I was abruptly awakened by the resonating chime of the morning bell, marking the official start of a new day.
Last night, I had been writing Magic Scrolls until late, so I was completely sleep-deprived.
The first one I tackled was a Healing Magic Scroll, but it took quite a while to make.
If I made even a single mistake in writing, I had to start over from the beginning, so I had to write it slowly and carefully.
Furthermore, the magic power kept draining from my fingertips as I held the pen, and after writing about five lines of the incantation, I started feeling dizzy.
At times like that, I had to get up from the chair, stretch a little, and lie down to wait for my magic power to recover.
Because of all this, it took time to finish writing everything, and even for the simplest Fire Magic Scroll, it wasn’t until well past midnight that it was completed.
Still, I believed that the task of writing Magic Scrolls suited me well.
Kimberly dismissed it as “boring,” but as long as I believed that it enabled me to use magic, it didn’t bother me.
In fact, I had no resistance to writing characters in the first place.
As I wrote the magical symbols, I gradually began to understand their meaning, and that, in itself, was an enjoyable process.
That’s why, over the course of three nights, I managed to finish writing all the different kinds of Magic Scrolls that the Hero graciously taught me.
Whether the magic would actually work correctly or not could only be determined by testing it out.
I had the immediate urge to conduct experiments, but there was also a desire within me to use magic for something worthwhile.
I wanted to keep the Healing Magic for injuries or illnesses, and the Body Enhancement Magic could serve as a preparation for suppressing riots.
Even though Fire Magic was considered a basic form of magic, it wasn’t something to be used carelessly in the middle of a town.
At this time, I was conducting the afternoon rounds, surveying the cells.
It was a dry, sunny autumn day, a time when I tended to feel the most drowsy after lunch.
Seeing me let out a big yawn, my assistant, Peter, casually struck up a conversation.
“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?”
“Ah… just a little tired,”
During the lunch break, I had been working on another Body Enhancement Magic Scroll, so the slight exhaustion was due to a mild depletion of magic power.
“You should try drinking Giselle’s herbal-infused hot water before bed. Something with chamomile or other herbs. That’s what my grandma used to say,” Peter suggested.
Though I found myself getting absorbed in scroll-making almost every night, my body was starting to reach its limit. Tomorrow, I had an early shift overseeing breakfast service, and the duty would commence at the 6th Water Hour (5 AM).
As I pondered Peter’s suggestion and considered having some Giselle, I heard the tense voice of a guard echoing down the corridor.
“Someone! Someone, please come! It’s Cell 12!”
It seemed that something had happened.
Peter and I exchanged glances, unsheathing our batons, ready to handle any unforeseen situation. Running side by side, we hurried down the corridor.
In front of Cell 12, Event and his assistant Roan were peering inside the cell.
“What’s going on, Event?”
“An urgent medical case. We need to get inmate 725 out.”
As I glanced into the cell, I saw a prisoner foaming at the mouth, thrashing about on the floor.
I recognized that face.
It was Rick Poe, the inmate who used to sell bread with lottery tickets.
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