Chapter 159: “Who’s Forcing Who?”
This translation is hosted on bcatranslation.
After the onset of the Deep Sea Age, humans were not the only intelligent beings to survive from ancient times and create their own civilizations. Other races also existed, each developing their unique city-states, complete with distinct cultures and societal norms. These races included elves, beastkin, and orcs, among others.
For Duncan, this information was not new. He had learned about these different races through Nina’s textbooks, which he was familiar with. From a young age, Duncan had been fascinated by these “other races,” especially elves, who were often featured in fantasy lore and myths, carrying an air of mystery and wonder. What intrigued Duncan the most was that these mythical beings were real and coexisted with humans in his world.
The illustrations in Nina’s textbooks provided a visual reference for what elves were supposed to look like, closely matching Duncan’s own preconceptions. Elves were typically depicted with long, pointed ears and slender, graceful bodies. Their faces were almost impossibly beautiful, making it difficult to distinguish males from females based on appearance alone.
From these limited details, Duncan had formed a basic, somewhat superficial understanding of elves. He imagined them as a species not only elegant and captivating but also possessing incredibly long lifespans, possibly extending into millennia. However, his youthful imagination had never led him to consider what aging might look like for elves.
This realization hit him sharply when he met the proprietor of the “Rose’s Doll House” shop, an elderly elf woman. Aside from her iconic pointed ears, green eyes, and faint traces of youthful beauty, she resembled any other elderly woman one might encounter in daily life.
Realizing he was staring, which was impolite, Duncan quickly shifted his gaze and scratched his chin awkwardly as he spoke. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen an elf,” he admitted, not minding if he appeared uninformed. After all, elves were a rare sight in the city-state of Pland.
In this era, each major race had its designated city-state. Due to the logistical challenges posed by the Deep Sea Age, most citizens rarely traveled far from their homeland. Only daring ocean explorers and trading convoys journeyed between city-states, and even they seldom settled in lands predominantly occupied by races other than their own. In virtually all major city-states, the native race made up over 99% of the population.
Given these circumstances, an individual residing in their own city-state who did not travel extensively could easily live an entire lifetime without meeting someone from another race—even if that other race had a community just across the city.
“That’s quite normal,” the elderly elf woman chuckled. “I’d be surprised if there are more than a hundred elves in the entire city, including the dozen or so who have sequestered themselves in the Mathematical Institute for two centuries without venturing outside. Now, how may I assist you today?”
The elderly elf’s prompt brought Duncan back to his original reason for entering the shop. His eyes darted to the numerous dolls adorning the store—from the window displays to the counters and even the staircases. “I came here to purchase some doll-related items and maybe ask a few questions about them. But honestly, I was a bit overwhelmed when I walked in,” he confessed.
The elf woman nodded sagely. “Ah, it sounds like you’re new to this hobby. Are you interested in female dolls, and is this for your own collection or perhaps a gift?”
“Female dolls, and for my own collection,” Duncan replied nonchalantly. Yet, as the words left his lips, he felt a strange tingling sensation. He hesitated before asking, “Is this hobby considered odd?” The question made him feel increasingly self-conscious.
“Absolutely not,” the elf woman reassured him without a hint of judgment. Her composed demeanor likely stemmed from centuries of experience managing her doll shop. “It’s a sophisticated interest. Are you looking for clothes or accessories for your doll?”
Duncan thought briefly. “I think I’ll start with a wig.”
“Right this way,” the elderly elf guided him to a specific corner of the store. “What scale is your doll? One-fourth? One-third?”
Duncan hesitated before responding, “It’s actually life-sized.”
The elf woman paused mid-step, turning to face him with a surprised look. “That’s highly unusual. A life-sized doll must be an extremely valuable possession, isn’t it?”
“I’m not certain of the doll’s monetary value,” Duncan admitted, feeling a wave of awkwardness as he maintained a solemn expression. “It was a gift.”
“That makes you the recipient of someone’s generous favor,” the elf woman chuckled, her eyes twinkling. She then opened an ornate wooden box near a circular counter. “Life-sized dolls are rare, and their accessories even rarer. Here we have wigs and various hair ornaments.”
