For a short while, Erik seemed lost in thought. However, he gently raised his hand to catch Shizuku’s attention at one point. “Can I ask you something?” he asked. “Sure, go ahead.” “I know I should have asked this earlier, but how advanced is civilization in your world? Compared with this one, for example.” “Hmm…” Shizuku wondered about the answer. The one thing that definitively set his world apart from hers was the existence of magic. Spells allowed people to do things that they couldn’t in Shizuku’s world, but that held society back in other ways. Shizuku mulled over her answer for a bit. “That’s a good question. If we take magic out of the equation, then my world’s civilization is probably more advanced. We’ve made a lot of progress with mechanical technology… We can fly in the sky in metal boats that carry hundreds of people at a time.” “That’s incredible. Are only specific people allowed to operate them?” “Yes, but there’s no division between those who have magic and those who don’t. Flying one of those vessels requires a highly specialized field of study that takes years to master. I have a totally different skill set, so I wouldn’t be able to use that technology. I don’t have the required understanding.” As someone who’d been born into a wealthy country, she was able to enjoy modern conveniences, but that didn’t mean she had a clue how they worked. Erik lightly tapped his temples with his fingers. “So you’re telling me that anybody can build or control these things as long as they’ve studied and gathered the required knowledge, no matter who they are.” “I guess… Our machines are very complex, but they’re still just tools. They’re like magic implements but without the magic part. If the laws of science are the same in this world, you should theoretically be able to use them here as well. It’d probably be difficult to acquire the right materials, though. Something built here might not be to the same standard as in my world.” The majority of machinery required electricity to operate. Since Erik’s world had lightning and static electricity, it was likely that the fundamental laws of nature were similar in that respect. If someone with the necessary knowledge and expertise had ended up in this world, they might have been able to create something. Shizuku suddenly felt very useless. Erik was busy thinking about what Shizuku had told him, but when he noticed how glum she looked, he tilted his head to one side. “What’s wrong?” “It’s just… I wasn’t sure why you asked me that all of a sudden.” “Oh. I was curious how much value you carry.” “Huh?” What did he mean by that? Would he have preferred if she was educated on the inner workings of machines? If so, he had to be extremely disappointed. Shizuku’s knowledge was limited to a broad, surface-level awareness of the humanities. She sighed. “Oh. I definitely won’t be helpful in that respect…” “Why are you acting like that’s a bad thing? It’s good that you’re not a specialist. You’ll be less at risk.” Erik’s deep-blue eyes widened as he spoke, as if to convey how serious the young man was. He didn’t look disappointed in the slightest. If anything, he seemed relieved. He lifted a finger and pointed straight up. “If it got out that you were from another world and that you know the secrets of its technology, you’d definitely be captured.” “That sinister hypothesis came out of nowhere.” “It’s a genuine possibility,” Erik insisted. “Do you know what they’d do if you knew about advanced machines?” “Umm. C-coax the information out of me, maybe?” “Yeah. Especially if it’s knowledge that anybody can use. As is often the case with groundbreaking discoveries, rulers will seek to weaponize it. Your know-how would be thoroughly exploited for crafting instruments of war.” “I’ve never been happier to be a humanities student!” Shizuku cried. Her sincere exclamation brought an uncomfortable smile to Erik’s face. He stared at the mountains. “If you were to ask me for my personal opinion, I’d be opposed to introducing that sort of knowledge into this world, even if you were well-informed enough to do so. Magic aside, your world is more advanced than ours, isn’t it?” “I’d say so… If I compare the aspects of our lives that are similar, your civilization is probably a few hundred years behind.” “Even more reason not to. The technology in your world has reached its current state after centuries of debates and discussions. If we were to skip all that and just drop in those marvels, I doubt it’d end well. Plus, bringing in knowledge from a whole other world could potentially throw ours off its natural path.” “Yeah…” There was probably some truth to what Erik was saying. New technological discoveries didn’t just come out of nowhere. They were the results of decades of debates regarding their uses and respective benefits and dangers. Plus, those debates were based on the societies, histories, and cultures of Shizuku’s world. It’d be inappropriate to bring those technologies to a different one. People here weren’t guaranteed to react the same way to a particular creation as those from Shizuku’s world. “Would it be like disrupting an ecosystem by bringing in creatures that originally lived somewhere else?” Shizuku asked. “Close, I guess. Listen, if the technology from your world is feasible here, then there’s a chance it will develop on its own. However, this world presently lags behind yours. There must be a reason why that is,” Erik explained. “I suppose magic must be to blame. But still…” Being a mage himself, Erik looked a bit ruffled. He quickly assumed a straight face again. “If people from this world discovered and developed those new technologies, there wouldn’t be a problem. That should be welcomed. But if someone from another world who happened to arrive here as a result of some freak accident introduced those inventions, it’d be frightening. Without that outside interference, we