Never Mind the Heir, I’ll Focus on Healing - Chapter 6

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Successor Was Beyond Me, So I’ll Settle for Healing — Episode 6

Lion was certain of it.
If that weren’t the case, his grandfather—efficient and cold-blooded as Patrick Asteria was—would never have made such a request.

‘People always want to give those they love something better than what they have themselves.’

And look at the way he was getting flustered about it.

‘That’s right. Grandfather must have been lonely too.’

He understood completely. His father had passed early, and his grandsons showed little affection. And his grandmother wasn’t even alive to keep him company.
All things considered, it made sense.
This was an opportunity.
A chance to give a gift to someone he loved.

‘I’ll be able to raise my Affection Rating significantly.’

Unable to read Patrick’s true expression, Lion spoke with firm resolve, his fist clenched.

“Just give me two weeks. I’ll have a higher-grade Potion ready by then.”
“Two weeks?”

Patrick echoed, taken aback.
The implication was clear: You think you can do that in that time? But……

“No—I’ll have it done in one week!”

Lion had misread the situation entirely, and now left the room with the expression of someone seized by determination.
Patrick reached out toward the door as it clicked shut, but Lion was already gone.

“Hah… he didn’t even ask why.”

Patrick had no idea what misunderstanding had just occurred or how it had spiraled so quickly.
Still, he thought, at least he didn’t need to make excuses or offer explanations now, so perhaps it worked out for the best…….
Wait.

“Ah, no! That’s not what I meant at all!”

Too late, Patrick realized what Lion had understood—or rather, misunderstood—and he shouted after him at the already-closed door.

* * *

Stepping out of the room, Lion gathered his thoughts.

“How do I make a 3-Star Grade Potion?”

The first option was brute-force grinding—level up mindlessly in hopes of eventually producing a higher-grade Potion through sheer repetition.
But there simply wasn’t enough time for that.
The second option was to purchase high-quality Medicinal Herbs and craft with those.
That would spare his body the labor, and it would increase the odds of a good Potion.
But if he were going to do that, it would be easier just to buy a Potion from another Alchemist.
That wouldn’t work either.
Which left him with the last option…….

“There’s only the orthodox method.”

The orthodox method.
Naturally, it meant gathering the Medicinal Herbs himself and crafting the Potion from start to finish on his own.

“There are limits to what bare hands can do.”

No matter how carefully he used his fingers, the constant friction against dirt and sand dulled his touch, making it impossible to harvest better Medicinal Herbs.
Besides, for plants that had to be harvested by stem alone—without roots—there was no avoiding damage when pulling them by force.
In other words, he needed tools.
Good ones, at that.
Lion made his way straight to the largest Blacksmith within the territory.

Clang! Clang!
Hiss—!

The rhythmic sound of metal being struck echoed through the Blacksmith, while the glowing steel cooled in oil, releasing steam into the air.

A wave of intense heat washed over him, and Lion instinctively raised his arm.

“Impressive work.”

As Lion murmured his admiration, a worker who had been feeding wood into the furnace approached him.

“Welcome. What can I help you find?”

Judging from his appearance alone, it was clear he was no ordinary person, so the worker added respectful speech even to the young boy.

“Are you the one in charge here?”
“I’m not the manager, but I can sell you goods. A standard sword? Or perhaps a Rapier—something light and easy to handle.”

Apparently, he had taken Lion for some wealthy young master just beginning his sword training.

“I’m looking for a hoe and a sickle.”
“…….”

The worker’s expression twisted oddly—the look of someone who couldn’t understand.

“A hoe and a sickle? Why would you—cough, never mind. Let me show you this way.”

Something instinctively told the worker not to dig deeper into this conversation, so he led Lion to the hoes and sickles stored in one corner of the Blacksmith.

[Common Hoe]
[Rough Hoe]
[Ordinary Hoe]

“Hmm?”

The quality of the hoes was merely ordinary.

‘That won’t be enough.’

To obtain better Medicinal Herbs, he needed tools of equal quality.
Of course, a master-level blacksmith wouldn’t waste time making this sort of tool—they’d be too busy with commissions for weapons. Even revealing his identity as the eldest son of House Asteria wouldn’t mean a superior hoe would materialize in a single day.
So Lion decided to change his approach.

“Pardon? That doesn’t make—”
“I’ll pay generously.”

“…”

The worker peered into his pocket, then his mouth fell open.
And instead of running off somewhere right away…

“Young master, I see you’re still green about how the world works!”

He scolded Lion and pulled out a handful of Gold Coins from his pocket.

“This much is more than enough. Here, take your coin purse and go! Even in the best of times, pickpockets lurk everywhere. You understand?”
“Oh… ah.”

Now it was Lion who stood bewildered.

‘I gave it to him on purpose to show good faith…’

The worker was taking only a portion for himself, meaning the bulk of the money was to be shown to the master smith as a gesture of sincerity—or so Lion had thought.

“Look, it’s unusual to even charge for a trial experience like this. Just wait a moment.”

The worker left Lion standing there and went somewhere, shouting loud enough to drown out the sound of hammering.

“Elder! Come have a look!”
“I’m swamped! Why are you calling?”
“I told you to come! A big spender’s here!”
“Then go sell him a hoe and get him out! I’m already drowning in problems with the furnace!”
“That’s not what I’m saying!”
“…”

Lion heard every word of it.
He wondered why the worker had left him waiting here, but he waited nonetheless.
After some back-and-forth bickering, a remarkably short man emerged from the depths of the smithy.
His beard was braided long, and green corrosion clung to his fingernails—unmistakably the oldest craftsman in the place.