Duncan cleared his throat as he leaned in to examine the items more closely. “I’m not sure if the giver is generous or not. He’s a ship captain. The situation is a bit complex,” he mumbled.
His gaze fell on the assortment before him. Each wig and ornament was exquisitely crafted and impeccably cared for, reflecting the dedication and craftsmanship involved in their creation.
Carefully, Duncan began visualizing how each piece might look on Alice, the doll in question. However, his thoughts halted midway through this mental exercise.
The image of Alice—a doll imbued with elegance, beauty, and mystery—someday becoming bald and needing a wig to restore her dignity was too jarring to fully entertain. The sheer incongruity of it was overwhelming, and he realized he had initially conjured this peculiar notion.
Regaining his composure, Duncan decided to embrace a “go big or go home” mentality. His eyes settled on a luxurious golden wig exuding elegance and sophistication, accompanied by matching silver hair ornaments fit for the upper echelons of society. Doll accessories, he mused, were clearly not made for the budget-conscious. As he looked at the high-quality wig and ornament set, Duncan couldn’t help but wonder how Alice, the doll, would react to such a gift. Would she weep at the revelation, overwhelmed by the existential weight of her “hair loss”? Or perhaps flee, unwilling to confront this new reality? Despite the uncertainty of Alice’s hypothetical reaction, Duncan found himself increasingly pleased with his choice.
While continuing to browse the shop, Duncan decided to seek expert advice. “Do you mind if I ask for some guidance on maintaining a doll?”
“Of course not,” the elderly elf woman replied warmly. “Dolls, especially high-quality ones, require meticulous care.”
“So, what would you recommend if the doll’s joints, particularly at the neck, tend to loosen easily? The ball joint connecting the neck to the head keeps giving way, causing the head to fall off frequently,” Duncan elaborated, using his hands to mimic the motion of a head detaching from a neck.
The elf woman responded with expert precision, “Loose joints could be due to wear and tear or perhaps deformation in the ball-and-socket mechanism. If it’s not due to poor maintenance or rough usage, it might be an issue rooted in the original design or material quality. In cases where the head detaches regularly, mere repair work might not suffice. You might need to consider a full joint replacement.”
She paused thoughtfully before adding, “Given that your doll is life-sized, replacing a joint would be a significant undertaking. You might require professional assistance for such a task. If you wish, you could bring the doll here, and we can help with the replacement, charging only for the parts.”
Duncan was dubious about the practicality of this advice. The situation with Alice was complex. Alice wasn’t just any doll; she was an anomaly, labeled as 099. Her physical integrity was just one of many concerns, and he was unsure whether her joints could be replaced through conventional means. The mere idea of suggesting she undergo a ‘surgical procedure’ to replace her neck joint seemed a surefire way to terrify her into “running away.”
Opting to change the subject, Duncan inquired about the techniques involved in implanting new hair into dolls. The elf shop owner patiently explained various methodologies and intricacies. After completing her explanation, she noted, “Given that your doll already has her own hair, adding more can be challenging if you’re striving for a seamless look. Unless performed by the original creator, the results may not be ideal. And since you’ve also raised concerns about the head joint, perhaps it would be best to consider commissioning an entirely new head sculpt.”
For a moment, Duncan was speechless. The elderly elf’s advice was well-intended but seemed to open up a new array of complexities he hadn’t considered. Yet, as he pondered her words, he began to realize just how intricate and demanding the world of doll collecting and maintenance could be—a revelation that left him both intrigued and overwhelmed.
The elf shop owner’s enthusiasm was palpable as she assured Duncan, “You seem somewhat hesitant from your expression. Please, let me put your mind at ease. Our shop has upheld the highest standards of craftsmanship for centuries, and we’ve never had a customer leave unsatisfied. Not a single long-term client has ever lodged a complaint against us.”
