WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Magic-Eating Wizard ◈

Chapter 1: Orphans of Elmin Street

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Elmin Street in the port city of Moria had long been notorious as a sewer teeming with gangsters, prostitutes, beggars, and orphans, and as a breeding ground for crime.

Its pitch-dark alleys were tangled like a spiderweb, so dark that even sunlight could not reach them. To criminals, it was the perfect hiding place.

After the Great War more than a decade ago left countless children orphaned and they flooded into the area, even the police became reluctant to set foot there.

People considered anyone from this place a criminal or a future criminal, and unless a crime committed inside was serious, it was not even properly investigated.

Haren, who had turned thirteen this year, was one of the orphans who had grown up like a stray dog in this infamous slum.

What set Haren apart from the others was remembering a previous life in a world without magic or monsters.

‘Not that there’s much use for that...’

Leaning against a half-collapsed wall, Haren looked up at the sky and thought.

In many novels, reincarnated people and people who had taken over someone else's body enjoyed wealth and glory using their knowledge of twenty-first-century Earth. Unfortunately, Haren lacked the ability to do that.

Haren had far too little artistic talent to copy and sell novels or music, while the world's civilization was too advanced for Haren to profit from basic scientific knowledge.

This world possessed technology roughly comparable to nineteenth-century Earth, while magic solved every inconvenience that might have existed in that era.

In a world where magically engineered airships flew through the sky and alchemists even sold hair-loss remedies, who would buy soap or antibiotics?

That was setting aside the fact that Haren did not really know how to make either soap or antibiotics.

“What are you doing sitting there all gloomy by yourself?”

At the voice from behind him, Haren turned and saw a skinny brown-haired boy walking toward him.

His name was Kort.

Like Haren, he was an orphan from Elmin Street, as well as his friend.

“Can't you see? I'm reading the newspaper.”

When Haren shook the newspaper in his hand, Kort spoke in a curious tone.

“This isn't Imperial, is it?”

“It's a newspaper from the Kingdom of Berman. It came out a week ago. Someone from there threw it away, so I picked it up.”

“I can barely read our own language... I don't get how you learn foreign languages so easily. Are you really a genius?”

Haren laughed at Kort's wide-eyed expression and shook their head.

“What genius? I just studied hard. Why don't you try learning one yourself? It wouldn't take that long if you put your mind to it.”

There were not many jobs available to the orphans of Elmin Street.

They could become gangsters, thieves, prostitutes, or laborers in factories and at the docks.

Even labor, one of the few legal jobs, was hardly a good choice.

This was an age without laws to prevent industrial accidents, so people died or suffered serious injuries at work all the time.

Haren had chosen studying as a way of escaping that miserable future.

The Sherden Empire, which ruled the city of Moria, had a system for selecting officials through examinations.

Foreign language skills were particularly valued in port cities like this one. By successfully pursuing special recruitment for such work, Haren could secure a low-ranking civil service position in interpretation or translation.

Of course, Haren had no money for proper textbooks or teachers, so Haren had to learn by getting out there.

For example, Haren eavesdropped on foreign sailors and travelers, or actively tried to communicate with them.

‘Sir, let me carry your luggage. Urk!’

‘What the hell are you saying, you filthy little brat? Get lost!’

At first, the results had been awful.

When a grimy child who could not even speak their language clung to them while gesturing strangely, most people assumed he was a pickpocket or petty thief and kicked him away in disgust.

‘So, luggage, carry.’

‘You mean you'll carry my luggage?’

‘Yes. Carry it. I'll carry it for you.’

Thankfully, a few people found it cute that a child was trying so hard to communicate with them. They spoke with him for a while and corrected his bad pronunciation and grammar.

‘Good morning, sir! That's a fine hat you have! If you're looking for an inn, I know a clean and cheap one. Shall I show you the way?’

‘Oh? I never expected to meet a child who speaks Makran so fluently in this distant empire. Are your parents Makran?’

‘I don't know for sure, but I hope so. I've always admired the country of gentlemen.’

‘Very well. Since we met like this, show me the way. If it's a good place, I'll give you this!’

