I Hit the Back of the Tower Master’s Head - Chapter 2

Episode 2

Pinocchio kept glancing at the unconscious man while I sighed, as if he could feel my worry. Still, he looked oddly proud of himself.

〈That guy threatened you.〉

He said stubbornly, gripping his beloved frying pan so tightly it trembled.

I reached out and patted him. His mood lightened a little.

Well… he did threaten me first. Of course, I never told Pinocchio it was okay to bash people in the head, but… since I wasn’t hurt, maybe it was fine.

I told him to lay the man down properly and sat on a chair nearby, just in case he woke up.

After all, my doll had clobbered him. And the village doctor wouldn’t come this late at night anyway. Ugh, maybe I should’ve made a doll specialized in first aid.

To kill time, I had Pinocchio bring me fabric and needles so I could at least practice magic stitching.

Then—

“Ughhh…”

The man groaned, a sound dragged from deep inside his throat.

I dropped everything and hurried over. Pinocchio immediately raised his pan again, ready for round two.

No, don’t!

I waved my hands. Pinocchio shook the pan in protest, but I shook my head harder. If that poor guy’s skull got hit twice in one night, then he’d really die.

While I calmed Pinocchio down, the man stirred, blinking his eyes open weakly. His once-fierce blue eyes looked dull and unfocused.

He clutched his head with a pale hand, grimacing.

“…Kh…”

The pain on his face made me wince just looking at him. After a while, he slowly sat up, holding his side. Then, spotting me, he whispered in a hoarse voice:

“…Where… am I?”

“…”

“…Hey.”

He squinted at me, wary. I pushed Pinocchio aside and quickly scribbled in my notebook:

[You collapsed in the forest, so I brought you here.]

“Ah…”

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he lowered his hand and glanced around.

“…My apologies.”

[It’s fine.]

“I just… uh—”

[Go ahead.]

“Do you… know why I was collapsed out there?”

Honestly, I wanted to know that too. Why was he bleeding out in the middle of the woods?

Maybe sensing my expression, he waved a hand weakly.

“A-ah, forget it. Thank you for saving me.”

Was someone chasing him? Ugh, I really don’t want to get dragged into weird stuff. But since my doll whacked him, I couldn’t exactly kick him out either.

I was scribbling a question about his situation when he asked quietly:

“…Could you tell me your name? I’d like to repay you.”

[Lunar.]

“I see…”

[And you?]

He froze. Sweat broke out on his forehead. My stomach sank—something wasn’t right.

After a moment of holding his head and groaning, he asked:

“…What’s our relationship?”

“….”

“…Do you know my name?”

…Nope. Crap. Did we hit him too hard?

I quickly jotted down what had happened so far. As his eyes scanned my notes, he suddenly asked:

“…Why are you writing instead of speaking?”

[I can’t speak.]

His face turned pale.

“…I’m sorry.”

[It’s fine. Anyway, read this.]

I conveniently left out the part where Pinocchio bashed him with a frying pan. My conscience pricked me, but… I’ll make it up somehow.

After reading, he nodded calmly.

“Thank you again. Even if I don’t remember anything… I truly want to repay you.”

Oof. My conscience stabbed harder.

Suddenly, he groaned again—his wound reopened, blood seeping through the bandages.

I told Pinocchio to hold him steady while I cleaned and redressed the injury.

His eyes widened. “…That doll… moved?”

[I’m a doll magician. Don’t worry. Since you’re a mage yourself, it shouldn’t be that strange.]

“…I’m… a magician?”

Great. Just great.

“…You look pale,” he muttered, still watching me like I was suspicious.

So he doesn’t even remember being a mage. Did he forget everything?

I quickly scribbled again:

[You used ice magic before collapsing. So yes, you’re probably an ice mage. Don’t you remember anything? Family? Hometown?]

“…Sorry. It’s all… like fog.”

I sighed. Well, since my doll caused this, I couldn’t just ditch him.

[If you don’t mind, you can stay here until your memory comes back.]

“…Is it okay to trust someone I just met?”

He looked confused, skeptical. I shooed Pinocchio away, making him sulk outside the room.

[I just want to take responsibility. Besides, you can’t even walk far right now. Where else would you go?]

He hesitated, then nodded. Slowly, he held out his hand.

I shook it firmly. Okay. Until he recovers, he’ll stay here. No payment needed—call it even for the frying pan incident.