might never have achieved that advancement. It would forever change the path we were supposed to take.” “…I guess so.” Such an event would create an unforeseen mutation in the fabric of history. That was only true if Shizuku knew how to make those devices, though. If someone captured Shizuku and extracted information from her about how advanced machines worked, it’d be enough to give them an advantage over other people. The presence of tools that were never supposed to exist in this world could lead to gradual change. Shizuku was in no position to guess whether the results of that change would be good or bad, and she wouldn’t be able to take responsibility for them, either. Shizuku thought about her phone, resting in her bag. She used to look at it daily in her old world, yet she hadn’t picked it up in weeks. To some extent, she felt like she understood why now. That prompted her to ask Erik one last question. “What if knowledge from a different world made things really convenient for people, even saved lives? Would you still be against it being brought over?” Erik’s eyes widened at the inquiry. He smiled, although the expression was a bit uneven. “I see your point. It could end up being a good thing. If that new technology gave us a way of treating diseases for which there is no known cure, I’m sure it’d make a lot of people happy. But the line between necessary and convenient is hard to draw. If this world requires something, I trust someone here will make it eventually. It doesn’t matter how inconvenient things might be for us… If this is the way things are supposed to be, then I’ll gladly accept our world’s lack of convenience over corruption from outside influence.” His deep-blue eyes were bright, and his voice was confident. A shiver ran down Shizuku’s spine as she stifled a gasp of admiration. Erik was stubborn and inflexible. There had to be positives and negatives to importing technology, but Erik rejected it for the sole reason that his world wasn’t supposed to have those creations yet. He dismissed the topic in the way a teacher who only bothered telling his students the answer to a problem, and not how to solve it, might have. Shizuku doubted that everyone in this world would feel as he did. In fact, there were undoubtedly a lot of people desperate for the kind of transportation, communication, and medical technology that was widespread in Shizuku’s world. Still, Shizuku found the way Erik had expressed his view to be very noble… She strongly desired to become the same way. Erik remained true to his will and conveyed his own thoughts outwardly. He was a good example of the kind of person Shizuku hoped to be. That said, she couldn’t have envisioned that his words would stay with her for so long. They lingered even after she came face-to-face with the unease that this world kept hidden. On the day she had to make a decision of her own, Erik’s words came rushing back. They didn’t complete their spell diagram until the day of the deadline. The finished product resembled an intricate architectural framework drawn in 3D, although it was generally spherical in shape. Shizuku reviewed her drawing several times, then let out a sigh of admiration. “What do you think about this?” she said, passing Erik the fifth clean copy she’d made. His eyebrows rose as he examined it. “It’s great. I have no complaints.” “I don’t know whether or not it’s right, though.” “It is. I just need to write in what each sequence does, and then it will be complete.” Happy to hear that her work was effectively finished, Shizuku threw her hands in the air. She wanted to cheer, but she ended up collapsing on the desk instead, exhausted. The spell diagram needed to show the three-dimensional spell configuration from multiple different angles. The overhead perspective in particular had to be as clear and precise as a three-dimensional architectural blueprint. Shizuku thought an architecture major would’ve done a better job than her. The diagram Erik had asked her to create was more complex than the ones in the books she’d referenced. Erik couldn’t draw what he pictured well enough to explain to Shizuku what he wanted, so he’d been forced to describe the design verbally. On multiple occasions, Shizuku had questioned whether she’d be able to complete the diagram. After dozens of rough drafts, however, she’d finally managed it—albeit just before the deadline. Erik stood from his chair, seemingly done with the writing, and gathered up the papers. “Good work. I’m going to submit these to the castle. Is there anything you’d like as a token of appreciation?” “Don’t worry about that. I’m just glad to have you along for my journey. This is the least I could do to repay you.” Shizuku meant that. There had been plenty of situations that had reminded her that she was a burden. That she’d been helpful to Erik brought her true joy. For all the challenges of drawing the spell diagram, it had made her feel like she had a purpose in this world. “Oh, do you mind if I go for a short stroll?” she asked. “Sure. Take Mea with you, though.” Shizuku looked up. The small bird chirped from atop her head. Shizuku had spent so long working on the spell diagram that she hadn’t given herself the chance to speak to Mea for a while. After getting ready, Shizuku took her feathery sidekick outside. “What nice weather…” She’d spent the last four days holed up inside, so the afternoon sunlight stung her eyes. The energetic hum of voices brought a sense of liveliness to the city’s streets, and bouncy music could be heard over the beckoning calls of shopkeepers. Were Shizuku in her old world, she would’ve liked to enjoy a cup of coffee in a nearby park while watching the world go by, but coffee didn’t exist here. Instead, she joined the stream of pedestrians sauntering down the street, peering at all the different storefronts as she walked. “Whoa, what pretty