When The Silver Bell Of Charlotte's Pharmacy Rings (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 17

Matiel, who had been silent for a moment at Charlotte’s words, finally retorted. “Why?” Charlotte stared at him blankly, as if unsure what she’d just heard, then echoed his tone exactly. “What do you mean, ‘why’?” “I mean, why do you want to believe it’s ‘impossible’?” “Come on.” Charlotte, hands on her hips, abruptly slapped her forehead. She looked at him as though he’d just claimed, “Water flows upward, doesn’t it?” and said, “Is that seriously what you’re calling an argument? Are you making fun of vampires?” “Not an easy opponent, of course.” “But still.” “There are monster hunters, after all.” Before Matiel could even finish his sentence, Charlotte snorted. Shaking her head slowly as if resigned to dealing with someone impossible, she gathered dried herbs handful by handful and carefully tied them together with a coarse string. “The term ‘monster hunter’ is all but obsolete. Nowadays, none of those who boast about being monster hunters possess the skill to actually capture a vampire.” “How would you know that?” Charlotte’s hands paused mid-motion as she tied the herbs. She planted her palms firmly on the counter with an audible thud and looked up steadily into Matiel’s eyes. “Since the revolution, the number of monster hunters has steadily declined. Naturally so—risking your life while earning less and less, and the monsters near the entrances… the ones easiest to handle, whose strategies have even been published in books, are nearly extinct.” Matiel maintained his usual indifferent expression but listened intently to Charlotte’s words. He suddenly grew curious as to why she knew so much about monster hunters—but before he could ask, Charlotte continued her explanation. “In the end, hunters had to equip themselves and form parties to venture deep into the Blighted Lands. Thirteen years have already passed since the best team among them was wiped out. All that remains now are those who loiter near the barrier, catching petty creatures and exchanging them for pocket change—day laborers, so to speak.” The Blighted Lands, bordering the Kingdom of Roanoke—also known as Schwarzwandelaque—had long been a thorn in the side of the kingdom’s people. Monsters continually spawned and mutated wherever nature existed, while humans, despite all their advances in magic and technology, had reached their limits in responding effectively. Charlotte said, “During the old monarchy, the royal family offered bounties for each monster killed. The more dangerous and massive the monster—or the more commercially valuable it was—the greater the reward.” “Like dragons, for instance?” “Dragons were included, yes. Though I’ve never heard of a human actually slaying one. That exists only in tales.” As more and more people began crossing the mages’ barrier, the respectable profession of “monster hunter” emerged. While some insisted on working alone, most formed groups of three or four, and among them were quite a few who truly became wealthy overnight. However, after the old monarchy collapsed and the revolutionary government took power, the entire foundation of the kingdom’s order shifted, and inevitably, the number of monster hunters dwindled. “Most gave up—working like dogs to hunt monsters yet no longer receiving generous rewards as before.” Or, as Charlotte put it, ordinary monsters had already been hunted nearly to extinction, and the only ones left were powerful creatures deep within the Blighted Lands, so many abandoned the hunt simply to preserve their lives. As Matiel listened with interest to her explanation, he noticed the bitter scent rising from the bundles of herbs Charlotte had tied growing steadily stronger. It was a fragrance that seemed to ease the persistent, nagging headaches that so often plagued him. Fiddling with the loose end of the string tied around the herbs, Matiel said, “You mentioned earlier, ‘It’s been thirteen years since the best team was destroyed.’” Charlotte glanced at him—a look that clearly asked, “And what of it?” After a brief silence, Matiel let out a faint, barely visible smile and tilted his head. “Could that possibly be ‘Barrett’s Party’ you’re referring to?” Charlotte’s fingers, which had been moving tirelessly, froze abruptly. A short, sharp breath escaped between her lips as she lowered her head. Matiel leaned one arm against the counter, his expression growing even more intrigued as he watched her closely. “The sign outside bears your surname ‘Barrett.’ Is that mere coincidence? Or are you somehow connected to that ‘Barrett’s Party’?” The well-dried herbs momentarily blurred and then sharpened again. Thunder roared loudly in her ears along with the sound of pouring rain, and lightning flashed white outside the window. The metallic stench of blood filled her nose, and she clearly saw Tae Mi, half-dead, gasping for breath. It was an immediate reaction, utterly beyond Charlotte’s control. 