Kays Translations

Chapter 83: Savoring My Feelings

This might sound like bragging, but — I’m pretty good with my hands.

And this isn’t bragging, but — I’m pretty slow when it comes to people.

I take pride in my dexterity, and I’m not ashamed of the fact that my social skills are stuck at about elementary-school level, all thanks to a lifetime spent carefully avoiding human interaction.

Sometimes I only realize days later that I totally misread something in a conversation, and sure, I’ll think, Damn, I screwed up. But that’s about it. I don’t bother trying to fix it.

My parents once forced me into a ballroom dance class as some kind of tough-love therapy. After three days, the stress knocked me out so hard I ended up convulsing and getting sent to the hospital.

I’m better off just being myself, exactly as I am.

But — when I got that handmade chocolate from Hiyori on Valentine’s Day this year, even my pathetic excuse for social awareness kicked into gear, and I couldn’t help but think hard about what it meant. I had to.

Because something about it felt off.

Hiyori is my best friend. Before the world collapsed, I probably would’ve given her a friendly Valentine’s chocolate too. Chocolate’s tasty, after all. If I saw it lined up on the shelves at the supermarket or convenience store, I’d be tempted to buy some.

But the world has already ended. All the chocolate mass-produced in the old world ran out ages ago.

If you wanted chocolate now, you’d have to rely on the thin, fragile overseas trade routes kept alive by American steamships, fork over an absurd amount of money, and have deep personal connections strong enough to handle a favor based purely on “hobby-level” whims, just to get your hands on the cacao beans in the first place.

Chocolate is now the luxury of luxuries. It’s not something you can just casually pick up.

In fact, in Tokyo, the whole “giving chocolate” part of Valentine’s culture has already died off. These days, people give cookies or colorful dango instead. A natural shift, adapting to the times.

And yet — Hiyori gave me chocolate.

She spent a stupid amount of money, time, and effort, all to make a heart-shaped chocolate for me.

There’s no way in hell that was “friend chocolate” or “obligation chocolate.” Way too much heart went into it for that.

Even with my garbage-tier social radar, I could tell — this was not normal. That much was obvious.

So then, what did Hiyori’s chocolate mean?

I dug through manga and novels, analyzing every Valentine’s event scene I could find, trying to decode the meaning of that chocolate.

And the conclusion I reached was: it probably meant a confession.

Of course, manga and novels are fiction. I’m not so deluded that I’d confuse stories with real life.

Even those “Valentine’s Day couple specials” I used to see on TV felt pretty suspicious in hindsight. I know full well the media loves to twist the truth to fit a narrative.

But still — every source I checked seemed to say the same thing: That’s a confession, dude.

I couldn’t decide for myself, so I called in Professor Kei Ohinata — the super-girl, the ultimate extrovert, the living embodiment of sunshine and social prowess, with communication skills a billion times sharper than mine. I invited her to my house, showed her the chocolate, explained the whole situation, and asked for her opinion.

“――And that’s why I’m wondering if this was a confession. What do you think, Professor?”

Listening with a bright, cheerful smile, the mink-like professor answered, looking almost giddy:

“Before I answer, can you tell me how you felt when you got the chocolate? What went through your mind?”

“…I was happy.”

“Was it because it was chocolate? Or because it was from Hiyori-san?”

“Uh… hmm… both, I guess…?”

I wasn’t sure where this was going, but it felt like one of those counseling sessions.

So I sat up straight and answered every question as best I could. After thinking it over for a moment, the professor spoke again.

“Hmm. Let me borrow the chocolate for a second, okay? Thanks. Now, pretend it’s Valentine’s Day today. I’m standing here with this chocolate. Here you go, Dairi-san — a Valentine’s chocolate.”

“Oh, uh — thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now, take a moment to compare the feeling you have now, to the feeling you had when Hiyori-san gave you hers.”

“………Huh? It’s the same chocolate, but… hmm. When I got it from Hiyori, I remember this… fluttery, fuzzy feeling in my chest. With you, it’s just — you know, I’m happy, but normal happy.”

Once I said that, the professor smiled even more.

Then she spent a full hour, carefully walking me through the nuances of human emotions, communication, and the hidden meanings that show up in certain situations — using examples the whole way.

