Chapter 32

Shizuku tensed up, as though she’d just been frozen to the spot. The princess had intended to summon Erik to Kisk after all. She couldn’t let that happen. Shizuku needed to make Ortea lose interest in him and direct it to herself. She let out a deep breath and recited the speech she’d prepared. “I regret to inform you that the Farsasian king’s younger sister has wiped his memories, causing him to forget all confidential information. At this point, Your Highness, he would not be able to live up to your expectations.” “Be quiet. I’m the one who decides whether he lives up to my expectations or not.” Her sharp words startled Shizuku and caused her to tremble—but as scary as the princess’s tone was, it seemed like this was no more than a warning. “Everything that woman does is tactless. Top mage or not, she’s incredibly bland,” the princess grumbled, closing her fan. This time, she must have been talking about Leuticia. Shizuku had heard that Farsas and Kisk weren’t on particularly good terms, and that seemed to be the case. Feeling anxious, she tried as hard as she could to keep her expression neutral. Ortea’s gaze intensified as she stared at Shizuku. “So? What can you do for me? I want to hear it from your own lips.” Shizuku had known that this question was coming. The princess had probably already been told who Shizuku was and why she’d been brought there. Now she wanted to hear it from her directly. Having known that this was her plan, Shizuku summoned her courage to respond. Forcing a confident smile, Shizuku straightened her back and looked up at Ortea. “Princess, I come bearing a solution for the illness afflicting children all across the continent.” “A solution? To prevent it or cure it?” “I’m going to cure it. In fact, I have been interacting with children with similar symptoms for some time,” Shizuku responded. This wasn’t a total lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. Shizuku just wanted two things: time and an opportunity. Once she had them, she was sure she could make the most of the situation. She needed to pique the princess’s interest as much as possible and convince Ortea that she could trust her. “Actually, Mio’s better at this than I am,” she’d muttered to Faneet—but in this world, nobody knew about her family. Two years younger than her, Shizuku’s little sister was extremely eloquent. She never let anyone intimidate her and always confidently expressed her opinions. While some people found her assertiveness off-putting, Shizuku respected her sister and even thought she was pretty cool. Mio was always admired by those around her, but even she had her weaknesses. Since they were family, Shizuku knew that better than anyone. Yet Mio would never reveal her weaknesses at a time like this; she would have resolutely gotten her feelings across. So Shizuku blinked and steadied her gaze, fighting the urge to look away. “…Mio, can you lend me some of your strength for a moment?” A sweet aroma filled her lungs, almost invading her senses. Ortea looked at her, encouraging her to continue. Shizuku kept her voice low, knowing it would start to shake if she let her guard down. With a clear mind, she took control of her mental state and calmed herself. “Your Highness,” she began. “While preventing the illness may be challenging, we can still address it. These children are simply having a harder time producing words than they did before. With the help of others, the children will regain their language skills within just a few years.” “A few years, huh? Sounds like quite a lengthy endeavor.” “Children have always needed time to grow. Now they’ll just need to learn language on top of that.” Shizuku’s unruffled reply made Ortea narrow her eyes with suspicion, and she tapped her closed fan against her hand. “How exactly can we assist them? Do we need to use magic?” “We’ll use language to unearth their language skills,” Shizuku responded, summoning the confidence she was sure she’d have one day in the future. Things might work differently in this world, so there was a chance she’d fail to teach the children effectively, yet she refused to entertain those doubts. Shizuku was convinced she would succeed. In doing so, she could bring about a brighter future for herself and for the children. “People who have already acquired the language can serve as a catalyst by speaking to the children, coaxing out the words within their vocabulary. No magic power or spells are required. If those who know the language simply lend a hand, then eventually the children will start conversing like they were supposed to—with no trace of any impediment.” “Hmph… Is that something that anyone can do? It doesn’t have to be you?” “If we can come up with a method that everyone else can grasp, then yes.” From this point on, Shizuku would have to bargain with the princess—and bluff a little, too. Eventually, language education needed to become something that everybody could provide. However, right now, it was vital that Shizuku wasn’t thought to be unnecessary. With that in mind, she dared to look Ortea in the eye, assuming an air of importance. It was impossible to tell what Ortea was thinking as she flashed Shizuku what looked like a mocking smile. As gorgeous as it was, there was a hint of wickedness to her expression, as though she could read Shizuku like a book. Shizuku could feel an intangible pressure, and her back started to sweat. She didn’t let her unease show on her face, but Ortea laughed at her anyway. “And you really believe that you can come up with such a method?” the princess asked. “With your permission, Your Highness, I shall demonstrate the results of my hypothesis in your country. Other nations are focusing solely on uncovering the cause of the illness, and they are trying to cure it with magic. However, debating the essence of the soul is pointless. All we need to do is restore these children’s lost abilities.” “Did you play this trick on the king of Farsas, too?” The princess’s sharp retort would undoubtedly have sent a chill down Shizuku’s spine if she hadn’t anticipated it—but she had. Lars didn’t know anything. “I haven’t broached the topic with him. I knew he wouldn’t take my advice, so there was no point in trying.” “Then why did he keep you by his side?” “The king of Farsas suspected that there might be something strange about me. I don’t know why he thought that, though.” Ortea snorted with laughter. It wasn’t clear whether she was laughing at Shizuku, Lars, or both of them. It was fortunate for Shizuku that the illness hadn’t been going around for very long. At some point, someone else would realize that education could help children regain their language skills. However, it would likely take several years for the basis and methodology behind such teaching to be publicized and for the knowledge to become widely accepted. Shizuku, meanwhile, had the common sense and knowledge from her old world to back her up, giving her a head start as she raced toward the likely outcome. It was that advantage that put Shizuku in a position to help the children. Her goal for the time being was to lead them by the hand. “Hmm, I see.” Ortea opened her fan again. Her amber eyes, fixed on Shizuku, seemed to be taunting her. “Will you be able to deliver results?” “I’m sure of it,” Shizuku replied. If Mio were in Shizuku’s shoes, she would have been able to muster a smile. She’d demonstrate her unwavering conviction through her actions. So Shizuku pasted a proud grin on her face—just like her sister would have. To win over someone as powerful as the princess, she needed to convey an excessive level of confidence. For Ortea, who would soon have a newborn child to attend to, it must have been an intriguing offer. The best-case scenario was for the child not to get sick; however, the next-best option was to eradicate all traces of the sickness they’d contracted. Shizuku, who claimed she could eliminate its symptoms, could serve as a contingency plan. She was betting on Ortea choosing that option. Before she knew it, Shizuku’s sense of smell had become numbed by the powerful fragrance. She found it hard to breathe as she waited for a response, and suddenly, Ortea let out a laugh. She pointed her folded fan toward Shizuku. “All right. If you’re that confident, I’ll let you give it a go.” “Thank you very much.” “However, I’m not willing to wait years just to see you fail. You’ll have to show me results before then.” Shizuku shuddered, feeling as though someone had just dripped water onto the back of her neck. She’d suspected Ortea would say as much. There was no way she’d accept Shizuku’s offer unconditionally, so there’d been a good chance the princess would assign her some kind of test. Ortea tossed her fan aside and rested her chin on her palm. Her eyes were like those of a bloodthirsty beast as she looked up at Niké waiting by her side. “Give this girl a room inside the castle—and a child.” “I shall arrange it at once.” Shizuku understood immediately what the princess’s order meant. Rumors circulated that the younger sister of King Beelhurse—the reigning monarch of Kisk—ruled the country from the shadows. Ortea, the Bewitching Princess, looked at Shizuku, her smile the antithesis of kindness. Its beauty was like a curved blade, with an edge too sharp to be called “barbed.” “That’s that. I’ll give you a month. During that time, you’ll need to ensure that, at the very least, their language skills are brought up to a level appropriate for their age.” “I understand.” “You know what will happen if you fail, right? Both you and the child will share the same fate. You’ll be chopped up into pieces and cast into the castle moat.” “…!” Shizuku had seen this coming, but hearing it made her breath catch in her throat. This experiment could cost her her life. And she only had a month to show results. She lowered her head, clenching her fists so tightly they started going red. “I will do my very best to meet your expectations, Your Highness.” “Make sure to provide me with plenty of entertainment,” the princess replied. Shizuku gave her a deep bow, then rose to her feet. She mustered all her courage and left the room, and the princess’s laughter seemed to follow her, as if to say that she saw right through Shizuku. The woman’s sultry chuckle felt as if it was pressing against Shizuku’s back, and she bit down hard on her lip. Shizuku left the waiting area and made it out into the hallway—where she immediately sank down to the ground. Faneet, who’d been accompanying her, looked at her in surprise. