BlaiseCorvin
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Cozy Isekai Craftsman, ch 12
🕑 Added 2023-03-10 18:28:20 +0000 UTCEmily's mood was sour, and she expressed her frustration by hammering away at the iron on her anvil.
She meant to use the same fire that was meant to fuel the Fire Spirit, but her misplaced trust had allowed the creature to wreak havoc in the town. The consequences of her mistake were severe: she lost all her savings to pay for damages and fines, and she put her friends’ lives in jeopardy. She already drained her savings to pay for the damages, but she still had months of steady work ahead to settle the rest of the debt.
The only silver lining was the arrival of the strange sorcerer, Joseph Johnson, who had not only taken down the Fire Spirit but had also enchanted her forge. The forge was nowhere near as hot as before, but it was ten times more efficient and didn't require the physical exertion that was necessary to maintain it. Emily could now focus more of her energy on her craft.
It was a wondrous creation that should have brought her joy. However, the weight of her guilt kept her anger fueled, and she relentlessly pounded the anvil in hopes of releasing her frustration with each strike.
Early in the morning, Emily heard the creak of the front door opening. Someone entered, but she didn't stop working. The heavy, purposeful footsteps of someone she knew were approaching her from the other room. Emily looked up and saw Grace, the sorcerer and law officer, with her blue bouncy hair, striding into the room.
"I've already spoken with the sheriff," Emily grunted. "He's allowed me to pay off the rest of the fine in installments."
Grace rolled her eyes. "I'm not here for that," she said. "We both know you're good for the money eventually."
Emily blinked, caught off guard by the response. She sat down beside her hammer, hands on her hips. "How can I help you, then? Are you here for my services?"
Grace grinned. "Actually, I'm here to offer mine."
It took Emily a moment to realize what the sorceress meant. Then, feeling suddenly self-conscious about their conversation, she looked around the room and spoke in a low voice, "Is it unique? Something I haven't seen before?"
Grace walked closer, their faces almost touching. "I'll be returning to the University for about a month and a half to renew my testing. One of my classmates said they found something that you might be interested in."
Emily's interest was piqued. "Are you sure?" she asked eagerly.
Emily's eyes widened in excitement as Grace scoffed at her. "Your collection, I remember it well," Grace said. "I'm certain you don't have a rare class figure of a snowy owl."
Emily's heart raced, and tried to appear nonchalant. She didn't want to seem like a giddy little girl eager to add to her glass menagerie.
"How much do you want for it?" Emily asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
But Grace wasn't interested in money. "I know you're struggling right now," she said. "Consider this my way of paying you back for what you did for me before."
Emily's mind flashed back to the night they met in the city, years ago. There had been a lot of fighting, and Emily had taken a black eye for Grace. Emily winced at the memory of the punches she'd endured for the sorceress.
Grace's knowing look made Emily realize that she remembered that night, too. "It's a deal," Grace said, and Emily let out a relieved breath. "Just bring it back to me in one piece, and we'll call it even."
Emily's heart swelled with gratitude as she thanked Grace. She couldn't believe her luck in finding such a rare figure, and she vowed to handle it with the utmost care.
Grace let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping. "Thank God," she said. "I didn't know how I was ever going to pay you back for that whole mess. I thought I would have to invoke my family name just to balance the scales."
Emily nodded, her eyes fixed on the package Grace held. "Just make sure you wrap it well," she said.
"I'll do so," Grace replied, giving Emily a small smile before turning to leave.
But Emily stopped her. "You're leaving today?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.
Grace froze, turning back to face her friend. "Yes," she said, hesitantly. "I have to go right away to get my sorcery level upgraded."
Emily narrowed her eyes, studying Grace's face. "I know enough about sorcery to know that it doesn't take that long to get your tests done," she said slowly. "And I know you're not going to visit your family along the way, since you guys are estranged from each other."
