Chapter 26

Shizuku couldn’t tell whether his compliance was a show of integrity or not. Regardless, she was too invested in the situation to tell him he didn’t have to try it, so she simply watched him with an icy look in her eyes. “…It tastes like carrot,” said the king. “That’s because it has a whole carrot in it. I’d be worried if it didn’t taste that way. I initially considered stewing the carrot in shoyu, but there wasn’t any.” “Shoyu? What’s that?” “A flavoring we use in my country. You don’t have miso or bonito flakes here, either, do you? It’s such a shame.” Not only had Shizuku not seen any soybean products since arriving in this world, but the only fish-based food she’d encountered was smoked fish. Shizuku felt like fish stock and soy sauce could make almost anything edible, but since neither of those existed, there wasn’t much she could whip up spontaneously. As a result, Shizuku was stuck re-creating recipes she only vaguely remembered, checking the ingredients one at a time. Since the cake had been made for Lars, however, she didn’t feel remotely upset if the flavor was a little off. The king didn’t comment on the flavor of the cake at all. After swallowing just one mouthful, he pushed the plate away. “If you want a flavoring, then make one. What’s that ‘shoyu’ stuff made from?” “Soybeans, I think…” “Well, we have soybeans. What about miso?” “Soybeans.” “…” “…” Lars gave her a look that was hard to describe, but Shizuku knew full well what he wanted to ask. In the moment, even Shizuku had found it odd that they were both made from the same core ingredient, so she beat him to the punch and started telling the king about her country’s two famous flavorings. “They taste completely different, though. They’re probably made in completely different ways.” “Different how?” “I’m not sure about that… I always bought them ready-made.” “…” “They’re fermented! No student is going to make that kind of stuff themselves!” Shizuku didn’t want him to question her credibility over something like this, and she decided to look into how shoyu, miso, and tofu were made once she returned home safely. Even as a modern Japanese person, there were so many things she struggled to explain that at times, it made her feel ashamed. Lars, meanwhile, didn’t seem interested in probing further, and Shizuku took back what remained of the cake. Turning back to his paperwork, Lars asked her a question. “That reminds me, you’re unhappy about your current situation, aren’t you? You don’t like being at my mercy.” “I’m extremely unhappy about it,” replied Shizuku. “Do you even need to ask?” “You’re only unhappy about it because you know I’m pulling the strings, though. What if you were being controlled by someone as we speak, without even realizing it? Imagine you unwittingly became the subject of an experiment, and someone started making notes about you.” Shizuku found this hypothetical bizarre, but she was always ready for a discussion with the king. She curled her lip and gave him her obvious answer. “I’d be mad. I’d wonder who the hell they thought they were.” “I see.” The king didn’t look like he wanted to expand on his abrupt question. As he continued taking care of his paperwork, Shizuku gave him a dubious look and cocked her head to one side. “What was that about? It makes me anxious when there’s no punch line.” “It’s no big deal. I’ll tell you…tomorrow. Lettie isn’t around today, and neither is the other one.” By “the other one,” he must have meant Erik; Shizuku couldn’t think of anyone else he could be talking about, meaning that he must still be in Candela. Unable to fathom what Lars wanted to discuss with the three of them, she frowned. “Is it a meeting for you to reflect on all your mistakes and apologize?” asked Shizuku. “I have no mistakes to reflect on. I still think that killing you would have been the easier option.” Shizuku reacted to this predictable response with a sardonic smile. By that point, little comments like these didn’t even ruffle her feathers. In fact, she’d be more surprised if he suddenly showed her some warmth. “…That said, Lettie’s been badgering me to admit defeat, and she has me wrapped around her little finger,” Lars said, tossing a document he’d signed. Shizuku had never heard him use that tone of voice before, and she stared intently at him. Perhaps this was the first time he’d revealed to Shizuku how he really felt. Judging by the look on his face, his younger sister’s lectures had left the monarch in a bit of a sulky mood, and this unexpected reaction made Shizuku forget any displeasure she was experiencing. “…Do you have a sister complex?” “What does that mean?” “Nothing. You must really love your sister.” “‘Love’ is not the right word, but she’s all the family I have.” Lars’s retort had inevitably made Shizuku think about her own sisters, and she narrowed her eyes. “What? Do you have a sister, too?” asked Lars, having picked up on the change in Shizuku’s expression. “…Yeah. One younger and one older.” Shizuku’s frown melted away as warm, nostalgic memories came flooding back. Her eyes stung with tears. With everything she’d been going through, Shizuku hadn’t had the chance to think about them. Lars glanced at her, then shifted his focus back to his paperwork without saying a word. The silence stretched for a short while, then Lars stopped what he was doing and held out one of his papers to Shizuku. “Read this, carrot girl.” “Why are you calling me that…? Also, I can’t read your world’s language.” “Really? Is that what happens when you come from another world?” “I’m in the process of learning your written language, so I can understand the gist of something by picking up simple words…” At Shizuku’s level of proficiency, however, castle documents would be impossible to read. Shizuku took the document from Lars, but as she’d predicted, it was indecipherable. She felt like the conversation was going nowhere, until the king surmised the main points of the text. “Remember how we went to see that bell tower the other day? I thought it would be good exercise for you, so I replied to the custodian and said that I would personally go to inspect it. However—” “You took me on that inspection so you could force me to exercise…? You let me out of the castle for that…?” “The custodian has died.” “Sorry?” Shizuku couldn’t comprehend this sudden turn of events, and Lars took the document back from her. “He died suddenly, right after submitting his request, and was buried not long after. We went to the tower two days after it happened, almost as if we’d just missed him. Yesterday, however, his body—which was supposed to have been buried—was discovered inside his home.” “Huh?!” “He was wearing the same clothes he’d been buried in. Since he lived alone, nobody knows when his body appeared.” Shizuku couldn’t tell which part of the story she should focus on first, and after organizing her thoughts, she asked Lars a question of her own. “Does that mean…someone dug his body up?” “That’s the natural assumption to make. Was it you?” “Stop mindlessly blaming everything on me. No, it wasn’t.” If there was some likely explanation, it would be easier to cope with—but this was just eerie. Lars sank deep into thought upon hearing Shizuku’s response, and a few seconds later, he gently posed her a question. “Back when we visited the bell tower, you swept up the dirt, didn’t you?” “Yeah, I did. It was covered in field dirt from top to bottom.” “What made you think it was dirt from a field?” “Huh? Well…it was the kind of soil that people put their hands in… The stuff that’s easy to dig up…” At that point, Shizuku fell silent. The dirt that had been scattered throughout the tower wasn’t dried-out soil, nor sand with pebbles mixed in it, but soft-looking black dirt. Could it have been—? “Your Majesty, you don’t think that someone dug his body up and dragged it all the way to the top of the tower with dirt still on it, do you?” What would be the point in that? Even if that was what happened, the most terrifying part was not knowing the reason behind it. Shizuku frowned, while Lars remained silent. He stared at his paperwork with his head in his hands, then eventually told Shizuku that she was dismissed for the day. Shizuku found this peculiar but left the king’s office anyway. “That conversation ended on a pretty strange note…” She had her suspicions about what had happened, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it right now. So with nothing else to occupy her time, Shizuku headed back to her room. Just as she was approaching the covered walkway, however, a man coming from other direction noticed her and came to a stop. Harve walked over to her and smiled, carrying a book under one arm. “Are you on your break, Shizuku?” he asked. “The king made it sound like I could take the rest of the day off. I’m blaming that carrot cake I gave him.” “…You gave him something like that? Whoa.” “I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t get him back every now and then.” Feeling fairly satisfied with herself, Shizuku reclined against the railings of the walkway. Harve gave her a tight smile and stood by her side. From here on the third floor, they could look down over the castle’s rear garden. Amid the gardeners trimming the trees, a man in a dark-green mage’s robe pushed his way into the grove. He was the man who’d accused Shizuku in the courtyard of being a troublemaker—she was sure of it. Shizuku pointed at his back. “Harve, do you know who he is?” “Huh? Oh, that’s Dylguey. He’s a mage who specializes in the history of Farsas.” “You recognized him right away, huh? Are you close?” “No, it’s the clothes. He’s the only one who wears that color.” “Oh.” The majority of Farsas’s mages wore navy-blue robes, and although it didn’t seem like this was their uniform, it was unusual for mages to wear a robe of a different color. That meant the man Shizuku had spotted in the grove behind the castle must have been Dylguey, too. She recalled the conversation she’d overheard from behind the trees. “Harve, do you know who Farsas’s strongest king would be?” “Huh? Where’d that come from all of a sudden? I know of a few famous kings, but as for the strongest… Wait, the strongest in what sense? Swordsmanship? Accomplishments?” “Uhh, swordsmanship…I guess…” Since history was Harve’s specialty, Shizuku had expected him to know a few individuals who fit this description, but it seemed like this wasn’t a frequent topic of discussion. Still, Harve happily helped her out—perhaps because the subject was within his field of research. “Fair enough. The king of Farsas is famous for wielding Akashia, after all. People say that the founding king of Farsas was a strong swordsman, but there are no records of his name. The country was created during the Dark Age, so that’s no surprise. There’s also the twenty-first king, who brought an end to the Age of Witches… And the eighteenth king, who achieved numerous heroic feats in battle.” “As I thought, there’s no shortage of famous kings.” “No. They all tend to be military men. Those that reigned during peaceful times don’t tend to stand out as much, but all of them would have been well trained. Our current king is the strongest person in the castle right now, for example.” “Oh…” Shizuku felt drained just thinking about the numerous training sessions the king had made her join him on. In this current era of peace, he probably viewed Shizuku as an unexpected adversary who’d emerged from out of the blue, and she sighed and asked Harve another question. “So do witches still exist?” That was something else that had been brought up in the secret conversation that Shizuku overheard. Not only that, but they also had something to do with the incidents Shizuku wanted to know about from two hundred and forty years prior. “Only six witches existed in the past. Three of them have been confirmed dead. We don’t know about the rest. If they were still alive, then I guess we’d have some thousand-year-old witches in our midst.” “That would be absurd…” In other words, there was no way of knowing whether witches still existed. What, then, had those men meant by “There’s no use having a witch around”? Once Shizuku had thought things over herself, she told Harve about the conversation she’d overheard. “There were two of them, and I think one of them was Dylguey. They were saying all kinds of confusing stuff, like, ‘Our preparations are complete,’ ‘Like last time, the core can only choose one person,’ and, ‘I’m choosing the strongest king that Farsas ever had.’ According to Mea, the other man—who was dressed in black—noticed that we were hiding from them.” Shizuku racked her brain and told him the fragments she could remember, but Harve looked suspicious. “That does seem odd. Still, the fact that they left you alone after noticing you makes me think it was no big deal. If it really was Dylguey, he could have been talking about a magic thesis or something… Why were you hiding in the first place?” “The mage we ran into immediately before warned us that we’d find ourselves in trouble if we heard them. He was a young man with gray hair, and he’s rude and violent—the kind of guy who travels around to other countries trying to abduct powerful mages.” Apart from his youth, the man didn’t have any other remarkable physical attributes, which made him hard to describe. If Shizuku had to name one thing that set him apart from other people, it would be his unpleasant personality. This comment made Harve tilt his head to one side, perplexed. “Huh, is he one of our mages? What was that about abducting powerful mages?” “Maybe ‘abduct’ wasn’t the right word. He was saying he wanted to capture this one mage girl and hear what she had to say… We crossed paths at the northwestern border. Turns out he’s from Farsas.” “No Farsasian mage would get up to that kind of mischief. As a general rule, our royal mages don’t even leave our country’s borders. Who was that man you met?” “…What?” The conversation had taken a sudden suspicious turn. Shizuku crossed her arms and groaned. “Huh…? I wonder who he was, then… Was it a daydream?” At this point, Shizuku’s story felt too unclear to share with anybody, and Harve gave her a strained smile, seeing Shizuku’s confused expression. “There’s a lot about this that doesn’t sit right with me. I’ll take a look at our records and check who’s been where as of late.” “I’m sorry my story was kind of vague.” Shizuku felt bad for wasting his time like this—unlike her, Harve was busy. Rather than sharing some parting words, Shizuku gave him a bow, but when she looked up, one more thing came flooding back. “Uhh, do you know who Crestea is?” “Huh?” This question made Harve’s eyes widen, but he quickly covered it with a smile. “I do. Do you remember me telling you about Katiliana? Crestea was her grandmother.” Crestea, Lars’s great-aunt, was already deceased. She’d been the king’s younger sister two generations before Lars, and she was a mysterious woman and an exceptional mage. She had rarely left the castle and spent the last ten years of her life shut away in her room in the castle, never showing her face. Katiliana turned up a short while after her death. It was unclear who Crestea had married and how her child had come to give birth to Katiliana. According to the records, Crestea had been single for her entire life. However, infighting had plagued the Farsasian royal family ever since Crestea had been a young girl, all the way up to shortly before her granddaughter, Katiliana, arrived at the castle, causing some conjecture that Crestea had given birth to a child in secret to avoid getting swept up in the chaos. The internal strife within the royal family had all stemmed from one man’s descent into madness. “The former king, Dysral… I’m glad I didn’t come to this world during his reign.” Shizuku was lying down on her bed, ruminating over what Harve had told her. When Shizuku brought up the name “Crestea,” Harve had used the opportunity to introduce another idea to her. “There’s another strong king that I neglected to mention,” he’d said, “although he’s more infamous than famous.” “He suddenly gathered all his relatives in one hall and cut them down with his sword… That’s like the Tsuyama massacre,” said Shizuku, having been reminded of a notorious spree killing that happened in rural 1930s Japan. Dysral had demonstrated remarkable sword skills from a young age, but at the same time, he’d also been known for his quick temper. There were numerous outrageous anecdotes about him, such as the story of how he’d suddenly decided one day to invade the neighboring country and slaughter its people. Eventually, his temper culminated in the slaughter of his own family. After Dysral had killed sixty-three members of the royal family and his own vassals, people finally fought back, leading to his death. It was a story so grisly that even Harve stumbled over his words while telling it. Following that incident, Dysral’s name was removed from the royal line, and a new king ascended to the throne. “But, Master, why was there a struggle within the royal family when Dysral was already dead?” “Oh. Well, most of those who were killed in the massacre were Dysral’s direct descendants who’d been called into the throne room, but for some reason, a number of his relatives were either not asked to come or ignored the summons. That meant there were quite a few royals who weren’t present for one reason or another, and rumors saying that they must have known what was going to happen began to spread, along with other misunderstandings, which sparked a series of internal conflicts. Many of the royals didn’t get along, despite being related by blood, and the incident brought pent-up grievances and frustrations to the forefront.” “…I see.” Mea, who was sitting in a chair by the window, looked glum. This conversation must have reminded her of the princess she used to work for, who had been killed by her own brother, and Shizuku sat up in a fluster and patted the space next to her. Mea raised her head, startled, then hurried over to sit down. Shizuku spoke to her demon friend in the kindest voice she could manage. “Everybody’s different. Everyone has their own circumstances.” The royal family of Farsas had a particularly strong tradition of intermarrying in order to preserve their magical abilities, and the massacre had only aggravated the love-hate relationships that came with this. “That’s all in the past. Things are fine now. There are only two direct descendants of the throne, and they get along just fine.” Perhaps it was lucky that Shizuku had come to this world during Lars’s reign. Still, when she thought back on the workouts she’d been forced to endure, she wasn’t so sure. Shizuku lay back down and closed her eyes as she contemplated this idea. Before she knew it, she’d drifted off to sleep. She couldn’t turn the pages of the book. Not here anyway. And even if she could, she wouldn’t be able to take them out of the realm of dreams. There was something that lay even deeper—something that she couldn’t even question in a dream. She wasn’t allowed to notice. That imperative was constantly controlling her. If she did notice, she wouldn’t be protected any longer. You should escape, it whispered. If you stay here, all that awaits you is death. “I can’t escape,” she said back. “I have nowhere to escape to. I’m going to stay here and fight.” But… If she escaped… She had to escape… If she died… Then why…? She’d be chased… Forever… No matter where she went… And… If she were to die, there’d be no point to her coming in the first place. She would never escape. Not from its side. Shizuku had probably been in her final years of elementary school when she first heard the term witching hour. Back then, Shizuku had thought of it as the time when monsters were more likely to appear. Sometimes she’d wake up at two or three in the morning and hurriedly bury herself inside her futon. In this world as well, there were twenty-four hours in a day, divided into two parts—twelve hours from midnight until noon, and another twelve hours thereafter. However, Shizuku couldn’t be certain if an hour here was the same length, or if noon here coincided with noon in her own world. Even in Shizuku’s home world, the number of hours of daylight varied from country to country. Right from the beginning, she’d given up trying to accurately compare the time system here to that of her world and had instead decided to adapt to the customs of the continent she found herself in. As the clock approached two in the morning, Shizuku was woken up by the breeze creeping in through the open window. The lukewarm air tickled her nose, prompting her to stir slightly, and after a short while, she lifted her head. “…What?” she exclaimed, still half asleep. The whole room was filled with the stench of blood. Shizuku got out of bed and stepped down onto the wooden floor, barefoot. Then she peered out the open window. All she could see in the moonlit garden were the dark, obscured silhouettes of the trees. The nighttime scene looked completely normal, and yet the nauseating smell of blood was much stronger outside. The air reeked of a combination of foul odors—a mixture of blood and rotten flesh—and Shizuku covered her mouth and nose and tried to close the window. However, before she’d closed it all the way, Shizuku noticed a shining object move through the garden. She watched as something silver shimmered in the moonlight, bobbing up and down, and realizing what it was, Shizuku found herself dumbstruck. There, making its way through the trees beneath the moonlight, was a skeleton dressed in white armor, a sword hanging from its waist. “Th-that’s the magic kingdom for you. The undead are walking.” A skeleton moving beneath the moonlight—the sight shocked Shizuku more than it frightened her. She rubbed her eyes and gazed eagerly at it. She knew Erik would claim this could never happen if she were to tell him about it, but Shizuku felt almost enthralled as she followed the skeleton with her eyes. “It can move armor using just its bones… Magic is fascinating…” Shizuku had been leisurely observing the surreal spectacle when she suddenly noticed another source of light. This one wasn’t the moon but the red light from a torch carried by a soldier. “Who are you?” he shouted as he drew closer to the skeleton. Shizuku, who was still a little sleepy, found this sight peculiar. Yes, she’d seen a walking skeleton—but she’d convinced herself that it had been brought to life to guard the castle. If she was wrong, then the skeleton’s presence was extremely unusual. There was no way it would have been left unattended. But the skeleton’s presence was unusual. Its sword cut down the torch-carrying soldier, who let out a short scream, then collapsed onto the ground. Shizuku’s eyes opened as wide as they would go. “…Huh? W-wait! What?!” The small bird who’d been sleeping in the corner of the room opened her eyes. Being a demon, she must have sensed the situation even sooner than her master, because she flew over to Shizuku’s shoulder and let out a high-pitched chirp. “Mea! The skeleton! The man!” Shizuku herself didn’t even understand the words that were coming out of her mouth, but talking made her feel calmer. She quickly put on her shoes and jacket and rushed out of the room. Some people might have noticed the strange goings-on, but it would be dangerous if others were still unaware, and the slain soldier might still be breathing. Shizuku ran down the dark, candlelit corridor, but the smell of rotten blood seemed to spread throughout the castle, as if it were following her. Before long, the news of the strange occurrence within the castle grounds reached the king’s bedchamber. Lars armed himself with his sword as he listened to his aide’s report. “A dead body is walking around the castle garden and has attacked a living person…” “…I see. So it’s come to this,” replied the king. “I’m still tired.” “Your Majesty?” “Is Lettie not back?” “She’s spending the night in Candela,” his aide clarified, disconcerted