I Reincarnated as a Losing Heroine, the Hero's Childhood Friend Who Lost to the Main Heroine, s

Emme's Village Homecoming Day 5. Half of the vacations I was allowed to take rapidly, if I noticed, were about to pass.

I've been coming to your master this morning. The day after I returned home, I gave my master the powder that had shredded the demonic horn, but because I was wondering if there would have been any progress.

"Good morning, Master"

"Oh, Laura. Good morning. Get up early."

The face of the master who welcomed me was engraved with a thin but neighborhood. Have you stayed up late?

I speak to my master, suppressing the feeling that I might be able to expect this.

"Um... this is the horn of the demon I gave you the other day, but what do you think from your master"

I couldn't think of a good query word and it became an abstract question for a long time. But the master seems to have drawn my intentions firmly, shaking his neck loosely to the left and right.

"I can't say anything. I tried to formulate it lightly too..."

He came at me with a notebook clouding his verbal butt. That's what I was writing down the formula. Once opened, several new methods of formulation were described there.

"Efficacy growth is mainly effective, but it is a habitual material for choosing compatible herbs. It works great with herbs that only have simple healing properties, but it doesn't seem to work well with healing abnormalities such as paralysis healing and poisoning."

I nod at your master's words as I follow the letter of the note with my eyes. I see. Surely she's right, when mixed with herbs that have only a simple restorative effect, they show the most potency growth work.

I raised my gaze from my notebook and glanced up at my master. Then you figured out what I wanted to hear without a word, and your master seeps a bitter smile in its face.

"We still don't know if this horn is going to be a special effect of autologous disease."

Soon my strength fell out of my tense body.

The feeling of fatigue once you know what you expect isn't. It hasn't been decided yet, but there is still quite a bit of disappointment when the guesswork comes off, for what I expected.

What more can you expect from a spirit's drinking water? I'd like to have a few more pawns to spare my body and mind.

Unexpectedly, my gaze goes to the back door. Ahead, there's your master's study, which I've never really set foot in. A number of bookcases covering the walls are arranged narrowly, and in addition, there is a lot of literature packed in the cucumber.

No matter how small. If you have something to hint at. I thought so, and I spoke to my master.

"Master, can I see your study?"

"Oh, whatever you want"

Hear the reply thoroughly, then open the door leading to the study. Truth be told, the number of times I entered your master's study is enough with one hand.

The literature I read was always chosen by my master to be appropriate, and I've never been shaken by chores such as, look for this literature. I can't get my hands off it because I'm working at best. Bring me the literature I have on my desk, about when you asked me to come in.

Follow each and every back cover of the books arranged. It should be obvious, it's just books about medicinal herbs. From time to time, there was a line of literature about demons.

At that moment I came up with a distracting thought as to whether I should go through every single one of them inside as well as the back cover.

"Whew!"

Dothad. Dothad.

Right next to me, the book started an avalanche and fell. There is dust everywhere. I pinch my nose and wave loudly in front of my face, looking around to see where they had fallen from. Then on a nearby bookcase, a pocky, empty space caught my eye.

"Uh... I did it"

Crush looking at the space you found. I don't mean to shock the bookcase in particular, but was it cluttered the way it stacked?

"Rawler, what's going on?

"The book fell down from above, sorry! I'll fix it!

I would have heard the sound of the book falling, the voice of my somewhat uplifted master flew in. If I also respond louder than usual to that, it will be quieter if I am convinced.

Ha, and I sighed loud once, and then I went to clean up.

It was just stacked on top of the bookcase and is dusty enough compared to other literature. It was also allowed to leave the dust intact for once more than it had taken in his hand, and it was gently applied with his hands before piling up.

To see the cover, I presume that these books were collected by your master in his hobby. Because they weren't literature about medicinal herbs, they seemed like novels I'd say in my previous life.

I didn't open the book because I felt backward as I peeked into my private life, but from the title to the observation, there seemed to be a wide range of content novels, from adventure tans to love stories. - And in the fallen book, I found the crate mixed up.

It is falling on the floor upside down with the lid open. As I approached him in a crouched position, I noticed that the key attached to that crate was broken. Probably broken by a fallen impact.

Return the crate to the reversed state. At that time, a book fell to the floor from inside the crate.

(Mm, notebook......?

Size notebook or notebook? Nothing on the cover.

It was in a crate with a key. I figured it would be my master's personal belongings that I didn't really want others to see, and I tried to put it back in the crate - at that moment.

"Ah..."

Shiru, and a piece of paper slipped off the floor from between the pages. Pick it up in a daze. It's blank.

I realized why the blank paper flipped over to observe the paper - it was a single picture, not a blank paper.

Probably a family portrait. It was a woman with a baby that was depicted in the middle. Is he about 40 years old? Wrinkles in the narrowed red eyes. Hair color is different, but she is, no way.

(Master...?

He looked like my master Berta.

Stand up with a crate, a notebook, and a portrait. Put them on a desk nearby and I sat down in a chair.

Next to a woman very similar to your master, an elderly woman. She is smiling with big gold eyes. She had a small 4-5 year old.