Grace winced, as if caught in a lie. "The sheriff wants to keep the real reason why I'm leaving on the down-low," she explained. "He doesn't want anybody to panic."
Emily nodded slowly, her eyes softening. "I get it," she said. "It's official business. I just don't like being lied to, but it's all right."
Grace seemed to hesitate, as if considering her options. Finally, she spoke.
Grace leaned forward, her eyes glinting with a hidden urgency. "I can't tell you the exact details," she said, "but it does have to do with the local dungeon. I need to go back to the university not just to test for a new grade but also to ask the Council for more information on our current case."
Emily's heart pounded in her chest. "Is anybody in danger? Is it serious?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Grace shook her head, her expression softening. "No," she said. "The protective field in Lockwood should be more than enough to hold back any threats while I'm gone."
Emily felt her muscles relax at that, the tension seeping out of her body. "Well, good," she said. "If you're heading off right away. I wish you good luck."
Grace gave her a small nod, her hand lingering on the doorknob. "Thanks," she said. "I'll make sure to hold on to the snowy owl class figure for you." Then she paused. "What do you think about our newcomer, Joseph Johnson?"
Emily hadn't expected that kind of question from Grace. She studied her friend's face for any sign of curiosity before responding. "Why ask about him?" she said cautiously.
Grace shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a glint in her eye that Emily didn't miss. "At first, I thought he was a sorcerer," she said. "But he seems to have a mysterious background that none of us have any idea about. I just want to know what kind of man he is. And having known you for a few years, I know that you're a good judge of character."
Emily pondered for a while, her mind drifting back to the memory of their first encounter with Joe. It had been a wild few hours, chasing down the Fire Spirit and battling it until it finally succumbed to their strength. And then came the aftermath of the ordeal, the exhaustion and the wounds that needed tending to. Yet despite all that, she had allowed Joe to live in her family's grand mansion.
"My old family home is where he's staying now," she finally spoke, breaking the silence.
Grace's eyes widened with surprise. "The old mansion? But isn't it in shambles now that you and your sister have left?"
Emily shrugged, "True, but apparently, he's planning on fixing it up. And besides, I wouldn't have allowed him to stay there if I didn't believe he was a good man."
Grace paused, her gaze darting back and forth as she seemed to weigh her options. "Well, if you trust him, then I trust him too."
A small sense of relief washed over Emily as she heard those words. She had been worried that her friend would disapprove of her decision. But then, for a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence between them. Emily couldn't quite put her finger on what it was, but there was something strange about the way Grace was looking at her.
Suddenly, Grace spoke up, "Thanks for your insight. I'll send you a letter once I've made the purchase."
"Of course," Emily replied, grateful for the change of subject. "Take care and have a safe journey."
Grace gave her a quick nod before turning and walking out of the shop. Emily watched her go, still unsure of what had caused that strange moment of tension between them. With a sigh, she went back to pounding away at the anvil, hoping that the rhythmic sound would help soothe her restless thoughts.
–
Joe woke up to the sound of birds chirping and the warm sun peeking through his window. He yawned, stretching his arms out and felt the slight soreness in his muscles. He knew it was a small price to pay for the hard work they had put in the day before. As he walked into the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. He poured himself a cup and savored the rich, bold flavor as he looked out the window, admiring the beauty of the morning.
Ava and Caroline were still asleep. He was happy to have bought them one or two extra hours to relax at night.
"If I were them," he said to himself, "I'd sleep for a week straight." He reminisced about his time in the restaurant industry, the long hours, and back-breaking work that came with it. He knew all too well the toll it took on one's body and mind. The work built strong legs, but it also broke backs over time.
Joe felt content in the peacefulness of the morning. He knew that today would be another day of hard work, but he was ready for it. With a smile on his face, he whispered to himself, "Let's do this."
He went to the kitchen and got himself some herbs, at least the ones that he was familiar with. He transferred the taste of vanilla to his coffee and a little cocoa bean. He tested transferring only a few portions of the cocoa taste to his coffee instead of the entire thing all at once.