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “…I’m just drained.” Shizuku had been playing a vastly different character from her own self. The princess’s dangerous reputation preceded her, meaning it was absurd to try to intimidate her with bravado, and Shizuku was dismayed by how reckless she’d been. Still, in the moment, she’d felt like that was all she could do. Shizuku had had her bangs trimmed to avoid looking too young, and she messed them up with her hand. She wanted to untie her hair, which was tied up at the back of her head, but the court ladies had put so many pins in it that she didn’t know how to. After pulling out two of the pins, she gave up and lowered her hand. “Was that okay…? I feel like she saw right through me.” “You did fine. The princess likes people with confidence.” “Sh-she does?” “She gets a thrill out of executing arrogant people when they fail.” As Shizuku heard that unsettling remark, somebody smacked her on the head. Rubbing the spot where she’d been hit, she looked around to find Niké standing behind her. He seemed like a completely different person from when he was in front of the princess, and Shizuku scowled at his aggressive attitude. “What’s your problem? That hurt.” “Stop standing around like an idiot. Come on, hurry up. I’ll even let you pick for yourself.” “Pick what?” Ortea had asked Niké to find a room for her to stay in and a child for her to take care of. Was she going to choose her own room? Shizuku didn’t care which room she had, but her query had left Niké dumbstruck. “I’m talking about the kid, you idiot. The one you’re going to die with. I’ll show you to the lab so you can choose whichever one you want.” “…Huh?” In just a few seconds, Shizuku had received several pieces of information that she couldn’t overlook. Yet she put her uncertainties regarding herself aside and focused on the most concerning part. “What do you mean ‘lab’?” “You’re promising to teach these kids to communicate, but you don’t even know what a lab is? I think you need to sort out your own mental shortcomings first.” Shizuku wanted to punch him. Why was there always someone who made her want to thump them, no matter which country she went to? The veins bulged out of her forehead as she forced a smile. “I know what a lab is. I just wanted to know why the children were there, you context-blind mage.” “What did you just call me?” “Hold on a moment, you two.” With the tension escalating, Faneet stepped in. He maintained a safe distance between the pair, then turned toward Shizuku. “For the past three months, children have been secretly gathered in the castle for medical research. Most of them are orphans or children of criminals from the slums, and they’re being used as test subjects to uncover the cause of the illness and find a solution.” “What…? Test subjects…?” “Just hurry up, baby-face,” Niké retorted. He started charging down the hallway before Shizuku had a chance to react. She hurried after him. After striding down the long hallway and turning numerous corners, Shizuku started to hear shrill, crying voices. It wasn’t just one but several reverberating wails overlapping one another. As soon as she realized they were the cries of children, Shizuku looked up at Faneet right beside her, but he simply shook his head in silence. Niké eventually came to a halt in front of a set of double doors at the end of a corridor. He laid his hand on them, and they let out a thunk and swung open inward. The sudden increase in noise almost caused Shizuku to freeze, but before she was able to, Niké glanced over his shoulder. “Get a move on, slowpoke.” The man’s snide remark angered her, but she was in no mood to answer him right now. Having silently entered the room, Shizuku looked around the large space—and found herself speechless. The intense crying had been coming from a magic circle drawn in the center of the room. Sitting inside the circle were children around the age of three or four, clad in shabby clothes. Each of their tiny feet was shackled by iron fetters, chaining them to the floor. “…What is this?” One of them was bawling and thrashing around, while another scratched at his manacled feet with hollow eyes. There were a number of other magic circles and large-scale magic implements installed in the room, and several other tearful children were similarly restrained. Mages stood in front of each magic apparatus, concentrating on the experiments the children were being subjected to. Shizuku stood rooted to the ground, dumbfounded. She had thought she’d gotten fairly used to this world, but this sight was so mind-boggling that she couldn’t say a word. However, the sound of one of the mages slapping a child impatiently on the hand brought her back to reality. “What do you think you’re doing?!” But Shizuku’s incensed shout was drowned out by the cries echoing throughout the room. Most of the mages didn’t even notice it. Only one man—who was relatively nearby—looked around with a scowl. “What’s going on? Are you an outsider?” “No,” Niké replied bluntly. “She’s a guest of the princess. We’ve come to fetch a child to experiment on.” The man’s expression soured, and he looked down at his paperwork. “Here we go again… It’s not like we have an endless supply of children, you know.” “If you have a problem, tell it to the princess.” The man’s face immediately turned red. He glared at Niké with contempt and muttered something under his breath, then turned back around. It sounded to Shizuku like he’d said, “You damn lapdog…,” but she couldn’t say for certain with all the noise going on around them. She glanced at Niké, but he hadn’t even raised an eyebrow. Instead, the man used his chin to gesture toward a magic circle. “Pick any child you want. Just make it quick.” “Make it quick…? What is this? What’s going on?” “It’s exactly what it looks like. They’re carrying out experiments to do with the sickness. They’re channeling magic energy into the children’s bodies and recording how they respond, as well as embedding spells into their minds to observe how their souls react.” “But these experiments are making the children cry!” “True, it’s distracting. It would be so much easier if they could use psychological magic to keep the kids quiet, but that’s not an option here. Extra spells could affect the data that’s being collected.” His intentionally evasive answer only infuriated Shizuku even more. She reached out as if to grab Niké by the collar—but before her hand could touch his clothes, Faneet tapped her on the shoulder from behind. In a flat and resigned voice, he attempted to calm Shizuku down. “It wasn’t this bad at first, but the nobles grew impatient since we weren’t getting anywhere. They’re pestering us to deliver results before Farsas does. If the mages displease their superiors, it could cost them their lives, so the experiments have kept getting harsher, and the situation has only gotten worse.” “But still…” That was all Shizuku could say. She stared at a child who was reaching for her, having noticed Shizuku there. Human rights meant nothing in the face of the nobles’ greed. Erik had told Shizuku something similar in the past, but this was the first time she’d seen such cruelty play out before her very eyes. This group of impoverished, orphaned children and the offspring of criminals wasn’t even afforded the right to protection. Shizuku stared intensely at the bruise-covered girl cowering in the corner and at the woman in front of her, who was intently scrawling something down. No one paid any attention to the child’s anguished cries. Both the adults and other children were preoccupied with their own affairs. The large room lay stagnant, devoid of any glimmer of hope. Shizuku walked into the center of the magic circle. She knelt in front of the little girl reaching for her, then stretched out her arms and embraced the child’s frail frame. Her body was warm and soft, and she smelled of nothing but sweat and blood. Shizuku tearfully buried her face into the girl’s shoulder. Perhaps it was compassion. Maybe it could even be called hypocrisy. However, in that moment, Shizuku felt genuinely glad that she’d chosen to come to Kisk. “Everything will be okay… There’s nothing to be scared of.” The child squirmed in Shizuku’s arms, apparently surprised, and Shizuku gently wrapped herself around the child’s body. “Is that the one you’re choosing?” The child shuddered hearing this insensitive remark. Rage surged inside Shizuku, making her grit her teeth. How shameless could these people be? She looked up to see Niké looming over her, holding a bunch of keys. “I’ll take this one, so get them to stop the other experiments.” “I can’t do that. These experiments are being carried out at the king’s behest. Even if the princess told them to stop, they wouldn’t.” “Even if I insist that they’re unnecessary?” “Who’s going to prove that?” There was no warmth to his words. That was the undeniable reality of this world. Nobody had proven that the experiments were pointless yet. No one had had the conviction to step forward—apart from Shizuku. Niké knelt and took off the girl’s ankle restraints. The child scratching at his ankle stared at them, wide-eyed, apparently in anticipation of freedom. He tried to reach for Shizuku, but Niké casually brushed the small hand aside. The child fell onto his buttocks and started to cry, seemingly triggered by Niké’s callousness. “What are you doing?!” “You can only take one. What are you going to do with another? Are you on the hunt for more travel buddies?” “You…” You can’t be human, Shizuku almost yelled—but the man looked back at her with a dark, melancholic look in his eyes. This glance only lasted for a second, but his gaze was just as powerful as Shizuku’s and