Duncan found himself inwardly amused at the thought. The “long-term clients” the elderly elf referred to had likely passed away ages ago, their bones long since returned to the earth, making them rather incapable of filing complaints. However, he chose to keep that observation to himself and offered an awkward smile, searching for an appropriate response. “It’s not that I doubt your skill,” he began cautiously, “It’s just that, if her head gets replaced, then she’s fundamentally altered. She won’t be the same doll anymore, right?”
Duncan’s words were more a spontaneous reflection than a deliberate argument, but they seemed to elicit a radiant smile from the elderly elf, whose eyes twinkled with newfound respect. “Ah, your thinking is quite mystical, even bordering on the philosophical,” she said warmly. “Many people regard dolls as mere objects, even if they hold some affection for them. It’s rare to find someone who contemplates their existence so deeply.”
Feeling both flattered and slightly embarrassed, Duncan cleared his throat and responded, “Ah, you’re making me blush now…”
“I’m only stating the truth,” the elderly woman said, sighing as if reflecting upon the long history of her craft. “Dolls, especially those mimicking human form, should not be trivialized as mere objects. They demand care, attention, and even a form of emotional investment. There’s an old saying among dollmakers—that a well-cared-for doll possesses its own soul. One should entertain the possibility that they have feelings, preferences, and aversions of their own.”
As she spoke, Duncan’s mind was flooded with a vivid image of Alice’s usual innocent and cheerful “hehe” laughter. Struck by the resonance between the shop owner’s words and his own experiences, he nodded in emphatic agreement. “You’re absolutely right,” he confirmed, feeling an unexpected sense of validation and a deeper connection to the mysterious world of dolls and their keepers.
That was quite a funny chapter after some time….
Hmm, I wonder if such an enthusiast who has seen many things in her life would be interested in being able to see the world’s most exquisite doll, even at the cost of almost-certain corruption or death. She’s a living history book, but without telling her his identity and protecting her from other types of corruption by subordinating her to the flame, there’s probably much she wouldn’t dare to THINK about, much less speak of.
This lady is probably much more special than Duncan realizes. No matter how long elves might live for in theory, I doubt many can survive that long in a world where simply knowing or experiencing many things can drive you into corruption. When you combine that with a profession that deals with some of the most likely to become haunted objects in the world, it hints that she’s either quite an expert or an incredibly dangerous cultist. Frankly, I’m amazed that realistic dolls aren’t considered contraband in this world. I thought they might be ritual aids for one of the orthodox factions, but since she thought he was buying for a female family member then probably not…
OooI like this line of thought very noice
do you realise how biased you are about haunted dolls? also it was stated that elves lifespan is a thousand years, they’re not humans, they’re completely different, using human standards on a long lived race is foolish. i’ve read several of your comments before and it can be seen that you like coming up with your own conclusions while ignoring what doesn’t conform to your ideas. maybe elves live long because they have natural resistance to corruption, maybe you’re simply exaggerating how dangerous the world is for ordinary people.
“Frankly” i wonder why would you even consider realistic dolls to be considered contraband, why, considering dolls to be bad because Anomaly-099 exists, which is the only haunted doll up till now, would people also have to consider all ships to be bad because vision-005 is a ship? or blood to be bad because it was mentioned that there is an anomaly that looks like blood? simply ridiculous.
this novels world is not our own, mc here is constantly struggling to get acquainted with the “common sense” of this world, why can’t you? you’re a reader, it should be much easier to understand that the “common sense of dolls being haunted” may be completely different in a book where all manner of evil spirits and so on exist on a daily basis.
deductions need a firm foothold to have meaning, and yours seem shaky at best.
Why are you so mad? The dude’s just writing down his thoughts lol. Honestly your whole comment reads like you’re having some weird competition with him in your head.
Holy shit Mr. Hypocrite you made more assumptions about this world than him like what is this natural resistance to corruption? Never mentioned in the novel at all this is your headcanon.
Why did you become so hostile when he was just sharing his assumptions and observations whether it was wrong or not? It is not like he is forcing it on us.
I never thought of the lifespan being a negative issue, interesting. And yeah, it seems like a doll shop would be corruption central. A weary priest sitting there using magic every 5 mins as a dolls finger starts twitching