Chapter 87: Mandragora Feeds on Human Fluids (1)

According to the expert's analysis, Lien’s current condition was essentially that of a zombie.

However, she still had a soul and retained her reasoning. Although her body was perpetually in a near-death state, it remained fresh—a corpse whose heart had stopped and blood no longer circulated.

During the journey to the capital, her body had nearly stiffened and begun to decay, but fortunately, the necromancer who had rejoined midway assisted her. Upon entering the temple and examining her body, it was confirmed that while she was technically dead, her flesh moved thanks to a miracle powered by divine energy.

Depending on how one viewed it, she could be considered both alive and dead. Because of this mysterious condition, the temple and the necromancers proposed to monitor and study her body until she could pass on peacefully. As a result, she decided to live near the capital at a convent, hiding her identity while recharging her divine energy.

“Is this a happy... ending?”

Though they wouldn’t have to part ways for now, Lien wanted rest, and her situation was far from simple. If she stopped replenishing her divine energy, she would risk being corrupted by necromancy, losing her consciousness, and becoming a full-fledged zombie.

Still, since the temple and necromancers agreed to care for her, and occasional visits were possible, this could be considered a somewhat happy ending.

“By the way, hasn’t the horse arrived yet?”

Upon returning to the magic knight order, I realized the number of horses had decreased significantly.

Luckily, my horse, a gift personally chosen by Eileen, was fiercely loyal and refused to serve any other master. It had resisted being taken away by the stable hands and remained here. However, the rest of the horses had been forcibly requisitioned, leaving fewer than ten behind.

“This is beyond disgraceful, even for the declining magic knight order.”

“What happened this time?”

“There’s no budget to maintain the stables, so we temporarily entrusted the horses to another knight order. We’ve been spending all day just foraging for hay to feed them.”

They claimed they couldn’t afford to maintain the stables. Was this even a knight order, or just a group of hopeful young men pretending to be knights?

“At this rate, even a local youth association would be better organized.”

Levin, equally frustrated, grumbled while carrying farming tools and digging the training field. After listening to him, it became clear just how dire the budget cuts were. They planned to use the idle fields to grow high-value crops to supplement the budget.

“This is ridiculous. I’ve heard of soldiers managing fields during long campaigns to secure rations, but knights farming?”

Though absurd, orders were orders. This was the military, after all.

Resigned, I changed into more practical clothes, placed straw hats on Mollang and Shuru’s heads, and headed to the farming area with them.

There, a few of my comrades were already plowing the land with makeshift plows strapped to their backs. Among them, Dane stood out, performing so adeptly that one might think he was more suited to be an ox than a knight.

“This is all part of training! Strengthening stamina and muscle, see?”

Even the senior knight had abandoned his ceremonial attire, donned casual clothes, and was digging the ground with a hoe. Looking at this scene, it felt like the magic knight order should officially rename itself to the agricultural knight order.

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Grabbing an unfamiliar hoe, plow, and other tools, I joined in, digging enthusiastically in a corner of the training field.

“Surprisingly… this is kind of fun.”

Initially reluctant and wearing sour expressions, everyone eventually started enjoying the farm work.

We divided the area by living quarters. With Dane’s impressive strength, we dug deeply, preparing the soil to plant anything. Sweating under the sunlight, we planted seeds as the senior knight suggested. He opted for practical crops like pumpkins and corn—something that could be sold for profit or eaten if unsold.

However, the plot assigned to our group had something unusual.

“Guess what this is.”

Jake approached proudly, holding a handful of seeds.

The seeds were tiny, smaller than fingernails, and there were about a dozen of them. It was impossible to tell what kind of plant they came from.

“What are they?”

“Mandragora seeds.”

At the mention of Mandragora, both Dane, Levin, and I were stunned.

“We’re planting that?”

Mandragora is an ominous plant that grows by absorbing the blood of executed criminals near execution grounds. Infamously, it covers the area in a sinister growth, and attempting to uproot it carelessly results in it emitting a deadly scream that kills both the harvester and anyone nearby.

Mandragora, known as an all-purpose medicinal ingredient in alchemy, was highly valued despite its ominous nature. People would pay a fortune to obtain it, often sneaking into execution grounds to harvest it, though many died in the process. Eventually, a more cunning method was developed: tying the plant to a dog or livestock, retreating to safety, and allowing the animal to uproot it and absorb the deadly scream.

Obtaining Mandragora seeds wasn’t particularly difficult, but the real challenge lay in cultivating them.

“Don’t they usually grow in damp places?” Levin asked.