By the end of her clear, dense lecture, she posed one last question:

“So, Dairi-san. Based on everything we’ve talked about — what do you think Hiyori-san’s chocolate meant?”

“…A c-confession…?”

Professor Ohinata was so delighted with my answer that she clapped her tiny forepaws together enthusiastically, giving me a standing ovation.

Nailed it. …Though, wait. Does that applause mean I got it right? Just clapping doesn’t exactly confirm anything.

“…So? What’s the verdict? Was it a confession or not? Just tell me the answer.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. The only one who knows the real answer is Hiyori-san. If you really want to know, you’ll have to ask her directly.”

“Yeah, uh… about that. I don’t think I can. That’d be way too embarrassing.”

“I thought so. That reaction right there—that’s what we call romantic feelings. If you believe it was a confession, then whether it’s through words or a gift, you should find a way to return your feelings to her. Not because you have to, but because you want to.”

“…Hmm.”

I crossed my arms and thought it over. Returning the favor, huh. I guess that makes sense.

“Of course, if you were to just ask ‘Was that a confession?’ I wouldn’t blame you, given your personality. But I wouldn’t exactly recommend it. It’d be like playing catch: instead of tossing the ball back, you’d walk all the way over to them and hand it back directly. Not exactly the smoothest move, right?”

“Yeah, it’d be kinda like… ‘read the room, man.’”

“Exactly!? You understand? Amazing progress! I have nothing more to teach you. In the end, I can give you advice, but these are things you have to decide for yourself, and act on your own feelings. I’m rooting for you.”

Ohinata gave me a supportive pat on the shoulder and trotted off cheerfully, her work here apparently done.

I was genuinely grateful she’d come all the way just to answer my dumb question.

But still… man, this is rough. If this wasn’t actually a confession, and I just assumed it was and gave a response, I’d be a total clown.

…Then again, maybe that’s why all those romance manga protagonists spend forever hemming and hawing about confessions and relationships. You can never be sure how the other person feels, huh? Makes sense now.

Thanks to Professor Ohinata’s crash course, I’d say I’ve finally hit Romance Level 1. Probably. But figuring out how to return Hiyori’s Valentine’s chocolate still felt like an impossible puzzle.

I mean, if I just told her “I got your message—let’s date,” would that instantly make us a couple? That’s way too big a leap for me. It’s like I just learned to row a dinghy and someone’s sending me straight into the Bermuda Triangle. I’d totally sink.

But, well, I’ve made up my mind: I’m going to believe that Hiyori’s chocolate was a confession.

And I’m happy about it. If some stranger told me they liked me, I’d probably get the creeps. If the Spider Witch or even the professor said it, I’d be more like, “Ah, okay.” But the thought of Hiyori saying it fills me with this warm, fluffy feeling, and it makes me genuinely happy.

…Man, I sound like a grade-schooler in love. But hey, if being an adult in love means dealing with cheating, affairs, and messy love triangles, I’d rather stay a kid forever.

The professor told me to “return your feelings to her.”

Giving her chocolate back would be pretty tough, logistically. So I should return it in a way only I can.

Which means… a magic staff. That’s the best gift I can give.

Normally, when I upgrade Kyanos, I just collect it, boost its specs, and hand it back. But this time, I want to return it with feelings attached.

Whenever I try thinking beyond the “confession” part, my stomach starts to churn and my brain short-circuits, so for now, I’ll focus on making the staff. That’ll be my answer to her feelings. Once that’s done, I’ll call it settled, at least for now.

Now that I’ve decided, I’ve got no time to waste. I got straight to work drafting the new blueprint for the Kyanos upgrade.

For this upgrade, I planned to use the knowledge I gained from the prototype Demon Lord Staff, Reficule, and expand the chantless magic system. By securing a free design space for magic circuits through mana control, I could fill the multi-layered gaps—previously filled with resin—with this new mechanism.

Of course, all this is based on theory, but to be honest, it feels more like solving a geometric puzzle. It’s like trying to construct a complex 3D shape using a limited set of geometric parts. Since I can’t fully grasp the theory yet, I patch the gaps through geometric reasoning.

If the expanded chantless system works, Hiyori should be able to use mana control to rearrange the circuits in Kyanos’s core on the fly, and build a wide variety of original, chantless spells right there on the spot.

