"You foolish exorcist—how could you possibly understand what art truly is?"
As the puppet's wooden jaw slowly opened and closed, a cold, boyish voice echoed from its mouth—low, eerie, and brimming with malice.
Mary Shaw, once a master of ventriloquism, had pride. Even in death, that hadn't changed.
And so, she could not tolerate anyone insulting her art.
Especially not to her face.
But when confronted with her taunt, Orsaga simply raised a finger and wagged it with casual disapproval.
"No, no, no—that's where you're wrong. Don't question my professional authority. Sure, I've never worked with puppets personally, but based on your construction and knowledge of human golden proportions, your puppet's head is about 20% too large."
"And that jaw mechanism? You used the wrong type of screw—too long. That's why the jaw doesn't move smoothly. Not to mention the faded blush on the cheeks. You probably left it in a damp environment during the drying process."
Mary Shaw fell silent.
'Damn it… how is he so precise!?'
She couldn't even find a counterargument.
In that moment, her pride in her craftsmanship took a direct hit.
How could she stand for this?
How could she accept this?
She immediately tried to shift the conversation to more advanced topics:
"Knowing all that is meaningless! The wood used for this puppet is—"
"Garbage. Even the best wood doesn't matter if your cutting tools are dull. That's why the surface layer of this puppet is rough and uneven—"
---
Two hours later…
The puppet in the black suit had been gently placed on the floor.
Mary Shaw herself was now kneeling respectfully on the hardwood, addressing Orsaga, who sat calmly in a chair like a seasoned academic.
"Master, I humbly ask… is there any way to prevent blood-flesh puppets from rotting over time?. I've tried many methods, but none of them truly work…"
Yes.
After two hours of intense technical discussion, Mary Shaw had come to understand that the man before her was a true expert—a master of immense depth.
And she needed to adopt a student's attitude if she was going to learn anything from him.
Orsaga's knowledge spanned everything—from celestial navigation to earthly science. The man could sniff the air and calculate the oxygen percentage on the spot.
Mary Shaw had never encountered anyone like him.
With utmost humility, she began to ask about the countless technical challenges she'd faced as a puppet master.
And since Orsaga was in a decent mood, he saw no reason not to answer.
Casually and precisely, he laid out the solution to her question:
"Thirty grams of sulfur, six grams of yew powder, and two hundred grams of silver. Mix thoroughly and heat at 250°C for half an hour, then—well, you get the idea…"
His tone was relaxed. The steps were clear. The measurements exact.
He didn't even pause to think.
After all, in his mind, a problem like this didn't even require effort. He could list off thousands of solutions in his sleep.
Mary Shaw eagerly scribbled every detail into her notebook.
Once she had everything down, she looked up with a serious expression and asked:
"I understand that now, Master. But tell me—can blood-flesh puppets be considered the ultimate form of puppetry?"
Creating the perfect puppet had always been Mary Shaw's lifelong dream—before and after death.
She wanted to know just how far she was from reaching the pinnacle of her craft.
"The ultimate puppet?"
Finally, a question with some actual substance.
Orsaga rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then asked in return:
"When you say 'ultimate,' are you referring to a puppet that requires manual control—or one that can function independently as a living entity?"
"?"
Mary Shaw blinked, confused.
"A puppet… can be a living entity?"
"Of course," Orsaga replied smoothly.
"To higher beings like gods or demons, mortal creatures are nothing more than puppets or marionettes. Tools to be manipulated. God creating man… Nuwa shaping humans from clay."
"If you know your mythology, you'll notice a recurring theme—these stories of 'creating life' are, in essence, about bringing puppets to life. The only difference is that the language makes it sound fancier."
As Orsaga spoke, Mary Shaw felt like a window had opened in a previously sealed-off part of her mind.
She had never thought at such a high level.
Her whole existence had been buried in making her puppets and hunting down the descendants of those who had wronged her in life.
But now—now new ideas were bursting forth like fireworks in her mind.
"Master, I see it now!!. The endgame of puppetry… is the divine right of gods and demons!. To create a new species! My own species!!"
Crazed with newfound enlightenment, Mary Shaw bowed deeply and thanked Orsaga with uncontainable joy.
Then—with a flash of movement—she grabbed her puppet, leapt out the window, and vanished into the night.
She looked like someone who had just found their life's calling—and couldn't wait to get started.
Orsaga scratched his head in mild confusion.
"…What exactly did she just realize?"
He had been planning to explain how one might go about creating autonomous lifeforms, too.
After all, knowledge was valuable. And when he was in a good mood, he didn't mind sharing.
In that regard, he considered himself a model lecturer.
Back during his hundred-year stint in the wizarding world, he'd even served as a guest professor at several prestigious institutions.
He had once been named one of the Top Ten Lecturers.
Now, watching Mary Shaw disappear into the distance, he thought for a moment—then let it go.
After all, a teacher can give you knowledge.
But how you apply that knowledge?
That's on you.
Talk about capitalism in a feudal kingdom. Talk about utopia in a capitalist state.
Orsaga had a habit of saying exactly what shouldn't be said.
He enjoyed stirring the pot—not for profit, but purely because it amused him.
As a result, during his time in the wizarding world, around one-fifth of his students had ended up on various countries' most-wanted lists.
Not bad for a lecturer.
After waiting a while to make sure Mary Shaw wasn't coming back for more lessons, Orsaga closed the window.
Then he ran a hot bath and got ready to enjoy a long soak.
—
Meanwhile, Mary Shaw was traveling at near-sonic speeds, slipping through the air without disturbing a single molecule.
Her voice trembled with fanatical excitement as she muttered:
"I'm going to create living puppets. And for that, I'll need fresh materials. Your family will do nicely. Consider this the final chapter of our grudge…"