by the king’s apparent lack of urgency. “Should we…get in touch with her? Or maybe not? I’d feel bad waking her, so I guess we better not.” “U-uhh…” As much as the man wanted Lars to contact his sister, he couldn’t go against his master’s wishes. Instead, he silently bowed his head. As soon as the king and his aide stepped out into the hallway, a military officer came running toward them. “Y-Your Majesty!” “What is it? Don’t tell me—the dead body came back to life?” “No, it’s just…I wanted to make sure we were allowed to fight back.” “Why would you even need to ask? Don’t waste my time.” “Yes, but, well… Some people are claiming that our adversary might be a former king…” This incoherent explanation prompted Lars to exchange glances with his aide—who looked just as baffled as he did—before the king voiced his honest thoughts on the matter. “Ah. So they’re trying to throw me off balance, are they?” he muttered, scratching his temple in annoyance. Before running out into the garden, Shizuku explained the situation to the soldier on guard. The odor drifting through the air brought a questioning expression to his face, but he still turned a deaf ear to her claim. “You must’ve been dreaming,” he told her. Shizuku wished she could brush it off as nothing more than a dream, but someone had been hurt—she had no choice but to investigate. She dashed outside and headed to the area she’d seen through the window, relying solely on the moonlight to illuminate her path. Shizuku held her breath, feeling as if every inhalation of that awful odor was eating away at her mind. Next, she entered the grove and pushed her way through the trees. The moonlight gave the glossy blades of grass a silver hue. Trusting these numerous tiny glimmers of light to guide her, she located the fallen soldier, then hurried over to checked his pulse. He still had a faint heartbeat. “H-he’s alive. Can you carry him, Mea?” “If you don’t mind me dragging him.” “Th-that’s probably not a good idea.” The soldier was lying face down, so there was no way of telling what kinds of injuries he’d suffered. After agonizing over what to do, Shizuku asked Mea to fetch some help, and the demon girl vanished from the forest, leaving Shizuku to carefully roll the soldier onto his back. He let out a small groan. It was difficult to gauge the extent of his injuries in the darkness of the night. She took off her jacket and gently held it against his open wound. “Just wait a little while longer… I’m sure a mage will be here soon.” At that moment, the moonlight dimmed, and Shizuku sensed a shadow looming over her. She looked up to see who it belonged to—only to spot a lone woman standing on the grass that led out of the forest, clad in a white dress. The woman had loose black hair, and she stared intently at Shizuku. As beautiful as she was, there was something childish about her appearance. Shizuku had the feeling she looked familiar, but she didn’t have time to waste on such thoughts. Continuing to apply pressure to the soldier’s wound, she pleaded with the woman for assistance. “Excuse me! If you’re a mage, then could you help heal this man’s wounds? He’s hurt, and…” The woman started moving before Shizuku had finished speaking. She began to draw closer, one slow step at a time, moving as if she were walking on clouds. She stood in front of Shizuku and reached out. She wore gloves over her pale, elegant hands. The sight of them made Shizuku feel at peace, and for an instant, she was captivated. But the next moment, her eyes widened in surprise. “Huh?” The woman looked down at Shizuku with her blue eyes, then placed her slender fingers around Shizuku’s neck and squeezed. “Wha…!” That was the only sound Shizuku could manage. As the woman dug in her fingers, Shizuku tried to pry them away from her neck—but her grip was unexpectedly strong for a woman. As she applied pressure to Shizuku’s windpipe, it became harder and harder for her to breathe. I’m going to die if I don’t do something. As soon as this thought flashed through Shizuku’s mind, she planted her hands on the ground. She stopped trying to free herself from the woman’s suffocating grasp and kicked against the grass with all her might, as if she was preparing to make a run for it. Then, she aggressively rammed her body against her attacker. It hadn’t been a calculated move—Shizuku had just been trying to survive—but it worked slightly in her favor. They both fell to the ground, bodies intertwined, and the woman relinquished her chokehold, which had been preventing Shizuku from breathing. Shizuku put her hands to her neck, coughing violently, and her eyes blurred with tears. In the meantime, however, the woman had risen expressionlessly to her feet and picked up a nearby rock. She lifted it and turned toward Shizuku, who was still on the ground. Seeing the woman standing over her, rock in hand, Shizuku immediately shielded her face with her arms, but her assailant hurled the rock directly at her face. Shizuku groaned, and the pain dulled her consciousness momentarily. Undeterred, the woman threw another rock in Shizuku’s direction. This time, however, Shizuku lunged toward the woman’s hand. “That hurt! Violence is not the answer!” Shizuku grabbed the woman’s wrists firmly so that she couldn’t be punched, then pushed her to the ground. Shizuku attempted to straddle her, but the woman kicked her defiantly in the abdomen, and Shizuku fell onto her backside. Swallowing the bile in her throat, Shizuku staggered to her feet—but she must have twisted her ankle when she fell, because she felt a stinging pain that forced her to crouch back down. “Ow…” Moonlight illuminated the garden. In a world tinged with eerie silence and a repulsive odor, the woman’s shadow swayed gently on the ground. She looked like a porcelain doll, devoid of all emotion, yet as disheveled as she was, she was still beautiful. She turned toward Shizuku, raising a rock overhead, and Shizuku covered her face with her hands, bracing herself for the incoming attack. She shut her eyes tight. She didn’t want to be hurt—and she most definitely didn’t want to die. In truth, Shizuku desperately wanted to run away, yet she’d managed to resist that urge so far. She gritted her teeth, waiting for what was to come. She waited and waited, but the rock she expected to hit her never came. In its place, she heard a man’s voice behind her. He sounded annoyed. “Mother, I understand how you feel, but killing this girl is my job.” It was a voice Shizuku hadn’t expected to hear. She raised her head and looked over her shoulder in shock. The king, along with several people who worked for him, had arrived from out of nowhere. They stood there, side by side, each and every one of them armed. The woman seemed almost wary as she stood there, frozen, the rock raised above her head. “Th-this is your mother?” asked Shizuku. “That’s right.” Lars grabbed Shizuku by the collar, pulled her over toward him, then confronted the woman in the white dress. It made sense now why she’d looked so familiar—she bore a strong resemblance to Leuticia—but strangely, she seemed to be around the same age. Shizuku looked up at the king, who was still holding on to her collar. “She’s very young to be your mother…”. “That’s because she died when she was twenty-four. I’d be more surprised if the dead did age.” “That’s a good point. Wait, what?!” “What I’m saying is, she’s just a corpse.” Lars gently shoved Shizuku behind him. Once again, she ended up tumbling to the ground, prompting one mage to run over to her. When she took a closer look, she realized it was Harve. “Are you okay?” he asked as he healed her injuries. Two other mages crouched beside the fallen soldier. “Harve, if that’s a corpse…I saw a skeleton earlier, too…,” said Shizuku. “There are dead bodies walking all around the castle right now,” explained Harve. “It appears that several of the royal family mausoleums have been damaged.” “Whoa! How did that happen?” Shizuku cried. Everyone else ignored her as they slowly began to encircle the former queen. Lars, in the center of the crowd, stepped closer to his mother, the blade of Akashia gleaming beneath the moonlight. His voice rang out cold and clear on the night breeze. “Now, it pains me somewhat to say this, but you can’t just go around killing people. You need to quietly return to your casket.” The woman looked around, her movements sluggish. Then, seemingly realizing that she couldn’t get away, she turned toward Lars. There was nothing maternal in her eyes—even Shizuku could see that. There was nothing at all in her eyes, in fact. The emptiness inside them made Shizuku a little afraid. There was no such thing as ghosts. People’s souls didn’t stay behind once they died. If all of that were true, then this woman was nothing but a corpse, just as Lars had described. Yet even so, the sight of her body moving around, trying to take people’s lives, filled Shizuku with an unbearable sense of anguish. This must all just be part of some horrible nightmare. The weapon in Lars’s hand made the night air feel so much colder, and Shizuku shivered. She heard the king exhale. Moonlight reflected off the royal sword—and then the point of its blade pierced the corpse’s chest. There was no blood. Shizuku watched as the woman fell into the king’s arms. She knew she’d never be allowed to talk about what she’d seen that night, and she swallowed hard. The former queen collapsed to the ground, and Lars put away his sword and picked up his mother’s body. It wasn’t blood that was oozing out of her chest but a thick, black fluid. The stench it gave off only intensified the odor that was already enveloping their surroundings. The king glared at the liquid, frowning. “Is this some kind of forbidden curse?” “Probably. There has to be a core somewhere.” “I have people guarding the public cemetery in the city, but I never imagined they’d come to the castle itself. What kinds of abilities do these corpses have? If they’re as powerful as they were when they were alive, we might be in serious trouble. And if a witch were to show up, there’d be no hope for us.” “Their magical powers seem to have disappeared, but their physical strength has improved to compensate—” Shizuku only partially understood the men’s conversation, but it made her eyes widen. If the royal mausoleum had been desecrated, then all the walking corpses, including the skeleton Shizuku saw earlier, were former members of the royal family. That would undoubtedly make it more difficult for the soldiers to fight against them. Indeed, everyone at the scene looked conflicted. Lars wrapped his mother’s body in a sheet that had been brought for him, left her in the hands of his subjects, then rose to his feet. “I can’t be bothered to look for the core of the forbidden curse. Capture all of the deceased, and tomorrow we’ll have Lettie look for it.” “Your Majesty, that doesn’t sound like a—” At that moment, a mage rushed over to the king and hurriedly whispered something in his ear. The king’s expression quickly darkened as he listened to what the mage had to say; then he looked around at the scene. “Get the soldiers and mages to retreat. Make sure everyone stays inside the buildings, and under no circumstances is anybody to set foot outside. Truce, Azulia, and I will take charge of exterminating the dead. And make use of the elders.” Only about half of those present seemed to understand the king’s orders, but those who did blanched and began running off in different directions, while everyone else started making their way back inside with some confusion. Harve patted Shizuku lightly on the shoulder. “Let’s go. I’ll walk you back,” he said. “Oh, okay,” replied Shizuku. She started walking back through the dark garden, Harve leading the way. Since Shizuku had left her jacket with the fallen soldier, Harve gave her his to wear over her pajamas. She thanked him and put it on, but her expression didn’t brighten at all. “The mausoleum is the one in the woods at the back of the castle, isn’t it?” “Yeah, but that’s just one of three. The one at the back only contains the caskets of former kings and their wives, while the other members of the royal family are preserved in a separate one.” “That makes sense… Is the third one just a backup?” “That’s where the royals who committed crimes are kept. Its location isn’t known.” Both Harve and Shizuku went quiet for a moment, seemingly envisaging the same unpleasant scenario. The fragments of information she had were beginning to take a detestable shape. “…The king said there’d be no hope if a witch appeared, didn’t he? Are there witches buried in the castle?” “Yes. A long time ago, a witch was buried in the royal mausoleum. But it’s fine—even if her corpse is reanimated, she won’t have any magical powers. Once your soul disappears, your power disappears with it. Within the realm system, the soul is—” “Uh, I know mages like discussing that topic, but it’s not what I’m worried about,” Shizuku said, hurriedly interrupting Harve’s explanation. Then she lowered her voice. “This must be what I overheard them discussing in the forest behind the castle: ‘The core can only choose one person.’ ‘I’m choosing the strongest king that Farsas ever had.’ ‘There’s no use having a witch around.’ In other words, they were deciding whose body to bring back to life.” Shizuku had found the conversation baffling at the time, but when she pieced it together with the information she’d just heard, she began to make sense of it. However, her explanation made the color drain from Harve’s face. She was suggesting that those two men had used a forbidden curse to resurrect members of the royal family. It was an outrageous suggestion, and Harve immediately shook his head. “No, but… That’s a forbidden curse. You’re implying that Dylguey might have something to do with it, aren’t you? He’s a royal mage, like me. He’d never do such a thing.” “Wouldn’t he be able to?” “He probably has the power for something like that…but not the knowledge. In the castle, information regarding forbidden curses is strictly regulated. Only a select few people are able to view it.” Those “select few” must have included Leuticia and Erik. Undeterred, Shizuku vehemently argued her case. “Still, there’s a chance that someone else shared that knowledge with him.” There were two men in the grove that day. The one dressed entirely in black had said, “It works the same as last time,” apparently explaining how it was done. In other words… “Harve, did you check the records to see which royal mages have been outside the castle, like we discussed this afternoon?” “Huh? Oh yeah, I did. Nothing about Dylguey’s movements seemed particularly unusual, though. He’s just been to the castle city a few times this month. The last time he went was the day before yesterday, if I remember right.” Shizuku gulped. Her slight doubts were turning into serious suspicions. Why had the silhouette of the black-robed man in the grove seemed familiar? Because of the figure Shizuku had spotted from atop the tall bell tower. She had only seen that man from a distance, but could he be the same one who had been on the castle grounds? “So actually, something strange happened in the castle city not too long ago,” Shizuku began to explain. “The custodian of the bell tower died suddenly, but his body was dug back up and left inside his house. At around that same time, the king and I went to that bell tower, but the inside was covered with dirt, almost like a corpse had been walking around in there after rising from the grave. I wonder if that has something to do with this.” “…What?” Harve’s voice was tense. His terror-stricken eyes darted around in the darkness, and Shizuku continued, repeating what she’d heard from Lars. “The bell tower’s custodian died suddenly just before the king told him he was coming. What if someone was experimenting with resurrecting dead bodies before executing this plan—and wanted to see how the king would react?” Why would he show Lars a snippet of his plan? Most likely, it was a challenge for the king. Would he notice that something was off? And if he did, what action would he take? It wasn’t Shizuku who the man in the square had been looking at, but Lars. The king had probably come up with a similar theory already. When Lars brought up the abandonment of the custodian’s dead body, he seemed far more skeptical about the ordeal than Shizuku was. That must also be why he’d gotten people to keep an eye on the public cemetery. Harve’s voice was raspy now. “When it comes to forbidden curses that control corpses, records indicate that unless you issue them specific behavioral commands, they tend to repeat what they used to do when they were alive. If your hypothesis about the caretaker is correct, then the corpse must have been carrying out his daily duties.” “Going to check on the bell tower, then returning home…? That sounds just like a ghost story.” They might be able to find some actual witnesses if they could do a thorough search, but for the moment, the most important thing was to get the situation under control. Shizuku thought back on some things she’d casually overlooked earlier. “I keep thinking the figure watching the king and me when we were at the bell tower looked a lot like the man who was with Dylguey. I mean, we saw Dylguey walking into the grove at the back of the castle this afternoon, didn’t we? Isn’t that where the royal mausoleum is?” After all of her grueling runs with Lars, Shizuku had a good grasp of where all the buildings in the castle grounds stood. The two men that she’d spotted in the grove had also walked in the direction of the mausoleum—the same direction that Dylguey had been heading in that afternoon. “Still, the one thing that’s bothering me is how they claimed they could only pick one person. I mean, there are tons of bodies roaming around at the moment. It just doesn’t add up…” If they had been talking about the mysterious events that were currently playing out, then it was strange that there was more than one reanimated corpse. Harve’s voice cracked as he responded to Shizuku’s doubts. “I think the degree of control must vary. The corpses we’ve seen so far, as well as the former queen you encountered earlier, have just been ordered to randomly attack living humans, but the corpse that’s linked to the core must be different. Even if they’re not exactly as they were when they were alive, maybe their actions are similar…” His voice was hard, but he sounded more confident in what he was saying than before. Shizuku shivered. “They can act like they did when they were alive…? That isn’t good, is it?” The man she’d overheard had been planning to choose “the strongest king that Farsas ever had.” Shizuku wasn’t sure which king they were talking about, but no matter who it was, he had once possessed the royal sword. The resurrection of such a man could result in a huge number of casualties. Harve covered his mouth, then looked back at Shizuku. “Hold on… I’m going to tell His Majesty what we just discussed. I’m sorry, Shizuku, but can you make it back on your own?” “I’ll be fine. We’re almost there anyway. Be careful, Harve.” Shizuku could see the entrance to the building. She bowed her head and thanked Harve, then parted ways with him and jogged through the door. She greeted the soldier at the entrance as she went past. She was walking along the same dark corridor she’d sprinted down on her way out, yet it felt much more unsettling now. It was as if the commotion that had unfolded outside had tainted the atmosphere inside here, as well. Shizuku hugged her shoulders, which was when she noticed that the jacket she was wearing wasn’t hers. “Oh, I forgot to give this back.” She still had the jacket she’d borrowed from Harve, but it was too late to run after him now. She could give it back the next day. But then Shizuku remembered something much more important. “Wait… Mea?” Shizuku’s assistant demon, who’d supposedly gone to fetch help, had not yet returned. She’d initially assumed that it was Mea who’d called Lars and his group over, but if that were the case, then why hadn’t she come back? Had she returned to Shizuku’s room early so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself? Shizuku hastened her pace, growing concerned. Once she reached her room, she opened the unlocked door. “Mea, are you here?” There was no response. She walked over to the corner of the room where Mea slept, and unsurprisingly, there was no trace of the small bird. Shizuku scanned the room again as her anxiety rose. “No way… What’s going on…?” Where had Mea disappeared to? Shizuku dashed out the door before she had the chance to think. She went back to the soldier at the entrance and asked him for help. “Excuse me! Did you see a girl with green hair come in?! She’s a demon girl.” “Oh yeah, she came back a short while ago. She said she was looking for help, and just then a mage showed up and took her with him.” “Where did they go?!” “Uhh…the building next door, probably. I saw the lamp he was carrying go in there.” “Thank you!” she shouted. Shizuku rushed back outside. The neighboring building was just a few steps away, and she pushed its wooden door open. Shizuku had never been inside it before. It was pitch black, with no lights whatsoever. “Mea! Where are you?!” Her voice reverberated down the corridor, gradually fading into the distance. But there was no response. It didn’t seem like her shouting was waking anybody up, either—this couldn’t have been a residential building. Once her eyes started adjusting to the dark, Shizuku slowly made her way farther in. She found the icy air a little eerie but hoped it was just her preconceived notions of a place like this. Her footsteps sounded unnervingly loud, which made her want to take off her shoes, but she was suddenly reminded of something. Earlier, when she overheard that conversation in the grove, she’d heard two voices—but only one set of footsteps. The man in black robes hadn’t made any noise as he was walking. It was likely that he was the one who’d taught his associate about the forbidden curse—and despite noticing Shizuku and Mea, had chosen to ignore them. “This is crazy.” She didn’t know anything about him. There was a chance he was still hiding somewhere inside the castle. Erik’s advice about not pushing herself too hard came flooding back. “I need to be careful…,” Shizuku said to herself. “Oh? And how are you going to do that?” A man’s voice suddenly echoed from behind her, making her jump. Shizuku automatically put some distance between them, then turned around. There, she saw the man in the black robes. He possessed a chillingly handsome face, accentuated by his cruel smile. Shizuku almost screamed, but in the moment that followed, she collapsed onto the floor. Having knocked her down with a snap of his fingers, the man picked her up with just one hand, making it look effortless. “Now then, I doubt bringing a human back with me would make Aviella very happy. I guess I’ll give you to him instead.” The man continued walking down the dark hallway, dragging Shizuku’s body alongside him. She couldn’t see where they were going, but the path ahead was filled with a murky miasma. Katiliana had been a peculiar girl. He thought she might have been cute. He could never really tell whether someone had a pretty face or not, but everyone claimed that Katiliana did. She’d had a gentle smile—when she wasn’t staring into space with a vacant look in her eyes, that was. As a descendant of the Farsasian royal lineage, she possessed strong magical powers. Yet she didn’t seem to be very good at constructing spells, and even the most basic kinds of magic were beyond the realms of her capabilities. Eventually, she’d resigned herself to this fate. That was why he’d helped her out a little. That was all it was. His help, however, seemed to make Katiliana extremely happy. She started regularly following him around. She hired him, and he began to accommodate her needs in whichever way he thought fit. He gained access