If the Demon King Staff’s capabilities are like “I can add 1 + 1!” then the upgraded Kyanos would be like “I can handle two-digit arithmetic!”

Of course, it would demand incredibly precise mana manipulation, so it’ll take a lot of practice to master.

She’ll probably have to go through endless trial and error before she can use it to cast the spells she wants.

But if anyone can handle it, it’s Hiyori. Her mana control is second to none.

Kyanos is Hiyori’s staff, made for her and only her.

I’ve been upgrading and refining it for six whole years, like a child I’ve raised. I don’t want anyone else using it. I want it to always be the strongest staff—and I want it to stay in Hiyori’s hands.

After drawing up the blueprints, I went over them again and again to check for any mistakes.

Ideally, I’d want to double- or triple-check them, but right now, I’m the only person who actually understands the chantless magic mechanism for magic staves.

I’ve handed Professor Kvant some notes and the actual disassembled parts, just in case, but the notes were written in my own shorthand — only decipherable to me — so apparently he’s struggling to make sense of them. A huge stack of question sheets has piled up, sent via Professor Ohinata. Sorry about that, really.

Still, if I have time to write letters explaining everything to Professor Kvant, I’d rather spend that time refining Kyanos or taking it apart for analysis.

To be honest, even I, the one doing the dismantling, haven’t fully grasped the nature of the Demon King Gremlin. A lot of the questions in the stack are basically “I’d like to know that too, actually.”

So first, I’ll upgrade Kyanos.
Then finish the dismantling.
Then answer Professor Kvant’s questions.
And only after that start working on reproducing the tech and uncovering the underlying principles.

That’s the order I want to tackle things.

Once I had all the necessary parts ready according to the blueprints, I called Hiyori over and took Kyanos from her.

I removed the resin I’d previously filled into the gaps inside the core, and, using bent needles and a set of ultra-fine tweezers, began placing the new parts and assembling them inside. It was like a Level-100 bottle ship model.

Still, the parts were pretty big, about one to three millimeters each, so the assembly went smoothly without much hassle. The sheer number of parts meant the process took a while, but all in all, I wrapped up the upgrade in half a day.

With the newly upgraded Kyanos resting on the workshop bench, I stared at it, thinking.

Alright. All that’s left is to put my feelings into it and give it back to Hiyori.

After a moment’s thought, I placed my hand on my chest, focused on my feelings, and gently placed my hand on Kyanos to seal them inside.

Okay. That should’ve done it — I think.

I tried to imbue it with the same warm, fluffy feeling I get whenever I eat Hiyori’s homemade food, receive a present from her, or when she casually leans her shoulder against mine.

This should be right… right? After all, people talk about “a gift filled with feelings” or “a meal seasoned with love” all the time. Feelings must be enchantable, conceptually.

My skills are still too rough for me to tell whether I really succeeded in putting my feelings into it, but Hiyori’s on a whole other level when it comes to sensing that kind of thing. I’m sure she’ll recognize it right away.

I’m calling it:
“Dragon Furnace Carved Seven-Layer Blue Magic Staff Kyanos— With Special Feelings from Master Dairi.”

I hope Hiyori likes it.

When I brought Kyanos over, Hiyori — who’d been sitting in the living room absentmindedly polishing her mask with a cloth — quickly put her mask on and stood up.

“Is it ready?”

“Yeah. Here — try holding it. I adjusted the grip a little along with the core, but the overall balance should feel the same.”

Hiyori took Kyanos, gave it a light swing, stirring the air into a small whirlwind, and nodded in satisfaction.

“Feels good. What did you change? Around the core, I can sense… something like a… magic infusion port, or something?”

“Oh, wow — you could tell? That makes this easy to explain. You can still use regular chant-based spells as always, but when you want to use chantless magic, channel your magic through there.

I’ve integrated an evolved system based on the chantless mechanism from the prototype Demon Lord staff, Reficule, that I showed you before.

Basically, think of it like a calculator. A calculator’s useless on its own, but if you input the right numbers, it gives you the right answer. Same idea here — if you channel your magic properly, the core will output the spell you want.”

“Hmm… I see.”

“The default circuit setup is configured for the simplest spell — the black beam. You’ll understand faster by trying it rather than listening to me explain.”

So the two of us headed out to the backyard.