Jake waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine, it’s fine. We’ll just water them a lot. Let’s dig deeper channels and flood our section.”

“If we can sell Mandragora, it’ll fetch a high price, right? How much are they worth? Ten thousand gold?” Levin mused.

At the mention of ten thousand gold, Dane and I immediately grabbed the Mandragora seeds and started planting them with enthusiasm.

“That’s for lower-grade Mandragora. The better ones can easily exceed a hundred thousand gold,” Jake clarified.

“Whoa!”

Our eyes widened at the thought. Ten Mandragora plants, each worth a hundred thousand gold? This was a life-changing fortune. Dane and I, desperate for money, eagerly planted the remaining seeds and began watering the field.

“But what about the blood?” I asked. Mandragora thrives on blood, and while we could provide water and nutrients from the soil, the lack of blood posed a problem.

“Do we need to buy chickens or other animals to feed them blood?” I speculated.

Levin shook his head. “Where do you think chickens fall from, the sky? Besides, feeding them animal blood will only yield low-grade Mandragora worth about ten thousand gold.”

Even with a rough calculation, sacrificing chickens wouldn’t be profitable, as their cost would eat into any potential earnings. Larger animals would be even more expensive. To feed ten Mandragoras, each would need its own sacrifice—chickens at the least, or perhaps something larger.

“Guess we’ll have to make a sacrifice, Dane,” I joked.

“Yeah, just one of you would probably be enough to grow them all,” Levin chimed in.

“You little punks!”

If we could sacrifice Dane—or a bull his size—the problem might be solved. Unfortunately, he resisted fiercely, making it difficult to proceed.

‘Hmm… there has to be another way. A substitute for blood…’

When in doubt, seek expert advice.

“Elves are knowledgeable about plants, right? I’ll ask Professor Pandel,” I said.

“Professor Pandel specializes in biology,” Levin pointed out.

“Plants are living things, aren’t they?” I retorted, silencing Dane’s foolishness. I headed straight for the infirmary.

---

‘Now that I think about it, wasn’t Professor Pandel away last time? Is he back now?’

Previously, when I tried to leave Mollang and Shuru with him during a necromancer mission, he was unavailable, so I had to bring them along. Now, the infirmary door was open, suggesting he’d returned.

Knock, knock.

“Excuse me, Professor Pandel? I have a question…”

The infirmary was eerily quiet as usual. Various confiscated dangerous items lay scattered around, including what looked like a disassembled tentacle self-pleasure device labeled as hazardous material. Other strange tools were laid out on desks—a bent rod resembling a finger and a stick strung with beads.

‘What kind of freaks use this stuff…’

Avoiding the unsettling items, I entered the inner lab where Professor Pandel often worked.

“Professor Pandel? Are you in here?”

Knock, knock.

Usually, the lab door was shut tight, as the professor claimed trainees would break everything if allowed inside (insisting it was a 100% certainty). Today, however, the door was ajar.

Creak…

“Professor Pandel?”

As I peeked in, I saw the professor’s disheveled blonde hair from behind.

‘Did he fix himself up today? His hair looks smooth and shiny, not like the usual straw-like mess.’

When he ventured outside, he always cleaned up well, though he often appeared like a recluse in the lab. Satisfied, I started to step inside.

“Who is it? You’re noisy,” a voice grumbled.

“Eh?”

The figure turned, and I froze. It wasn’t the usual Professor Pandel.

Gone were the typical wiry frame, unshaven face, and haggard eyes. Instead, this person had soft, red lips, flushed cheeks, longer lashes, shiny, lustrous hair… and was wearing a short skirt that exposed white panties under sheer black stockings.

“Professor Pandel… is this your hobby?”

I never imagined Professor Pandel had a cross-dressing hobby. As an elf, he did look quite pretty when cleaned up, but recalling his usual appearance made it hard to see him as attractive. No matter how pretty, I preferred a woman to a cross-dressing man.

Smack!

A familiar blow landed on the back of my head. Startled, I turned to see the real Professor Pandel, looking more like his usual self but with his beard freshly shaved.

“Huh? There’s a Professor Pandel here too…”

“Don’t joke about me looking like that woman. It’s creepy,” he snapped.

“Woman?”

I glanced back at the cross-dressed figure and then at the professor. Side by side, they looked strikingly similar, though the woman had a slimmer waist, more pronounced hips, and a dainty frame.

“Oh!”

“Now you get it?”

“You left an illusion of yourself in drag, didn’t you?”

“She’s my twin! Don’t make disgusting assumptions!”

Although the resemblance was uncanny, the professor vehemently denied it.