He took a sip, savoring the complex flavors dancing on his tongue. It was perfect. But he couldn't help but wonder - what if he could control the transfer of flavors, to add just the right amount of vanilla or cocoa? He set to work, experimenting with different amounts and ratios, relishing in the excitement of discovery.
To his delight, he found that he had some level of control over the transfer. It wasn't perfect, but he could at least manipulate the flavors to his liking. He grinned, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over him. As he finished his cup of coffee, he carefully transferred the essence of the cocoa to one of his ever-present pebbles in his pants pocket, knowing that it would come in handy later.
With a renewed sense of energy, he set off towards the sprawling mansion, eager to put his newfound skills to use.
"I need to get myself some sort of workman's apron," Joe said to himself. It was just one of the many things that he needed to buy or make for himself now that he had a home. Of course, he would need money - that was still a problem that he needed to solve, but he had a couple of ideas.
He knew he had to tread carefully, to keep his power a closely guarded secret. Only a select few knew about it, those he trusted so far. But he couldn't let his guard down, not when there were those who would use his gift for their own gain.
The weight of responsibility bore down on him as he thought about the potential consequences of misusing his power. Lockwood was a tight-knit community, and he didn't want to be the outsider who ruined it all. He knew firsthand the power of rumors, how they could spiral out of control and cause irreparable damage.
He took a deep breath, reminding himself to be cautious. He was here to help, not to cause harm. His power was a gift, but it came with a great responsibility. As he walked through the streets of Lockwood, he made a promise to himself to use his gift wisely, to never let it get in the way of doing what was right for the community.
As he arrived at the sprawling mansion, he couldn't help but marvel at the expansive backyard that lay before him. Making his way to the shed, he couldn't help but cringe at the sight of the dilapidated structure. It was small, cramped, and filled with dust and cobwebs. But he wasn't one to shy away from a challenge. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work, determined to transform the shed into a pristine workspace.
Joe toiled away, cleaning every nook and cranny until the shed gleamed like new. He tackled the dirty shelves, wiping away the grime and replacing the cobwebs with shining tools.
But then, something unexpected happened. As he summoned the screen to catalog the newly renovated shed, it faltered. It couldn't recognize the entire structure, leaving him scratching his head in confusion.
"I have to do it for each shelf and then clean them all separately," he realized. What had allowed his power to recognize the entirety of the tavern room as a single item? He had hoped he solved that puzzle already or that his power had grown, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
As he worked on the metal tools, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction wash over him. With each stroke of his power, he watched as the rust disappeared, leaving behind gleaming tools that shone like new. It was a slow process, one that required patience and persistence, but he didn't mind. He was lost in the flow of his power, relishing in the feeling of control.
But as he continued to work, he soon realized that his pebbles were no match for the stubborn rust. It took at least a dozen pebbles to fully de-rust each item, leaving him wondering if it was worth the effort. But he was determined to see it through.
As he worked, he couldn't help but think back to Grace and her exhausting sorcery and incantations. He was grateful that his own power didn't drain him like that. It was incredibly convenient, and he knew that he had made the right choice in using his power for good.
Feeling refreshed and energized, he thought back to the public bath he had taken the day before. It was a wonderful experience, but he longed for a bath of his own.
Joe filled a bucket with stones. With them, he removed the mold and grime from the wood. His pebbles were his trusty companions, and with each transfer, the wood became cleaner and the stains vanished. He moved on to the front of the house, using his power to remove the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the years. It was a slow process working the staircase.
Hours passed, and the bucket of pebbles grew dirtier and dirtier. He found another bucket and transferred the dirty pebbles to them, marveling at the difference he had made. More than half of the staircase leading upstairs was now completely clean.
However, there were still some parts of the wood that were broken and needed manual repair. As he placed his hand on one of the broken steps, a new screen appeared, this time reading "staircase" instead of "wood."
