Music.
That must have been the key.
Konrad still wasn't sure what kind or why, but Yuki's wild playing did the trick. He felt at least ten mana points richer once her musical rampage had ended.
Not an exorbitant amount, but something.
Especially since it took minutes, not hours or days.
And he didn't even drink—yet.
The songs she had played with emotion worked best. Those that hit him in the feels.
His skin kept prickling long after she stopped.
Not to mention the ringing ears. Those hundred-watt combos? They were LOUD.
"Ah, I needed that," the girl sighed, putting everything back in place. "This is the real perk of working in a music store. I'm like—recharged. You know what I mean? Probs not, haha."
Konrad knew exactly—although it couldn't have been the same.
In his fifty years on Earth, he never heard of people casting spells after a concert.
Not that he was so great with music.
Hold on, would that work? Could he recharge like that?!
"Hey, you deaf?" the crazy emo asked, poking his face with a broken nail.
Konrad shuddered, yanking his head out of the clouds.
"Did you say something?"
"Never mind," she teased, skipping away. "Welcome back to Earth, haha."
He zoned out again. And at work.
Sure, they didn't have any customers, but—
Wait. Wasn't her insane shredding the reason?!
If she did this every day—well, she was good—especially for a bass player on a regular guitar.
But she was a lot.
"So you knew any of the stuff I played?" Yuki asked, fidgeting behind the counter. At least this time, Konrad could hear her. "Dare to say old people's music, I'll have Dad fire you."
"Old people's music?" he repeated, a little dumbfounded.
It was his childhood.
Not that he would listen to it every day or even feel interested back then, but—
"They kinda brought back a piece of me," he muttered, more to himself than to the girl.
"What?" It was her turn to act surprised. "Now THAT sounded like something an old dude would say. Weirdo. How old are you anyway? Got held back a few years or something?"
Right, right.
He wasn't seventy on the outside, and he still wore his uniform.
He should have bought some other clothes by now.
"Then how should I say this?" Konrad asked. "They kinda resonated with me."
Couldn't exactly say that it recharged his magical essence after all.
But now that he knew music could do that, he was eager to delve deeper into the topic.
"Guess you have taste, then," Yuki smirked, leaning over the counter like a lazy cat. "Even if you look so plain. So, any favorite bands, or was I the first to show you the real deal?"
He? Plain? She was the one who looked way too extreme.
And bands? Konrad could have listed a few from the seventies and eighties, but—
"The stuff you played was decent," he said with a shrug, trying his best not to look overeager or creepy. She was young, after all, even if she thought she was his senior. "You've a band, too?"
"I totes do," she claimed, perking up a little. "But we play emo and punk, not these."
Would that work, too? Or only songs Konrad already knew?
Classic rock from his childhood, bands named after colors or heavy airships—
Yuki kept chirping about music, her band, and the venues they played at. If it came to that, she seemed alive. Anything else, and she behaved like a zombie who had lost its appetite.
"So you like, never even listen to today's music?" she asked at one point.
She propped her chin on her elbow, playing with her lip piercings.
"I don't," Konrad confessed.
What if fresh music worked even better? He could try the radio—was that even still a thing?
Grab some sake, and before he knew, he'd be full of mana.
"But like, not interested, or don't like pop?"
"Pop? I don't know."
Now he felt the urge to look up the current charts. He could even do that on his phone.
The sound quality wasn't the best, but the songs?
Hollow. Empty. They didn't cause him the slightest prickle.
"Is this what people listen to these days?" he asked, and Yuki burst out laughing.
"You do sound like an old dude sometimes," she giggled. "Or like a time traveler. You're funny. But yeah, it sucks, right? You lost nothing if you didn't know about them before."
They lacked emotion and familiarity.
That might have been the key to recovering his mana.
Playing songs with feelings that made him emotional in one way or another. He looked up old bands he still remembered, and while the result wasn't the same on the phone as live—
The tiniest trickle of essence coursed through his veins.
"Yeah. I know this band, too. You do have some taste, Halstadt-kun," the girl said in awe.
But when she played something—or rather, rampaged through a song—it was different. Listening on his phone, even the best bands could only charge him a tenth as much as her.
Which could only lead to a single conclusion.
"Could you teach me how to play?"
Yuki's eyes—well, that one he could actually see—lit up immediately.
"You mean the guitar?" she asked with an eager grin. "Hmm, I do wonder. I mean, we already have all these instruments. And I must train you for the job, so—I guess?"
It was cute how she tried to find a reason for something she wanted to do anyway.
But she was too young, energetic, and obsessed with music to refuse.
"It'd be an honour to learn from you, Yuki-senpai," Konrad pushed her a little more.
He had never seen a smile this wide on a person dressed in such dark colors.
"Fine," she said as if she had made the biggest sacrifice of her life. But her eye told a different story. "Pick a guitar from the wall, and I'll see what I can do. Don't disappoint, Kohai-kun."
If every song he played would recharge his mana the same way as the girl's performance—
He'd be back in Kasserlane before he knew it.
He almost grabbed the same electric guitar she had, but put it right back with a loud gulp.
No, that price tag was too much for his untrained hands. If he put a scratch on it—
"Yeah, let's try an acoustic," Yuki said, nodding along with his thoughts. "Strengthen your fingers first. Metal strings might cut them open, and I don't want to clean your blood off that Gibson."
"Hold on," Konrad froze, unsure if she was messing with him or not. "Cut my fingers open?!"
The girl shrugged, turning her palms around.
Her left fingertips were all calloused. The right hand had a few blisters, too.
"You gotta suffer for greatness," she claimed, staring him down with a smirk. She grabbed a nylon-stringed acoustic next. "But if you're chickening out already—"
His early sword training flashed before his eyes.
Blisters, bruises, scrapes every day. What were a few cuts in comparison?
"Pfft, I'm not scared of an instrument," Konrad said with confidence.
By this time next week, he would have at least two band aids wrapped around every finger.