After we left the shop, Pakira said:
"This next one's the last."
"The last one?"
Fewer than I'd expected.
No—way fewer than I'd expected.
"But strictly speaking, they don't sell books. It's a private collection."
"What do you mean?"
"They're a collector. I think what you're looking for is probably there."
Hmm? A book collector in a town like this?
It struck me as odd, but something else caught my attention first.
"Then why save it for last?"
"There are two reasons. First, the place where that person lives isn't somewhere I'd want to go."
We were heading toward the slums. Ah, that explained it.
"And the second?"
"I don't get along with them. That person."
"Ah… that sort of thing."
If the guy had a problem with witches, I could see why she'd feel that way.
We slipped into a back alley in the slums.
Despite the narrow passage, shops lined up shoulder to shoulder.
The men lurking in the dim street had, to put it mildly, unsavory faces.
And upon spotting us, they spoke up.
"Heh heh heh heh."
"Hey, hey. Look at that. Isn't that a little kitten?"
"A lost kitten, huh? Nice."
"Wait, hold on. That's a Third-rank… a woman!"
"I've seen her before. That's that Trap-something, right?!"
"For real?"
"Tch, what a letdown."
The men hurried off in a rush.
What was that all about.
"As expected of you."
"Hmm. Being famous does come in handy as a sort of insect repellent, but you seem rather unfazed by it all."
"What do you mean?"
"You, of course."
"Oh, I live near the residential area in the slums."
That said, I wouldn't casually wander into a place like this.
I had no business here either.
"Oh. Hmm. We've arrived."
Midway down the alley. On the right side.
Suddenly, there was a staircase leading underground, gaping open without warning.
"Is it here?"
"That's right."
It certainly didn't look like a shop. I headed down the stairs.
After a slight turn, there was a door with a red semicircular arch.
Knock, knock. Knock, knock.
Pakira knocked on the door.
"Who is it?"
"It's me."
"Oh, it's you."
A man's voice, sounding somehow satisfied, came from inside, and the door swung open.
When I stepped in, there was a tanned, refined-looking man with gray hair and glasses, holding a book tucked under one arm.
A white shirt and black pants. Nothing out of the ordinary.
He looked at me with purple eyes.
"Oh, is this your boyfriend?"
"He's not."
"No, I'm not."
"And here I thought Pakira had finally found a love interest."
The man laughed.
"More importantly — there's a book I'm looking for."
"What's this. Oh — I hadn't introduced myself yet, had I?"
"Hm?"
The man smiled at me.
"Ambrosius Melnuris."
"I'm Wof."
"Pleasure. Now, standing around chatting isn't ideal, and having a conversation in the doorway is hardly refined."
"Then let us go inside already."
"Alright, alright."
He chuckled and let us in.
Pakira pouted.
I thought I'd figured out, vaguely, why she didn't get along with him.
The place we were led to was truly magnificent.
A space like a concert hall.
Even at a glance, there were dozens upon dozens of bookshelves lined up.
Of course, every book was neatly arranged with no gaps to speak of.
It wasn't just the bookshelves — the furnishings were splendid as well.
It was like a library.
Completely different from the witch's house.
"That's quite the collection."
"Isn't it? Isn't it."
"What a peak oddball you are."
"Ha ha, I'll take that as a compliment. So what books are you after?"
Pakira turned her gaze toward me.
"An herb encyclopedia and a book or encyclopedia on recovery potions."
"Oh my, you're asking for something quite unusual again."
"Do you have them?"
When I asked, Ambrosius tilted his glasses up with a click.
"...I think I might have an herb encyclopedia somewhere."
"What about the recovery potion book?"
"That one, I'm afraid... I don't think I have."
"Then just hand over the herb encyclopedia."
"Hand it over? Ha ha, I can't very well just give it away for free..."
Ambrosius made a troubled face.
Well, obviously.
Pakira brought out that weapon encyclopedia.
"I'll trade you for this."
"This one... may I take a look?"
The look in Ambrosius's eyes changed.
"Here."
"Well then, let me see right away — oh, this is nice. It even has OOPArts listed."
Ambrosius leafed through the guidebook, looking amused.
"Pakira."
"What is it?"
"Who exactly is Ambrosius? You had a surname, right?"
"Oh. Wof noticed, did you? Yes, well. He's a wealthy eccentric."
"Haha, that's harsh."
"It's the truth."
"Fair point, but he is technically nobility. A minor viscount, though."
"Is that so? But nobility means he's an Edda, right?"
"Ah, yes. All Edda are nobility. And for the record, I'm an Edda too."
"A hybrid, though."
"Still an Edda."
Ambrosius smiled.
Edda. The ruling species of all races. Known as the supreme species.
Without exception, every Edda in this world was nobility or royalty.
Of course, other species had their own nobility and royalty as well.
But the Edda species, without exception, consisted of nobility and royalty.
"Hmm. So, how is that guidebook as payment?"
"Not bad. Alright. I'll trade you. I'll go get it. Please wait here for a moment."
And so, we were left behind.
I immediately called out to Pakira.
"Um, uh..."
"What is it?"
"That encyclopedia — you were the one who bought it, right, Pakira?"
"That's right."
"So trading it for—"
"Don't worry about it. I have money."
"B-but, it's not like I've done enough to warrant that..."
"A chance meeting is fate, too. ...Hmm. Then how about this — I'll treat you to a meal at the Cedar Inn."
"Alright."
That mischievous grin of hers made it easy enough to accept.
"Sorry for the wait. Here you go."
The book that Ambrosius handed me.
It was, without a doubt, a herb encyclopedia.