Joe stared at the screen. Again, his ability recognized an entire item rather than having to go through each part, but only after he cleaned a good portion of it. What had caused the change?
Then it came to him as he took a step back and saw why. Joe had cleaned over half of the staircase.
“It must be because my power touched over fifty percent of the item,” Joe muttered to himself. He felt like he unlocked another aspect of his ability.
As he finished cleaning the staircase, Joe felt a sense of accomplishment wash over him. He had cracked the code to his ability, and now he could clean more efficiently. He couldn't wait to try it out on other tasks. He took a deep breath, reveling in the fresh scent of the newly cleaned wood.
Joe made his way back to the shed and put away the tools he had used. He stretched his arms and took a look at the progress he had made. The mansion was slowly but surely coming back to life, and he was glad to be a part of it.
He tossed it into his dirty bucket and chuckled to himself. He rumbled out to nobody in particular and said, "I am Joe the mighty stair wizard."
He cackled maniacally like a villain. Now that he knew the requirements, it made it much easier. It was so satisfying to watch the other half of the staircase clean itself in an instant, reminding him of the power washing video games that he played back on his original Earth. It was incredibly satisfying.
Joe spent the next couple of hours cleaning the other half of the staircase, cleaning one half of the second-floor opening hallway. And just like he theorized, a new window appeared, saying "second-floor hallway."
“Yes!" Joe exclaimed to himself.
In the next instant, he transferred all of the sweat and grime and cobwebs, all the things that he didn't like into the pebble in his hand, and in a flash, it was clean.
Joe grinned.
Then another idea came to him. He went to the bucket that avoided half of it, and was filled with all the dirty and grimy pebbles. It smelled terrible even from afar. He pinched his nose and touched the bucket, muttering to himself, "Please work, please work, please work."
And to his delight, a new screen appeared saying, "bucket full of pebbles." Joe cackled again, his evil laugh. He had found a way to break the system.
He held a pebble in his other hand and hated the fact that he couldn't pinch his nose, but it would be worth it. Next, he instantly transferred all of the ickyness from the bucket of pebbles into the single stone in his hand.
He dropped it instantly back into the bucket, in the dirty bucket, dropped it on the ground on the floor because it was the most vile, disgusting thing he had ever seen. It was like a little mini-world of disgustingness. He used his boot to kick it in a meter squishy sound that he did not like. He transferred the once thirty pebbles back into the bucket of clean pebbles and kicked the one disgusting super pebble into the now empty dirty bucket.
Joe had found a cheat code.
He made a quick prayer to Quinn and said, "Hey, please don't punish me for this. I know it probably wasn't your intention, but I would really like to be able to do this in the future." He opened one eye, hoping that he wouldn't see Quinn. She wasn’t, so he took that as a sign his little loophole was okay..
He said to himself, "Yes, it worked."
He showed one of the side rooms and it looked like an office of some sort where someone could get work done or read in the law reading nook, which was an indentation underneath the windows. He spent the next two hours cleaning that room.
As he surveyed the room, a surge of excitement coursed through him as he realized the full extent of his power. With a flick of his wrist, he had already cleaned half of the room, but he knew he could do so much more. The prospect of tackling the entire space in a single instant sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.
He approached the next section of the room with renewed vigor, channeling his power into every inch of grime and filth. As he reached the halfway mark, he paused, knowing that this was the moment he had been waiting for.
In one swift motion, he gathered all the remaining dirt and grime into a small, dirty pebble. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the pebble into a bucket, watching in amazement as the room transformed before his eyes.
It was like a scene from a time-lapse video, as the room came to life, shedding years of wear and tear in mere moments. The walls gleamed, the floors shone, and even the air felt fresher and cleaner.
Of course, some things couldn't be undone - the wood still bore the scars of age and neglect. But the transformation was nothing short of miraculous. And he knew that, with his power, there was no limit to what he could accomplish.