clothes…” She spotted what looked to be a fashion store. Through its big, glass window, she spied some elaborate-looking dresses on display. They weren’t garishly colored or made from gaudy fabric, either. Their material looked heavy and thick, and each was adorned with ornate floral-pattern embroidery. The skirts of the dresses all had beautiful, curved shapes and were so voluminous that they must have had crinolines. Shizuku stopped and stared, entranced by the dresses. They looked like the kind that girls from respectable families would wear regularly. Their skirt portions had notes pinned into them, but Shizuku couldn’t read what they said. She worked her mind to decipher the writing, but ultimately, her focus returned to the dresses. “They’re beautiful, but I doubt they’d suit me…,” she grumbled, sighing. This expression of doubt, however, prompted the bird on top of her head to let out a soft chirp. Shizuku had worn a luxurious dress once before, in that castle at the bottom of the lake. However, she felt like it didn’t fit her Japanese features. It was too over-the-top. Currently, Shizuku wore a blouse and skirt like all the other city girls. She’d grown accustomed to seeing herself like that. The dresses in the window were plain in color, so perhaps she could pull them off. Shizuku couldn’t seem to decide. Of course, none of the outfits were appropriate for traveling on horseback. Even so, part of Shizuku wanted to try on some fancy clothes just for the fun of it. It wasn’t every day she had the opportunity. “In my old world, I used to wear lighter clothing in the summer that showed my arms and legs. It was nothing like how people dress here.” To all others, Shizuku was speaking to a bird. Perhaps they saw her as an eccentric. Shizuku understood Mea as a friend, not a bird, though. Luckily, none of the passing pedestrians gawked, perhaps owing to the crowded street. Shizuku gazed at the dresses for another moment, then forced a smile as she shook her head. “Let’s keep moving,” she said to Mea. Letting go of ideas was easy when Shizuku judged it to be necessary. She knew there were some things she needed to prioritize over others. Shizuku walked past a signboard for another shop, which quickly caught her eye. Beside the signboard, which was decorated with pictures of flowers and apparel, someone had hung a black snake ornament on the wall. The final place Shizuku stopped by was the magic implement shop she’d visited with Erik a few days earlier. Back then Erik had come with a specific purpose, allowing Shizuku little time to admire other items. Her curiosity had remained unsated since. The dimly lit room resembled the corner of a fortune-telling shop that sold myriad kinds of mystical trinkets. Shizuku’s eyes wandered, eager to take in all that was on offer. No two items were the same. There were tons of accessories and unusually shaped tools she wanted to pick up, but she wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, considering she wasn’t a mage. Instead, she settled on bending down and visually inspecting items one at a time. Before long, she spotted a black, circular pendant with a hole in the middle. She froze the moment her eyes fell upon it. It reminded her of those snakelike sculptures she’d seen throughout the city. Shizuku decided to inquire with the shopkeeper at the back of the store. “Excuse me, but do you sell any of those snakelike black things? The ones that people hang at the front of their shops…” “You must be thinking of Shula sculptures. Sorry, but no. They’re not magic implements,” the shopkeeper replied. “Huh?” said Shizuku. “What are they, then? Are they just fashionable ornaments or something?” “Of course not. They’re religious symbols, good luck charms.” “A religion?” Shizuku’s voice came out more hysterical than she’d intended. She clasped her hands against her mouth. Really, it wasn’t a surprising explanation. In Japan, there were countryside homes that kept talismans by the entrance. The shopkeeper’s explanation made sense. Shizuku turned around and looked out of the window. “I see them everywhere, but I noticed your shop doesn’t have one,” she remarked. “No. Mages tend to be atheists, after all. I’m not a mage myself, but I’m not a believer, either. Maybe the fact that I run a shop like this has something to do with that.” “I see… Thank you for your help.” Once she’d expressed her gratitude to the shopkeeper, she carefully inspected a few more of the shop’s knickknacks, then left. Shizuku felt bolstered by her little excursion; however, her mood quickly soured when she stepped outside. Immediately, she spotted a man standing in the street. It nearly seemed he’d been waiting to ambush her. She winced, looking like a street vendor had accosted her. “Hey, Shizuku. What a coincidence this is,” the man greeted. “…Argh. I think I’m cursed.” It was evident from Shizuku’s sigh that she was disappointed to see him, but the man didn’t even flinch. Tarkis, the wandering mercenary, looked down at Shizuku’s sullen expression and laughed. When did he manage to track her down? She didn’t believe it was a “coincidence” at all. Shizuku tended to be pretty oblivious to what was going on around her, so following her wouldn’t have been much of a challenge. As they walked down the street together—rather, as Tarkis trailed Shizuku from behind, he came to an abrupt halt in front of a particular shop. Shizuku made to keep walking, but Tarkis grabbed her arm gently and pulled her toward the business. “Hey! What are you…?” “No need to worry. Just look.” Tarkis pointed at the dresses Shizuku had been admiring earlier. She looked so taken aback that it made the mercenary roar with laughter. “Want me to buy you one? I bet it’d look great on you.” “Y-you were watching me?” “Of course not. Forget about that. You want one, don’t you?” “…No,” Shizuku replied succinctly. She tried to leave, but