Meikyuu Toshi no Antique Shop Vol 1 Chapter 15

“The Footsteps of Death”, in fact Anemone, was impatient.

She was on the seventh floor of the Dungeon, which is often called ‘Closet’.
The floor consists of long aisles and countless doors on either side, which lead to countless more doors. In front of her there is a cul-de-sac pa.s.sage, six doors to her left and six to her right. When totaled, it’s twelve doors.

“s.h.i.+t… Doors again?”

Every door leads to a respective closet, which could have valuable items, or monsters and traps.
She had even come across a living s.p.a.ce, with a useable restroom, closet, and a kitchen- reminiscent of the rumor ‘A survivor of the Era of Superior Magicians is retired, living on the seventh floor’. She wondered if it was true, after all.

“Door, door, door… It’s making me sick!”

Until one opens the door, no one knows what’s behind it. She didn’t have time to play around with monsters and traps.
Furthermore, the act of opening doors over and over could drive you mad, but in the myriad sum of all of the doors only one contained a small room that let you back back up, out of the Dungeon Floor 7.

“No time to be lost… I only have half a day left!”

Time was Anemone’s greatest enemy.
Somewhere in this floor, she had dropped her knapsack without noticing, during the continuous fighting. All of her mobile food was packed in it.

A day had pa.s.sed, and Anemone had not eaten anything. Ordinary people could go for a few days without eating if they had water, but Anemone’s const.i.tution would not allow it. Her body was already heavy.

An injury she gained on her left arm a while ago wasn’t healing satisfactorily either.
By the second half of her second day with no food, the “Hero” ability would be fully nullified. Ability Reinforcement, Spirit Stability, Element Tolerance, and so forth would be undone fully. Soon, Anemone wouldn’t be able to fight monsters, or even endure the weight of her all-important armor.
A large sword was swung –and a door crumbled, Anemone checking room after room in this manner. It was a crude way of doing it, but she did not want to waste the time she’d take, opening the doors.
“I’m such an idiot. A little bit of carelessness, and I’m in this much trouble.”
Anemone considers progressing in the Dungeon easy.
The monsters she could encounter couldn’t match her. Usually, she could swing her sword once or twice or use strange magic to deal with them. In the case she was injured, without giving two s.h.i.+ts, she’d be healed within a few hours. She could reach the tenth floor independently, why would she worry about the seventh floor?
But, then she made the blunder of losing her food. Her goal to reach the fifteenth floor had been completely demolished, the requirements unfulfilled now, with a risk of starvation killing her pitifully on only the seventh floor.
Though she had gotten into a bit of a bind on the tenth floor, it had been awhile since then. She had carelessly fell into a poisonous trap, and the poison got trapped within her full body armor, with her coughing blood while walking for half a day in total.
Anemone also didn’t know if or when she’d find a fellow Seeker, or if there was one watching her even now. She therefore couldn’t take her helmet off and pat down her sweat, even.

Anemone was set on hiding her ident.i.ty from the residents of Labyrinth City. Once it was known, it would likely be impossible to step into the Dungeon; even her pleas to leave the city would be denied on the spot.

She had to fulfill her long-cherished wish. She was so dedicated that she would throw away her life rather than fail due to losing her resolve.
“…”

Anemone remembered a youth she had met recently.
He was the sole witness of her form, and a target. How4ever, she wasn’t able to kill him, or rather he had saved her life.
An apology alone for the attempts wouldn’t be enough to express her grat.i.tude.
“But all I left behind at the time was a threat…” Anemone thought, her actions guided by her helplessness as for what to do. She had erred on the side of her normal reactions.

“Can’t, can’t. Have to concentrate.”

Thinking about such things would not serve Anemone well, her concentration power was running headfirst into the ground.
She just had to find the stairs, getting to the surface after that would be simple. Then, she could eat.

On the same day, Fujiwara was leaving “The Good Old Magician’s Shop”, in the morning. He wanted to replenish various household goods.
When he finished his wholesale purchasing at the Market, he went to his favorite Tavern, of course. It’s a pub from dusk to dawn, but at noon it’s also secretly a Coffee Shop. He wanted to buy coffee and snacks, which were his favorite tie-over for the day.