Joe's gaze lingered on the painting hanging on the wall, mesmerized by the intricate details. It depicted a man with slitted irises, just like Ava and Emily's. He couldn't help but wonder if it was their grandfather or some ancient ancestor, a forgotten relic from a bygone era.
The man in the painting wore fanciful clothes and a collared shirt, exuding an air of sophistication and refinement. A single monocle dangled from his eye, a symbol of his status and wealth. His long beard flowed down his chest, giving him an almost regal appearance, but it was the mischievous twinkle in his eye that caught Joe's attention.
He was relieved that the painting wasn't one of those eerie, creepy ones that seemed to follow a person with their eyes no matter where you went. Instead, it radiated a warm and inviting aura that beckoned him closer.
Joe leaned in for a closer look, admiring the skill and precision required to paint such a masterpiece. He couldn't help but notice that the painting was crooked, but he resolved to fix it when he came back.
Joe's footsteps echoed through the deserted hallway as he made his way towards the next bedroom. The creaking floorboards and musty scent of neglect filled the air, but he remained undeterred, eager to bring life back into these abandoned spaces.
As he entered the room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu - it was similar in size and layout to the other bedrooms he had already cleaned. But this time, he had a newfound confidence, armed with the knowledge of the fifty percent rule.
With practiced ease, he set to work, methodically cleaning every inch of the room. The process was much faster now, and he marveled at how much he had learned since he first set foot in this mansion.
As he moved on to the next bedroom, he felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him. This was his calling - to restore beauty and life to these forgotten spaces.
Hours passed as he worked his way through the various guest rooms, each one presenting its own unique challenges. But he persevered, driven by the knowledge that his efforts would not go to waste.
Finally, he returned to the main bedroom, ready to tackle the final challenge. This one was huge - even larger than a king-sized bed back on his original Earth - but he didn't let that daunt him.
With a steady hand and a meticulous eye, he cleaned every inch of the bed, ensuring that there was no dust, no fragrance, no mold - nothing but pristine, untouched perfection. And when he was done, he stepped back to admire his handiwork, knowing that he had done his best to bring this forgotten space back to life.
Joe sank into the plush pillows with a contented sigh. The softness enveloped him, almost like a warm hug. He felt like he could stay there forever, basking in the luxurious comfort. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps the pillows were intentionally soft, as if they were trying to lure him into a state of relaxation.
But as much as he wanted to give in to the temptation, he knew that there was still work to be done. Reluctantly, he tore himself away from the bed and made his way back to the task at hand.
Room by room, he meticulously double-checked every nook and cranny, ensuring that not a single speck of dirt remained. His magic may have made the cleaning process easier, but it still required effort, and he found himself sweating by the time he reached the last room.
As he passed by the office, he couldn't help but notice that the painting was still crooked. He hesitated for a moment, admiring the charm of the slightly askew artwork. But ultimately, he knew that he couldn't leave it that way - after all, this was still technically Ava and Emily's house.
With a determined look in his eyes, he straightened the painting, making sure it was level and centered. It may have been a small detail, but he knew that it was the little things that made a house feel like a home.
His eyes landed on the painting of the regal old man, its vibrant colors drawing him in. He couldn't help but stop to admire the intricate brushstrokes that brought the man's face to life. With a satisfied nod, he took a step back, reveling in the beauty of the artwork.
But just as he turned to leave, the painting trembled, as if stirred by an unseen force. Joe felt his eyes widen in horror as the image inside the frame began to move, the old man's features contorting into a lifelike expression of surprise.
Joe's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the man's tongue flicker in and out in a prehensile way. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the man's gaze roamed around the room, taking in the surroundings with an insatiable curiosity.
Then, to Joe's utter shock, the man's eyes settled on him. The regal old man adjusted his monocle and spoke, his voice commanding and filled with authority.
"You," he said, pointing a gnarled finger in Joe's direction. "What is a burglar doing on my property?"