Thanks to that, after a few years, Haren became fairly capable in foreign languages.

‘Wind High Priest, inauguration, congratulations.’

‘Clothing store at 31 Kutra Street, discount event...’

‘The Almerian military claims there was no massacre in the capital during the last Great War.’

After learning to speak, he picked up discarded newspapers and used their printed pictures to work out the writing.

Every language in this world used phonetic letters, so once Haren figured out the pronunciation symbols, reading and writing could be handled through repetition.

Haren had been fairly confident in studying in a previous life, but this new body seemed to think even faster.

Even without memories of a previous life, perhaps Haren would not have been called a genius, as Kort said, but would certainly have been considered gifted.

Yet even when Haren offered to share the knowledge Haren had worked so hard to gain for free, Kort simply shook his head as if it sounded troublesome.

“No thanks. Someone like me... Just thinking about it makes my head hurt. You tried teaching me to read and write Imperial before, remember? I couldn't learn it. If I need something, I can just ask you to read it.”

Kort was not especially lazy or stupid compared with others.

In the first place, on Elmin Street, someone like Haren, who devoted himself to learning in hopes of improving his lot in life, was considered an oddity.

A defeatist attitude was widespread. Studying was something rich young masters, who had received a thorough education since childhood, did. It was not something lowly slum rats should aspire to.

“Well, if that's what you want.”

Haren did not press Kort further after the playful but firm refusal.

You could lead a horse to water, but you could not force it to drink.

Kort dropped down beside Haren and pointed at an illustration of a sinister-looking man in the newspaper.

“What does this say? He looks really scary.”

“It says a bounty has been offered for a wizard who attacked city hall, killed civil servants and police officers, then fled on the twenty-fifth. The authorities suspect the culprit is a republican.”

“A wizard... Lucky bastard.”

Even though the story involved people being killed, Kort showed no sorrow, fear, or contempt. He looked envious instead.

Murder and robbery were common enough on Elmin Street that they happened every few weeks.

In this world, being a wizard was a popular profession.

In ancient times, wizards had even been worshipped as gods or angels. Even now, when civilization had advanced and reason had replaced faith, they had secured irreplaceable positions in the military and industry.

Haren shook their head at Kort's words and scolded him.

“Don't dream pointless dreams. You don't want to become a wizard badly enough to die for it, do you?”

“A guy can dream, can't he?”

In truth, Haren himself had dreamed of becoming a wizard when he first learned magic existed.

Who would not want to breathe fire from their hands, fly through the sky, and summon lightning if they could?

But from what Haren had heard, becoming a wizard cost an enormous amount of money and was dangerous besides.

Apparently, if three people tried, two died. It was something only people with more nerve than sense would do.

Wizards were probably all out of their minds.

After they had chatted idly for a while, Kort rubbed his hollow stomach and stood up.

“I'm getting hungry. I should go find something to eat. Want to come?”

“No. I had something earlier.”

Unlike the other orphans, who were treated like stray cats, Haren did not have particularly bad relationships with the merchants near the market.

Haren had spent a long time building an image of being polite, harmless, and useful by bringing in foreign customers.

As a result, instead of searching through trash cans for food like a stray dog, Haren could take on simple chores such as organizing goods or cleaning and buy food with the pay.

Haren could not save any money, since gangsters would take it from Haren or other orphans would steal it.

“See you later, then. If I find newspapers or anything, I'll bring them to trade for food.”

“As much as you want.”

At those words, so full of friendship and so hard to find on this street, Haren grinned and waved.

* * *

As Haren read the foreign newspaper over and over, absorbed in its meaning, Haren judged the time from the shadows around them.

Near sunset, Haren had to help Uncle Bekran, the tavern owner, move barrels of alcohol.

The pay was poor, but he could eat the leftovers. Helping at the tavern was always worthwhile.

As Haren folded the newspaper and stood, Haren spotted an old man peering into the alley from a distance.

‘Who is that?’

His faded white hair and deeply wrinkled face suggested he was somewhere between sixty and seventy.