[But… what should I call you?]

“…Don’t I have anything on me? Like proof of identity?”

I checked his clothes. His navy cape and silver-embroidered uniform were fancy enough, but shredded and bloodstained. His pockets only had a few mana stones and some trinkets. Nothing with a crest or family name.

I looked at his face again. Golden hair, blue eyes… Honestly, too common among nobles. Nothing that narrowed it down.

[Then pick a temporary name for yourself.]

“Me? I wouldn’t know what to choose.”

[Well, it’s your name.]

“…You choose. You’re the only one who’ll call me anyway.”

I frowned. Naming dolls was one thing, but a person? Then my eyes landed on his hands—the same hands that had conjured sharp shards of ice.

An ice mage, huh.

[How about… Ruse?]

“Ruse?”

It reminded me of the great Evan Ruscanell, the most famous ice mage in the empire. Pretty fitting. Not bad for something I came up with on the spot.

He muttered the name to himself a few times, then nodded.

“Alright. I’ll try to recover my memories soon. When I do, you’ll be the first I tell.”

[Good. For now, lie down and rest.]

“…Huh?”

[You’re still injured. Get some sleep.]

Beads of sweat already dotted his forehead. He sighed and lay back down, finally drifting off with an almost angelic face.

I left the room and sternly lectured Pinocchio about never doing that again.

Magicians are generally divided into three types: elemental, special, and dark.

Dark magicians are the most dangerous—they’re basically criminals. The most infamous one was the same sorcerer who nearly destroyed our empire centuries ago. Yeah, the one who cursed my family.

Elemental magic covers fire, water, earth, wind, ice, and lightning. Most magicians fall into this group.

Special magic includes rare things like healing, dolls, dreams, time, and space. My own doll magic is surprisingly popular—people love cute dolls, and they’re useful too. Just look at my bunch: Lily cooks, Pinocchio chops firewood, and Lulu cleans.

By then, Lily had dried out from hanging by the window, so I took her down. She immediately slapped my leg with her plush hands.

〈How could you hang me up like laundry?!〉

Then she pointed at Pinocchio sulking in the corner.

〈What’s his problem?〉

He’s being punished, I whispered.

Still, Lily was the one who found Ruse, so she ought to meet him. Plus, it was dinner time.

I carried her into my mother’s room, where Ruse lay groaning faintly in his sleep.

Carefully, I set Lily on the bed. This is the human you saved. Go on, check.

She stared at him for a moment… then kicked his face with her little plush feet.

〈Hey, human. Wake up.〉

Seriously?! I snatched her away. Still, Ruse stirred, blinking awake.

“…What…?”

I quickly scribbled in my notebook:

[Time for dinner.]

He blinked a few times like he was still half-dreaming, then rubbed his eyes and read.

“…Ah… how long was I asleep? A long time?”

[You’re supposed to rest. It’s just dinner time now.]

He sat up with a groan, wincing as he grabbed his side. Then he noticed Lily dangling in my hands.

“…Is that also one of your dolls?”

[Her name’s Lily. She’s the one who found you.]

Lily puffed up proudly, raising her tiny arm. Ruse absentmindedly poked her cheek. She bopped his finger in return with a soft “thwack.”

He stared at his finger a moment, then—just barely—smiled. So faint I almost thought I imagined it.

I set Lily on the table and helped him sit upright. He grimaced, clutching his side.

I brought in the potato soup Lily had cooked earlier, reheated. Watching closely, I waited as he tasted the first spoonful.

Lily folded her arms smugly.

〈Of course it tastes good. I made it.〉

“…It’s good.”

I nodded, pulling up a chair to sit by him.

“…Aren’t you eating too?” he asked.

[I’ll eat after. I want to watch in case you feel unwell.]

“I’m fine. Go eat.”

He stirred the soup lightly.

“…It’s just… uncomfortable having you stare at me while I eat.”

That caught me off guard. Lily bristled immediately.

〈What?! Lunar’s keeping you company and you complain?〉

I hugged her tightly before she caused trouble. Well, maybe he would feel awkward—losing his memory, then being stared at constantly.

[If you feel sick, call me right away.]

“…Thanks.”

His tone was flat, but I caught the faintest warmth in it.

I left him to eat, grabbed myself a bowl, and snuck a glance back as I passed.

He was scraping the bowl clean.

Guess the soup suited him. Good.