The Girl Who Fell from the Polar Star - Chapter 6

October 09, 2022

Holding her Magic Crystal, Stella stood and waited with her eyes closed as Marie placed the glasses in a line on the table and Rye, grumbling, filled them with ordinary water, winter cold in the early spring.

Clever, freshly strangled, watched them eagerly from atop Beck’s head. He really likes that spot. It looks like a soft, sturdy cushion. Beck took it without a word; he seemed to be past caring. Pleased with the attitude, Stella rewarded him with ten copper coins. He could get himself a whole loaf of bread. He’s smelling of alcohol, she noticed. Well, it doesn’t matter. He did as he was asked.

“Miss Stella, it’s ready,” said Marie.

Stella opened her eyes.

“Are we gonna have a tasting competition?” said Rye. “But why? It’s all the same water, from the same well.”

“No. Unlike you, I don’t have time for silly games.”

“C’mon, you don’t have to be so rude all the time. Your words are so sharp they cut.”

“I’m going to start,” Stella said, ignoring her. She raised the Magic Crystal with her right hand. It emitted a sinister purple light which poured into the glasses.

“W-What is that light?”

“Is this—magic?!” said Rye. “You’re a sorceress?! I’ve never seen magic before!” She was so excited she forgot her annoyance in an instant.

‘Keke! Master’s a sorceress?! Amazing! I can ’ardly believe it meself!’

“C’mon, you definitely knew that.”

‘You got me now, eh! Yer so smart, lil’ Rye!’

“. . . Hey, is this thing really supposed to be some sort of sacred animal?”

‘Keke! Flattery won’t get ya nowhere with me!’

“How was that flattery?”

Stella shut out the banter and focused. I need to stop at the right time, or else there might be . . . complications.

She halted the process when the water started to bubble. “This should do. I think.”

“Ah, the light is gone. But you can use magic! You should’ve told me earlier!”

“Did I forget to mention?”

“I had no idea! Oh, so that’s how you got Leroy to forgive your debt. It all makes sense now . . .”

Rye nodded to herself as she jumped to her own conclusions. Meanwhile, Marie was frozen in shock, covering her mouth with her hands.

“I couldn’t have done it without some trick up my sleeve. I’m weaker than I look.”

“I find that hard to believe. You already look pretty damn weak.”

“And I don’t know what you’re imagining, but I can’t summon the flames of purgatory, shoot light arrows, magically seal wounds, resurrect the dead, fly, or anything fancy like that. My magic is limited to some light manipulation of the properties of matter, conjuring, and draining.”

Light transmutation of matter, conjuring miasma, and draining life force—that was all the magic Stella could currently use. I have to be careful not to take it too far.

“Wait, wait, healing and resurrection magic are two very different things! The secrets of resurrection have been lost for ages!”

“Really?”

“Yes, really! Sorcerers are not gods, you know!” Rye shook her arms to emphasize the point.

Why does she have to be so loud? This was taking longer than she’d thought. She decided to move on. “Marie, would you mind squeezing some fruit juice into those glasses?”

“Uh? Yes, of course.”

“Don’t worry too much about the amount. Add as much as you want.”

With uncertain hands, Marie cut a lemon in half and squeezed a few drops into one of the glasses. And as soon as she did—

“W-Wha—?!”

‘Whoa! Incredible, eh!’

—there was an explosion of bubbles, and the transparent liquid changed into a bright yellow. A fragrant smell spread over the room.

“Beck, you’re dying to try it, I know. I saw the look on your face.”

“W-Who, me?”

“Yes, you. Go on, drink first. I’ll allow you the honor. What are you waiting for?” She pressed a glass into his hand.

He took it, not unwillingly, and flinched. “This is freezing!”

“I thought it would be best served cold. It’s a pleasure drink, after all.”

“I see! You’re so smart!”

Spare me your empty flattery.

“That’s not fair,” said Rye. “Why does he get to drink first? I want to drink first!”

‘Life ain’t fair, lil’ Rye!’

Beck was grinning like an idiot. “Well, if Ma’am says so . . . Sorry, Rye. But as they say, respect your elders!”

Rye clicked her tongue. Stella could allow her to go first, but there was a minor chance it wasn’t safe to drink. This was Beck’s time to shine.

“Go on, drink,” Stella said again.

“Really? You don’t mind? Haha, don’t look at me like that, guys. I’m getting embarrassed.”

Stop being overdramatic and drink, you annoying fool. “How many times will you make me say it?” She glared at him. If he keeps stalling, I’ll push him down and pour the damn thing down his throat.

“S-Sorry, I’ll just—I’ll drink it!”

He drained his glass in one go. After a small groan, a look of satisfaction took over his face. He enjoyed the sensation in silence for a few moments.

“How does it taste? C’mon, Beck, tell me!”