Tarkis took her hand and pulled her back again. Shizuku furrowed her brow and scowled fiercely. “Let me go!” she demanded. “Come on now, there’s no need to hold back,” replied Tarkis. “You’d look great in any of those. You just need a little rouge on your lips and cheeks and some scented balm in your hair to make it shimmer like glossy black silk. Like your eyes. You’d look really striking.” The man seemed to think he was offering her a genuine compliment, but it was a rather bold thing to say out loud. Shizuku waved a hand in front of her face as though to fan away the remark. “That’s enough. I can decide what I want to wear myself. Leave me alone, please.” She didn’t want to spend any more time with him and risk exposing that she was from another world. Shizuku’s cold refusal prompted a crooked smile from Tarkis. “Protest all you want, but I can’t help that I’m curious. Who are you? Why are you heading to Farsas?” “I don’t know.” “Well, I know that you can’t read.” “Huh…?” This left Shizuku at a loss. She almost began to panic as she tried to figure out when he’d deduced as much. Then it clicked. It must have been when she was trying to read the notes attached to the dresses in the shop window. Shizuku paled, unable to respond. This made Tarkis laugh. “I’m pretty quick on the uptake, you know,” he said. “There’s something peculiar about you. Like a portent. You have something that sets you apart from everyone else, don’t you? I see no reason not to capitalize on that.” It felt like he was trying to entice that “special something” out of her with his interest, but he failed in every conceivable way. Shizuku exhaled, aware that the stress of this situation was affecting her. “You’re mistaken, I assure you. I’m a useless young girl who can’t even travel by herself.” Unlike her sisters, Shizuku was an unremarkable sort of person. She had no special powers, either. Even if she was knowledgeable about stuff, she wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing that expertise. She didn’t want to change anything about this world. Her only desire was to go home. And if at all possible, she wanted to develop a clear understanding of who she was as a person. The bird on Shizuku’s shoulder chirped. It sounded somewhat sharper than usual—threatening and wary at the same time. The bird was prepared to exterminate the man in front of them at any time, so long as Shizuku ordered it. Shizuku raised her hand and stroked Mea to keep her from acting out. “Now that you understand, I’ll be leaving,” Shizuku said, a hint of weariness in her voice. Tarkis narrowed his eyes. It was the first time Shizuku had seen him look serious. She started to walk away but found herself coming to a stop. Tarkis’s expression was too unusual to ignore. He reached for her, but Shizuku instinctively retreated. Instead, he placed his large hand on her head. “Listen, Shizuku…,” Tarkis began. “This might be a bad way of putting it, but you don’t need to put yourself down so much.” “I don’t,” Shizuku rebutted, but she wasn’t confident about that. She was used to giving up on things, but only those she didn’t need to see through. She didn’t quit on everything. However, whenever she had to choose whether to persevere, she tended to make her choice quickly. Unlike her sisters, Shizuku wasn’t special. She couldn’t be like them. Yet she refrained from holding on to resentment and opted to forge her own path, one that suited her as she was. Was that really for the best, though? Tarkis bent over and looked at Shizuku, his hand still resting on top of her head. “Bluffing is more fun than you’d think. When you believe in yourself, you can do things you’d never thought possible. Sometimes, it’s important to present yourself in the best way you can.” Shizuku couldn’t bring herself to push Tarkis’s hand away. She could tell that this was a sincere attempt to encourage her. Shizuku looked up at the traveling mercenary, taken aback. “But what if people find out you were bluffing?” “You have to work hard to ensure they don’t. Then the sky’s the limit.” “And if you barely get off the ground?” “You can cross that bridge when you come to it.” How old was this guy? It sounded like he’d seen more trouble than Shizuku, at least. Life in her old world had been peaceful. The slight bitterness in Tarkis’s voice implied that he already carried a wealth of experiences under his belt. Tarkis ruffled Shizuku’s hair like one would a child’s. “Have confidence in yourself,” he said. “You’re putting in enough work.” Shizuku couldn’t discern why he’d say something like that. How much did he know? Still, she could tell there was no artifice to his words, so she allowed herself to feel a tinge of happiness. When Tarkis saw she wasn’t frowning anymore, he casually waved her good-bye. “One more thing. Don’t stress needlessly,” he added. With that, he rejoined the crowd of people. Shizuku figured he probably had something else to take care of. As she watched him leave, she couldn’t help but smile a bit. “That’s all of them,” announced the voice. It was an abrupt declaration, and a long-awaited one. The people standing in a line all straightened up anxiously. The man, whose hard footsteps echoed throughout the room while he paced, stopped abruptly and gestured toward the paper hanging on the wall. It was a spell diagram depicting a huge configuration. Antideterioration magic kept it pristine. “Kisk seems to have given up on meddling in other countries’ business for the time being, but we never know what’s around the corner. If the mere hint of action from one of the Great Nations is enough to instill fear in us, our future will be pulled out from beneath us sooner or later. Now is the time to act.” The man slowly traced the outside of the complex spell diagram with his finger. “Split the mages we have gathered into five groups and assign one section to each team. Ensure