Comparing the two women sitting side by side, the colour of the eyes is the one that makes the difference but the face is very similar. Maybe a parent or a child. For example, is the baby and child held by the two women a woman's child very similar to your master's?

Shift your gaze to the side and feel uncomfortable. Maybe this isn't a family portrait. Because the man standing beside me had pointy ears - he was an elf.

Perhaps an elderly woman and an elf man married an interracial man. The rarity of interracial marriages between elves and humans, though, meant above all that the babies held by women had no pointy ears. If I may add further, one girl stands in front of a man with a hazy look on her face. She has pointy ears again, too, and I think these two are flesh parents.

Elf's parents and children (tentatively) inherited the color of their eyes and hair beautifully, although it was their faces that were different. Red eyes, light green hair...

Unexpectedly, the face I know overlaps the face of the girl in the portrait.

(Mr. Merzedes......?

Yes, the girl in question looked a lot like Mr. Merzedes.

Assuming this woman in the middle is your master. From the outside, is this portrait a couple of decades old? Mr. Merzedes is still beautiful and youthful, but it can also be enough that he is already past 40 more than a long-lived elf. Mr. Merzedes is your master's apprentice. Nothing is strange about the fact that quite a few young masters and a girl, Mr. Merzedes, were both painted in portraits.

It's a mystery why I was caught in an old notebook, but I wondered if this portrait was what they looked like before I was born, which I don't know.

(The woman in the middle is your master, and next to that right is your master's daughter. The baby and child you two are holding, your master's grandson. The man standing next to your master's left is Mr. Merzedes' father, and the girl before him, when he was a little girl, Mr. Merzedes.)

I just didn't think so anymore.

Maybe it's an important painting. That's when I took a step to show it to your master as well. The question arose as to what was the note that this painting was caught in the first place.

My conscience blames me for an instant when my fingertips open my notebook and I steal someone else's personal belongings at will. I still thought I couldn't do it, so I tried to put it back in the crate - though. My fingertips were trembling, and then my notebook fell zero off my palm.

It twirled in the air and fell to the ground with one page open.

Crouch in to pick it up. And - the letters written on the open page, they caught my eye.

Day 1009. Finally, who burned the fingertips of...

The scratch on your throat - and the scratch on your throat - is terrible.

The other day, we saw the effects of the special effects.

Tomorrow, Ba-S found me, demon - I'm going to go.

Self-destruction - is my dear grandson - also breaks the routine.

It looked like a very old notebook, and the letters were faint by the way, and I couldn't read it as I thought. But from the words of interruption, my brain reached one possibility.

Maybe it says in this notebook - that it's a history of a patient with autopsy.

Close the page reflexively. The heart was making noises with Bakubaku.

Second, I glanced at the portrait that remained in my right hand grip. The woman smiling in the middle still looks a lot like her master. And the child she held in her chest, her gaze sucked in.

(Grandson, it said, right? No way...... but this portrait and notebook don't necessarily belong to your master, but if it was his personal belongings, your master would have your grandson with autopsy...?

I can't think together. Rather, I can't think of anything too confusing.

A woman very similar to your master was painted, a portrait. Perhaps a note with a history record of a patient with autologous disease. Why was the portrait sandwiched in the notebook? I don't know why these two were put in this study, trying to get chased around the corner.

"Laura?"

From the entrance, suddenly the name is called.

I hid the portrait and notebook in my hands behind my back and looked back.

"Oh, Master, what's wrong?

"I told you I knocked down the book earlier. I thought I'd help you."

Let the master, who has taken a step here, stretch his body. I wonder why, even though there is no certainty whatsoever, my instincts told me that neither the portrait nor the notebook I found earlier should be shown to my master.

I stick a smile on my face. And he raised his voice and stopped his master's leg.

"Uh, okay! With all the heavy books, your master will do his hips! Because I'll do it all!

Hey, and laughing, your master turned his heel back from the spot as he stared at me with a strange look, obviously different. Even with her, she wants to be spared the hard work.

After the study door closes tightly, breathe heavily. I stared again at the portraits and notebooks I had hidden behind my back - now I thought about what to do.

Do you decide not to see it and return it to its original location? Tell your master, will you allow me to take it out? - Without telling you anything, do you sneak it out?

The best thing would be to ask your master well and ask him to allow you to take it out. But why, I had a similar feeling about the portrait, the notes, and the certainty that your master didn't want me to know.

These were in locked crates. You may be able to look me in the eye if you have no choice but to say that it was broken in an accidental accident, but then my actions, driven by curiosity, imitated a peek into your master's past - or the past of someone who is not your master. It wasn't weird to be blamed if they found out.

"Master, can I borrow this..."

Like practicing, I'll try to pronounce the blur and the words you ask. Because I liked it, I couldn't think of a master's face that emitted. On the contrary, the appearance of your master, who will change his blood phase and take these away from me, has surfaced.

In the meantime, I put that in my own pocket of clothes. I was trying to predict the time to ask.

When I finished cleaning up my study. When I had a relaxing cup of tea with my master. When we follow this mountain hut. The timing should have been as much - in the end I couldn't say anything to my master and brought the portrait and notebook straight home.