to the castle, was introduced to the king’s younger sister, and eventually received permission to view documents related to forbidden curses. Katiliana had imparted knowledge to him every step of the way, as if it were only natural. Those who knew what was going on gossiped about how lucky he was. Some even envied him, wondering how someone with so little power had managed to receive such special treatment. Still, if he really was lucky…then why had he been the one clutching her cold hands in her final moments? Somewhere inside him, he already knew half of the answer to that question. But ultimately, he was still unsure whether he’d been able to help her or not. Harve hurried through the dark garden, having been informed of Dylguey’s suspicious behavior. Maybe there had been good reason to suspect him—despite being a mage, he’d never shown much opposition to forbidden curses. Harve hadn’t immediately pictured him as the culprit, though. As a specialist in Farsasian history, Dylguey held such reverence for the royal family that it bordered on obsession. Would someone like him really violate the royal mausoleum? The incident that had transpired that night was equivalent to disgracing the royal family, and if summoning the “strongest king” led to something happening to Lars, the very existence of Farsas could be put in jeopardy. Still… If Harve assumed that the perpetrator had deliberately activated the forbidden curse while the king’s younger sister was away, it was highly likely that they were aware of the castle’s inner goings-on. It made perfect sense for them to be a royal mage. Harve teetered between agreeing with Shizuku’s conjecture and rejecting it. Every time he leaned toward agreeing with her, another reason to reject her suspicions would come to mind, and vice versa. He was nowhere near a solution. “I give up…,” he grumbled, the words softly tumbling from his lips—but they were drowned out by the sounds of someone wading through the grass. For a moment, Harve readied himself to fight. He hated the idea of attacking the body of a member of the royal family, but if his life was threatened, he’d have no choice. He started reciting an incantation, priming himself to use some simple fire magic. But as it happened, the young man who emerged out of the darkness, footsteps crunching through the grass, was someone Harve knew well. Surprised, he stared back at his friend. “Erik?! I thought you were in Candela!” “I came back. Someone called me about a forbidden curse.” “You were called back? By the king?” “Nope.” Erik gave a monosyllabic answer and shook his head. He appeared to be acting somewhat different from usual, but Harve figured it was just the lack of light that was giving him that impression. He felt a little unsettled but didn’t press Erik for an answer. “Does this mean Leuticia’s come back as well?” “No. She’s still in Candela.” Harve scowled after hearing his friend’s reply. Leuticia was currently acting as Erik’s direct superior, and she wasn’t the kind of person who’d choose not to return when she heard about a forbidden curse. Erik must have kept the news from her and come back without permission, something Harve was certain he’d be punished for at a later date. “What are you doing? You’re just making things worse for yourself.” “I know. I feel like it’s a long time coming, though.” “Don’t be stupid. You never did anything wrong.” Harve spoke with such conviction that even he found it suspicious, and Erik gave him a faint smile. In the darkness of the night, his deep-blue eyes looked black. “Where’s Shizuku?” he asked. “She should be in her room. I just walked her back.” “Oh. Thanks for doing that.” Nothing about that night felt real. Harve wasn’t cold, yet a chill ran down his spine. Everything that had happened, from walking corpses to the way Erik had showed up alone at this bizarre time and place, was unsettling and mysterious. Who could have summoned Erik, and what was he up to? Just as he opened his mouth to ask his friend again, Erik began striding off back toward the dark grove. “Where are you going?” Harve asked. “To look for someone.” “Huh? What do you mean? It’s dangerous out here right now.” “I know.” This curt response didn’t reassure Harve in the slightest. Unable to discern his friend’s true intentions, he gulped. Why had the king sent all but a few of his subjects back inside? Two out of the three mausoleums had already been broken into. The majority of the corpses that were under anti-deterioration spells, like that of the former queen, as well as those that the centuries had reduced to mere bones, had crawled out of their caskets. Did that mean that the third mausoleum, where all the criminal members of the royal family were entombed, was still intact? Those wrongdoers were buried in a secret tomb, having received no funerals. The last person who’d been buried there was— “You aren’t looking for Katiliana, are you?” Erik, who had once been tasked with looking after documents related to forbidden curses, must have had a much better grasp on the situation than Harve. If he’d come back without telling Leuticia anything, then that meant— Harve turned around. The look that Erik gave him was colder than ice and tinged with sadness. Harve couldn’t move. Erik’s response to his friend’s cautiously prying question, however, was a simple one. “I am.” Harve’s entire body tensed up, and the color drained from his face. Erik continued. “I’m searching for Katiliana’s body, to be exact. The person who called me here was falsely using her name.” “So they did break into the third mausoleum?!” “It seems the corpses themselves forced it open. Few people know where it’s located. I spotted what looked like the body of the disgraced king, Dysral, a few moments ago.” Erik had casually mentioned the former king’s name, but Harve was horror-struck by this news. As a mage specializing in history and a citizen of Farsas, he obviously knew about the mad king. The man had left a dark stain on the nation’s history, and now he was on the loose again, in a way. Harve shuddered with fear. “Y-you…” “It didn’t seem like he was fully aware of his surroundings, so I managed to get away. He was armed, but something seemed a little odd.” “But that’s really dangerous… Shouldn’t we get His Majesty to safety?” “The king will be okay, even if we’re not. At the end of the day, a dead body is just a corpse—it’s not as if he’d be fighting the real thing,” Erik said simply, ending the conversation and beginning to walk away. Harve followed after him, flustered. Erik made his way haphazardly through the grove, as if he didn’t even know where he was heading. Every now and then, he looked around—presumably in search of the young girl he’d once lost. It almost felt as if they’d gone back in time, and seeing his friend like this made Harve anxious. After absentmindedly following Erik for a while, Harve returned to his senses and shook his head emphatically. “This has to stop. What are you planning on doing once you find Katiliana’s body? Just hurry up and go back to Candela instead. What if someone…?” Harve trailed off mid-sentence, his body frozen. What if someone finds you? He already knew the answer to that. Erik had had permission to view documents related to forbidden curses, and there were two things currently motivating him: knowledge, and how close he’d been to Katiliana. Not only that, but he was never officially a Farsasian mage. Even if he asserted his innocence, there was a chance he could be thrown straight into jail. Harve opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for air on dry land. Erik, however, didn’t seem rattled in the slightest. His nonchalant manner of speaking made it sound like he wasn’t talking about himself at all. “Whoever called me here was probably trying to frame me. I have an existing record, which makes me the obvious suspect.” “Then why did you come back…?” “It seemed like a good opportunity. I didn’t attend her burial.” “It wasn’t that you didn’t attend. You couldn’t attend! Why are you bringing that up now?!” “You’re right. At this point, it doesn’t mean a thing, but at least I won’t be ignorant any longer.” It was impossible to discern any emotion in Erik’s words. That didn’t mean that he was emotionless, though—Harve knew that better than anyone else. In the three years between when they first met and parted ways, the two friends had spent a lot of time together. Fifteen-year-old Erik stood out in a lot of different ways. His pretty, androgynous features were one reason, but his abrupt demeanor and reluctance to smile also added to his uniqueness. The thing that made him stand out the most, however, was the girl who was permanently by his side. Her name was Katiliana Til Rosa Farsas. As the last part of her name suggested, she was a member of the Farsasian royal family. This girl, who’d suddenly showed up at the castle one day, was the granddaughter of an extremely talented mage and Crestea, the younger sister of the king who’d reigned two generations earlier—which made Katiliana Lars’s cousin. Lars’s father, who was the king at the time, had brought her back to the castle with him and given her a residence a short distance from the castle itself. Arrangements were made to ensure that the naive young girl was fully provided for. Everyone who was distrustful upon hearing about Katiliana completely changed their mind as soon as they saw her. Not only did she possess incredible magical power like many other direct descendants of the Farsasian royal family, but she also bore a striking resemblance to Crestea herself. Mentally, Katiliana was immature for her age. Perhaps that was why her skills as a mage were so inconsistent, and manipulating her own magical power, as well as constructing spells, proved challenging for her. Somewhere along the line, however, she met a boy who was her total opposite in that respect. Hailing from a faraway nation in the east, he’d come to Farsas to study magic. He possessed an unparalleled academic intellect and an extraordinary aptitude for spells, but despite these talents, his innate magical powers were lacking. His inability to use anything more advanced than midlevel magic limited his effectiveness as a mage. “Someone told me you’re not from Farsas. Is that true?” Harve had approached the boy, who he’d found alone in the library, out of simple curiosity. He wasn’t even a royal mage and had come from a foreign country, yet the boy had been granted a number of special privileges. This favoritism he received from the royal family made most people give him a wide berth, though that didn’t stop them from spreading spiteful rumors about him. Harve, on the other hand, hated discussing information he didn’t know was true, which was why he’d decided to ask the boy directly. He didn’t have the courage to talk to him when the royal family were around, so running into him in the library was a lucky coincidence. The boy looked up from his book and glanced at Harve with his deep-blue eyes. He didn’t appear to appreciate being interrupted, but he wasn’t offended by it, either. “Yes. I’m not from Farsas. I’m from Natela.” “Oh. That’s north of Tarys, right?” “Yeah.” The boy looked back down at his book, apparently assuming their conversation had come to an end. Flustered, Harve stopped him from resuming his reading. “Hold on a minute. Are you allowed to view documents about forbidden curses?” This was the question Harve had most wanted to ask him—he didn’t care what kind of relationship the boy had with the royals. No chief mage had ever been allowed into the forbidden curse records room without special permission, and he was curious whether this kid really had that freedom. The boy tilted his head to one side slightly. As pretty as his face was, he wouldn’t be mistaken for a girl. He was too stony and taciturn for that. The boy gave Harve, whose eyes were sparkling with curiosity, a casual nod. “Yep. Only level five curses and below, though.” “Seriously?! That’s incredible! I bet the spells