that none have the full picture, though.” Several people voiced their consent, but the man’s eyes remained glued to the spell diagram. “If any of the mages seem like they will be an inconvenience, feel free to dispose of them once their work is done. I don’t care whether you capture or kill them. Securing our future is paramount.” It sounded like the man was well accustomed to seeing others as tools, but nobody raised an objection. The group of people bowed their heads in silence, then dispersed to attend to their respective duties, taking their opinions with them. The results of the screening process would be revealed within the next day or so. Once Erik had returned from submitting his work, he opened some books and started studying the written characters in detail, and Shizuku joined him. While reading a German text he’d found inside one of the thinner books, he slowly lifted his head and asked Shizuku, who was busy creating a basic vocabulary dictionary, a question. “German shares similarities with English, but some of the words are unusually long, don’t you think?” “Yeah,” Shizuku replied. “In German, you make a compound word. The same is true with Japanese. You link different words together to create a new one…” Shizuku picked up her mechanical pencil and jotted down the Japanese for Tokyo Special Patent Approval Office, which was pronounced Tokyo-tokkyo-kyoka-kyoku. Then she drew lines to separate the components in the term from one another. “Like this… You stick several words together to create one term.” “Huh? And you can still understand what it says?” “I’m used to it. There are limits to what I can parse, though…” When there was a string of excessively complicated kanji characters lined up together, it freaked her out, and understandably so. That said, she was usually able to tell where one word began and another ended. Shizuku pointed at the supplementary German reading material Erik had. “This is part of a language textbook, so it’s on the easier side, but the technical texts we use to study are a whole other story. German doesn’t just join vocabulary together, but whole sentences, too. Sometimes, you can get ten lines of nonstop text,” she explained. “Although, that’s the case with Japanese, too.” For some reason, this made Erik chuckle. Shizuku stared at him in blank amazement. It was rare to see him laugh. “What is it?” she asked. “Did I say something funny?” “No…,” he replied. “You just looked so stressed.” “This does stress me out,” Shizuku replied. In specialized classes, it was typically the professors, advanced students, or graduate students who led the reading-comprehension sessions, but that didn’t mean Shizuku sat back and let it all wash over her. Most of the first-years tended to give up right away, but Shizuku diligently sank her teeth into the text every time, dictionary in hand. Even if she only picked up what some of the words meant, that was better than nothing. She’d already started to remember some of the frequently mentioned technical terms. If she intended to translate by herself one day, it wouldn’t hurt to start putting some effort in early. That was what she’d told herself. Unfortunately, the fact remained that it was taxing work. “I didn’t bring any technical texts with me, but these books are a piece of cake by comparison. These ones always have subject matter everyone’s already familiar with, too, which helps.” “What’s this text about?” Erik inquired. “A legend called the ‘Pied Piper of Hamelin.’ It’s pretty well-known in my world.” Shizuku explained the story to Erik in simple terms. It told of a man who played a pipe to lure out the town’s rats. When he didn’t receive the reward he was promised for ridding the town of its rat problem, he used the tune of his pipe to lead away the town’s children instead. Erik listened with a fascinated look on his face. When the story was over, he leafed through the book and examined the illustrations. “I get it now. It’s a legend.” “That’s the theme, at least. That book is actually about the true story behind the legend. About eight hundred years ago, a hundred and thirty children vanished from that very town. The exact date is even recorded.” “Is there no record of a cause?” “There are theories, but the truth remains unknown. Some people think it wasn’t children who disappeared, but settlers. This book suggests that the children might have gone up into the mountains to play and ended up falling in a bottomless marsh one by one.” “That’s horrible,” Erik remarked. Shizuku thought the same. There were still so many different suppositions on what happened. It was a real-life mystery. After eight centuries, it seemed unlikely anyone would discover the truth. Throughout humanity’s long history, there had been quite a few mysterious occurrences like that of the Pied Piper. And much like the strange event from two hundred and forty years ago that had prompted Erik and Shizuku to set out for Farsas, their real explanations still proved elusive. Although his expression remained unchanged, it seemed like Erik was thinking something similar. He smiled when he noticed Shizuku’s eyes on him. “Our mystery is easier to investigate than your one from eight hundred years ago,” he assured her. “The books were amended. Farsas must know something.” “Replayed memories re-created scenes from the past, right?” Shizuku said. “I know some people who went missing were later found in entirely different locations, but were there incidents where people vanished entirely?” “Plenty,” Erik replied. “We know what was behind a few of those, but not all of them.” “You know what caused people to disappear? What?!” Shizuku exclaimed. The sudden glimmer of curiosity in her eyes brought an uncomfortable tinge to Erik’s expression. He closed the German book. “The culprits varied—natural disasters or plots by other countries, for example. Oh, and forbidden