frosty enough to make her gulp. Niké scowled at Shizuku as she sat there tongue-tied, but he soon averted his gaze and extended a hand toward the child who’d fallen on his bottom. “If you’re angry, turn it into action. Don’t just run away.” A faint light appeared in the man’s hand. The light coiled itself around the child’s ankle and started erasing the wounds that had been etched into his skin as Shizuku watched in disbelief. She held the child she’d chosen tightly in her arms without saying a word. I just have to do what I can. It was a thought she’d had countless times before and the way she’d gone about things so far. Still…she’d never been so acutely aware of the weight her choices carried. She was the only one who could protect this child. No one else could do it for her. “…Just wait and see how things turn out in a month’s time,” she declared, her voice raspy. There was a lot more she wanted to say, but she held back. “Sure. If you ever get the urge to flee, go ahead and let me know. I’ll kill you.” Shizuku didn’t feel like saying a single word. As she sat there in silence, Faneet lifted the child out of her hands and motioned for them to leave the room. As soon as the doors closed behind them, the incessant sound of crying grew quieter. Yet it still echoed inside Shizuku’s head, showing no signs of stopping. The small cabin in the corner of the castle’s outer garden had originally been a storage shed for gardening tools. It had since been converted into a habitable dwelling, making it a small but sufficient space for Shizuku and the child to stay in. As Shizuku surveyed the slightly dusty interior, Faneet handed her a piece of paper. “This is the vocabulary she needs to learn.” “There are so many words here! I don’t even recognize some of them!” Shizuku exclaimed as she looked at the list. All of the words were written in fine print and packed together tightly. Naturally, most of them were terms Shizuku was familiar with, but she could tell at first glance that about thirty percent were new to her. “Which ones don’t you understand?” asked Faneet, who knew she was from another world. He probably wanted to tell her how they were pronounced. Shizuku, however, stuffed the note into her pocket. “Bear with me for a while. I’ll make a note of all the words I don’t know before the morning. Then you can teach me.” “Are you sure it can wait until tomorrow?” They only had a month. Shizuku’s and the girl’s lives were both on the line. Shizuku smiled awkwardly, then glanced down at the child by her feet. She saw a flicker of emotion in her light brown eyes—something that wavered between fear and hope. “Tomorrow will be fine. Besides, I want to do a little cleaning today. I can start by teaching her the words I understand.” “All right. If there’s anything you need, just let me know. I’ve also conveyed your situation to the kitchen staff.” “Thank you. One more thing: Can you let me know what kind of experiments the castle has conducted so far?” While the scene Shizuku had witnessed in the laboratory was grim, she wanted to know what had already proved unsuccessful. She wasn’t a mage herself, so that knowledge might be wasted on her, but she still wanted as much information as possible. Faneet gave her a brief nod. “Understood. I’ll pass that on to Niké. Let me know if there’s anything else.” The man left the cabin, his face devoid of expression, and Shizuku sighed as she watched him walk away. It was hard not to be reminded of Erik whenever she met someone with an inscrutable demeanor. That said, she’d spent so long traveling with Erik by now that she felt like she’d learned to decipher his thoughts. Shizuku nostalgically recalled memories from just a few days ago—but this wasn’t the time to be dwelling on the past. She crouched down and met the girl’s gaze. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said slowly. “Can you tell me your name?” The child pressed her lips together tightly. Perhaps she’d grown fearful of people due to the treatment she’d endured in the lab. Before the child had the chance to become anxious around her, Shizuku offered her a smile. Then she pointed at her own face. “I’m Shizuku. Shi-zu-ku.” “…Shizu…ku?” “That’s right. Shizuku. What’s your name?” This time, Shizuku pointed at the child’s face. Silence fell once again, but Shizuku kept smiling, refusing to look away. If she wanted to earn the girl’s trust, she first had to show that she was sincere. It was the same rule no matter who you were dealing with. They were starting to build a new relationship, so they needed to become acquainted with one another and take their first step forward. The little girl looked puzzled for a few moments, but then she hesitantly pointed toward Shizuku. “Shizuku?” She nodded, and the girl shyly pointed at her own face. “Rio.” Her voice was feeble—so feeble that it sounded like it was one cough away from vanishing altogether. Nonetheless, Shizuku gave the girl a gentle smile. “Okay, then, Rio. Let’s both try our best, shall we?” Shizuku extended her arms, and Rio looked at them apprehensively. Even so, she timidly approached and nestled into her arms. Shizuku gently embraced the girl’s small frame, trying not to squeeze her too tight. Her warmth reminded Shizuku that this was a living person she was dealing with. It made her feel like she needed to hurry. It didn’t matter that her words were empty platitudes—everyone knew that it wasn’t just the pure of heart who wanted reassurance. Was that desire to reach out to someone who was damaged a part of what it meant to be human? Sometimes, delusion was what people needed to keep going. “Let’s do our best,” Shizuku said again, although the girl hadn’t replied. She gently held onto her thin body. This marked the first day of Shizuku’s new life. That first day flew by in the blink of an eye. Shizuku cleaned the cabin, cooked food, and fed Rio, who soon drifted off to sleep. After tucking Rio in with a blanket, Shizuku turned her attention to her list of “what would be covered in the test.” She compared each word against the vocabulary in her homemade dictionary notebook and wrote the meanings beside them in English. Shizuku had expected there to be a lot of words, but she didn’t think there’d be this many. They were mostly nouns and verbs, but when she quickly counted them, there seemed to be more than six hundred. Still, it wasn’t as though Rio would have to memorize them all. She’d only forgotten her innate vocabulary around five months prior; before that, she’d acquired language just like anybody else. The words she knew wouldn’t be in the test and had already been checked off the list, leaving a little less than four hundred that Shizuku would need to teach her. Understandably, Shizuku found this number overwhelmingly large. “She’s only three… I wonder if this is going to work.” She couldn’t just say it was futile, though. Rather than thinking about whether it was possible or not, she needed to consider how to make it happen. Shizuku quickly stopped doubting herself and started picking out animal names from the words she understood. She began making illustrated flashcards using the stack of papers she’d been given. Teaching Rio the individual letters wasn’t necessary. What mattered was that she connected each word to the relevant subject. That said, Shizuku was teaching her something that should have been innate. Rio needed to understand that these words were used in a multitude of scenarios; it would be a problem if she could say “cat” when she saw a drawing of one but failed to identify the real thing. For the time being, Shizuku had no choice but to work with Rio and address any problems as they came up. As Shizuku was making the cards, she also picked out the words she couldn’t understand herself. It was one thing if these words weren’t in her homemade dictionary, but if they were words that were specific to this world, that’d be problematic. Shizuku would need to ask Faneet for the details. His cooperation would be essential, no matter what. After creating fifty flashcards and finishing sorting out the vocabulary, she lay down next to Rio and drifted off to sleep. She was so physically exhausted that she didn’t even have any dreams. When Faneet turned up the next morning, he was shocked to see the cards that Rio was playing with. He picked one up and inspected it closely. “These are very clever,” he said. “The idea is to connect the pictures with the words. This kind of thing is my specialty.” “What was your line of work? Were you an artisan?” “I’m a student.” This seemed to make sense to the man. Her age probably had a lot to do with that. People in this world tended to perceive her as a young girl—and her baby face definitely didn’t help her case. It had been six months since Shizuku first ended up here. She probably could’ve claimed that she was nineteen, but since she didn’t know how their calendars lined up, it was hard to say for sure. People already looked at her suspiciously whenever she said she was eighteen, so imagining how they’d react if she said she was nineteen made her head hurt. “Anyway, I need your help with this. I want you to teach me the words I don’t know.” “Ah, okay.” Shizuku gave Rio detailed instructions, and when the young girl managed to correctly name the illustrated animals, she’d praise her by saying, “That’s right!” and “Well done!” As she continued with this task, she also listened to Faneet’s explanations and took notes. The words weren’t that difficult—they were for a three-year-old to learn, after all—but there were some creatures Shizuku wasn’t familiar with. The mention of something called a “netai” made her frown. “What’s that? Can you draw a picture of one?” “I’m not very good at drawing. It’s something in between a fairy and an animal… I’ll see if I can find a picture book.” “I’d appreciate that.” Once she’d finished running things by him, Shizuku looked at her list and nodded. There was a momentary flicker of tiredness in her eyes—something she refused to show to Rio. “I wonder what the format of the exam will be. Will we be tested on everything?” “No. A hundred of these words will be