are really complicated, right?” “You’d be surprised. The spell formations are quite ordinary. With level five curses, for example, it’s just the catalysts that are the problem. Any royal mage would be able to implement such a spell.” “Oh, right. Do they need human sacrifices to work?” “Yeah. Or sometimes, it’s human blood.” This simple answer only piqued Harve’s interest even more. He wanted to ask for more details, but then it occurred to him what other people would be most curious about. “Hey, I don’t know if this is okay for me to ask, but how did you get permission for that?” Some people would have done anything for that privilege—and yet it had been given to a foreign boy instead. Rumor had it that he’d gotten permission by winning the favor of a certain royal princess, but no matter how he looked at it, Harve found this hard to believe. Harve’s blunt question brought a slight smile to the boy’s face for the first time. “They wanted someone to organize the forbidden curse documents, and apparently I was the perfect person for the job.” “How so?” “I don’t have much magical power. Even if I know the spells, there’s no way I could cast them by myself. I have knowledge, but no skills, so I’m the ideal candidate for handling those troublesome documents.” “But if you drew the spell diagrams…” “Nobody seems to understand my spell diagrams—not even the most rudimentary ones.” “…” Harve looked at the boy suspiciously, but when he eventually got to see the boy’s spell diagrams at a later date, they really were terrible. They were like a little kid’s drawings, but even less well thought out. “Plus, it would be less of a blow for the country if a foreigner went missing, right? And I want to see the documents, so it’s win-win.” “You talk about going missing… But what if they threaten you into silence?” “That doesn’t bother me. Everyone dies at some point.” Harve was taken aback by the boy’s startlingly candid opinion. After a while, Harve eventually realized that he hadn’t told the boy his name, and he belatedly introduced himself. “Oh, I’m Harve, an apprentice mage. What’s your name?” From then on, the boys forged something resembling a friendship. At first, Harve would ask all the questions and Erik would just answer him, but gradually, Erik started to initiate conversations as well, albeit always with a strained smile. The more Harve found out about his new friend, the more it made sense that he’d been tasked with managing the forbidden curse documents, almost like a librarian. He had barely any magical power, and his spell diagrams were devastatingly bad. Those weaknesses, coupled with his broad knowledge, incredible ability to understand the makeup of spells, single-minded inquisitiveness and rationalism, disinterest in gaining influence, and lack of ambition, made him the perfect person to watch over the documents related to forbidden curses. Leuticia, who’d been at the top of the mage world from a young age, was good at identifying people’s capabilities and dispositions, and her judgment was always spot on. For the three years Erik spent in Farsas, he never conformed to the rest of the mages—in fact, he was often isolated from them. And yet despite the skeptical glances that other people gave Erik, Leuticia placed her trust in him. Which was why she’d never expected him to leave Farsas the way that he did. When the unexpected news arrived one ordinary day four years prior, the people of the castle were shocked. A forbidden curse had been unleashed in the castle city. It was something that never should have happened. Four people lost their lives in the incident, which happened in a residence outside the castle. One of those victims was Katiliana…and the person who’d created the spell diagram for the forbidden curse was none other than Erik. Their initial meeting had been a coincidence. Having completed his studies in his home nation and moved to Farsas to expand his knowledge, Erik started out as a live-in employee and became a frequent visitor of the castle city’s library, where he spent day after day absorbing a wide range of academic journals and research texts. One day, while he was choosing a book to read, a lone girl appeared in front of him. She greeted him in a shy and self-conscious manner, then made him an offer. “W-why don’t you come and work for me?” “Work for you? Why?” “I want you to teach me magic…” “Then you’ve got the wrong person. As far as mages go, I’m nearly powerless.” “But you helped me out the other day, didn’t you…?” That was when Erik finally realized that this wasn’t the first time they’d met. True enough, he’d come across this well-dressed young girl a few days earlier while strolling through the outskirts of the city. He could immediately tell by her appearance that she was a member of the upper classes, but unusually for someone of her status, she didn’t have anyone accompanying her. She’d been desperately reaching up toward a tall tree. It wasn’t just her suspicious behavior that caught Erik’s attention, but the magical energy emanating from her. It permeated their surroundings, showing that she hadn’t been taught to fully control it yet. At first, Erik just watched her out of the corner of his eye as he walked past. When he came back down the same street two hours later, however, she was still there, extending her hand in the same manner. There was no way he could ignore her this time. Still holding some books, he asked the troubled-looking girl a question. “What are you doing?” She seemed extremely surprised that someone had spoken to her. Her green eyes opened wide. She looked around, seemingly unsure how to respond, then finally began to speak. “I can’t reach my veil…” Now that she mentioned it, Erik noticed that there was a white veil hiding among the leaves, caught on one of the branches. It was well above her head, so it was unlikely she’d be able to reach it with her hand. Still, Erik frowned slightly and answered right away. “Just use magic.” “I don’t know how to.” “It’s not difficult. You’ve just got to make the veil hover a little.” Despite Erik’s advice, the girl still didn’t appear to understand, so he decided to teach her how to cast the spell, starting from the very basics. She was a slow learner, but after about an hour, the young girl finally managed to make the veil hover in the air and brought it down to ground level. However, by that time, there was already a hole in the lace. Erik, who’d discovered the damage upon picking it up, handed the veil to the girl. “That’s a shame,” he said. If she had been the daughter of nobility, she would have been furious that her veil was ruined, and she would have given up long before she managed to retrieve it. Yet the girl looked genuinely happy as she took the white lace from Erik and thanked him with a smile. Erik did find her quite odd, but since the problem had been solved, he thought no more of it. “Do you remember now? I want you to teach me magic again, like you did back then.” The girl, who was in a simpler dress than when he’d first met her, gave Erik a rosy-cheeked smile. Erik didn’t even know her name yet, but he gave her a straightforward reply. “Say what you like, but I’m no teacher. There are loads of mages around who are far better than me. If you’re from a noble family, you should even be able to ask a royal mage for help.” “I’ve had them teach me before, but it was no use… I’ve never heard anyone explain things as simply as you do.” “Hmm… To be honest, I’d rather not associate with the nobility.” Nobles and commoners tended to be on two totally different wavelengths, which made it hard for them to understand one another. And most of the time, the nobility would get priority. Well aware of that fact, Erik was moments away from declining the girl’s offer, until she suddenly gave him a radiant smile and shook her head. “I’m not a member of the nobility. Does that make it better?” Erik couldn’t bring himself to say no. He could see her anxiety behind those green eyes, as if she were a lost child with nowhere to go. She seemed so clumsy and awkward. How many times had she been turned away before? It might have taken her a long time, but the experience of successfully using magic by herself must have been like a ray of hope for someone like her. Erik let out a sigh, then said, “Fine.” He came to regret his decision the very next day. The girl hadn’t lied—she wasn’t part of the nobility. She was of an even higher social standing: one of the four direct descendants of the royal family. “Are you pleased?” Katiliana would often ask. The first time he heard those words was when she formally hired him as her personal mage. “Yeah, I am,” Erik replied. His voice sounded flat, but he was telling the truth. Erik nodded as he read through the terms outlined in the document. Among them were the right to access the castle’s library and the freedom to attend lectures. These were privileges that only royal mages and their apprentices were usually afforded. Erik had never expected to be blessed with such rare opportunities. When Katiliana heard how surprised he was, she smiled so brightly that Erik’s expression paled in comparison. “Really? I hope this goes well, then.” “Yeah. I don’t need this much money, though. I’d be fine with a third of it.” “How come? I just asked how much the royal mages get paid and went with that.” “But I’m not a royal mage.” “You’re my mage, though.” Katiliana gave him the kind of mystified look that young children tended to make, but after numerous discussions, she agreed to lower his pay. In truth, she’d been setting aside the remaining money each month as a reward for him. Erik found this out only after her death, when Leuticia gave him the enormous sum of money that Katiliana had spent three years saving. Katiliana had followed him around like a baby chick. Over three years had passed since their first encounter, and while Erik had grown into a proper young man, Katiliana’s appearance remained mostly unchanged. Yet no matter what rumors circulated about them, their relationship never changed. Once Erik started looking after the castle’s forbidden curse records, he obtained both the knowledge he’d been dreaming of for three years, and some he wished he’d never had. When he’d looked back on it later, he felt like the power had gone to his head. Erik had developed a fascination for deciphering forbidden curse configurations, even if it wasn’t his original field of research. Those who use forbidden curses are destroyed by forbidden curses. Gradually, Erik had begun to feel like forbidden curses were a natural part of life, but not even he could escape this unwritten law—a fact that he was reminded of by Katiliana’s death. The man ended his story there and waited for her reaction. Shizuku gave him an icy look. “Can you please tell me how long I’m going to have to endure this for? I don’t want to hear this stuff.” “Don’t you? But it has to do with your companion. Isn’t it your fault that he’s ended up in this situation?” “I’m pretty sure it’s yours… Stop trying to shift the blame,” Shizuku retorted. Dylguey seemed visibly uncomfortable at that. Having been apprehended by the black-robed man in the hallway, Shizuku had woken up to find herself restrained in Dylguey’s room. Shizuku figured she was still inside the building she’d entered earlier, which appeared to be full of rooms for mages to conduct their research. Bound to a chair that had toppled over onto the floor, Shizuku surveyed the dimly lit room. By the time Shizuku had woken up, there was no sign of the man in the black robes. She’d asked Dylguey about him the moment she opened her eyes, but the man had only replied, “His job here is done.” Shizuku was somewhat relieved to find the mysterious man absent, but seeing Mea in the room made her feel even better—even if Mea was knocked out and trapped in a birdcage. As long as Shizuku could grab the cage and run off, that was good enough for her. Dylguey’s smooth voice echoed around the room. “The previous king acted as if Katiliana