curses, too.” “Forbidden curses?” “It’s a general term for magic that you’re not supposed to use. That’s what we call magic with problematic casting conditions or dangerous effects. Spells that use human flesh or souls as catalysts are extremely taboo.” “Whoa. It’s like black magic, then.” Erik smirked. Evidently, he found the term black magic amusing. However, his face righted itself in no time. “People say that forbidden curses were a frequent topic of research in the past during the Dark Age, a period of horrendous warfare. Apparently, forbidden curses used to be triggered by accident, resulting in terrible harm. There are numerous reports of entire countries being wiped out as a result. Nowadays, the mere mention of forbidden curses is enough to make any mage scowl. Forbidden magic is the very definition of taboo.” A hint of gloom crossed Erik’s face. It looked like a gruesome memory had come rushing back to him. Everything had a dark side, and magic was no exception. Shizuku picked up the supplementary reading material that Erik had been leafing through. On the page he happened to stop on, there was a picture of a man holding a pipe with a wide smile on his face. The white room seemed to go on forever. Before she knew it, she was sitting on a chair. Part of her thought this strange, yet it also felt wholly normal. She had no reservations about sitting on the chair, nor was she surprised to find herself in this place. It felt like she wasn’t herself at all. The version of herself that was confused by the scenario was simply elsewhere. There was nothing else in her periphery. Nobody other than her. “She” reached out toward the desk, toward the three books lying on top of it. Something like this had happened before. Shizuku’s vague confusion was dispelled immediately, like a popped bubble. She confidently opened the red book and looked down at the page. “…The rift was as small as the eye of a needle, a fissure connecting to the depths of the world, where the deepest part of the human soul is born. The small aperture was never supposed to open, but it formed, nonetheless. It seemed like a mistake, and yet at the same time, it was inevitable.” Nobody but “her” heard the voice. “The first man who peered into that hole was captured. The second lost his sanity. The third considered it the source of all souls, the very essence of humanity, and referred to whatever slithered out of it as a god…” The text went on and on. “She” simply followed along, word by word. The cyclical dream had no beginning and no end, and “she” was trapped inside it. “Wake up,” the young man whispered in her ear. “Argh!” This sudden command made Shizuku spring up. She’d been lying against the desk. She looked around, reflexively covering her ears with her hands. This was Erik’s room. Shizuku remembered coming here in the morning to study. He’d left to check whether they’d passed the castle’s screening process. Shizuku figured she must have fallen asleep after that. “Are you tired? I kept trying to wake you,” Erik said. “I-I’m sorry,” she replied. “I think I was having a weird dream…” She almost asked for the result of the screening but didn’t know if she was in a position to initiate that conversation. Perhaps things differed in this world, but test results were a pretty delicate subject in hers. Erik didn’t seem like the type to be touchy about that, but it was still safer to wait for him to broach the matter. Sure enough, Erik dropped a bunch of papers onto the desk and announced the result. “I passed. They said I need to pack my things and head inside the castle in two hours’ time.” “What?! That’s great news!” “You did half the work.” Shizuku laughed shyly. Drawing a spell diagram that depicted magic she couldn’t see had been challenging. However, she’d hoped it wouldn’t be the last time she saw such a diagram—the finished product was truly beautiful. She was glad that Erik’s spell configuration had done well. If they were allowed to use the transit ring, she’d be over the moon. “How long will your work at the castle take?” Shizuku asked Erik. “Two or three days, I imagine. We probably won’t be able to leave until it’s done. Will you be okay on your own?” “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll keep a low profile. Good things come to those who sleep, after all.” “You’re not going to nap for three whole days, are you?” “That wouldn’t bother me. Three years might be pushing it, though.” Now that Shizuku thought about it, she hadn’t told Erik about seeing Tarkis yet. She’d simply forgotten to mention it, but she knew that bringing it up at a time like this would only cause him to worry. She could just spend three days holed up inside the inn. She didn’t necessarily have to sleep the whole time. Shizuku casually waved her hands in front of her face in an attempt to reassure Erik. He stared intently at her, then nodded. It looked like he’d convinced himself that all would be fine. “I’ll come and fetch you when I’m done and tell you where we’re heading next. Even if we can’t go directly to Farsas, I’ll do my best to make the next leg of our trip easier.” “Thank you.” “Don’t let Mea leave your side, okay?” This reminder made Shizuku feel sheepish. The two of them ate an early dinner together in the inn’s dining hall, then prepared to split up for a few days. As Shizuku bade farewell to Erik, she was momentarily struck by a sense of loneliness—but she made sure not to let it show. “It’s up to us to hold the fort now, Mea,” Shizuku said. Her assistant demon chirped in acknowledgment. The sunset cast blended reds and blues through the window. It was extremely rare for a castle to employ mages on a temporary basis, but it wasn’t unheard of. Since the screening process was mainly focused around spell configuration skills, Erik had surmised that the castle’s objective was to assemble a sizable group of individuals to cast a large-scale