“This is great! It’s unbelievably good! It’s refreshing, like ale, but different. The sweetness of the fruit, the fragrance, the icy cold bubbles bursting in your mouth—it’s the perfect combination! Trust me, this is going to sell!”

“Good.”

“This is too good for this godforsaken hovel, but I’m glad I’m here now! It’s the perfect drink to kick back with after a rough day!”

Godforsaken hovel? That’s rude. But she let it slide; he had done as she asked, after all. “It’s that good? Excellent. Marie, can you make more?”

“Of course!”

She set to the task with a smile on her face, squeezing strawberries, grapes, oranges, apples, a different fruit for each glass. The colors soon took over the table—red, orange, purple, amber—each livelier than the last.

“W-Whoa!”

Overtaken by a desire to provoke the girl, Stella said, “What seems to be the matter, Rye, sweetie? Oh, child, you’re drooling. How unseemly of you.”

“Stop making fun of me and let me and Marie have some too! That’s not fair!”

“Sure, I don’t mind. You can have one glass each.”

“All right!” Rye laughed as she picked up a glass. “I’ll have this one, then! Let’s drink, Marie!”

“Thank you. And you as well, Miss Stella.”

They sipped their drinks. A moment later, they looked surprised—another moment and they were smiling.

Stella had no intention of drinking it herself. She was quite fond of her coffee, and this new product, like most pleasure drinks, was not without its problems—problems she wouldn’t have to worry about as long as she didn’t drink it. “How did you like it?”

“This is the best thing I’ve ever drunk!” said Marie.

“Yeah, it’s really good! I could drink a barrel of this stuff. We can have another glass, right?” Rye asked with an innocent smile.

Stella felt that she should warn her. Not out of pity or guilt—she just didn’t want to be blamed for whatever happened afterward. “You shouldn’t drink too much. But I won’t stop you if that’s what you really want to do. It’s your life, after all, to enjoy and throw away as you please. Who knows, maybe your idea of a good life is to have fun now and live with the consequences later.”

She threw Rye a look of pity. The girl’s smile froze and vanished in an instant.

“W-What’s with the ominous riddles? And why are you looking at me like that?”

“Well, there shouldn’t be any short-term negative effects, at least. You’ll feel unusually excited for a while, but that’s about it. As for the long-term effects . . . just wait and see. Here are some wise words for you—everything in excess is bad.”

Stella picked up a glass and turned it in her hand to examine the colorful fluid inside. It was bright like a jewel, and looked positively enticing. Not for her, though. I won’t drink it.

“C’mon, stop dancing around it! Is it bad or not?”

“It should be safe, in moderation. Just like alcohol. Probably. If you eat too much meat you’ll get fat, and if you drink too much water you’ll feel sick. This is the same.”

Rye didn’t answer.

“Either way, it’s not my problem. I’m not going to drink it. It’s probably fine, though.” She giggled and added, “I love vague words like ‘probably.’ ”

Stella avoided committing to an answer; she couldn’t know with certainty what would happen, as she had never tested it. But considering that it was made by infusing miasma with a liquid, it was unlikely to be healthy. Nevertheless, it’s probably not much worse than alcohol.

“So this is just poison?! And you’re making us drink it? What the heck!” Rye bent over and tried to force it out of her system.

Stella laughed. “It’s not that bad. Really. Your human body can process the amount you drank just fine. Probably.”

She couldn’t help saying “probably” again. She’d rather not be held responsible for anything.

“. . . Really?”

“I don’t lie. Most of the time. The . . . Astral God, was it? They say He helps the faithful, right? So have faith in me, and you’ll have God on your side!”

She still didn’t seem convinced. Stella decided to elaborate. “Drinking too much alcohol causes all sorts of problems. You can pass out, or die from intoxication, or just become a nuisance to everyone around you. That’s why they tell you to drink responsibly. If some idiot decides to ignore that warning, how is that my problem? They can all die as far as I’m concerned.”

Clever landed on her shoulder. ‘Keke! You should learn to ’old yer tongue, Master. That kinda language won’t cut it when dealin’ with ’em customers. ’Umans even ’ave a saying: “The customer is king”!’

“King of what? Suckers?”

‘Uh . . .’

“You’re being dense on purpose, aren’t you?” said Rye.

“Uhm . . . Miss Stella?” said Marie. “Business is founded on trust and confidence. I think you should bear that in mind.”

Stella was speechless; she almost clapped. I wish she would tell that to all the fraudsters and scammers out there.

“T-That’s a scary smile . . .”

‘Shh! I’d not provoke Master if I was you, eh? She’s more touchy than she looks.’

Stella giggled and said, “You’re absolutely right, Marie. Trust and confidence, indeed. Then we’d best do everything we can for the sake of our lovely customers.”

“T-Thank you, Miss Stella.”