didn’t even exist, yet Leuticia took good care of her. The people of the castle treated that foolish young girl like a tumor, which only increased her attachment to the mage who paid attention to her. She tried to award him all the favors she could come up with, and eventually she turned her hand to a forbidden curse.” Shizuku wondered why Dylguey was telling her about the past, but she reasoned that this, just like the previous time she’d met him, was all a part of his “noble mission.” She could complain all she liked, but he wasn’t going to stop, so she just let the noise wash over her. “Katiliana started coaxing forbidden curse formations out of her mage. He probably didn’t expect her to be able to activate a forbidden curse, considering she could barely even cast a spell. Plus, he must have had some qualms about sharing the spell formations from the records, so he came up with one of his own to teach her. It was foolish of him, but he didn’t realize what she was doing. Katiliana wanted to learn a spell that could summon immense magical power and give it to somebody else.” “Huh…?” Shizuku exclaimed before she could stop herself. She’d unfortunately figured out where Dylguey was going with this. Here was a mage who was skilled at formulating spells, but lacking in power, so it only made sense that Katiliana would want to give that power to him. Shizuku recalled the words “destructive temptations” slipping out of Harve’s mouth when he was talking about the imbalance between Erik’s talent and his actual power. There was a temptation to try to change the inevitable, even if it meant altering the way that things were supposed to be. Katiliana had succumbed to that temptation and lost her way, breaking that taboo for Erik’s sake, only for her plan to fail. The corners of Dylguey’s mouth turned upward. He was pleased to have finally forced a reaction out of Shizuku. “The scene of the crime was Katiliana’s own residence. She killed her three servants to use them as the catalysts for the spell. Although it had been devised by that youngster, it was still a forbidden curse, and the spell was too much for Katiliana to handle. The spell failed, and the spellcaster died in the process. Katiliana was buried as a criminal, and the youngster who worked for her was exiled from Farsas.” “Exiled?” As far as Shizuku knew, Erik had left Farsas of his own accord. She was sure Harve and Leuticia had said so, too. So why was Dylguey telling her a different version of the story—and what was the significance of that discrepancy? “The Farsasian royal family boasts the longest history on the continent, and they’ve maintained the legitimacy of their royal blood. That’s because they never grew complacent in their royal status and have spared no effort in their pursuit of power. However, for that same reason, it’s inevitable that some individuals will fall short, just like Katiliana did. It’s a pity that a descendant of Crestea was one such example, but it’s only thanks to those who fall short that others can rise to greater heights.” “…How selfish,” Shizuku muttered softly, anger simmering away inside her. It was rather reckless of Dylguey to be saying such things, considering he wasn’t even part of the royal family. Dylguey, however, just snorted at Shizuku’s comment. “It’s natural that royals are held to a higher standard when it comes to power and responsibility. That’s why I’m giving His Majesty this test. If he’s able to defeat the strongest king that ever ruled, he, too, will be able to reach greater heights.” “And if he dies?” “Then there’s always Leuticia. She can add a few more people to the bloodline.” “This is beyond depraved, no matter how you look at it…,” Shizuku spat. Her words bounced off the cold floor. She felt as if she were lying in a puddle of vomit, and all the while, the man’s rapt voice continued to smear the place with filth. “Nothing you say has any meaning to me. I’m simply challenging Farsas with my idea of what a king should be. As Lady Crestea once told me, ‘You’re free to test out any of my blood relatives whenever you like.’” Shizuku closed her eyes, focusing her attention on her hands bound against the back of the chair. Surrounded by Dylguey’s nauseating joy, she waited for a chance to strike back. The male corpse that lunged toward the king had purple spots around its eyes, and Lars deflected his opponent’s sword, then swiftly severed the dead man’s head in one stroke. The body fell to the ground with a loud thud, convulsing momentarily, but as black liquid spilled from its neck, the corpse’s movements ceased altogether. The king picked up the severed head off the ground and tossed it to the mage behind him, who hurriedly caught it and placed it into a leather bag. “How many left?” asked the king. “Twenty-four, maybe twenty-five…” “What a nuisance. At the very least, we need to retrieve all of the bodies from the third mausoleum.” That was where the bodies of lawbreaking royals were kept, and roughly half of them should not be seen by outsiders. Many of them had been involved in the internal conflict triggered by King Dysral’s descent into madness. Some individuals had dabbled in forbidden curses that left visible traces on their bodies, while others had been purged with poison. Records of such incidents were all documented in the royal family’s sealed archives, but these occurrences had not been disclosed to the masses. To prevent unnecessary speculation and unease, it was wise to keep these abnormal corpses out of the public eye. Lars gently wiped his blade with a cloth. “Since they no longer have any magical power, the women’s bodies are easier to capture. When the men flee, it’s impossible to catch up with them.” “Yes, it does seem like their muscular strength and running abilities have been enhanced. Their capacity to make decisions has decreased, however. The spell that’s been used to reanimate these corpses can’t be a very complex one.” “They’re like clay dolls, aren’t they? Maybe I’ll burn them all once this is over and pack their ashes into urns.” The mage accompanying the king raised an eyebrow at the word “urns,” but Lars began striding ahead, undeterred. He carefully searched the dark garden for some trace of the corpses. “Now then, hopefully I can find them myself.” These were dead bodies that weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone. Only a select few veteran officers and mages were aware of the history that had been concealed for decades, and it was this group that had stayed outside to carry out the cleanup. Still, there was one corpse that Lars didn’t want anyone but him and Leuticia to see—one member of the royal family whose crimes were far more severe anyone else’s, who Lars felt should never be forgiven, and he wanted to be the one to retrieve it. Lars tightened his grip on Akashia’s handle. “Where are you, Katiliana?” He called out her name, but there was no reply. For a moment, a scornful smile played on the king’s lips, but as he stepped out into the night, it was swiftly replaced by his usual expression of annoyance. The pair walked through the grass, their footsteps echoing through the night air. Harve felt more nervous than scared, but his concern won out over everything else; he was unable to stop following his friend. He had no idea how many time he had warned him, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “Come on, Erik, let’s go back. It’s a big forest, and it’s so dark. Plus, you don’t even know whether you’ll be able to find Katiliana—someone else might have already found her.” “If either of us should go back, it’s you. Only senior subjects of the royal family are still outside, right? If anyone finds out that you’re here, you’ll be punished, too.” “But what about you?” “I’m fully aware of the risks.” Erik’s flippant response made Harve frown. Why had almost everyone been sent back inside the buildings? It must have something to do with the bodies in the third mausoleum and the history that the royal family had sealed away. Leuticia had instructed Erik to take a look at some sealed records just a few days earlier, so at least in terms of knowledge, he must have been on the same level as the king’s longest-serving subjects. Harve, with his specialization in history, was more curious than most about the royal family he worked for, but he also knew his place. If he wasn’t so concerned about leaving his friend alone outside, he would have stayed well clear of the area, and he wanted to avoid running into any dead bodies, if that was at all possible. “Erik. If it’s me you’re worried about, then let’s go back together. What would become of Shizuku if something happened to you?” “She’s tough. And anyway, I don’t plan on dying.” “Then why are you so fixated on Katiliana? Get over her already.” “It’s not like that.” Erik suddenly stopped in his tracks, and Harve stood still. A short distance away, they spotted the skeleton of a young girl beneath the moonlight. She was walking slowly, her white dress fluttering in the wind, while at the same time, she gave off a loathsome, yet mystical aura. The men waited with bated breath for her to go away. Once the hem of her dress vanished through the trees, Erik spoke again. “I want you to go back inside. I don’t want you to see Katiliana.” “Why not? Was she in that horrendous a state?” “No. She looked beautiful. I’m the one who killed her, so I should know.” Erik wasn’t being self-deprecating or tormenting himself, just stating the truth. Harve let out a deep sigh and shook his head, the exhaustion showing around his eyes. “Stop saying stuff like that. Strange rumors will start going around again.” “But it’s true. I just wish you’d listen to my warning. If you see Katiliana, it’ll most likely put you in a really problematic position.” “…What are you talking about?” Katiliana had died after failing to cast a forbidden curse. Wasn’t that all there was to the matter? Everything that Harve thought he knew suddenly seemed to fade into the darkness of the night. “Didn’t you tell me the whole story?” he asked with a scowl. “I did. At least, I told you everything I knew at the time.” Had viewing the royal family’s sealed records revealed more about the case? It was true that many aspects of the incident had seemed peculiar when it had happened. For one, Erik hadn’t been punished at all, and though Harve was pleased about that, he also found it strange. The thing that baffled him the most, however, was how Katiliana had managed to formulate such a difficult spell in the first place. At the time, he hadn’t felt like probing very deeply into that question, so he’d just written it off as a matter of happenstance. “What are you talking about…?” His friend had finally returned, yet unnecessary thoughts kept surfacing in Harve’s mind. He pictured Katiliana walking alone in the moonlight and let out a deep sigh. Perhaps this would be the night that the truth about the incident four years earlier would be revealed. He was torn between not wanting to revisit the past and longing to uncover the true history behind the incident, but in the end, it wasn’t either of those urges that won out—it was his friendship with Erik. Harve patted his friend on the back, a strained expression on his face. “All right. But I’m not going back, either. If I spot Katiliana, I’ll just get Leuticia to wipe my memory.” “From what I hear, memory manipulation is incredibly difficult. She’ll probably be reluctant to use it.” “She’s not His Majesty, so I’m sure she’ll help me. More to the point, you can use my magical power if we stumble upon a powerful corpse, so I’m relying on you to take care of things.” “I’ll try and deal with it on my own first. If that fails, we can always make a run for it.” “I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m going to come out of this with a phobia of dead bodies…” The two mages exchanged hushed words as they walked through the expansive castle garden. Their conversation never veered anywhere near the events of four years prior—instead, it