spell. Performing such a feat required mages to link their spells. Most importantly, a significant number of people needed to take part. If the task at hand involved reinforcing the castle city’s wards, any preparatory work must have already been handled. Now that he’d made it through the screening process, Erik was eager to get the job done as quickly as possible, regardless of what it was going to be. He stood in the corner of the room where the mages were gathered. The names of the successful applicants were being read out, and he let them pass through one ear and out the other. Once all but two mages were confirmed present, an administrator of some kind stepped forward. “Thank you all for coming,” he said. “You will now begin the construction of a large-scale spell. For this task, you will be divided into five groups, each overseen by one of our castle mages. If you have any questions, refer to your respective supervisors.” The administrator also issued them several warnings. They were obliged to stay inside the castle until their work was done, and leaking information was strictly forbidden. Erik had expected these rules. The administrator concluded his speech with “We will consult with you individually once the task is completed to decide your remuneration.” The five court mages led each of their groups away. Some of the mages looked around nervously, appearing to find this a little suspicious. Even if each of the groups was responsible for different aspects of the large-scale spell, few of the mages seemed to have anticipated that they’d be working from different locations. Erik found the castle staff’s cautiousness a touch odd, too, but he also knew how secretive royals and nobles could be. Erik’s group was guided into a hall beneath the castle. The room was dimly lit, with candles serving as the only source of light. It was spacious enough to fit about four or five of the town’s shops comfortably. There was a faint spell diagram etched onto the stone-tiled floor. It looked like this was supposed to be their guide. The spherical array nearly filled the ground. Five crystal balls rested in the center of the diagram. Erik sensed enormous magical power radiating from them. The man leading Erik’s group instructed its members to stand along the circular line—equally spaced. Once done, he handed each person some documents he’d brought. “This is the spell diagram you will be collaborating on. The papers I have distributed depict only the section you personally will be assembling. Sequences three and twenty-five connect horizontally, while sequences seven and thirty-one are linked diagonally. Please keep these positionings in mind while assembling the spell.” The part of the spell diagram that Erik had been assigned left him nervous. It wasn’t a particularly difficult spell, nor did he feel daunted by the gravity of the task. Rather, he felt uneasy about the castle staff’s unexpected thoroughness. It was perfectly reasonable not to give the mages the complete spell diagram. That was confidential information. However, that each mage was only permitted their own fragment indicated that significant precautions were in place. To Erik, it appeared less about preventing the leakage of castle secrets after the task and more about withholding information from the mages about the nature of the spell they were creating. And there was only one kind of magic that needed to be kept secret: a forbidden curse. Erik felt a slight shiver come over him as he contemplated what sort of magic the castle staff sought to create. The supervisor paid no attention to Erik’s anxiety. Once he’d finished giving each of the mages their respective spell diagrams, he stood in the center of the room. “Magical energy is stored inside these crystal balls, so feel free to use it. If you want to leave the hall for any reason, make sure to let me know. I will have a soldier accompany you. Any questions?” Nobody said a word. The man glanced to each of the mages in turn before casually raising his hand and dropping it, signaling the beginning of work. As chants began to echo around the chamber, Erik took another look at the fragment of the spell he’d been assigned. A slight frown marred his handsome, androgynous features. Still, he chose to set his fears aside for the time being. He joined his fellow mages in chanting. A large number of them drew the magic out of the crystal balls together as they carefully assembled the spell. Many of the mages took breaks from their work over the hours that followed, but the construction of the spell progressed smoothly. As Erik worked on his own section, he kept an eye on what the mages around him were doing, hoping that might grant him a better idea of the whole they were creating. The portion of the spell that his group was assembling didn’t offer much insight, however. Not at first. The whole thing would probably take about three days to complete, and they’d only been working on it for a few hours so far. It was far too early for in-depth analysis. Erik continued reciting his chants to avoid arousing suspicion from the court mages observing the group. Internally, he wanted to heave a large sigh. If this was a harmless spell, it wouldn’t bother him. In fact, there’d be no need to probe into it whatsoever. Catching the attention of the court mages wouldn’t be worth the trouble. However, if this large-scale spell fit the definition of a forbidden curse, Erik had to stop it from being completed by any means necessary. Forbidden curses were the embodiment of the dark side of magic. They were something never meant to exist. The Dark Age saw the birth of many forbidden curses, all of which wrought only horrific consequences. As a scholar of that history, Erik knew how important it was that such foolishness was never repeated. The rational voice inside Erik’s head told him he was powerless to change anything