“Welcome, mister Thrift Shop.”
The Goodwife, wearing her eye patch, was cleaning an ale mug and welcomed him as he pa.s.sed through the door.

Fujiwara tilted his head, confused. Usually, there would be trinity of jovial old women, not the Goodwife.
“What’s happened, here?”
“My Niece is pregnant. The Granny party is in full force, and I have to tend the counter.”
Fujiwara understood, home circ.u.mstances.
Normally, since she worked the whole night through, she’d be sleeping at this hour. It was clear she was somewhat snappy, likely due to lack of rest.
“I see, I see.”
Fujiwara snorted. He smelled one startlingly good smell, wafting through the store.

He wondered what it was. It was fragrant, likely a baked snack of some kind.
“Since I had nothing to do, I was trying a new biscuit.”

The Goodwife brought out a plate upon which were several small biscuits, all with a pleasing color, somewhat like a fox’s fur.
He wondered which to pick, they were all plenty warm.
“Mu. This is delicious.”
“Thank you,”
Fujiwara wasn’t just flattering her.
Perhaps it wasn’t sweet enough to be a child’s snack, but for Fujiwara is was good. The tea he received was also ideal for the snacks.

Fujiwara had heard that this hardy lady was originally an elite Seeker.
Her strength hadn’t declined any, and if Seekers had a scuffle in her pub, they’d both be punished immediately, it was a reputation the Tavern had.
But this dish, this proved she was just as competent at cuisine. Perhaps it was even better than the Granny Force’s biscuits.

“Now, for business. Do you want your usual fare?”
“Uu, the coffee… And the biscuits?”
“I have Sesame and Black Tea flavored as well as the plain.”
“Then, five of each.”
“Thank you very much.”

She promptly began wrapping the order up in paper, before remembering something.

“By the way, Thrift Shop, I have a favor to ask.”
“What is it?”
“I want for you to sell me a charm.”
“Charm… Do you mean an Amulet?”
“Yes, if that’s how you say it. I want a ‘Good Luck’ charm, or such.
“Charm of Prosperous Business?”
Fujiwara asked, reaching for the remaining complimentary biscuit.
This was not the first time a store had requested this of him.
This was because these past several years, Labyrinth City was met with a depression never before seen in intensity. The Dungeon had been extremely dangerous ever since the Expedition Event. Unfortunately, even if Seeker’s livelihood wasn’t directly tied to businesses, they all were related to them in some way, even if sales had just decreased.
If one were to say the economy relied on the Dungeon, they wouldn’t be exaggerating.

“No, the business isn’t the problem.
“Something else?”
“My Niece is looking to have a difficult delivery. Because of the store, I can’t go check how things go, but I’d like to send a charm, at least.”
“I see.”
Fujiwara’s a.s.sumption seemed to be wrong.

Somehow, there is a feeling that he should help as much as possible.
Fujiwara put a finger on his gla.s.ses, tracing his memory. He was looking through for any amulet he had indexed that might possibly help the Goodwife.
“I know just the thing to help. However, I think we are out of stock now, unfortunately.
“Is that so? If you find it in sock, you should sell it to me; I’ll buy it almost certainly.” “I see. I’ll confirm that none of my acquaintances stores have them, either.
“I’m begging.”

Fujiwara finished the transaction and tendered the paper bag.
It was unexpectedly bulky, the biscuits seemed to be a lot more packed that what he ordered from what he saw after stealthily looking in.
The Goodwife explained,
“Please help me with those. They aren’t on the menu and I have no other way of getting rid of them.
“Thank you very much, but… is there anything to cut them with?”
“You’re not your master, who needs to take anything with a dial of Liquor.”
“That person is in Western Maze City.”
“Oh, I see. Is it for business?”
“Eh, that person says so, but who knows.”

