Chapter 79.2

“You’re not even a full witch, so why do you smoke that so much?”

I looked at her with mild curiosity.

Unlike Earth, tobacco in this world was not harmful due to the cheat-like properties of mana.

In fact, it was highly beneficial for those who dealt with mana, particularly mages.

“Well, because it boosts my mana?”

Still, seeing an employee puffing away on mana tobacco right in front of me felt somewhat odd.

“But why don’t you smoke, Boss?”

Mary, oblivious to my feelings, found it strange that I refrained from smoking mana tobacco.

“Would you like to try mine?”

With a faint blush, she offered me the pipe she’d been using.

“I don’t need it.”

I politely declined her offer.

“Don’t need it? Why not?”

Mary asked, her tone tinged with disappointment.

“I only need 2-circle mana. I’m not aiming to excel in magic, after all.”

Although I gave such excuses, I had unpleasant memories of cigarettes from Earth.

My father had been a heavy smoker and passed away from throat cancer because of it.

On top of that, my mother suffered from lung cancer due to secondhand smoke, struggling with it until the end of her life.

‘That’s why I avoided cigarettes altogether on Earth. Even during hiring, if the applicant was a smoker, I deducted 20% of their score right from the start.’

Because of this trauma, I couldn’t bring myself to like mana-infused tobacco, no matter how beneficial it was for the body.

“Hmm…”

Perhaps realizing that I was displeased, Mary quietly extinguished her mana tobacco.

“What’s the matter?”

“Huh?”

But if I stayed silent here, I’d end up being branded an old-fashioned boss.

“Don’t mind me. Go ahead and smoke. What could be more important for a mage than their mana?”

Though my words were just for show, I gave Mary the impression that it was fine.

“R-Really? Then…”

Click!

With a bright smile, Mary immediately lit her tobacco again.

Fwooo—

The refreshing scent of mana tobacco carried by the breeze brushed against my forehead.

“…Let’s just get back to work.”

Giving up, I decided to focus on the task at hand.

“Yes.”

Mary, too, resumed her work, pipe clenched in her mouth.

Right now, Mary and I were seated at the factory production line, assisting with the packaging process.

Of course, the two of us working here didn’t contribute much.

It was a relief that we weren’t getting in the way.

‘It’s all for symbolism. Just symbolism.’

This was, at its core, a performance—a display of noblesse oblige in times of national crisis.

A noble count and company president personally working on the production line?

It ensured that no employee in the Arad Industrial Complex would dare slack off.

“Boss, the sketches are all done.”

At that moment, one of the artists approached cautiously and reported to me.

“Is that so?”

After finishing the package I was working on, I stood up.

Across from me, Mary was still engrossed in packaging, puffing smoke as she worked.

“Alright then, let’s head to Factory 8.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep up the good work, Mary.”

“Understood~. Please send my regards to Chief Teo.”

As I mentioned before, this was all for show.

‘Come to think of it, despite having countless portraits drawn, I’ve never had a personal one or a formal depiction done.’

Soon, our artist would complete paintings to be displayed throughout the industrial complex—depictions of me, Arad Jin, laboring side by side with the workers from the lowest position.

“Oh! Earlier, a letter came via the Winter Hawk.”

As I was about to move to the next “scene,” Mary called out to me.

“A letter? From whom?”

“It says Sir Balzac and the high-ranking knights will be returning to the High Tower within two days.”

“Have they caught the Bell Witch?”

“I don’t think so. It seems they’re coming to have the magical tools you made for them serviced.”

“I see. Alright then. Finish up the remaining packages and return to the office afterward.”

“Yes, sir.”

Though the North was facing a life-or-death crisis, the High Tower and the Arad Industrial Complex were peacefully busy as always.

***

The Arad Medi-Kit was divided into two major types.

One was the “Her Highness the Grand Duke’s Care Kit,” designed for household use.

It contained items like this world’s equivalent of red antiseptic, powdered cold medicine, ointments, soap, bandages, pain-relief herbs with anti-inflammatory effects, hemostatic powder, and digestive aids.

It also included an illustrated manual printed with a hastily built press by Arad.

The other was a professional-grade kit named “Renslet’s Blessing.”

This added liquid disinfectants, immunosuppressants, and penicillin-based antibiotics paired with syringes to the contents of the household kit.

Both kits were products of Arad’s MAX-level skills in alchemy, healing, and herbalism.

Designed for mass production using the resources and infrastructure of the current era, they were a pinnacle of life-saving innovation.

“Alright~, just a little sting!”

Dorothy, a priestess of the Renslet Order, said as she injected a patient’s arm.

Beside her were at least 30 boxes of the professional-grade kits, “Renslet’s Blessing,” scattered around.

Next to those were separate supplies, including immunosuppressants, cold medicine, antibiotics, and boxes of syringes stacked like a wall.

“Ughhh!”

“It’ll only sting for a moment, so hang in there.”

She repeated the same words countless times, mechanically administering the injections with practiced precision.

To exaggerate, she could probably do it with her eyes closed.

Gone was Dorothy who used to tremble as she left patients’ arms covered in bruises.

“All done!”

Rising after finishing the injection, Dorothy stretched her weary body.

Crack, crack!

Her joints and muscles groaned in protest after hours of treating and caring for patients non-stop, despite her young age.

Dusting off her Renslet Order priestess robes—chosen to give a sense of propriety—she loosened up her body.

Cough, cough, cough!

As she moved, intermittent coughing echoed through the ward.

‘The symptoms are subsiding quickly.’

Hearing only occasional coughs, Dorothy felt relieved.

Compared to a few days ago, the ward was now significantly quieter.

“What… what will happen to me now, Priestess?”

Just then, the patient she had just treated asked with teary eyes.

“Eat well, rest plenty, bathe regularly, wash your clothes and bedding in hot water, and most importantly, wash your hands thoroughly each time.”

Dorothy replied mechanically, repeating instructions she had given hundreds, if not thousands, of times before, though her face bore a gentle smile.

“Ahhh… Thank you. Thank you so much.”

The patient reacted as if he had been saved from the brink of despair.

“Renslet… Rune Renslet… Kids… Daddy’s coming back alive. I’ll…”

Muttering thanks repeatedly, the patient’s words trailed off as he succumbed to sleep, likely due to the medication.

‘This is what holy power is.’

With that patient, Dorothy’s current batch of treatments was complete.

Though utterly exhausted, she considered herself fortunate.

She was working in a middle-class neighborhood considered relatively well-off in the city.

Other brothers and sisters of the Renslet Order were reportedly treating patients in slums or the wilderness under the protection of soldiers.

After about five minutes of rest,

“Priestess Dorothy! We’ve got another patient! Found collapsed in an alley, so the discovery was delayed.”

Soldiers brought in another patient.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Quickly! Lay them here!”

Dorothy bade farewell to her brief rest.

‘Rune Renslet, please let me save this poor soul as well…’

Offering a heartfelt prayer, she opened the medical kit and examined the patient.

Hummmm—

Faint but steady holy power began to radiate from Dorothy’s body.

This phenomenon was mirrored among other priests of the Renslet Order.

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