Chapter 133: Magia Glass

Hiyori succeeded in recreating the translation magic three days after I added the four-dimensional storage function to Kyanos. According to her, it ended up “a bit distorted,” and she reproduced it by stacking three different non-chant spells.

Apparently, it should normally be doable with a single non-chant spell, but having to split it into three is frustrating for her. I don’t really get it, but hey—if it works, it works. Good enough, more than good enough!

“Hiyori, that’s amazing!”

“…Pet me more.”

When I praised her and patted her head, she pressed her face into my chest.
Wait, I thought it was “amazing,” but apparently it was “cute.” And “good job,” too. Looks like all those nicknames of the three sisters came from their mother.

After pampering the exhausted Hiyori for her hard work, we somehow spent the night, and then finally left Busan after more than a month’s stay.

From Busan to Seoul to Pyongyang, the route is connected by steam railways, so from here on it’s a train journey. From the port city through the capital to the former North Korean capital takes about 12 hours.

Fast… or slow?

Compared to airplanes and bullet trains from the old era, it’s slow. But compared to the chaotic period right after the Gremlin disaster—when people relied on bicycles or couriers—it’s incredibly fast. Dragon delivery and return magic can exceed even 2024 travel speeds, but those are limited to the wealthy and powerful, not something ordinary people can casually use.

While waiting on the messy platform, I brought this up to Hiyori, and she shrugged.

“Even this is better than before. Tiger beasts became common, and cities are connected by trains now. It’s convenient.”

“But you’d be faster running, right?”

“Would you run all the way to Pyongyang? Even if you had the magic power?”

“…No, that sounds exhausting. I don’t want to run for 12 hours.”

“Exactly.”

Fair point. Even if faster travel exists, trains have their value—they’re easy. No getting lost either.

The Pyongyang-bound train arrived three minutes late. Unlike Japan’s black trains, Korea’s steam engines are painted white, covered head-to-toe in advertisements. It’s kind of amusing.

Translation magic doesn’t work on text, so I can’t read the Korean ads, but the illustrations make them understandable—lots of recruitment ads for settlers and monster ranch workers, plus some cosmetics ads. Not so different from Japan in that regard.

And mixed in among them were wanted posters for Hatobato.
Well… good luck with that, Hatobato. Hope we meet again—I want to show off my four-dimensional storage trick.

Hiyori booked a first-class compartment—a private room with plush sofas. While sucking on candy from a basket on the side table, I looked around, but nothing particularly interesting stood out. Just some dust under the sofa—looks like they slack off on cleaning where people won’t see.

Then I noticed Hiyori elegantly flipping through a catalog.

She beckoned me over, and as the train slowly started moving, she explained:

“This is the onboard service catalog. First-class compartments usually have one. Pull that cord to ring a bell, and an attendant will come.”

“Oh, that wasn’t just decoration? I think ships had those too. Well… even if you told me, I probably wouldn’t use it.”

Calling someone over like that? No thanks. Doesn’t matter if I know or not.

The catalog was fun to browse, but after a while it was just stuff I’d already seen or bought during our stay in Korea, so I got bored quickly. Most of the souvenirs had already been shipped back to Japan. Right now, Mokutan is probably gleefully tearing off wrapping paper in Okutama.

Eventually, even the scenery got repetitive, so I pulled out one of the Korean souvenirs I kept—a hexagonal glass rod. At first glance it’s just glass, but if you hold it for a while, it slowly turns gold.

This is a fortune-telling tool called a Magia Glass.

It’s made by mixing processed iron (a proto-magic metal), glass, and gremlins in proper proportions, melting them at lower-than-normal temperatures, then slowly cooling the mixture into a hexagonal prism.

Magia Glass can reveal a person’s unique mana color.
When I touch it, it turns gold—my color. When Hiyori touches it, it turns blue.

It’s similar to a mana ruler in that it reacts to magic, but it doesn’t measure quantity—just the innate color.

Eighty years ago, to find out your mana color, you had to either use a spell that reflects it (like an eyeball familiar) or mix your blood with dissolved gremlins.

Compared to that, Magia Glass is much simpler. Very convenient.

Though… knowing your mana color doesn’t really do anything.

It’s like horoscopes—fun, but not practically useful.

Even Hiyori flatly said, “Magia Glass fortune-telling is fun, but baseless.”
If a witch says so, that settles it.

Still, I tried using it with a poorly translated fortune book for Japanese tourists.

“Compatibility reading… check your compatibility with someone special!”

Okay, I’m gold. Hiyori’s blue.
Gold and blue…

“Hiyori! It says gold and blue are compatible! I knew it!”

She glanced at the book and smiled.

“Of course. I won’t allow us to be incompatible.”

“…Wait, it’s something you allow?”

Even knowing it’s nonsense, it still feels kind of fun.
Maybe fortune-telling is like fiction—doesn’t have to be real to be enjoyable.

But reading further, I realized gold is just “decently compatible with everything.”
What the hell—jack-of-all-trades? Don’t underestimate me, I’m a master-of-all-trades.

Meanwhile, blue says:
“You possess many talents. You will grow close to those drawn to your inner brilliance.”

…Classic Barnum effect. Vague statements that apply to anyone. Humanity has real magic now, yet hasn’t progressed past horoscopes and blood types.

Next: wealth fortune.
Gold = “You will be very rich!”
…Wow, subtle.

Then lifespan fortune:
Hold the glass top and bottom, and see where the colors meet.

When I tried it, the gold shot straight up instantly—absurd longevity.

I glanced at Hiyori. She was pretending not to notice, holding Cuanos.

“Hey. You tampered with my result, didn’t you?”

“I’ll make sure you live long. No problem.”

“Don’t rig the fortune!”

After that, we did more readings together, but Hiyori kept forcing the outcomes she wanted. Eventually I just laughed. With her, even fate itself feels like it could be bent by force.

Eating our boxed meals and playing around with fortunes, the train passed Seoul and continued north.

At Pyongyang, we’d transfer and head to the border.

Our next destination after the Republic of Korea… was China.

Hopefully the Wu Xian Group—the giant driving China’s economy—doesn’t hold a grudge against 0933.

They spent 81 billion yen to buy the Golden Staff for its no-chant mechanism, but now there are plans underway to release all information about the Gremlin King.

Once that happens, their technological advantage could vanish within a year.

It’s not a contract violation, but it certainly won’t make them happy.

…Maybe I should send them an apology gift while we’re in China.