He wore a flat wool cap and a black coat. He looked like an elderly gentleman who had never had any connection to a slum like this in his life.

After hesitating briefly, Haren approached him and offered quiet advice.

“Sir, you shouldn't come in here if you can help it. It's dangerous.”

“Thank you for your concern. Is this Elmin Street?”

Instead of asking why, the old man smiled kindly and asked his question.

“Yes, well... As you can see.”

“Then I suppose this was not a wasted trip. I've come looking for someone. Would you guide me? I will reward you.”

His refined way of speaking, along with the high-denomination banknote he casually showed as payment, suggested he was quite wealthy.

He did not seem to be a noble, though, since he had no attendant with him.

Haren thought how lucky the old man had been to meet him.

If others had encountered such a wealthy and innocent old man, they would have lured him farther inside, beaten him with clubs, and sold even his underwear.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Black hair. Big and strong, built like a bear. He should be about your age.”

“Ah...”

The person the old man sought had to be a boy named Kishasha.

He was about thirteen, like Haren. He was violent and rough, but big enough that there were rumors gangsters wanted to recruit him.

“Is his name Kishasha, by any chance?”

“I don't know his name. If I see him myself, I will know whether he is the boy I seek.”

Why would someone come looking for a person whose name they did not know, knowing only their appearance?

Haren quickly guessed that Kishasha must have stolen something from the old man.

There was no way he had come to repay him for a good deed.

“If he stole something from you, it would be better to tell the police. I can't promise they'll find it, though.”

“I merely came here by following the fate that connects that child and me.”

As the old man continued speaking in vague nonsense, Haren decided not to pry further.

The man seemed to be avoiding the subject, so it was probably not a reason he could proudly reveal to others.

The two did not look much alike, but perhaps that big boy was the old man's illegitimate child.

Imagining the sort of story an orphan who did not know their parents would naturally imagine, one where wealthy parents came looking for their child, Haren scratched his ear.

“Well, I'll take you there. It's dangerous to walk around alone.”

If he left an old man whose bones probably would not even set properly anymore to fend for himself and the man got hurt, Haren would feel uneasy afterward.

If Haren refused, the old man would likely ask someone else or try to enter alone. And where on this street would the old man find anyone kind enough to help?

No, to be more honest, Haren wanted the banknote the old man had shown earlier.

It was not as if Haren enjoyed living in this filthy hole, using walls and straw mats as bedding.

He did not want to miss a chance to earn a large and honest sum for so little effort.

There was still plenty of time before Haren had to meet the tavern owner, so Haren could make a quick trip.

“Come to think of it, I don't know your name, sir. I'm Haren.”

“Cardin.”

“Follow behind me. If we run into gangsters, be prepared to have every coin in your pockets taken.”

“That is frightening. I shall trust only you!”

Cardin's less than serious response made Haren frown slightly.

Still, Haren had already warned him. If Cardin acted carelessly and caused trouble, that was Cardin's own responsibility.

Haren would protect Cardin as much as possible.

Haren led the way, watching their surroundings as they walked.

There were not many people in the alley yet. Most of them were busy outside, begging, pickpocketing, stealing, or digging through restaurant bins and garbage dumps.

In truth, Elmin Street truly came alive, and became dangerous, after the sun set and the gas lamps were lit.

Even Haren, a local, could not walk around carelessly then. Haren had to hide in secluded alleys, so Haren would not have dared guide anyone at that hour.

As they went farther inside, several orphans and vagrants with gloomy expressions glanced at the unfamiliar old man.

But when they saw Haren leading him, some seemed to lose interest and looked away, while others snickered and waved in casual greeting.

“What's with the old man behind you?”

“He says he's looking for someone, so I'm helping him.”

“In a place like this? Looking for some kid he had and abandoned years ago?”

The boy who said aloud what Haren had only thought to himself giggled and walked away.

It might have seemed ordinary for a place with such a bad reputation, but if Cardin had entered alone, some of them would surely have robbed him.

The only reason they did not attack was that Haren had proven the ability to defend themself here more than once.

A little later, the two passed several haphazard alleys that connected like a spiderweb and reached the area where Kishasha stayed.