‘A Dwarf, then.’

A Dwarf.
They say that even if one plunges his hand into fire, he will suffer no burns, and aside from their tremendous strength, they have honed their meticulousness to the highest degree—so the equipment they craft is known to be the finest in the world.
Lion’s own Potion-Making Set had likely been touched by Dwarf hands.
These days, only descendants of their line remain, or so he’d heard—yet here one was.
The Dwarf brushed the dust from his hands and stepped before Lion, then looked up and asked.

“So, you want to forge a hoe yourself? A young gentleman like you?”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”

He couldn’t very well say there was nothing worth buying here, so Lion answered without hesitation.

“Before I came to this place, I only meant to purchase what I needed and leave. But seeing this smithy, I grew curious. The idea of striking iron and creating something—it seems extraordinary.”
“Hmm…”
“So I wanted to try it myself.”
“Hmm…”
“By the way, my name is Lion Asteria.”
“Ah.”

Being an eccentric was convenient.
He hadn’t seemed convinced by all Lion’s earlier explanations, but the moment he heard those seven syllables—his name—his expression shifted to perfect understanding.

“Give this eccentric one of those!”
“Goodness, Elder. Mind your tongue!”

The worker broke into a cold sweat at the master’s words, but prepared the space as instructed.
An anvil and iron, tongs and a hammer.
It was no different from any other blacksmith’s setup.

“Use the fire over there! Since that bastard took a little under-the-table payment, do whatever you want while we work it out!”
“Much obliged. What’s your name?”

Whoosh.

The Dwarf’s descendant had already returned to his work.

“That gentleman’s name is Mudu—the hundred-thousandth Mudu. You can just call him Mudu.”

The worker, having learned Lion’s true nature, spoke with noticeably more deference.

“I see. And you?”
“I’m just called Hand. Um…”

Hand rubbed the back of his neck, still troubled by his earlier concern over the payment.

“No need to worry about that. I’d like to look around the blacksmith, if I may.”
“Of course, this way. It’ll be quite warm.”

Hand led the way, showing Lion around the Blacksmith. There was the master Forger at his anvil, another who shaped the raw iron to fit its purpose, a third who filed the rough edges smooth, and finally one who affixed the handles.
Each absorbed in his own work, they produced items ceaselessly.
Lion removed his coat and draped it over his arm, observing every corner of the workshop.
There wasn’t a single aspect that lacked systematic order.

‘Strange.’

Even if the master hadn’t made them personally, there’s no way the hoes should have been of such poor quality.

“And finally, you put the iron in there and apply heat.”
“Mm.”

Ah. So that’s how it happened.
Lion’s gaze fixed on the roaring forge.
It was certainly radiating tremendous heat—enough to melt metal completely—yet something felt off.

‘Now that I think about it, Mudu did say the fire was a problem.’

Looking more closely…

Glimmer.

Within the roaring flames, something glimmered with a different quality.

[A Low-Rank Fire Spirit regards you.]
-It appears weaker than ordinary Spirits. Could it be dissatisfied about something?
[☞Click to investigate the Spirit’s grievance.]

“Is the fire normally this weak?”
“It’s not exactly weak, but…the heat output has definitely diminished compared to how it was before. We haven’t had any serious problems yet, though Mudu seems quite troubled by it. But how did you notice the fire was weak?”
“The fire told me.”
“…Ah.”

Hand’s response came a beat too late.
It was then that the image of him as “young master” faded, replaced firmly by that of a “eccentric.”

“So what would you like the fire to do for you?”
“Good grief. Fire doesn’t speak.”
“…….”
“Well then, I’d like you to show me how to make a hoe now.”
“Ah, yes. Come along.”

Just before Sohn, his expression flickering with some dawning realization, led Lion back to his private anvil—

“Stop what you’re doing!”

Mudu, who had vanished before, blocked their path again.
But his expression had changed entirely from moments before.

“Sohn. Go mind your business. I need a word with this eccentric fellow.”
“What? A moment ago you told me to take charge—”
“You deaf, boy!”
“Temperamental as always. Fine! Call me when you need me!”

Sohn grumbled his way out of the smithy, though not without stepping aside—apparently this wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened, or perhaps he’d simply grown accustomed to Lion’s peculiar nature.

“……Uh. Come with me.”

Lion followed Mudu out.
Once outside the back door of the Blacksmith and far enough away from prying eyes, Mudu finally spoke.

“You saw it?”
“I saw it.”
“You understand?”
“Probably.”

The two eccentrics exchanged their cryptic words.
He was asking whether Lion had seen the Low-Rank Fire Spirit and grasped what was wrong with it.

“Can you fix it?”
“If I do fix it?”
“Uh…….”

Mudu scratched his head with rust-stained fingernails, iron filings drifting to the ground with each pass, though Lion paid no mind.

“You said you wanted to make things with your own hands. I’ll teach you directly.”
“And?”
“……Your orders will always come first from now on.”

It was quite a remarkable offer.
The Blacksmith of Asteria was famous enough that other territories sent in commissions.
Only then did Lion, satisfied, extend his hand.

“We’ll start tonight.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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