selected. She’ll either be shown pictures and asked to identify them, or shown the actual things. It’s unclear how it’s actually going to work.” “Will the princess decide the questions?” “Niké will. He was responsible for that last time, too.” “Last time? This has happened before?” A chill went down Shizuku’s spine. Up until that point, she’d been convinced that nobody else had ever undertaken this test. She knew what Faneet was implying, yet Shizuku still asked for more information. “It has. There have been four people, in fact, each with their own differing claims.” “…Did they succeed?” “If they had, I wouldn’t have brought you here. You heard the mage in the laboratory say, ‘Here we go again,’ didn’t you?” Shizuku didn’t press him for any more answers. She was feeling a vague sense of discomfort that she didn’t want to verbalize in front of Rio. “I’m only telling this because it’s you, but these kinds of endeavors are foolish. Entrusting these tasks to people who can’t produce results will one day lead to irreversible consequences.” The man’s voice rang hollow, devoid of any emotion. He only would have warned of “irreversible consequences” if he knew what was to come. Those who’d already failed no longer posed a threat—and the next person who could cause such problems was Shizuku. Was she thinking negatively because she was a little on edge? As Shizuku let out a sigh, Faneet handed her a document. She looked down to see a paper on the table. “What’s this?” “A list of all the treatments that have been tested in the laboratory. You wanted this, didn’t you?” “Oh, thank you… The trouble is, I can’t read it.” “I thought that might be the case. All of the trials utilized magic. Sometimes it was psychological magic, and sometimes they attempted to touch the children’s souls. Their main purpose was to awaken the children’s language skills.” “Oh. That’s different from my approach, then.” Shizuku was attempting to teach the kids, rather than drawing out their own inherent skills—something that was common practice where she came from. She did question whether it was okay to bring her knowledge into this world, but she figured that someone would come up with the same approach sooner or later. It was a simple plan: If they can’t remember what they’ve forgotten, then teach it to them. Eventually, that idea would emerge by itself. She could sit around and wait for that to happen—but by then, it would be too late for the children who were around now. Shizuku exhaled sharply and put those thoughts behind her. Faneet exuded an air of quiet resignation, and he posed her a question. “Do you think you’re the person who’ll succeed?” “I’m sure of it.” If she didn’t stand a chance, she never would have taken on the mission. A bittersweet smile appeared on Faneet’s face at her response. At long last, he took a sip of the tea he’d been served. “That said…,” began Shizuku, “Niké’s going to be setting the questions. I can’t stand that guy.” “There’s nothing you can do about that. He’s the princess’s favorite.” “Huh? That two-faced man?” “That’s why he’s in charge.” Shizuku couldn’t sense any kindness in his voice. In fact, she felt like she could detect the exact opposite. She didn’t know why that was, but even the princess’s retainers must have had their disagreements. Once Faneet had finished his tea and left, Shizuku put her all into conversing with Rio. “All right, let’s try this again from the start,” she said in a cheery tone of voice. Rio nodded and turned to face the vocabulary flashcards. Their life together was only just beginning. Shizuku moved the knife around the apple, peeling the skin. Rio watched expectantly as it unraveled like a ribbon, the knife gliding along and revealing the white flesh underneath. Once Shizuku had peeled off most of the skin, she sliced the apple into smaller pieces to make it even easier to eat. Her knife skills had improved considerably since she’d found herself in this new world. “Look, an apple,” said Shizuku. “Apple,” Rio repeated. “That’s right. Good job. Here you go.” Shizuku picked up a small slice of apple, prompting Rio to open her mouth wide. She gently placed the piece on the young girl’s tongue. The apples in this world were smaller than what Shizuku was used to, but they were sweet enough. Perhaps they’d been gifted to the castle because of their flavor. After biting into a piece of her own, Shizuku smiled and said, “Yummy.” “Yummy,” Rio repeated. “The skin is ‘red.’ The inside is ‘white’… Got it?” “Red?” “Yeah. This is red.” “White,” said Rio, pointing at the outside surface of the peeled apple skin. Shizuku smiled awkwardly. She couldn’t let every simple mistake bring her down, and she corrected Rio for the umpteenth time. “This one’s white. This is white, and so is that over there… White. The color white.” “White?” “White.” It had been almost two weeks since Shizuku started living with Rio, and it turned out she was pretty quick on the uptake. People always said that early childhood was a period of explosive growth. Sure enough, Rio had already memorized most of the animal flashcards she played with, and they had gone on walks several times a day to see the animals’ real-life counterparts. Rio had grown fearful and thrown tantrums on a number of occasions, likely as a result of her memories of the laboratory, but Shizuku had managed to calm her down. Her day-to-day life with the girl revolved around blending play with learning, and it would have been a peaceful one if she’d been able to ignore the test looming over them. Rio pointed to a white card. “Red?” “White,” Shizuku corrected her. Rio’s ability to absorb information was definitely impressive. Shizuku had created cards with realistic illustrations—as a result, Rio could match the names of flowers, for example, to both their drawn and real-life counterparts. However, there were some words that she kept remembering incorrectly. Although Shizuku repeatedly corrected her, she didn’t seem to improve. Rio looked worried. She must have noticed that Shizuku seemed concerned. Shizuku patted her gently on the head. “It’s okay. Just learn at your own pace. Let’s have a snack and go outside.” They couldn’t rush things. Nor could she afford to make Rio anxious. Shizuku kept reminding herself of these things, but whenever she thought about the number of words and days they had left, she couldn’t rid herself of her nerves. If she failed, there’d be no makeup test. All that awaited both her and Rio was death. When Shizuku had met Ortea, refusing her challenge hadn’t been an option. Even so, there were times when she felt tormented by how high the bar was. She didn’t want to have any regrets, but she couldn’t help but wonder if there had been another path. When she was feeling extremely anxious, Shizuku almost found herself criticizing Rio’s mistakes, saying, “Why don’t you get it?” And every time that happened, Shizuku couldn’t help but scold herself for being so selfish. Shizuku had already simmered half of the apples she’d received from the kitchen to make a sweet treat. She served what was left of it to Rio as a snack, then spent some time waiting for her to finish. Once Rio was done, Shizuku wiped the girl’s dirty hands and mouth and changed her clothes. The castle garden was huge. Faneet had told them not to be too conspicuous, but Shizuku didn’t feel the need to venture farther—even just the rear garden felt too huge to walk around. As they were doing a lap of it, Shizuku ran into two court ladies holding jars. “Oh, it’s you, Shizuku. And you have Rio with you, too.” The woman who’d called out to them, named Yura, greeted them with a smile. She was the same age as Shizuku and had taken an interest in the pair ever since they’d moved into the cabin. Rio also recognized her, as she often came by to check on them. Shizuku smiled back at her. “Hello, Yura and Willett!” “H-hello,” said Willett, bowing her head as she hid in Yura’s shadow. Willett was only fifteen and had begun working as an etiquette apprentice earlier that year. She seemed shy and never greeted them loudly when they ran into one another, but would instead turn red and bow her head as she walked by. The only other people Shizuku had met in Kisk were the intense Ortea, impudent Faneet, and spiteful Niké, so she thought fondly of these two “normal” women. Yura looked at Rio, who was holding Shizuku’s hand. “Are you two going for a walk?” “Yes. We’re going to the stables to see the horses.” “Oh, that’s lovely. By the way, we have some nice deugos in the kitchen. I’ll make sure to set some aside for you, so drop by on your way back.” “Thank you!” Deugo was a fruit unique to this world. It was a common citrus fruit in Farsas, and since it was a word on the test, Shizuku was grateful to be able to have the real thing. “Thank you merry much,” said Rio, echoing Shizuku’s expression of thanks. It was so heartwarming that it made the three girls grin. Shizuku bowed to the others, then headed toward the stables pulling Rio by the hand. Even from a distance, the horses looked remarkably large and powerful. While Rio was excited, Shizuku made sure she didn’t get too close. She started asking Rio to name the things around her: a horse, the grass, and a wheel. “What’s this?” she’d ask as she pointed to each thing. Rio shook her head impatiently, seemingly distracted. However, Shizuku persevered with her questioning, and Rio began offering sporadic replies. After she’d gotten more than a dozen questions right, Shizuku let her take a break. Rio wanted to play, so she let her do as she pleased. “Two more weeks…and yet 2,600 words seem like so few,” Shizuku murmured to herself. Shizuku needed to teach Rio 400 words during this period, and that felt like a lot—but at the same time, an innate vocabulary of 2,600 words seemed insufficient. People must need more words to express their thoughts and engage in conversation. All of the other words must be compound words, formed by combining pieces of innate vocabulary. “People learn those compound words through education, so why wouldn’t it occur to people that you can teach innate vocabulary, too?” She rested her chin