In one especially remote and filthy back alley of Elmin Street, several large gangsters were drinking together.

“So I'm telling you, I shoved this right into that bastard's gut, then twisted it like this...”

Haren heard the unfamiliar voice, pressed himself against the wall, and peeked out to assess the situation.

Then Haren quickly stepped back and stopped Cardin, who had been following.

“The timing is bad. Let's wait here for a while.”

“Why?”

“The people drinking with Kishasha are part of a powerful gang around here. The gang leader's younger brother is with them, and he's got a terrible temper.”

He acted as though he ruled the world because his older brother was a gang leader. He had even killed someone while drunk once.

Had one of his underlings gone to prison in his place to cover it up?

The daytime drinking party was likely a meal to welcome Kishasha into their group.

Ordinary orphans or vagrants might spare the old man, but drunk gangsters would not spare the old man out of respect for Haren.

“I see... So I found the right person.”

But after hearing this, Cardin sighed as if he found it absurd. He gently pushed Haren aside and strode forward.

The gangsters, who had been loudly chatting, looked at the old man in confusion.

“What is this? Some old man...”

“Are you Kishasha?”

At Cardin's question, Kishasha stood with a fierce expression.

The boy, who was the same age as Haren, was already more than 175 centimeters tall. He had dark stubble on his face and looked like an adult.

“Yeah, that's me. Who the hell are you, old man? Why are you looking for me?”

“Hmm.”

At the rude tone so characteristic of a back-alley vagrant, Cardin glanced between Kishasha and Haren behind him, then nodded.

It was as though he were saying, “Yes, this is normal.”

“Come over here.”

“You think I'll come just because you say... Urgh!”

When Cardin stretched out his hand, Kishasha's body rose into the air as if seized by an invisible hand.

The others recoiled in shock.

“W-what is that?”

“He's a wizard!”

Haren was just as shocked as they were.

Who would have thought that an old man who looked too weak to twist a chicken's neck possessed such power?

Ignoring the reactions around him, Cardin gripped the boy's head tightly with both hands.

Kishasha twisted his whole body as though trying to resist, but he could not move at all, as if he were held by invisible hands.

A moment later, Cardin gave a satisfied sigh and muttered.

“Indeed... A Primordial Type! I found the right one.”

Then Roa, the gang leader's younger brother, shouted, pulled a revolver from his coat, and aimed it at Cardin.

“You bastard! Just because you can do a little magic, you think you're something? This is our territory!”

Ignorant people thought wizards were nothing but terrifying beings, but Roa knew roughly what the low-level wizards in the back alleys were capable of.

They might breathe fire or possess the strength of beasts, enough to beat dozens of people by themselves, but they died from a single bullet just like anyone else.

So what if this old man had a strange trick that could subdue someone with a gesture?

Bang!

The sharp gunshot rang beyond the back alley. In the distance, Haren heard screams and hurried footsteps.

People must have thought another gang shootout had broken out and fled.

But at the place where the gunshot had sounded, only a horrifying silence remained.

A crushed lead bullet fell in front of Cardin with a clatter.

“Uh... uh...”

Roa, still aiming the revolver at Cardin, lost focus and shook.

He felt the alcohol leave his body all at once. He tried to pull back the hammer with his thumb to prepare a second shot, but for some reason, his hand could no longer grip the revolver.

“Ghk...”

Bright red blood ran from every opening in his face, from his mouth and nose to his eyes and ears.

Roa choked as if he could not breathe, then collapsed forward. He trembled for a moment before becoming still.

“Ghk, urk, ghk.”

“Kehek.”

The underlings behind him suffered the same fate.

Blood poured from every opening in their faces as they clutched their throats in agony or clawed at the ground. One by one, they died.

Kishasha, who had watched it all from beside them while held in place, wet himself with an expression as though he might faint.

Haren had no desire to mock him for it.

Haren's own legs were shaking so badly that Haren felt they might collapse at any moment.

“Now it is finally quiet.”

When Cardin calmly muttered that and turned his head, Haren met a pair of eyes with pupils split vertically like a snake's.

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