Teacher had left to buy things months ago. What or how much of what, Fujiwara did not know, but in this recession it seemed like there would be no money to make.
Work was just a pretext, the true purpose of the travel was clearly to leave responsibilities behind.
On the long run home, Fujiwara took the bag in both hands, looking back at that important Tavern, which would make biscuits and fill bags with them to the extent you couldn’t eat them.
Even with all of these troubles, he could at least eat good food.
◆
Fujiwara was on his way home. Time had pa.s.sed, and Fujiwara was near the store, when he found a pa.s.sed out silhouette in his way.
There’s the entrance to the Dungeon right nearby, and some people would pa.s.s out from exhaustion or other ills before making it to the clinics, so they’d sometimes need a bit of help.
Perhaps he’d be kind.
Of course, it was his teacher’s ‘welcoming’ policy that stated “Actively strive to win new customers- to sell to” that gave him no choice either way.
But he had an unpleasant hunch once he got in its vicinity. Some form of recognition.
The fallen down Seeker looked like a deformed soldier.
They were fitted with full body armor that covered even the tiny gaps with steel, from the very tip of the head to the very tip of the toe, and he finally made the a.s.sociation.
“…”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” again.
A fledgling who solo’d their way to the tenth floor, one who had won two nicknames by force. Even with the public eye on them, they refused to speak, let alone reveal their age, gender, race, name, or so forth.
But Fujiwara knew that, contrary to this dangerous appearance, they were a seventeen or eighteen year old woman
Of course, that is because this is the second time he’d have to treat her ills.
He recalled how she had nearly killed him at that time with a melancholic feeling.
But, he couldn’t just leave her alone, potentially badly injured. Giving up, he sighed and approached her.
“…What? Is  that you?”

“That pretext is rude, even at the very beginning of your speaking.”
What it was, however, was surprise at a familiar face.

“…Hmph.”
“You took another poison trap this time, too?”
“I don’t repeat the same mistake twice.”
“I see.”

Because she had her face covered he couldn’t tell, but he was certain she was making a haughty face.
Even so, when sprawled out in this position, force and dignity are a no.

Despite thinking as much, this was Fujiwara’s first proper discussion with her. Last time she was badly ill and they hadn’t said a decent word.
“By the way, don’t say anything about me.”
“I have not so far. Didn’t you say you’d kill me if I talked?”
“Okay, keep that in mind and I’ll keep you still alive.”
“Yes, thank you.”
She said this so far with a disdainful tone, one indeed very haughty in nature. (tl: Full Metal Ojou-Sama. I pictured grown up Anemone as more of a ‘cool, pleasant’ voice, somewhat monotone even, mainly to contrast with her insanely masculine appearance. Essentially, Agiri.)
Between master, this wonderful individual, and the Goodwife, all of them had very high pride in themselves, Fujiwara mused.
“…”
Miss “Footsteps of Death” was still in no condition to get up.
There are other circ.u.mstances that could kill off movement, besides Poison.
He looked about. It couldn’t be numbness or petrification, because she had made it back and was able to speak. He saw that her left gauntlet was a little warped and she was injured, but that seemed unrelated to moving.
“What… On earth?”
Gu.
KYURURURURU.
Fujiwara was asking what was wrong with her but a magnificent sound interrupted him, one that perhaps even shook their surroundings. He could guess the circ.u.mstances.
“…”
“…”
After a while, the miss moaned out a ‘…d.a.m.n’.
He wanted to just leave her there, but he marveled at her dedication to the full body armor, which was shaking little by little. Although she was clearly embarra.s.sed that “The Footsteps of Death” was felled by hunger, her expression was hidden by that beetle helmet, so Fujiwara could not see it.
Fujiwara proposed, “Umm, I have some coffee and biscuits, would you like them?”
Gu.
KYURURURURU.
“…Eat…Food…”
Fujiwara nodded at the affirmation, rus.h.i.+ng to again get the wheelbarrow he had used before to take her back to the Good Old Magician’s Shop quickly.
Fujiwara also hoped that his kindness wouldn’t get him killed. (tl: It will.)