Scribble and Scribble

*scribble**scribble**scribble*

"The Stripper King Dorian Narcissa said… The Stripper King Dorian Narcissa said… Are you here yet?"

Noah nodded.

"Ahem… 'Now, allow us to show you the true extent of our beauty'... The end."

*scribble**scribble**scribble*

It was the middle of the day, and Noah was sitting on his student's chair, writing down the story his instructor recited to him. It had been three weeks since she started teaching him how to read and write, and so far, he had done pretty well.

Everything became much easier when he realized that this world's writing system was quite similar to the one he knew in his old world. The letters were merely drawn differently but were essentially the same. The same thing applied to most of the words, even though some exceptions did exist.

It was quite strange, actually. Why would the writing systems in two different worlds be so similar when this was often not the case even between relatively close countries in his world?

There was no answer to his question.

That being said, he was quite happy when he learned it. This allowed him to learn rather quickly, so quickly, in fact, that—

"O… er… Over."

—he was able to see an expression of surprise on his teacher's face when she re-read what he had written.

"Oh… Not bad," she said, her flat voice hardly carrying the amazement he could see in her only visible eye. "Well, I suppose you did remember how to write after all. Good work."

Noah scratched the back of his head, his ears red. Being praised for something so basic shouldn't have made him feel anything normally—there was no doubt it would have been either a sarcastic remark or some shallow words to flatter his ego, after all.

However, he knew his instructor really meant it. When he wrote in strange letters she had never seen before, she didn't call him a liar or cast a suspicious glance at him. She simply accepted that her student didn't know how to write properly and proceeded to teach him as if it was nothing.

Of course, he wasn't so naive as to think she wasn't at least doubtful of that 14-year-old noble girl who pretended to only be able to write in alien symbols; she simply never showed it.

Even if she didn't believe him, she showed him a patience he had rarely seen while teaching him diligently.

"Oh, you forgot the exclamation mark at the end…"

That being said, she seemed to always cling to even the slightest perceived imperfections.

[Your tone didn't really indicate any exclamation, though?] he wrote.

"Hm… Is this a question or a statement?" she asked back.

Also, it seemed like people in this world were unaware of some less formal sentence constructions. But it was fine; he could easily write more formally should the need arise.

"Hm… I guess you gained the right to listen to one of my stories again, huh? Those sure motivate you…"

Noah nodded, smiling at the maid's troubled expression. Truth be told, he didn't find her stories that interesting on a personal level, but he was learning quite a lot through them.

How dungeons worked, how parties of adventurers were made, how magic worked…

In this world where he had no Internet or TV, those little things kept his eyes shining and his mind running.

"That is when Sora stood in front of us saying, 'Go ahead, you two! None of them shall pass through this bridge, I swear it on my honor!' which made Fox-haired Priestess Tamamo laugh. 'Thee? Of all people? Oh my, we might as well die now' she said…"

*scribble**scribble*

[How nice of her. Just what he needed to motivate him.] It read.

"Hm… Yes it was not nice, but remember he was only half-HP and a mere Clover rank at the time, so stopping a whole posse of rank 2 monsters by himself looked impossible."

*scribble**scribble*

[Is rank so important? You told me going up in level doesn't actually make you any stronger, didn't you?]

"Hm… True, leveling up only gives you more slots, but some useful items use your level value as a basis for some calculations. For instance, most shields create a wall of temporary HP equivalent to your level times a value depending on the shield's quality. There are some weapons that deal more HP damage too or some arts that can only be awakened at certain levels. While having a high level won't stop you from getting crushed like an insect by the weakest monster, it does help when combined with careful preparation. Also…"

She nodded with an expression of satisfaction.

"When your level reaches 10 and you go from Clover to Star rank, you can now use a title. Notice how I always go out of my way to call Tamamo… Fox-haired Priestess Tamamo? Same for the Stripper King Dorian or Calm Lake Vagabond Sora…"

Oh, now that he was thinking about it, he always thought those names were a bit of a mouthful. He could clearly hear the faint sigh she let out anytime she had to do it but never understood why she stuck to those appellations if they bothered her so much.

"That is because, in the storytelling format used by adventurers to report their actions in a quest office, it is required to always mention the titles used by the party members during said quest, among other things. This is more important than reporting the actual events because titles can be tracked and improved based on how well their holders did."

"Oh…"

"And, if you followed correctly, I didn't call Sora by his Calm Lake Vagabond title this time."

*scribble**scribble*

[Because he didn't have it yet.] Noah wrote.

The maid nodded, prompting Noah to furrow his eyebrows. Again, he took the pen and scribbled down his thoughts on the notepad she gave him.

[But the village was about to be destroyed by a dragon worm and a whole army of monsters. Was it really the time to laugh at his courage just because he was at a lower rank than her?]

Reading his words, the maid stayed silent for a moment before shaking her head slowly.

"... Mistress, what you ask is both very pertinent and very stupid."

"...?"

"For instance, you are conscious that Muddy Tongues aren't that dangerous, aren't you? Yet you barely try to talk nowadays and only express yourself through that notepad. Why is that?"

Noah furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, his mind trying to recall what she told him exactly.

[Because… because you said that regardless of truth, Muddy Tongues were a danger in the minds of most of the population. That it was cultural.]

The maid nodded, "Yes. It is no secret that people don't care about what is, but about what seems to be. One has to be patient and willing to listen to go past their first impression, something hateful or frightened people rarely are."

"..."

Now that she was talking about it, he noticed that his situation with the other servants didn't change much. They still avoided him and the corridor where his room was located.

Additionally, he overheard some servants calling Momo by all sorts of names.

Idiot, brainless, or insane at best.

Arrogant bitch, shameless brat, or desperate whore at worst.

Why would they call her like that when she was actually the only one who had the phantom of a brain cell among the personnel? He boiled with rage each time, but also realized he couldn't change anything.

Just like he never questioned the idea snakes were dangerous, they never tried to know if Muddy Tongues were truly such a menace.

He, at least, had the internet by which he learned most snakes are not venomous and are not as aggressive as people think. The people in this world had no such convenient tool.

And even if they had, that wouldn't necessarily make them willing to sympathize with people like him, just like knowing snakes weren't as evil as he thought didn't convince him to have one as a pet.

*scribble**scribble*

The maid looked at the reply of her master with a rare display of interest before muffling a short laugh.

"... Ah, yes, you are right," she said, covering her mouth. "'Culture' can be quite… a pain in the ass indeed..."

It seems that the expression, which was unfamiliar to her up until then, resonated rather strongly, as she was seen smiling a bit longer than usual that day.

For Noah, that was quite the victory, though it bothered him that her smile was mostly triggered by an unwanted 'joke' rather than an intentional action on his part.