I Decided to Not Compete and Quietly Create Dolls Instead

The red-haired young man has repeated his shallow and intense breath over and over again. It's not strange whenever the light of life goes out. Blood continues to overflow from the right chest...

(Cajello, come right away. I need your help.)

...... hmm?

That's crazy.

It's like when you skip an e-mail to the wrong address, it's not a hunch and cheap.

(Something wrong, Cajero?

No reply. On the contrary, it didn't even seem to arrive.

The last time I sent a reading was a few minutes ago, as I always do then.

Did something happen in the last few moments - think later.

It's a shame even for a second. Let's move anyway.

"Anyone can use healing magic!?

I take off my neck pendant as I raise my voice.

Inject your magic into it and call on the Water Spirit.

(I'll leave the method to you. Help this man!

The pendant jumped forcefully in my hand. It looked like he was snorting at me to let it go.

- The brown-haired wizard came running over, almost simultaneously.

"Clay! Hold on, Clay!

I also recognized him on his face. That's the man I was talking to earlier with the redhead.

Where did you do that light-hearted vibe, grabbing the redhead's shoulder and screaming without having to mess with his hair on the left or right side.

"Hey, say something! Hey!"

I don't think he's an adventurer. It was a mess.

No, a natural reaction if a close friend is on the verge of dying.

But...

"Please calm down. If you can't shake it, it'll open the wound."

I want you to stop doing things that are counterproductive.

Do you want to kill this man?

It must be because I was in a hurry and frustrated. I was staring at him.

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry..."

Did you return it to me? The brown hair releases its hands from the forehead and the redhead.

"Uh, that" was a frightened voice. Do I look so strange now? "I'm a former cleric, and I can use healing magic."

"Okay. Let me have it for a while longer. Because you'll get your medicine."

Arrangements have been made.

In my room at the Louis Mansion, I had bought the usual secret medicine in case it ever happened, and I had already ordered the animals to bring it.

Eventually.

An ununited legion of cats, ducks and hens arrives at me with smoke. Brown hair flaunted herself "hiccup," probably because she remembered an earlier incident.

All right.

I got all the bills.

Cajero doesn't come after all.

I'm worried, but let's take action first.

Concentrate on what's in front of you.

The bleeding was suppressed for the first time by the magic of water spirits and brown hair.

But there's nothing I can do about not blocking the wound.

The first thing I used was "the communion of Graniu".

Granius is a place name in southern Margaroid, and the alchemist who lives here has found a way to make it. Apparently a by-product of homunculus research. It's a mesh sheet, but it swells and replaces meat when you take a look at the blood. The price per sheet is pretty good, and it's just an amount of money for a Margaroid civilian to play and live for a month.

The next thing I reached out to was "Lingal wine," this red-purple liquid that turns into blood in a person's body. Needless to say, it's quite a luxury item, but what happened to it? Better than the treasure rot.

Other than that, I'm going to follow all sorts of alchemy spiritual drugs from one end to the other.

"Wow, you, wow..."

Brown hair leaks a voice like that, but in fact, it's not like I'm doing anything in particular. It is only medicine that is healing the wound.

Besides, the situation still doesn't allow predictions.

The pulse is so thin that it's likely to disappear soon, and breathing isn't stable at all.

Your body is almost healing back to normal, how come?

(That's because the soul is about to peel from the flesh, yeah. Clever, I know.)

What echoed in my head was a voice filled with excessive confidence.

Talk.

I wonder who.

Not like Cajero or Valf, let alone Cactus.

...... oh. There's another spirit here, isn't there?

I just let him live in a passing sword.

Artie, listen to me.

The Spirit was somewhat tame, even though we hadn't greeted each other or done anything yet.

(It's the same procedure as when you unload me and the other spirits.

Beat this red-haired bastard's soul to his body.

Just do it. Uh, it'll be too late. in a hurry)

I exercise my power so that I may be spared.

Inhale and close the lid. Open your eyes as you throw up.

Switch the switch in your head and be me when you use puppet magic.

I don't care about the hustle and bustle around me or the heat of midsummer.

The fifth sense disappears and the sixth sense is sharpened.

Signs of spirits drifting through the atmosphere came through.

Only one of them is heterogeneous.

Would it be "noisy, youthful and raw" if I dared to put it into words?

It was trying to get away from the redhead's body gasping for pain and fear.

(Go back)

Order. Unlike the Spirit, the hearing was not good.

(Back)

Strong will, again.

It was then.

I felt an invisible and transparent hand stretched out of my body.

I don't know, this is...

(All right, good job, Artie. You can shove a redhead's soul into your body with your "hands")

(Thanks, I'll try)

As advised by the sword, grab your soul with your "hands". All you have to do is keep putting it back on your body.

Apparently I've been in front and back unconsciousness for a while because of what I did for the first time.

Returning to me, a lot of cheers had been cast.

redhead waking herself up and looking around confused.

Brown hair that cries and rejoices.

The people who were watching them with their spit are now applauded and somewhat busy. The animals are also running around having fun. It's like a fairy country festival.

Is this a paragraph?

Valf is twisting and melting the ice that puts out his flaming sword and wraps himself up. It will soon be free to move.

Yes, what shall we do with the Passenger? Perhaps if the Margaroid royal family truly acquiesces in my murder, they shouldn't be extradited. I wish Cajello was here at a time like this.

(Artie, if you remember this guy, you've read it all.

That's me, you're fast at it, yeah)

The sword speaks to me. I need to give him a name as soon as possible.

(Weistar, abbreviate me Weiss with love)

Few spirits name themselves, but not none. Even Valf does, and there are a few others.

(I'll take care of him wisely. I won't let you lose it.)

(Okay. Please)

(... you trust me a lot easier. Not long after we got to know each other)

(You taught me how to save the redhead.

And when I summoned you, there was some terrible air, but I didn't feel bad)

(Hmm. I see, is that the name Cajero now, or he's going to melt)

(You know about Cajero?

(Of course, that was a thousand years ago or 10,000 years ago -)

It was the arrowhead Weiss started talking about.

(Would you not feel free to dig back into a person's past, Lord Weister)

A black shadow descending right in front of me. Fold into a soft hat. In the right suit.

It was Cajero.

(I apologize for the delay, ma'am. … with a little something unforeseen happening)

The voice had some mixed colour of fatigue. Rare. My usual spare time is about to collapse.

(Someone tried to summon me as a spirit.

They took the time to shake off the surgical ceremony. It's not obvious)

(Then I have no choice. Is it possible to detect the other person's reverse?

(I was wondering if it would be difficult for the opponent to work with the inside hand.

But there are signs that a second or third summons will be executed.

Be sure to find out when you do)

(Okay.... trying to pull Cajero apart at the same time as the raid on me. I can't believe you showed it to me)

(It will likely be. Well, how do you treat that bad guy -)

Cajero turned his attention to a passageway being manipulated by Weiss.

(What does Lord Weistar intend to do?

(The information he holds is mostly mine.

There's nothing left but politics.

Even though he's eating deportation, he's wearing royal blood. You're gonna play a part there, aren't you?

(Apparently, what you're thinking is the same. Okay, so)

(Oh, just like always, yeah.

... I couldn't have guessed I'd be working with Omae again, even if I was smart)

At some point, the conversation was going on without me.

I felt a little alienated, sandwiched in an atmosphere that I could see flowing between the two of us.

Is that so?

A thousand years ago or 10,000 years ago, what the hell?

Even if it's not unnatural to live a long time because you're a spirit...... hey, I'm curious.