Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 39: Creation and Production
Well, the spider silk was finally complete, but calling it simply “Spider Silk” didn’t give a good impression. So, I decided it was time to come up with a proper name.
At first, I thought maybe something like “Spider Silk A” and “Spider Silk B” would suffice, but it was quickly rejected. The reasoning was simple: the names were dull and redundant, since they meant essentially the same thing.
“Why don’t we name it after you, Arthur-sama? Something like ‘Al Silk,’ perhaps?”
“No.”
“You’re so stubborn.”
“Then how about ‘Rugena Silk’?”
“Uh… no, that’s not going to work.”
Trying to brainstorm names with Rugena clearly wasn’t going anywhere.
“Alright, fine. Let’s just call them ‘Esil’ and ‘Bisil’ to make it simple.”
“Esil and Bisil? What do those even mean?”
“…Nothing, really.”
It was as simple as that: silk made from thread solution A became Esil A Silk, and silk made from thread solution B became Bisil B Silk.
“…That’s so arbitrary.”
“Isn’t that how things usually are?”
It’s not unusual for production numbers or codes to be incorporated into names. I had no talent for coming up with cool names, so expecting anything stylish from me was pointless.
“By the way, Arthur-sama, what was that ‘final challenge’ you mentioned?”
“That’s figuring out how to turn this thread into cloth and make clothes from it.”
“Oh… so weaving and tailoring, right?”
I had managed to produce the silk, but its quality was still inferior to what a skilled spinner could make. And to turn it into proper fabric, I’d need a professional weaver. After that, someone—a tailor or myself—would have to turn it into clothing.
“Is there anyone in the village who can weave?”
“There isn’t even a loom here. We buy fabric from traveling merchants.”
If no one in the village could weave, I’d have to take it to Meluestat to get it turned into cloth. But doing that every time would be exhausting. Asking someone else might lead to disputes.
Maybe it would be easier, like the glass business, to just sell it to someone and have them make it. That way, I wouldn’t have to bother Rugena and Stefana with spider abdomen collection, either. Seeing their almost tearful faces made me feel a little guilty.
“Should we turn this into a business and have someone else make it? It’d be much easier.”
“Huh? Are you suggesting selling it again?”
“Yeah. It’s just… tedious, isn’t it?”
If it was going to become as troublesome as the Opsidio Trading Company situation, it would be far easier to sell it off from the start.
“You’re an idiot! You’re joking, right? You’re taking this lightly!”
“—Huh?!”
Rugena grabbed me by the collar while I was sitting in my chair, lifting me up and launching into a torrent of anger.
“Don’t you feel any attachment to what you’ve made? Why would you throw away something we worked so hard on?! You even helped me. I hate spiders, but working together with you was fun. And now… to just… throw it away…”
That’s right. I hadn’t made this alone. Rugena and Stefana had cooperated, and without them, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I had no right to selfishly sell it.
“Sorry… I—fine, R-Rugena, I forgive you.”
“—Hah, cough, hah… huff… huff…”
When Rugena rebelled, the slave mark on her responded, tightening around her neck. I had never seen it before, but I was glad I had learned how to handle it.
We both collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath and trying to calm our chaotic breathing.
“Sorry.”
“…Which one of us is apologizing?”
“Both of us.”
“—Hah… Do you really not feel attached at all?”
Seeing Rugena’s exasperated, almost lonely expression hurt my heart. But, to be honest, my attachment wasn’t that strong.
Blaming my past life’s memories feels odd, but I had a strong sense of simply “recreating something that once existed.” It never felt truly mine.
Glasses, goggles, monoculars, magnifiers, even spider silk—they were all things I had heard of as stories and was now merely reproducing. Daruma Otoshi and Reversi were also easy to recreate if you knew them, so I had no personal attachment to them.
This, I realized, was the difference between creation and production.
From the outside, people might think I was creating, but I was only producing. That’s why my perspective differed from Rugena’s.
“I wouldn’t say I have no attachment… I’d be satisfied if I just obtained the things I wanted.”
“Arthur-sama, why do you make things at all?”
Why, indeed.
I had started alchemy to make use of my magic training, learned materialization to use alchemy effectively, and began making things to repay my mother, who had raised me without abandoning me.
I made honey gems for alchemy practice and profit, glasses for Rugena, spider silk so my mother could have better underwear. Daruma Otoshi… well, that was just for fun.
“Oh… I see. I’ve never made anything I truly wanted for myself.”
Everything I had made had been for someone else, not for me. That was why I had neither attachment nor obsession.
“So, Arthur-sama, what is it you actually want?”
“…Right now? Nothing, I think.”
It’s not exactly desire. I want to learn more about alchemy, and magical tools seem interesting, but nothing I wish for personally. What I want to recreate from my past life doesn’t quite match with personal desire.
“Arthur-sama, you’re a difficult person.”
“Do you think so?”
Attachment aside, I enjoy making things, and it’s fun when someone appreciates them. But if it causes trouble, I’d rather just let go.
“Will you continue making things?”
“It’s the only thing I can do.”
I can’t fight, I’m no merchant, and farming doesn’t fully utilize alchemy. Production is all I have.
“In that case, you mustn’t sell your results. If you do, all sorts of people will come after your work.”
Ah, yes. There are no patents in this world; knowledge and techniques are up for grabs. Selling them freely only attracts those who wish to steal or buy them. That’s why I sold the glass business to Baron Merlot, a noble.
“Then what should I do?”
“Start a workshop.”
True, starting a workshop would let me produce things on my own, but then I’d have to protect both the employees and the technical information, ensuring it doesn’t leak.
“First, consult with Tine-sama.”
“Right… we have no choice.”
We couldn’t decide on our own, so we agreed to talk to Mother at dinner.
During the glass business, there had been a reason for the sale, but Mother and Stefana wouldn’t understand “because it’s troublesome” as a reason. Their reaction was the same as Rugena’s: a silent reminder to cherish what you create.
In the end, like the glass business, the only solution was to build a workshop and protect the technical information with slave marks and binding magic.
This time, though, it hadn’t attracted as much attention, so I could take time to prepare.
“Next, we’ll have Vel move things along.”
“Huh? Vessel-san? Not the Baron?”
“Yes. Relying solely on him could be dangerous in the future.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see eventually.”
Mother didn’t explain further, but ended with a quiet, “Just in case,” so I didn’t press it.