Kays Translations

Chapter 37: My First Friend

I had hoped I could replicate the mechanism of the spider’s silk-spinning organ using inorganic materials like metal or glass, but it was so intricate that I wasn’t even sure it was possible.

And of course, I couldn’t just use an actual spider’s organ as it would rot too quickly.

The real problem was the ducts inside the organ that carried the silk fluid—they were far too fine. Attempting to reproduce them would require precision so extreme that it would be like drilling a hole at the tip of a needle.

Before I started this research, I had naively thought, “If I use extrusion molding, I should be able to make silk,” but reality was proving otherwise.

“Well, it’s not going to be that easy, is it?” I muttered to myself.

Next, I turned my attention to studying the properties and decay of the silk fluid.

For the decay test, I placed small amounts of each type of silk fluid into separate containers and left them as they were, carefully observing the process of decomposition. I did the same with the water extracted from them, noting whether it would rot in the same way.

Then, to understand the properties of the silk fluid, I placed a few drops of each type onto petri dishes, spreading them thinly, and waited about thirty minutes for them to dry.

When I touched them, A and B silk fluids had dried completely and didn’t stick to my fingers. But C and D silk fluids were still wet and clung to my skin.

With C and D, I could confirm their adhesive properties due to the reduced moisture, but I still didn’t know what they would be like once fully dried. So I decided to observe them continuously until they dried completely, noting both the drying time and their final state.

As for the critical A and B silk fluids, I lifted them off the petri dishes to test them: A was slightly stronger than when spun into threads, while B stretched a little before finally breaking.

At last, I had a solid understanding of their basic characteristics.

A silk fluid was essentially a normal thread, B was a stretchable thread, and C and D were sticky fluids.

All that remained was figuring out how to spin A and B into silk threads.

“Well… that’s the real problem, though,” I muttered.

“What’s the problem?”

“—Whoa?! Ru… Rugena, since when were you there?”

“Just now. It’s dinner time, so I came to get you,” she said.

I hadn’t noticed her at all.

“Alright, I’ll go once I clean this up,” I said.

“I’ll help,” she offered.

“Thanks,” I replied.

As I tidied up the room, I realized that even if Rugena saw the silk fluid, she didn’t seem to mind helping.

Later, at dinner, my mother asked me about something I had been avoiding.

“…Well, it’s just… people are watching, that’s all,” I muttered.

“But it’s been like that for a while, hasn’t it?”

Ever since the orc attacks, and the times when Vessel-san and Rosanne-sama came to help, as well as Rugena opening the forge, people in the village had been paying more attention to us. Yet they didn’t intrude because everyone knew that Rosanne had stayed at our house instead of the village chief’s.

No one wanted to make the wrong move and draw the ire of powerful people.

But that was the cautious behavior of adults. Children, driven by curiosity, would still peek into houses, and if there were children of similar age inside, they would take notice.

The problem was, I spent mornings training and afternoons studying, so I’d never really played with other kids. I didn’t even know what games they played.

“It worries me that you don’t have any friends, Al,” my mother said.

“…Ugh,” I choked.

Hearing her say “worry” cut deep. Glancing around, I noticed looks of pity—or perhaps amusement—from the villagers, including a dwarf who seemed entertained.

“…Tomorrow, if anyone’s around, I’ll try talking to them,” I said reluctantly.

“Why so unwilling? Children should play like children,” she scolded.

Normally, she was right. But with so many projects I wanted to work on, I didn’t have time to play. And being a child with the mind of an adult made it hard to relate to other kids.

Fine, I thought. I’ll try to play, and pretend I’m a normal kid. Though really… I am a kid.

The next day, after finishing morning training and lunch, I went out to the garden. As usual, I saw a child peeking at me through the hedges.

He probably thought he was hiding, but his face was fully visible.

“Uh… uh—ahem… is there anyone who wants to play?” I called out shyly.

I felt like crawling into a hole and hiding.

“Ugh, I’m bored…” I muttered.

Why am I even doing this? I thought. I barely have enough time in a day as it is.

After a few muttered complaints, a single child suddenly burst out of the hedge with a triumphant grin… snapping branches as he ran.

“Hahaha! I heard you! No choice, then—I’ll play with you!”

He spoke as if he were a “demon lord” or something. He wore short sleeves and shorts, with a large piece of cloth tied around his neck like a cape.

“Uh… I’m Arthur. You can call me Al,” I said.

“O-okay! I’m Rodibel, but you can call me Rodi!”

Seeing him stand there with his hands on his hips, chest puffed out, I felt a strange warmth. It struck me—at the same age, kids really are just kids.

“So, Al… are you weak?” he asked.

“Uh, no, I’m not weak.”

“Oh? ‘Cause you never come out in the afternoons. I thought maybe it’s because you’re sickly,” he said.

I had stayed home while healing my injuries, and afterward, mornings were for training and afternoons for study. That might have looked suspicious.

“I’m fine. My body’s strong,” I reassured him.

“Great! Then I’ll play with you!”

“So… what are we going to play?” I asked.

“Hahaha! Of course! We’ll play Shudomuken Shundou Muken!”

…Right. I nodded slowly.

Rodi proceeded to passionately explain, using exaggerated gestures, just how incredible Shundou Muken was. According to him, it was the heroic technique of a lone warrior appearing to save the village from orcs without ever being seen by anyone, defeating all in his path.

Listening to him, I remembered Vessel-san staying in my house—a carefree adult who fussed about having too little meat at meals, competed in drinking contests with Rugena, and generally did as he pleased.

“I’ll become an A-rank adventurer like him someday!” Rodi declared.

A noble goal, though I silently hoped he wouldn’t grow into a lazy adult like Vessel-san.

“So, Al… you learned Shundou Muken from someone, right? Teach me too!”

“I can, but it’s not very fun,” I said.

Vessel-san had called it a warm-up, so it was fine to teach. But repetitive practice, while effective, wasn’t exactly entertaining for a kid.

“What, keeping it all to yourself?”

“No, I’m not. I’ll teach you, but you can’t complain it’s boring or that you’re tired of it.”

“Sure! I’m strong enough, so it’s fine!”

Strength had nothing to do with it, but I didn’t argue. I showed him the exercises I always did.

“…Boring,” he said immediately.

Expected. They’re plain, repetitive, and unglamorous.

“Forget this, we’re playing Shundou Muken now!”

In the end, bored with the training, Rodi declared we would play “Shundou Muken” for real.

He pretended to be the hero, and I pretended to be the orcs he had to defeat. He wielded a stick as his “sword”… despite being a “swordless” hero.

We played over and over, sometimes running through the village. I could barely keep up, marveling at the stamina of children.

I decided to ignore the irony that I was a child too.

And so, for the first time since arriving in this village, I finally played with a friend.

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