“But there’s another saying that goes like this: ‘We are responsible for our own actions.’ So if our customers insist, who are we to stop them?” She had her pretext now. This product was my idea. I want it to sell.

“A-As you say.”

“Hmm, I’m not so sure this is a good idea . . .” said Rye. “Though I get what you’re saying about alcohol. It makes people violent sometimes, even when they’re normally calm and collected.”

Stella didn’t listen to Rye’s misgivings. Far from changing her mind, she wanted to double, maybe triple, the potency of the product before she started to sell it. Let the fools succumb to addiction and throw all their money at me. Her main clientele would probably be the thugs of the West District. All these years they had taken everything they could from this store; now it was her turn to reclaim what was rightfully hers.

“You’re worrying too much. Like I said, I’m not drinking it, so it’s nothing to me. All the scum could die off the face of this town and I’d still sleep like a baby. Sorry, but their lives don’t interest me, which makes them less than worthless.”

‘Master! Yer tongue is actin’ up again!’

“Sorry. All the less-than-respectable citizens of this town could meet their demises and I would not be bothered in the slightest. Please don’t get me wrong.”

“. . . You just said the same thing, but more politely,” said Rye.

Ignoring her, Stella picked up one of the glasses and took a sip, sloshing the drink in her mouth without swallowing. The taste was adequate; the negative effects on the human body should be acceptable as well. Content, she went over to the kitchen and spit it out.

“Well, in any case, this is what we’re going to sell. The making process is entertaining, so we can make it in front of our customers—they’ll love it—and then they can enjoy their drinks. The ingredients are simply water, fruit, and my own energy.”

“So me and Marie, we just have to sell it, right?”

“Yes. I’ll make it as part of my magic training, and you’ll sell it to our customers. They can drink it here or take it to go, of course. It’s going to be a lot more profitable than trying to be an actual general store.” Tired, Stella stretched and checked the old wall clock. Noon. “Make us lunch, Marie. After eating I’ll take a half-hour nap.”

“Living the good life, huh?”

“They say you need sleep to grow, right? I’m still ten years old. By the time I’m twenty, I’ll have grown into a strong healthy woman. You’ll see.”

“C’mon, you’re just a child. You don’t need to have your whole life figured out. Maybe you should just take it easy, you know? It’d be more fun.”

“I’d rather die than ‘take it easy.’ ”

Stella sank back into her chair as Marie set the table, trying to preserve her energy. What she did barely counted as magic, yet she was still tired from it. Draining is all right, but I should avoid being too drastic with my transmutation. And also avoid stronger spells in general. Without proper conditioning, it could leave aftereffects. I don’t want to become a cripple.

Rye was drinking another glass. “Man, this is pretty good. I just wish it’d be healthy too.”

“You were trying to retch it out earlier, and now you’re drinking again?”

“I mean, if we don’t drink it we’ll have to throw it away, right? I’ve drunk some alcohol before. It wasn’t so bad. And if you say they’re the same . . .”

“As your master, I’m very sad to see that you have no self-control.”

“Oh, shut up! What do you care?”

Rye drained her glass and closed one eye as she savored the sensation. Meanwhile Beck, who actually had no self-control whatsoever, was on his fourth glass. Even Clever was drinking, sticking his beak into the liquid. Pathetic, all of them. “I want coffee. Marie, make me some. Hot and strong, please.”

“Ah, of course.”

‘Maybe ya should go easy on it, eh, Master? When you drink too much you get the ’eadaches later . . .’

“No. I can’t live without coffee. I’ll remind you that it’s thanks to me that this world even has it.”

‘The lengths you go for it, eh? It’s actually impressive, eh!’

“Well, I’m flattered.” Stella spared no effort for the sake of her goals. A few years before their reserves would run out, she had written letters with instructions on how to plant and make quality coffee and spread them all over the world, together with the seeds. “Do NOT tamper with the process,” she had added and underlined. It didn’t grow very popular, but it was still being produced to this day. She used to send Clever to snatch her some every now and then. Call it a lesson fee.

“Look at the pot calling the kettle black,” said Rye. “What was that about me having no self-control?”

“I’m your master. I can do whatever I want. Don’t question me.”

Marie brought the coffee she had asked for. Stella turned away from Rye and grumpily sipped at it. She brought milk and sugar as well. How thoughtful of her. Stella left them untouched. She liked her coffee black—though she broke that rule from time to time, whenever she felt like it. That had always been her style.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying it a lot,” said Rye.

“I’m just not used to it yet. Stop staring at me. That’s rude.”

‘Keke! She’s right, lil’ Rye! You’ll make for a poor stalker if ya get caught that easy, eh!’

“Looks like you haven’t had enough strangling, Clever. To make up for it, I’ll take my sweet time studying your brain. Come.” She patted her lap. Clever flew away, grunting like a pig.

Stella sat back. It’s been less than half a day, but I’m exhausted. She couldn’t wait for that nap.