on his own, but even if that was true, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to turn a blind eye to a forbidden curse. Especially not if he was partially responsible for its formation. Erik caught hold of some of the magical power filling the vicinity and molded it. As he did so, he hoped that his anxiety was unfounded, and that he’d be able to return to the girl waiting for him at the inn in three days. “This isn’t what you said would happen!” The panicked roar echoed off the walls. A man’s fist slammed against the table, disturbing the sculpture of a black serpent. It shook for a few moments after the impact. “Isn’t it? In what way?” “The spell! You said it was a forbidden mind-control curse, didn’t you, Aviella?!” “Who knows?” Aviella replied callously. “I don’t remember claiming as much. Maybe you should ask your bishop when I said such a thing. He might not give you the answer you’re hoping for, though, faithful follower Selue.” As Aviella continued to play dumb, the man named Selue grew red in the face. The man, who worked as a priest of the Shula faith in Candela’s castle city, glared at the woman, infuriated. “Idos has infiltrated the castle as the royal chief mage. The plan was for him to advise the king, then swap out the spell for the forbidden curse!” “And things have proceeded according to that expectation, haven’t they? All is as you wished.” Selue gave Aviella a hateful scowl. She wasn’t a devout follower of the Shula faith. She’d just appeared one day and managed to impress the bishop with her extensive knowledge. After that, she’d simply remained. Selue knew she’d planted an idea regarding their plan in the bishop’s head, but he’d yet to deduce precisely what. The king, who was completely ignorant of the Shula faith’s involvement, still believed that the forbidden spell being assembled in the castle was a large-scale warfare spell. Meanwhile, Idos, operating undercover as the royal chief mage, believed the spell would be a forbidden curse to control the populace to the benefit of the Shula faith. However, both had been deceived. So what was the magic truly for? Aviella’s eyes rose from beneath silver-dusted eyelashes as she filed her nails methodically. “Mind control… Mind control, huh? Well, that’s one aspect of the curse. You’re still getting what you hoped for.” “Our hope was for this entire country to achieve enlightenment and worship the Shula god, not for the nation to be destroyed!” “‘Enlightenment’? Is that what we’re calling mind control nowadays? How strange,” Aviella replied, making no effort to conceal her derision. Her voice had a certain allure to it, but the contempt it carried was most noticeable. Her enchanting smile only amplified this effect. Were she a flower, people would’ve been more captivated by her thorns than her petals, if they were able to overlook their repugnance. “I don’t want to hear your jokes! Just tell me what the spell is! What’s going to happen?!” Selue demanded. Aviella stopped filing her nails and tossed a cloth away. She reached out with her long fingers to take the serpent sculpture lying on the table. “Nothing you need to worry about. The people’s minds will be controlled, just as you desire. But that’s not your only wish that will come true. That thing you people revere will begin to enter the world. That’s all.” “Huh…?” Selue didn’t know what to say. What Aviella suggested had never happened in the entire history of the continent. Not even his faith was strong enough to still his trembling legs. “When it emerges…what will become of this land?” he asked hoarsely. “You must know the answer to that,” Aviella replied. “You’re the Children of the Third Man. You know better than anyone what happens to those who encounter that thing.” Aviella sounded like she was sentencing him to death. However, she was right. Selue did understand. That’s precisely why all the color drained from his face. “Are you saying…that our nation’s people will meet the same fate as the first and second men?” Aviella’s slight laugh assured him that his suspicions were correct. She dropped the Shula sculpture on the table. The iron effigy made a harsh grating noise as it rolled across the table. Selue couldn’t blame Aviella’s actions on her mere lack of faith anymore. He drew closer to her. “How could you be so stupid?! Our whole country will be wiped off the map!” “There might be one survivor, though. Somebody who won’t fall under that thing’s mind control.” “And you think it’ll be you?!” “Not necessarily.” Aviella looked over her shoulder. A black-robed man waited against the wall like a statue. He was her chaperone, a man whose true identity was a mystery to all but Aviella herself. He carried no weapons, but he exuded an aura that suggested he could leap to Aviella’s defense at any time. His presence compelled Selue, who was already consumed by anger and confusion, to restrain himself. He took two staggering steps back, not prepared to give up entirely. “I’ll stop this…,” he muttered. “Do whatever you like. Are you going to run up to the castle and knock on the gates? The king is too blinded by his own power to believe that a spell could lead to the destruction of his nation.” Undoubtedly, the king would question how Selue came to know about the secret spell and detain him for interrogation. There was a strong possibility that the king would take extreme measures as well. Complaining to the bishop would be fruitless, too. If what Aviella said was true, he desired for that thing to reveal itself. The only way to stop the plan was by exposing the truth to his coconspirator, the false royal chief mage inside the castle. Unfortunately, the plan was already in motion. It was too late to contact him by any normal means. Idos had been instructed not to accept any form of external communication to keep the Shula faith’s involvement a secret.
Chapter 10
41 min read