on the fence surrounding the stable. Shizuku came from a world where all vocabulary was taught, so she felt it was strange that people had yet to come up with that idea. Still, people in this world saw things differently. They were pre-equipped with a grasp of grammar and innate vocabulary, so nobody thought those things could be acquired later on. It would almost be like if children in Shizuku’s old world suddenly lost the ability to cry. People wouldn’t come up with the idea of teaching children to regain that skill right away. And if there were a world where children couldn’t innately cry and someone from that world recommended education as a way of fixing the problem, people would surely be shocked by this suggestion. Shizuku could imagine people suspecting that something was awry and endeavoring to uncover the underlying cause instead. It was hard to overturn common beliefs that had been ingrained in people since the dawn of history. Not everyone could bring about a Copernican Revolution. Shizuku understood this, but she sighed nonetheless. Her thoughts were starting to give her a headache. She looked over at Rio, who was pulling up grass a short distance away. “The bar’s been set so high… I mean, am I even qualified to teach her?” Shizuku was from another world—she couldn’t even understand how she was able to communicate here. Could she really teach Rio without encountering any obstacles? Even when two different individuals translated the same text, there could be significant disparities in their interpretations. Moreover, Shizuku couldn’t pick up on any differences between Japanese and the language of this continent. If only she were aware of these potential differences, she would have been able to choose her words carefully. Was Rio fully understanding everything Shizuku wanted to say? “There are so many questions I don’t have the answers to…” “Is the pressure getting to you? You’re such a wimp.” A thorny voice pierced Shizuku in the back. She didn’t need to question who was speaking. With a loud tsk, Shizuku looked over her shoulder and glared at the man who’d appeared out of nowhere. “What do you want? If it’s a fight you’re hoping for, I’d rather you picked on someone else.” “You don’t seem to be doing much.” “That’s because I’m thinking. Children have short attention spans, so I have to be systematic.” “You have two weeks left,” warned Niké. “I know that,” Shizuku snapped curtly. She knew better than anyone that her deadline was fast approaching. She only had half of her time left, and there were still over 200 words that Rio hadn’t learned. Shizuku spent every night agonizing over the words Rio had memorized, the words she constantly got wrong, and the words she had yet to learn. She wished people wouldn’t point out the obvious. “You don’t seem to be very busy, either. How about you do some work? You could go and see the princess.” “She hasn’t summoned me. If I turn up unannounced, I’ll end up in her bad books.” “Then lurk around nearby. Like a ninja,” Shizuku suggested. “A ninja?” Niké frowned but didn’t ask any further questions. “It’s time to go home!” Shizuku called out to Rio. Upon hearing her name, Rio turned around—but when she saw Niké in his mage attire, she froze. Shizuku’s expression soured. Rio looked like she’d run away if Niké took a single step forward. “Hurry up and leave. Rio’s scared.” “If she’s scared of me, I won’t be able to conduct the test.” “…You’ve overseen it before, right? Did the previous attempts not make it to the testing stage?” Shizuku had been hit where it hurt, so she was trying to divert criticism away from herself. Indeed, Rio was not yet in a position to be tested. Shizuku would have to convince her not to fear Niké. Still, it wasn’t her fault for feeling that way. His eyes glued to the frightened child, Niké responded to Shizuku’s snarky comeback. “So far, we haven’t held any tests. The other people never thought to teach the children.” “What did they do instead?” “One person tried to fill the hole in the child’s soul with a forbidden curse, and someone else tried to use psychological magic to transfer an adult’s intelligence to a child. Another claimed it was a physical malady and kept giving them magic medicine. The child died partway through, however. Oh…and there was one person who turned to godly powers for assistance.” “…I wish I’d never asked.” These experiments sounded a thousand times grislier than Shizuku had expected. She started to shake her head—but the last thing Niké mentioned had sparked her curiosity. “What do you mean by ‘godly powers’? Was there a new religion involved?” “Uh, no! That person was a zealous adherent of Aetea. According to them, innate vocabulary wasn’t always set in stone. It only became fixed during the Age of Gods, so he turned to prayer to bring it back. The idea was ridiculous.” “Uh, wait a minute.” One part of Niké’s explanation had caught Shizuku’s attention, and she hurriedly interrupted him to clarify something. “Is it true that innate vocabulary wasn’t always set in stone?” “How would I know? There aren’t any relevant records. It was probably just some wild delusion.” “There must have been some basis for his theory, right? Is there a bible or anything?” “You really do ask some weird questions,” replied Niké. “There’s no bible for Aetea’s holy teachings. Where in the countryside do you even come from?” “…I’ll exercise my right to remain silent on that.” Unsurprisingly, Shizuku didn’t want him to question where she was from. She kept her eyes perfectly still, as though she were a stone statue. At the same time, her sense of unease also dissipated, probably because she’d calmed down. She couldn’t even recall what had struck her as odd. It wasn’t as if she could interrogate the person directly, either—they’d likely been executed. Remembering what kind of position she was in, Shizuku started to feel gloomy. Niké gave her a dubious look before shifting his gaze back to Rio. He crouched down and beckoned the child over. “Come here.” “What are you going to do to her?” asked Shizuku. “Nothing. Shut up, baby-face.” Shizuku felt the urge to swing her clenched fist at the back of the man’s head. However, before she had the chance to do so, Niké took something out of his pocket. “Come here. I’ve got something for you,” he said, offering Rio some candy wrapped in colorful paper. Rio’s eyes lit up at the sight of the red and yellow wrapper. She’d been frozen stiff a few moments earlier, but now her curiosity had been thoroughly piqued. The young girl’s eyes darted around, her gaze brimming with both worry and excitement. Shizuku hesitantly forced a smile. “It’s okay. Go on.” Shizuku gave Rio a nod, paying close attention to make sure Niké didn’t do anything weird. After all, Rio wouldn’t be able to take the test if she didn’t get used to him. After hearing Shizuku’s words of encouragement, Rio tentatively took a step forward. Niké hadn’t moved from his position holding out the candy, and Rio slowly approached him, then finally reached out and took a piece. “You can have them all. Hold out your other hand as well,” said Niké. Rio, who was about to take another, looked up at Shizuku with a puzzled expression. Shizuku created a bowl with her hands, prompting Rio to mimic her. With her small hands together, the little girl looked up, and Niké poured all of the candies into her hands. Rio’s eyes began to sparkle, making Niké break into a smile. Shizuku was taken aback—it was the first time she’d seen him wearing a gentle expression. “You’re…” “I’m what?” Niké asked. “…It doesn’t matter.” Rio flinched in surprise when the man rose to his feet, but her attention soon returned to her sweets. After checking she was all right, Niké turned back toward Shizuku. He had the usual taunting look in his eyes again. “If you’ve got enough time to play with a kid, then you can afford to work a little harder. Your baby face is looking younger by the minute.” “What I do is none of your business!” Despite his brief display of kindness, everything the man said and did continued to grind her gears. Instead of demanding he leave, Shizuku picked up Rio and promptly went on her way, leaving Niké behind. “Good morning, Rio.” Three weeks had gone by. Shizuku woke Rio up and wiped her face with a well-wrung cloth. After she’d gotten the young girl dressed and laid breakfast out on the table, Rio took a seat by herself. “Good morning, Shizuku.” “Good morning. Do you want apple juice or deugo juice?” “I want deugo!” Shizuku stifled her laughter at Rio’s enthusiastic response and turned toward the kitchen. She peeled the skin off a deugo fruit and made some fresh juice for her. Rio’s conversational skills were becoming more fluent by the day. The emphasis Shizuku had placed on her education was partially to thank for that. Living with Rio, every day was filled with new discoveries. Back in her old world, a friend of Shizuku’s who worked as a part-time private tutor had once said, “Teaching is a great way to learn.” Now Shizuku truly understood what she’d meant by that. Whether it was teaching Erik or Rio, the task required her to reanalyze the knowledge she’d accumulated, which deepened her own understanding of it. Shizuku smiled at Rio, who was holding her spoon. “Aren’t you going to say, ‘Let’s eat’?” “Lettuce eat!” “Yes, great job. Let’s eat!” Shizuku started to eat her own breakfast as well. She hadn’t been able to eat much recently, likely due to her looming deadline. After finishing her very small meal, Shizuku served Rio a homemade pudding. It was a simple dessert made with eggs and milk, but kids loved it. Rio’s face immediately lit up. They had around 120 words left to learn. As Shizuku was contemplating whether Rio could learn them all in a week, she noticed that something had been shoved toward her. When she took a look, she realized that Rio was holding out her half-eaten cup of pudding. Shizuku’s eyes widened. “Huh? It wasn’t yummy?” she asked. “It’s yummy,” Rio replied. “Then was there something in it?” “Half. For Shizuku,” Rio said quickly. She smiled, and a dimple appeared in one cheek. Her pudding was so tasty that she’d