stayed firmly rooted in the present. Shizuku was tied to the chair with a perfectly ordinary thin rope. She had begun subtly moving her wrists, creating just enough space for her to slip her hands through. It stung where her skin rubbed against the rope, but she wasn’t in any position to complain about that. She was almost there. If only she had some soapy water, she could have slipped free—but then again, soapy water would make her grazes sting like crazy. She didn’t know when Dylguey might try to dispose of her, so she had to work quickly. Meanwhile, she was buying herself some time by chatting to him. “I understand your view of things, but what does that have to do with Mea? I want you to set her free,” she demanded. Dylguey frowned, as if she was ruining his fun. “Mid-ranking demons are valuable sources of magical power—power needed for forbidden curses.” “What?” The way he’d said that made it sound as if Mea were a battery. When Shizuku took a closer look, she noticed that the birdcage Mea was locked inside had a crystal ball about the size of Shizuku’s palm in the top of it. It gave off a faint red glow that wasn’t just the reflection of a candle flame, and it reminded Shizuku of something she’d seen in Candela Castle. She clenched her teeth. “The core of a forbidden curse…” “Very well observed. Unfortunately, however, you’re powerless to do anything. Your companion will be the prime suspect—and you’re going to be the one setting the stage for that.” Dylguey walked over to Shizuku, who was still on the floor. He looked down at her from directly above. “Do you know what psychological magic is, young girl?” “I’ve never heard of it. The name feels self-explanatory, though.” “As you’d imagine, it’s a form of magic that’s able to control people’s minds.” Realizing what was about to happen, Shizuku shuddered. If he was going to control her mind using magic, she’d become his puppet, just like the walking corpses. She wasn’t sure what he’d make her do, but she would’ve rather been pelted with stones. She twisted her grazed wrists around, trying not to let him see. “You’re the perfect choice. If you act strangely, nobody’s going to be that suspicious. Plus, it’s easy to manipulate people when the underlying emotions are already there.” “…Underlying emotions?” Shizuku repeated, but all she heard was an incantation coming from above her. A chill went down Shizuku’s spine. Dylguey had crouched beside her, and she thrust her unbound right leg up in the air and kicked him as hard as she could in the ankle. She must have got him in a good spot, because he yelled and fell onto his side. Shizuku used the opportunity to pull as hard as she could on her hands. “Ouch…!” Her skin pulled back, sending a searing pain through her wrists, but she disregarded it and tried to free her right hand from the rope. The very next moment, however, Dylguey grabbed Shizuku by the hair. “Behave yourself, you feral cat!” “Shut up, small-time crook! If you’ve got a problem with the king, then take him on yourself!” “You…” If he was going to cast some kind of weird spell on her, then Shizuku figured it was better to make him angry. However, Dylguey didn’t respond to her attempt to provoke him. He didn’t say anything else, nor did he resort to violence. He ground his teeth together so hard that Shizuku could almost hear it, glowered at her, then spoke in a trembling voice. “…You’re just an oblivious young girl. As if someone like you would understand Lady Crestea’s intentions.” “So you’re saying you can’t do anything without digging up the dead?!” Shizuku pulled her right hand free from the rope, swiping out and digging her nails into Dylguey’s face. The man screamed and jerked backward. Shizuku used that moment to writhe around, trying to tear her body away from the chair. Suddenly, she heard the man anxiously begin to recite an incantation. Shizuku turned toward the birdcage and shouted. “Mea!” “Don’t waste your breath. Both you and your assistant demon are disposable tools.” He grabbed her by the hair, lifted her up, then peered into her eyes. Like two mirrors facing each other, they imitated one another’s expressions—and suddenly, something entered Shizuku. It almost felt like something warm was touching her brain, and Shizuku had the unpleasant feeling of fingers shoving themselves inside her mind. She felt nauseated, still being held up by her hair. Her thoughts were being invaded. Her consciousness was being distorted. Tremors ran through her entire body, making it convulse. “No! Let me go! Let go! Get out!” “It’ll only hurt if you resist.” She couldn’t hear the man properly. All she could hear was her heart beating violently. She had no sense of time, no sense of which way was up or down. Refusal and denial echoed inside her like a curse. A power entered her. Pervasive, rough, yet bringing about a crude transformation in her mind and soul, changing, lurking, words, memories, —not allowed to sense them. Unable to withstand the burden, Shizuku lost consciousness. The last thing she heard before her mind went dark was the man’s scream echoing off the stone floor. “I didn’t think you’d make peace with what happened otherwise.” Erik could remember Leuticia saying something like that after showing him the royal family’s sealed records. She must have assumed that Erik was still frustrated with the suspicious way in which things had been handled four years earlier. He’d come to the castle immediately after the incident and explained everything that had happened, begging to be punished. Yet Erik didn’t even receive a reprimand, let alone any kind of punishment. He wasn’t even deprived of his rights within the castle. It was obvious that Leuticia had had some say in how he’d been treated, but in the end, he’d decided for himself to give up his privileges and leave Farsas behind. He wasn’t angry at those in the castle, nor disappointed. He just felt like he’d had enough. There was no reason for him to stay in the country any longer. Now that he’d uncovered one more truth about the situation, another question came to mind: Was there really a way to make peace with what had happened? A warm breeze made the leaves rustle. The stench in the air seemed to be slowly fading away, but Lars’s nose felt numb, making it hard to tell. He held up his left hand and looked at the sky. “Our family was supposedly full of beautiful women, but it’s impossible to tell when they all decayed and turned into nothing but bones. It’s no fun at all.” “Your Majesty…” The mage responded to the king’s tactless remark with an inscrutable expression. He couldn’t come up with anything else to say to chastise the king, though, so he just decided to keep quiet and avert his gaze. Initially, around ten of Lars’s men had been accompanying him on his cleanup operation, but one by one, they’d been tasked with carrying away the captured corpses, causing their numbers to dwindle. Even Lars himself admitted that he didn’t need that much help. In the end, just the mage who’d worked with the king for the longest had stayed behind to act as a liaison. “I’m getting tired. This is the perfect time for a change of pace. I know… How about we come up with a name for this incident?” said the king. “Perhaps we should wait until it’s over…,” the mage replied. “Don’t you think the best names are the ones that immediately tell you what they’re about?” “If the name is too long, then that’ll cause problems.” “Oh. It’s pretty hard to cut the name down, though. I guess I should put the word corpse in it, at least.” The king came to a stop, lost in serious thought. The mage shot his master a glance, as if he wanted to say something, but everyone knew there was no changing the king’s mind once he had an idea in his head. As Lars contemplated whether to include the era in the name of the incident, the mage kept an eye on the surrounding area. The investigations into the first mausoleum were already complete. The core of the forbidden curse hadn’t been found, but as the king had been informed earlier, it was likely that the culprit worked for him. It was unclear whether the perpetrator was still in the castle, but the search had not yet commenced—retrieving the corpses took priority. Two hours since the first reports had come in, 80 percent of the dead bodies that were enshrined in the first and second mausoleums had been successfully recovered. “It doesn’t sound like the disgraced King Dysral has been sighted yet, though…” “I don’t want to go up against him. Hopefully, he goes to Truce and Azulia.” “…” Everyone in Farsas knew the name of the man responsible for decades of internal strife. This was a king who’d gone mad on the throne, led his army to destroy an innocent town, then sown the seeds of death and suspicion among his own relatives. The disgraced king, who’d personally executed his dissenting subjects and ultimately carried out a massacre in the throne room of the castle, was said to have been killed by his brother, Rodeus. Rodeus, who subsequently ascended to the throne, died under mysterious circumstances just one year later, signaling the onset of a dark era for the Farsasian royal family. “I mean, Dysral killed sixty-three people in that tragedy. At that point, you’re not even human anymore,” Lars argued. “But you’re the current wielder of Akashia, are you not, Your Majesty? I’m sure you’d find a way to defeat him.” “Why don’t we just dig a pit for him to fall into instead?” “Your Majesty…” The mage looked worried, but he couldn’t blame the king for not wanting to deal with them—these were corpses they were up against. There must have been a way to capture them without tackling them head-on. Lars pondered to himself as he looked around. It wasn’t the king who noticed the figures at the far end of the garden, though, but his subject. At first, he could only see the silhouettes of the two figures, but as they emerged from the darkness and walked into the moonlight, he was able to make out their faces. “Hey, you! Wait!” yelled the mage sternly as he began running toward them. “Huh?” said Lars, tilting his head to one side and following behind at a more leisurely pace. “What do you think you’re doing here?” the mage asked. The two figures exchanged glances, but there was no point in wondering who he’d been talking to—the royal mage had addressed them both. If anything, though, the mage appeared more interested in questioning the foreigner, and he marched right up to Erik. “Why are you here?! What happened to Leuticia?” “I think she’s still in Candela,” Erik replied. “Why did you come back, then? It must have been you!” This was a predictable turn of events, and Harve went pale. “Wait,” he said, hurriedly positioning himself between them. Between the mage reaching out for Erik and Harve’s intervention, the quiet night seemed like it was about to take a tumultuous turn, but Erik suddenly glanced over his shoulder as if he’d noticed something. Lars followed his deep-blue eyes and glanced at the moonlit garden. A dress of black lace. Long silver hair that gave off a dull shine. In the shadows, the profile of her downward-tilted face was too difficult to make out. Yet the sight of the red ribbon wrapped around her slender neck, fluttering gently in the breeze, was extraordinarily striking in itself. Lars reached out and placed his hand on the shoulder of the mage, who looked like he wanted to start yelling at Erik at any moment. The king fixed his gaze not on his flustered vassal but on the foreign mage, and he posed a question to him. “Did you do this?” “No,” replied Erik. “I see.” Harve hadn’t expected the exchange to end there—so when Lars asked the mage who was accompanying him to go back inside, he blinked in shock. Although the mage was equally stupefied by the king’s order, he followed it nonetheless and left the scene. Next, the king looked at Harve. “You’ve gone against my orders, too. You’ll be receiving a salary cut.” “F-forgive me, Your Majesty.” “Well, whatever. I’d hate to leave a man out, so you’re welcome to join us.”