〈I’m sorry… this was… my limit.〉 Tae Mi’s voice, thick with pain, and the long object slung over his shoulder… “Hey.” Startled by the sudden warmth of a hand on the back of hers, Charlotte looked up. Unaware she’d nearly slammed her head into Matiel’s chin, she yanked both her hand and the bundle of herbs away from his grasp at once. “He was my father.” “What?” Charlotte tugged the string tight and looked directly at Matiel. “The leader of ‘Barrett’s Party’—the most skilled group of monster hunters in the kingdom, who ventured deepest into the Blighted Lands and were wiped out thirteen years ago—was my father, Endless Barrett. I don’t know if a noble like you would’ve ever heard the name.” She opened a sliding panel beneath a cluttered shelf and carefully stacked the finished herb bundles inside. Her silver hair, tightly braided into a single plait, slipped over her back as she crouched down. For some reason, Matiel found it difficult to look away from her back—until he suddenly chuckled softly. “I don’t know your father’s name, but I’ve certainly heard of ‘Barrett’s Party.’ After all, every young boy dreams of becoming a monster hunter at least once—and that name always comes up without fail.” “Yes, yes. The last party my father led had no fewer than seven members—two mages and an exceptionally skilled healer among them. Yet they were annihilated, and ever since, no one has dared venture deep into the Blighted Lands again. To capture and eliminate a vampire, you’d need four or five hunters of my father’s caliber. So don’t mock vampires—instead, pray this gruesome string of murders was committed by a human.” Only then did Matiel understand why Charlotte reacted so sensitively to talk of vampires. Though it pained him that her father had died at a monster’s hands in the Blighted Lands, she also knew far more about monsters than most people ever would. Humans tend to fear the unknown—but some things are feared precisely because they are known all too well. To Charlotte, monsters belonged to the latter category. Matiel rubbed the smooth counter surface, still carrying traces of herbal fragrance, in slow circles before speaking. “Pray? That’d require a god willing to listen. Didn’t the revolutionary government destroy every church when it toppled the old monarchy?” “A god who exists only because there’s a church isn’t a true god.” “Do you believe in gods?” “Not at all.” Matiel let out another quiet laugh at Charlotte’s blunt reply—as if he’d expected nothing less. She now seemed determined not to look at him at all, opening the medicine cabinet and fiddling with the irregularly arranged tincture bottles. She picked up bottles, set them down, and shifted their positions—but both of them knew it was meaningless movement, merely to avoid continuing the conversation. Still watching her back, Matiel picked up his cane leaning against the wall and said, “Was that man from the other day your lover?” One tincture bottle nearly slipped between her fingers before clinking sharply to a stop. Charlotte turned, barely concealing her disbelief. “What on earth are you talking about?” Matiel replied, “The man who limped. I saw him leaving your shop that night—the same night you returned from House Lireld.” What an infuriating man, Charlotte thought. She set the bottle down with a thud and turned fully toward him. “Have you been following me?” Matiel’s shoulders rose slightly, then dropped—a brazen look that plainly asked, “What’s wrong with that?” Speechless, Charlotte weighed whether to splash cold water on him or douse him with potent insect-repellent before sighing in exasperation. “My shop doesn’t welcome stalkers. Get out.” “That’s harsh. Since we’ve worked together once, shouldn’t we call ourselves partners? Colleagues, at least.” “I don’t have time to listen to your nonsense. As you can see, I’ve got mountains of work here.” After watching her for a moment, Matiel obediently turned, took his jacket from the wall, slipped it on, and straightened his silk hat. Despite his considerable build, he moved with elegance and agility. “If that man is your lover, you’d best break things off. He didn’t seem like a good man to me. Men like that always end up making women cry.” “Do you really want to hear just how well I curse, Your Grace?” “I suspect I’ll hear it soon enough, so I’ll pass for now.” With that, Matiel left the shop, leaving only the clear chime of the doorbell behind. Imagining Charlotte fuming at his audacity made him want to laugh. Once he boarded his carriage, the coachman asked, “Returning to the mansion, sir?” After a brief pause, Matiel replied, “No. To the ‘Red Garden.’” The coachman turned and flicked the reins. Inside the moving carriage, Matiel kept watching Charlotte’s shop recede through a small mirror fixed beside the window.

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