decided to offer Shizuku half of it. As soon as Shizuku grasped the meaning behind Rio’s unexpected words, a warmth spread through her heart. Was this what the urge to hug someone felt like? Shizuku extended her hands and gently ran her fingers through Rio’s hair. “Thank you, Rio—but you can finish it. I’m full.” “I can?” “Yes. Eat up.” Rio clasped the cup against her chest, looking perplexed but pleased at the same time. Shizuku watched her intently as she stuffed her cheeks with a spoonful of pudding. This new lifestyle imbued Shizuku with a renewed sense of gratitude toward her mother and sister. They were the main two people who’d looked after her when she was little. Thinking back, they’d been incredibly patient with her; toddlers could be extremely unpredictable. “—No!” The glass toppled over with a resounding crash. This sound made Shizuku grimace, but the look in Rio’s eyes was so apologetic that she decided not to verbalize her emotions. Shizuku silently put the glass back and wiped the water. She couldn’t be sure whether or not her silent actions were still expressing blame toward Rio. Once she’d finished tidying up, she looked down at the child, who’d huddled into a ball. “Don’t hit things. It’s fine, so let’s just try again.” After finishing their morning study session, Shizuku had collated all of the words that Rio consistently got wrong. Her plan was to get Rio to review them; however, the young girl had been reluctant from the outset and wouldn’t even sit in her chair. She was probably fed up with having to study the same words over and over again. Even when Shizuku called her name, Rio flat-out refused to come over. Eventually, though, Shizuku managed to catch her. She had tried to make her sit down, but Rio had struggled and ended up knocking over a glass. “What color is this, Rio?” Once she’d managed to get Rio in her chair, Shizuku placed her hand on the child’s shoulder from behind and pointed at a white circle—but Rio kept her mouth tightly closed and refused to answer. An emotion somewhere between anger and sadness started to build in her mind. “Answer, Rio.” “…No.” “Rio.” “No!” As Rio attempted to get down from her seat, Shizuku grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her brown eyes. “Listen to me, Rio. You need to study hard for one more week. You can play once it’s over…” “No! Let go!” “Just a little while longer. Please.” “I don’t want to!” “There’s going to be a test. You have to study!” Why wouldn’t she understand? Everything hinged on this one week. There was no way Shizuku could tell the young girl that her life was on the line. She didn’t want to tell her, and even if she did, Rio probably wouldn’t understand. Still, whether she could verbalize it or not, that was the unavoidable truth. Shizuku hadn’t chosen Rio to kill her; she’d chosen her because she believed she would succeed. That had been her first step toward an unpredictable future. Shizuku let go of her and knelt on the floor, looking up at Rio from below. The three-year-old child glared at Shizuku, on the verge of a tantrum. “Please, Rio. Let’s study. If you work hard, you’re sure to stop making mistakes.” “No!” The child’s hand swung straight down toward Shizuku’s eyes. It was so sudden that Shizuku couldn’t even dodge it. A violent pain ran through her body. She saw red—both literally and figuratively. “Rio!” Shizuku yelled. Her voice didn’t sound like her own. The calm part of her already regretted what she was doing. I want to stop myself, she thought—but it was too late. Her fury had already surged out of her throat. But then…she heard the door opening from the outside. Shizuku tensed up and gulped as the door creaked open behind her. Faneet stood on the other side and frowned, noticing the tension between the pair. “What’s going on?” The outside air drifted in. Shizuku’s stiff legs began to shake. Shizuku had rushed to her feet in anger and begun to raise her right hand into the air. When she realized what she was doing, she closed her fingers tightly. Rio was shielding her head with her hands, trembling. She’d brought Rio here because she wanted to help her. She’d never had any intention of hurting her. She didn’t want to give her any more bruises. If it came to that—then she may as well have left her back in the laboratory. “…I’m sorry, Rio.” The young girl didn’t look up. She was still shaking. Shizuku looked over her shoulder at Faneet, who was standing in the doorway. “Sorry. You saved me there.” “You’re bleeding,” Faneet replied. “I know. I’ll go wash my face.” Faneet looked puzzled, but he didn’t inquire further. As Shizuku was leaving the room, he walked over to Rio. Shizuku went around to the back of the cabin and scooped some water out of the bucket. She rinsed her face several times with the cold water. Rio had swung her arm around and hit Shizuku in the eyelid, leaving a gash above her eye, but Shizuku couldn’t even feel it stinging anymore. All she felt was regret. She couldn’t believe she’d almost struck such a small child. Words can only get you so far. That was why people had to express themselves through their behavior. Shizuku knew that, yet she’d failed to truly grasp it. She took some more of the clear water with her hands. Splashes of water dampened the hem of her clothes, and droplets trickled down her arms and seeped into her sleeves. But Shizuku just continued to wash her face, not worrying about any of this. Her tears refused to stop, as if they were admonishing her for being so immature. Nevertheless, the water washed them away. While she was washing her face, the gash on her eyelid stopped bleeding. Shizuku quickly changed her clothes and tied her hair back before returning to the room where Faneet and Rio were waiting. When she opened the door, she saw Faneet pointing to pictures as Rio falteringly named the things in the illustrations. A moment later, they both turned their attention toward Shizuku. “I’m sorry, you two. Was everything okay?” “Just fine,” replied Faneet, as arrogant as ever. Rio hurriedly hid behind his back. A bittersweet smile appeared on Shizuku’s face; it seemed she’d lost the young girl’s trust after all. A moment later, however, something unbelievable happened. “I’m sorry,” Rio whispered softly, still hiding fearfully behind Faneet. “…Rio.” “I’m sorry.” It was clear from the look in her brown eyes that she was worried she’d be abandoned. Her innocent yet pitiful gaze almost made Shizuku tear up again, but she held it back. There was still some time left. They still had plenty of chances. Shizuku looked at Rio, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “Rio will study,” replied the girl. “Yeah.” Shizuku returned to her seat, and Rio sat down beside her. Shizuku lovingly stroked her small head of soft hair. Things were tough sometimes, but in a sense, Shizuku felt lucky. They were able to talk and smile at one another, and stay by each other’s side. Shizuku leaned in close and resumed their vocabulary study session. She felt nothing but love for that small girl nestled warmly against her. “This must get a little tiring,” said Faneet in a flat tone of voice. After completing their study session, Shizuku had gone to put Rio down for a nap. Shizuku smiled hesitantly as she prepared some tea. “Yeah. She’s only three. Not even education for gifted children would cram this much knowledge into her head.” “I don’t mean her. I was talking about you.” “Me?” Shizuku asked, pointing to herself. Faneet nodded, his blunt gaze stopping on her. “This is a new environment for you. Just living with a child must be hard work. Your exhaustion is what’s causing your mood swings.” “I—I guess so.” “If you feel like you’ve reached your limit, you should take a half day off. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll fill in for you.” Faneet told her he didn’t need any tea and rose to his feet. It seemed like he’d just come to check on her. The brusque man turned around to face Shizuku, who’d left the kitchen to say good-bye. He looked at her with an exasperated expression on his face. “I won’t apologize for bringing you here,” he said. “No, you don’t have to. It was my choice to come.” “But…I think you’re working hard enough.” Shizuku was slightly surprised by this comment. Before she was able to respond, Faneet turned around and left the cabin, his tall figure fading into the distance. Alone again, Shizuku digested what he’d said to her. She couldn’t help chuckling. Over the past six months, a number of people had told her the same thing—that she was doing her best. It always pleased her to hear it. Those words of kindness made her feel like her efforts were being acknowledged. Faneet’s comment had made her happy, too. What she really wanted, though, was to succeed. She didn’t care how much she had to struggle as long as it yielded the desired results. At some point, this experience would turn into a memory she could cherish. Shizuku took a deep breath and returned to the table to sort out her self-made teaching materials. She briefly considered taking a short nap but felt too pressed for time. “Now then, you have five days left. How are things going?” Ortea asked, sounding thoroughly amused. Shizuku had been unexpectedly summoned by the princess, and she knelt on the floor with her head bowed. Once again, strong incense wafted through the room, filling the space with a slight haze. Shizuku’s breathing would become shallow if she wasn’t careful, so she tried to slowly steady it. She channeled her energy into her abdomen, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “We’re making good progress. She’s a determined young girl, so that helps.” In reality, Shizuku was more anxious about their progress than anything else—but if she were foolishly honest in front of the princess, she’d only put herself at greater risk. She didn’t know why Ortea had summoned her, but her priority was surviving their meeting and going back to Rio. Shizuku and Ortea were the only people inside the princess’s private chamber. She remembered her manners and kept her gaze fixed on the floor, not having been granted permission to raise her head yet. All