I Hit the Back of the Tower Master’s Head - Chapter 4

Episode 4

Lily was still sulking from earlier, so I plopped her down on the bed. Ruse studied her closely, like she was just some soft, cute plush toy.

Then Lily started tapping his thigh with her little cloth hands, waving her arms for attention.

Ruse blinked, confused, watching her antics. Finally, when Lily kept pointing dramatically, he turned to me.

“…What is she trying to say?”

〈She’s bragging that she’s the one who saved you! So you better respect her!〉

At that, Lulu threw down her broom with a squawk.

〈What nonsense!〉

[She’s just glad you’re better.]

〈I never said that!〉 Lily flailed, hitting my knee, but of course, it only felt soft.

“…Thanks for worrying,” Ruse said politely, trying to be proper.

Lily crossed her arms and turned away.

〈That’s not what I said!〉

Then she lost interest and went back to picking a fight with Lulu.

〈Sweep properly!〉

〈Then you do it!〉

Tired of her nagging, Lulu huffed, shook her plump backside, and waddled off to the kitchen clutching her broom.

I just sighed. They’d be bickering again soon enough.

Later, Ruse leaned against the doorway.

“…I’d like to see the village.”

[Are you sure you can walk?]

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

He added quickly, almost defensively:

“The scenery outside the window looked nice.”

[Fine. But don’t push yourself.]

He nodded, but after only a few steps he stumbled and collapsed. Embarrassed, he bit his lip.

I had Pinocchio help him up. Ruse tried to shove him away like he didn’t need support, but Pinocchio glared at him.

〈Want me to just drop him?〉

No. His wounds will split open, I warned.

So I wrote:

[It’s better if Pinocchio helps you. Or you can sit outside and enjoy the view from a chair. Walking too much will just hurt you.]

Ruse glanced between us, then gave a small nod.

From behind, Lily muttered:

〈He doesn’t even know how to be grateful!〉

I patted her rump. He’s just scared—it’s all new to him.

Then I went back to my workshop and sketched a bear doll on soft brown fabric. Just a decorative one, no magic. My cabinet was already full of those.

Lily peeked over my shoulder.

〈Make me a helper doll.〉

No. This one’s just for display.

She kicked my pincushion and sulked. I ignored her.

Bang bang bang! Someone pounded on my door.

I opened it to find Annie, holding a brown cat doll. She was my age.

“Hey, can you add new abilities to an existing doll? Like… make my kitty fish?”

I shook my head. She waited while I scribbled:

[That doll was designed to catch mice. If you want it to fish, you’ll need a brand-new one.]

“So I can’t just… add something?”

I shook my head again. Annie pouted, stroking the doll’s tail.

“…Then can you make me a fishing doll? I’ll pay you in mushrooms.”

[And your dad? Why are you asking instead of him?]

“He slipped and hurt his back yesterday. The doctor says he needs bedrest.

But I don’t even know how to fish myself.”

[Making it is easy. Just give me some time.]

“Okay! I’ll bring mushrooms. How many baskets?”

[Two.]

“Deal. Oh, and could you fix this? Some stuffing’s coming out.”

[Of course.]

She handed me the cat—Nyangnyang—and left cheerfully, basket in hand.

I jotted her request down. A fishing doll, huh? Birds don’t mind water… maybe I’ll make an eagle doll that snatches fish from rivers.

That evening, Ruse staggered home drenched in sweat. Pinocchio groaned that looking after him all day had been exhausting.

Good job, I told him.

Then I checked Ruse—he was pale and trembling.

[You should wash up.]

“…Where’s the bathroom?”

I sent Pinocchio to guide him and left a clean set of clothes by the door.

In the kitchen, Lily was stirring soup with a ladle while bread baked in the oven.

〈Stay out, it’s dangerous here!〉 she scolded me.

(As if I ever “play around” in the kitchen.)

I wrote another note and passed it to Pinocchio:

[Tell him to come out in just his pants. I need to treat his wounds.]

Soon, Ruse appeared, covering his face and hair with a towel, clearly embarrassed. But his wounds had opened again.

[What were you doing—climbing mountains?]

“…I only looked around the area,” he muttered.

〈He’s stubborn, that’s all,〉 Pinocchio grumbled.

I quickly got out medicine. His body flinched under my touch, but I worked fast—cleaning, applying salve, and re-wrapping the bandages. Pinocchio held him still from behind.

“Ugh!” Ruse groaned.

When I finished, he rushed to put his shirt back on.

[So, what do you think of the village?]

He took a deep breath.

“…Quiet. Peaceful. A nice place.”

[Thanks.]

Conversation stalled. He fidgeted with his hands, and I remembered he’d felt awkward eating together before.

[Will it bother you if we share dinner? Lily’s cooking tonight. If you’d rather, I can eat elsewhere.]

“No, no, not at all.” He shook his head quickly.

“It’s just… last time I felt awkward because you weren’t eating, only watching me.”

I nodded.

Soon, dinner was ready. Pinocchio helped Ruse into a chair, while Lily served bread and soup.

“…So she really is a cooking doll,” Ruse murmured.

Lily froze, staring at him with her button eyes. He twitched nervously under her gaze. Then she turned away sharply and handed out the food.

I noticed she purposely gave Ruse the misshapen loaf. She was pouting.

But Ruse didn’t care; he ate happily. Lily just looked conflicted, not sure whether to stay mad or not. I hid a smile and dipped my bread in the soup.

Later, Ruse pointed at Annie’s cat doll, Nyangnyang, lounging in its basket.

“…That’s a new one, isn’t it?”

[It belongs to a friend. She asked me to give it a new function, but that’s not possible, so I’ll make a new doll. This one just needs a little repair.]

“…It’s cute,” Ruse said softly.

I scribbled quickly:

[Do you like cats?]

He blinked, staring at the words. His brows furrowed, and he rubbed his forehead like it hurt. After a long pause, he nodded faintly.

“…I think… yes. I think I do.”

Impulsively, I wrote:

[Want me to make you one?]

“No. That’s fine.”

[I mean it—I’ll do it when I have time. Rare opportunity, you know.]

“I said no!”

I froze. He clutched his head, pale and trembling, sweat beading his skin.

Didn’t he just say he liked cats? What memory was buried there?

I reached for him, but he flinched from my hand.

I lowered it and quickly wrote:

[It’s okay. I won’t make one. Calm down.]

I held the words in front of his eyes until he read them. Slowly, he breathed easier.

“…Sorry.”

I quietly tucked Nyangnyang out of sight. He didn’t comment.

“…I’ll go rest,” he said at last.

[Good night.]

“You too.”

He staggered off to my mother’s room. I signaled Pinocchio to help him, but Ruse waved him away stubbornly, walking on his own.

Pinocchio muttered as he slunk to a corner:

〈I’ve done enough.〉