The place was a mess, scattered with scorched iron toys the fire lizards had been playing with. After tidying up, I — being overly cautious — stood safely inside the barrier of a defensive spell Hiyori had cast, just in case any stray spells went flying.

Without saying a word, Hiyori raised Kyanos and fired a black beam.

It shot out with way more power than when I’d used the prototype staff, cleanly slicing the target hanging from a tree branch in half.

Next, she swapped the target for a scarecrow, reinforced with high-strength bark armor crafted by Fuyou, and began hammering it with a barrage of shots at insane speed.

Holy crap. The black beams were firing at about ten rounds per second. It was basically a magic-powered machine gun.

After firing off hundreds of beams and leaving the scarecrow in tatters, Hiyori finally stopped.

She stood there, perfectly still, for a solid three minutes.

Then, as thick white smoke lazily poured from Kyanos— heavy enough to frost the ground where it drifted — she gave a small shake of her head, signaling the test run was over.

The defensive magic barrier dissolved, and I gave her a round of applause.

“Damn, you’ve already got the hang of it. You were rapid-firing like a full-blown magic circle, and… I’m pretty sure you slipped in an original spell too, didn’t you?”

“Nah, any witch or wizard holding this staff could manage that kind of rapid-fire. The handling’s worse than the North Witches’ standard shooting spell, the mana cost’s heavier, and the firepower’s lower. The ability to rapid-fire without chanting is definitely a strong point, but… that cold smoke is practically just magic leaking out. It’ll take me a while to really master this thing.”

“Huh, so it’s like that. Fair enough. So, what’d you think?”

“It’s got great specs. I like it.”

She praised it straight, but… something about her answer felt off.

Huh? Did I phrase the question wrong?

“I mean, this time I actually put my feelings into making it. Did you notice?”

“Ah. I can tell you put a lot of care into the finish. Thanks, as always. I’m happy.”

Hearing her say that made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

I still wasn’t sure if the feelings I’d tried to enchant into it had actually reached her, but… well, this is fine.

I’d already accepted her confession, and I’d given her my answer. So — all good!

As for actually starting a relationship… I guess I’ll leave that for after I’ve learned a bit more about the finer details of human interactions.

“Hey, it’s nothing. You’ve always looked out for me, so this is the least I could do. Plus, it’s for our six-year anniversary.”

“…Huh? Anniversary of what? It’s been seven years since the Gremlin Disaster, and that was over a week ago.”

“What? No, I’m talking about today — six years ago, the day I first met you.”

I’d gone out of my way to finish it on the exact anniversary, but it looked like she hadn’t realized at all.

When I corrected her misunderstanding, Hiyori froze, like her brain had short-circuited, and then snapped backward in an exaggerated motion, visibly shocked even through her mask.

“You — you remembered the date!? Since when did you start caring about anniversaries…!? You caught me off guard — that was so normal I almost thought you were a regular human for a second. Wait, you actually remembered?”

“Of course I remembered. I mean, you did try to kill me that day. Hard to forget something like that. Not that I hold a grudge or anything now.”

“Ugh… W-well, back then I was on edge too, you know…”

Seeing Hiyori so flustered, bouncing between shock and guilt, made me laugh.

Six years. Hard to believe how much things had changed between us.

If you’d told me, six years ago, that I’d someday have fun spending time with the same girl who’d just tried to kill me, I never would’ve believed it.

And I’m sure Hiyori wouldn’t have believed it either if someone told her:
“You’ll leave Ome, become totally smitten with an ermine, and end up giving Valentine’s chocolate to the guy you tried to murder.”

It’s amazing how much can change in just six years.

And if six years could do this much… I can’t even begin to imagine what another six years will bring.

Maybe — just maybe — six years from now, I might even end up kissing Hiyori.

Whoa. Just imagining it is enough to make me blush.

I mean, here I am, nearly going into full-blown panic over the thought of a kiss, while couples and married folks out there are doing way more advanced stuff without batting an eye.

Reproduction is wild. I don’t think I’ve got it in me to handle all that.

…But, well, it’s not like I need to rush.

I’ll just keep going at my own pace, getting closer to Hiyori, little by little.

Right now, instead of showing off with something I’m good at, like cooking, I want to make something she loves.

Guess the first step is asking about her favorite foods.

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