Jean Valjean in need of help this winter.

In a world like this, it wouldn’t hurt to have at least one priest for such a person.

Ah, was it a bishop, not a priest?

Anyway.

That day, after finishing the morning consultation, I headed to ’Fleischhof,’ the meat restaurant run by Wangcho.

”Erika, slow down. You’re going to fall.”

Arriving at the restaurant, I looked up.

Above the roof with eaves curving up toward the sky, an Imperial language signboard was prominently displayed.

And below that Imperial language, the Beastkin script ’Buraesu Hobu (富來壽 豪府)’, resembling ancient Eastern characters, was inscribed in gold leaf.

Lowering my gaze, I saw red lanterns stained with grease dangling on either side of the circular doorframe.

”Teacher! I heard Fleischhof got sausages in today, should we have that for lunch?”

”Let’s see what meat came in yesterday before we decide.”

Opening the door revealed a duplex structure with a high, open ceiling.

In the central hall, dozens of square wooden tables were packed together, and between them, Wangcho’s female employees bustled about with towels on their shoulders, carrying plates of meat.

I don’t know much about wuxia, but I know that this structure is an inn and that those female employees should be called waiters.

But the menu was infused with Western style.

’I can’t get used to this, no matter how many times I see it.’

I wondered where to even begin pointing things out, but now I’ve decided not to care, assuming it’s just Wangcho’s taste.

I was heading from the entrance of that hybrid place toward the room I had reserved.

Wangcho, who was waiting for me with his arms crossed in front of that room, stopped me.

”Teacher. Do you have a moment?”

The grinning man called to me with a serious face.

It was a spitting image of the expression worn by a professor of emergency medicine from my previous life who was waiting for me as I was about to go out for lunch.

Suddenly, I lost my appetite.

”...What is it, Wangcho?”

”This year, would you perhaps consider going up a little earlier?”

What Wangcho proposed was none other than for me to go up before the snow started.

”The atmosphere over in H-Sector has been unusual lately. Those bastards over there must have eaten something wrong; they’re going crazy and crawling up to our D-Sector.”

”They must be going crazy because the heavy snow season is coming.”

Eri chimed in from beside me.

”It’s the season for slitting each other’s throats just to get one more trash bag before the heavy snow comes.”

”Eri. Nice words.”

”Hmph.”

What kind of 12-year-old uses an expression like ”slitting throats”?

Still, the meaning got across.

It was a story of a similar kind, like how wild animals come down to human settlements as the hibernation period approaches.

”I understand. When should I go up?”

”If possible, it would be best for you to go up today.”

Wangcho looked around, then whispered to me.

”During the heavy snow season, our trash needs to have a brawl amongst themselves. It won’t be a pretty sight for someone like you, Teacher, so please take that kid Erika and go up. I’ll contact you when the situation is sorted out.”