Shizuku could hear was the princess opening her fan. “Oh. It looks like your attempts to sustain facial injuries are going swimmingly, too.” “This was simply a result of my own carelessness,” said Shizuku. The wound Rio had given her had almost healed, leaving nothing more than a faint mark. Much more noticeable were the dark circles under Shizuku’s eyes and the general fatigue showing on her face. Since she’d been summoned so suddenly, she hadn’t had time to conceal them with makeup. Ortea snorted. It was as though she already knew the full situation. “I realized I hadn’t informed you about the test format yet, which is why I called you here. As Faneet may have already told you, she’ll be tested on one hundred of the target words. The words will be shown to her on paper, and she’ll be made to answer accordingly.” “I understand.” On the inside, Shizuku felt relieved. If the test format on the day had been different, she wouldn’t have even been able to watch. It was fortunate that Ortea had cleared up those doubts herself. “Oh, and it’s not a matter of getting a percentage of them right; if she makes even one mistake, it’s over.” “…Understood.” Ortea’s words filled Shizuku with despair. She wouldn’t even forgive a single lapse. With only five days left, it would be hard to ensure that Rio got all one hundred questions right. Still, she had no one to complain to; Erik wasn’t around. This time, Shizuku had to be the protector. Since their argument, Rio had started studying of her own accord, although she still didn’t seem to enjoy it. Either out of regret for hurting Shizuku or fear of being hurt, Rio had become even more obedient. However, the better Rio behaved, the more despondent Shizuku felt. No matter how hard the three-year-old tried, her future would be cut short if she failed her impending test. Shizuku made herself work hard right up until the last minute, but she couldn’t force Rio to do the same. Every day, Shizuku would agonize over whether they were doing enough to guarantee Rio’s survival—and her confidence was waning. Rio would appear concerned whenever Shizuku became consumed by these thoughts, and she’d ask whether Shizuku was okay. Children were much smarter than grown-ups gave them credit for. Rio always noticed when the adult who was constantly by her side felt down. For the past month they’d spent every minute of the day in close company, a bond no different from that of family. Thanks to her healthy lifestyle, Rio’s soft body was getting plumper. Her hair had become shinier, and she’d begun to smile more often, too. In ten years, she would probably grow into a lovely young woman. With a kind heart and a caring smile, she’d be sure to make friends and find love as she grew into adulthood. But all of that would only happen if she did well on the test. In their daily study sessions, Shizuku made Rio do repetition exercises, associating pictures with sounds. She grouped similar items together, like linking animals with animals and fruits with fruits. Shizuku also tried to incorporate vocabulary she’d be tested on into their daily conversations as much as possible. Shizuku had insisted to Ortea that words could act as a catalyst for language acquisition—and just as she’d claimed, her constant conversations with Rio had a significant impact on the young girl’s learning. Even so, things were far from perfect. Shizuku wouldn’t have said she needed another month, but she would’ve liked at least another week. Suppressing her melancholy, Shizuku maintained a neutral expression as Ortea narrowed her amber eyes at her. “What’s wrong? Is there something you need?” “No…” “If you’re not feeling well, should we postpone the test?” “Huh…?” Shizuku inadvertently lifted her head. The moment she met Ortea’s gaze, she instantly regretted it. Seeing a flicker of hope in Shizuku’s eyes, the princess let out a gleeful chuckle. “No, there’s no need for that, is there? I vividly remember you boasting about how you were going to succeed.” Shizuku clenched her fists as tight as she could while Ortea flashed her a dazzling smile. The princess was just playing with her. Offering a glimmer of hope and then snatching it away was just what she did for fun. Shizuku was frustrated that she’d fallen for her tricks and shown a crack in her armor. Ortea snickered, amused. “Even when you fail, it’s only you and the child who will be killed. That’s not so bad, is it?” Ortea spoke as if the future was already decided. Well, perhaps it was. Ortea didn’t believe for a moment that Shizuku would actually succeed. She simply enjoyed watching Shizuku and Rio toil away in vain. To her, it was like rolling candy around in her mouth, only for it to melt into nothing. Shizuku held back her emotions and lowered her head once again. “There will be no change of plan,” Ortea declared, her voice as sharp as a guillotine blade. “Work diligently as instructed.” “…As you wish,” replied Shizuku, her voice shaking. Her mouth felt dry, and she could taste something resembling blood. The blue moon shone brightly, and Shizuku held back a sigh as she looked up at it. She repositioned the blanket in her arms. There didn’t appear to be anybody else in the garden that night; the only signs of life were the patrolling soldiers’ torches moving in the distance. Shizuku held her breath and made her way through the darkness, heading toward the kitchen’s back entrance. Now and then, she’d whisper, “Almost there,” into the blanket. Finally, a doorway emerged from behind the trees. Yura stood there, and she beckoned Shizuku over when she spotted her. Shizuku nodded and dashed toward the door. Once there, she slipped through the wooden doorway with the blanket in her arms. After checking that Yura and Willett were the only people inside, Shizuku gently lowered the bundle onto the stone floor. The blanket slowly unraveled itself, and Rio emerged from within, her eyes looking sleepy. “Can I talk now?” she asked. “Yes, but be quiet,” Shizuku replied. Rio yawned and nodded. There were two days until the test. Yet Rio still wasn’t getting more than ninety percent of the questions right. There were a few dozen words that Rio either misremembered or couldn’t remember at all, and Shizuku had been so troubled that she’d been struggling to eat for two days. She needs to take the test and pass. That was the best possible result. Obviously, Shizuku knew that. However, passing was merely an outcome, not a solution. She wasn’t sure whether Rio could pass or not. What’s more…Shizuku couldn’t bring herself to play roulette with Rio’s life, uncertain which way the wheel might spin. If Shizuku’s life were the only one on the line, she wouldn’t mind. She could ready herself for that fate whenever she needed to. Rio, however, was different. She was a child—somebody who was supposed to be protected. The chasm between what Shizuku wanted and the reality of the situation eventually became too much for her to handle. “The supply wagon will arrive first thing in the morning. If we sneak in before it leaves, we’ll be able to leave the castle unnoticed. They rarely inspect the wagon on its return journey.” “Okay… I really appreciate this.” Shizuku had handed Rio to Yura, and the young girl glanced anxiously back at her. She must have been scared about where she was being taken. As Rio extended her tiny hands out toward her, Shizuku gave a pained smile. “You’ll be fine. Listen carefully to what Yura says.” Yura held Rio, still in the blanket, in her arms. Willett, meanwhile, was constantly glancing back at the door that led into the castle. Clearly fidgety, she told them she’d keep watch, then stepped out into the corridor. Rio must have realized she was going to be separated from Shizuku, because her face crumpled as though she was about to cry. Shizuku placed a finger in front of her lips to shush the girl before she made any noise. Yura caressed Rio’s little head and repositioned her in her arms. “You’re sure you’re okay with this, Shizuku?” “Yeah.” The pair had come up with their plan that evening. Shizuku had been paying her regular visit to the kitchen when Yura had confronted her and interrogated her about what was going on. Shizuku’s demeanor had been too peculiar to ignore, and after agonizing over Yura’s questions, she confessed that she wanted to smuggle Rio out of the castle. Shizuku didn’t elaborate further, but considering Ortea’s reputation—which transcended even national borders—Yura could guess what was happening. She immediately promised to help, saying, “If you bring Rio with you tonight, I’ll arrange for her to be taken out of the castle.” “Are you really not going to join her, Shizuku? When she finds out Rio’s gone…” “It’s fine. Just take care of her for me.” Shizuku knew Ortea wouldn’t forgive her once she discovered Rio had escaped, but if both of them fled, the blame would most likely come down on Faneet. Shizuku had mentally prepared herself to face the consequences of her own inexperience; she’d already sacrificed herself once before, back in Farsas. As long as Rio was safe, that was all that mattered. She placed a small envelope in Rio’s hand. “This is important. Don’t lose it, okay?” It was a hastily written petition addressed to Leuticia. In it, Shizuku explained that language wasn’t innate in Shizuku’s world, described the potential of education, and detailed the reality of the experiments children were undergoing in Kisk. Once she made it out of the castle, Rio would be placed on a stagecoach bound for Farsas, as arranged by Yura. If Rio could get the petition to Leuticia after reaching the castle city, a brighter future would open up for her. Leuticia would undoubtedly figure something out for the little girl. As Shizuku held onto Rio’s hand, she internally apologized to a number of people. The girl’s small fingers fidgeted around impatiently. “Stay well, Rio.” “What about you?” “I’m not coming, so—” That was when they heard a brief scream echoing from the hallway. Shizuku and Yura exchanged glances. Without a word, they immediately sprang into action. Yura went to hide Rio behind the kitchen counter, while Shizuku dashed over to the door where the scream had come from. Before Shizuku could open the door, however, it swung open from the other side. The air from the corridor as well as the sound of Willett’s groans infiltrated the kitchen. A mage dressed in a black robe stood in the doorway. He was roughly twisting Willett’s arm with one hand as he shot Shizuku a piercing look. The man’s expression, illuminated by the nighttime lamps, was so stern that one might even call it sinister. When Shizuku met his gaze, she let out an exclamation of surprise. “Niké… Why?” “You’re plotting something interesting, aren’t you, baby-face? Where are you planning on taking that child?” “What…?” Shizuku stepped backward, not bothering to look over her shoulder. Yura and Rio were hiding. She needed to find a way of diverting Niké’s attention. Her legs seemed close to collapsing under the pressure, but Shizuku held her ground and turned to face the man. “What are you talking about? Let go of Willett.” “Don’t play dumb, you idiot. There’s a magic barrier around that cabin, so I know if someone leaves during the night. I just paid it a visit, and there was no one there.” Niké lifted his free hand. He began to recite an incantation, and Shizuku went pale. Then she launched herself at the man’s outstretched hand. “Stop!” she shouted. “Let go of me, woman. Or do you want to die right here, right now?” “I don’t want to let her die! Stop it!” Shizuku clung desperately to Niké’s hand, trying to stop him from casting the spell. However, the next thing she knew, she heard a disapproving tsk and felt a sharp strike against her cheek. She knew what had happened, but it still took a moment for it to sink in. Shizuku looked up at Niké. He’d let go of Willett and used the hand he’d been restraining her with to slap Shizuku across the cheek, his furious gaze trained on her. “You don’t want her to die? So you plan on saving one child and leaving the rest to suffer? How stupid.” “Leaving them to suffer…? I’d never…” “You’re happy saving only the one that pulled at your heartstrings? Is everything okay as long as the people right in front of you survive? What an idyllic way of looking at things. At the end of the day, you’re no better than the princess. You both enjoy manipulating people’s lives to suit your whims.” “That’s not true! I’m nothing like her!” Shizuku just wanted to help. That was all there was to it. She wanted Rio to be loved and protected, like all the other children she knew. She wanted happiness to become a normal part of her life. She wanted Rio to laugh, cry, and enjoy a fulfilling life. Children were granted a long grace period before reaching adulthood. Why did Rio’s path have to be cut short after just a few years? Even here, it was possible to teach people language; Rio had been absorbing Shizuku’s knowledge like a sponge. As such, all of those experiments were meaningless. If Shizuku proved that, she could save all the other children, too. She just had to make sure she wasn’t blinded by her love for Rio. “It was completely coincidental that you picked her. What if you had chosen a different child that day? You would have let that child escape and left this one to die. That’s how shallow this sentimentality is.” “…” Shizuku couldn’t refute Niké’s claims. After all, they were true. She hung her head, holding onto her stinging cheek. The sound of Rio sobbing began to echo from behind her. How was she supposed to move forward? She’d had no trouble with that before, but right now, she couldn’t remember how she’d done it. She couldn’t come to a decision. The future was unclear. It seemed like no matter what direction she took, she’d lose something precious to her. Shizuku stood there on the brink of collapse—but then a small child’s hand stopped her from falling. “Shizuku.” Rio tugged at the hem of her clothes. When Shizuku looked over her shoulder, she saw the girl’s short fingers clenched tightly around her skirt. She looked up at Shizuku, her eyes wet with tears. “Don’t cry, Shizuku.” “Rio.” Shizuku couldn’t remember what kind of things she’d thought about when she was a young girl. All she could recall was that she’d loved her family. She’d loved her mother’s smile and the warmth of her father’s hands; all she had were a few fragmented memories. In hindsight, all she’d ever done when she was young was receive from other people. Was this how her parents had felt back then? “Let’s do our best, Shizuku.” Rio loved Shizuku, just as Shizuku loved Rio. The young girl helped her just as much as she wanted to help Rio. They had slowly begun to walk forward supporting one another. Why had she spent all this time convinced that she was alone? Shizuku crouched down and embraced the little girl. Niké looked at them, his eyes devoid of emotion. He shifted his gaze to Yura, who was glaring at him, and Willett, who was trembling beside him. “If you needlessly interfere, you’ll be dealt with, too. Keep that in mind,” Niké said coldly. “I humbly apologize,” Yura replied. “And you, baby-face.” “…What?” Shizuku raised her head and looked at the mage. Although they both saw things from different perspectives, their gazes intersected. At that moment, the look in the man’s eyes reminded Shizuku of a snowy night. It was so serene that it seemed to swallow up every little sound, and its coldness seemed to bring back memories. Realizing that neither she nor Niké was angry, Shizuku let out a sigh of relief. Niké frowned as he examined her tear-stained face. “Don’t betray us after putting in all that effort. Otherwise, your life will be wasted cleaning up after the child’s mess.” “…” “If you still don’t get it, I’ll kill you right now.” Without waiting for a response, Niké started chanting. A ball of fire appeared in his gloved right hand. Rio cowered away, frightened, but she didn’t try to escape. Instead, she stepped in front of Shizuku and clung to her in an attempt to shield her from harm. Rio’s body trembled slightly as she held onto Shizuku, but at the same time, she was incredibly strong. Shizuku blinked slowly, unable to put her feelings into words. A single tear rolled down her black eyelashes, dripping onto Rio’s hair. She’d worked so hard for so long. She needed to have faith in the time and effort she’d put in. She could sacrifice her life when the time came, for the girl who’d been her constant support. Shizuku held Rio against her chest. “I’m sorry.” There was no answer. The little girl simply squeezed her hand in return, and Shizuku smiled. She gently lifted the girl’s tiny body up into her arms. It wasn’t over yet—not even close. Shizuku wasn’t the one to decide when things were finished. There was only one day remaining, but progress could still be made in that time. There must be something left to gain. Shizuku silently turned to the others present and bowed deeply. With that, Shizuku carried Rio back to the cabin. That night, they fell asleep holding hands in their little bed. The person she was hugging gave off a gentle, sweet aroma. Shizuku closed her eyes and rested her face on Rio’s back. “When the test is done, can I play?” Rio asked in her young voice. “Of course. You can play all the time.” “Will you play, too?” “Sure… Let’s play together. We can play all kinds of games.” Shizuku’s whisper carried with it a multitude of emotions, and she put Rio down and led her by the hand instead. They were heading deep into the castle. There, the fearsome princess would be waiting for them. It had been a month since Shizuku first stepped into Ortea’s chamber. Back then, she’d proposed a challenge to the princess all by herself. Now she knelt before Ortea with Rio by her side, hoping to deliver the results she’d promised. As usual, the room was filled with a pungent smell. However, this time Ortea’s figure was concealed behind a newly erected white curtain. The princess’s elegant voice reverberated from behind the curtain. “So the day has finally arrived. Did you have any issues?” “Thanks to you, Your Highness, I did not.” Shizuku momentarily worried about what she’d do if Niké had told the princess about the events of two days earlier, but Ortea seemed unaware. Keeping her eyes on the ground, relief flooded through Shizuku. Niké and Faneet also had their heads bowed to their master. “In that case, let me see what you’ve managed to achieve. Are you ready?” “Whenever you are,” Shizuku responded with a calm expression on her face. As she spoke, she squeezed Rio’s tiny hand gently to encourage her. The little girl was shrinking away in fear despite Shizuku’s composure. Ortea, presumably right in front of them, had probably picked up on the contrast. Still, Shizuku didn’t really care. “Step back. The child will sit in this chair,” Niké instructed from where he stood in front of the curtain. Rio sat down on the chair in the middle of the room. Shizuku was made to stand a short distance behind her. She was likely being kept out of Rio’s line of sight to prevent any foul play. Niké walked over to Rio and conducted a brief physical examination. Rio shuddered when she saw him, likely due to the events of two nights earlier, but as Niké directed her to raise and lower her arms and briefly checked her clothes, her nervousness appeared to dissipate. It looked like she was smiling slightly, but it was hard to tell from where Shizuku was standing. Eventually, Niké returned to his spot in front of the curtain and took a stack of cards out of a large box that had been put there. The simple sight of them was enough to make Shizuku’s heart leap. I really hope she passes. Right now, that was all Shizuku could wish for. It wasn’t that she wanted to ensure her own survival; more than anything, she just wanted Rio to live. From this point on, Rio was the only person who would be tested. From the beginning to the end, Rio was the one who had to answer the questions and produce results. That was a lot of pressure for such a young child to handle. Shizuku wished she could take her place. She clenched her fists tightly. After all, if this test ends in failure… Shizuku had already resolved to offer her life in exchange for Rio’s. The pictures on the cards were realistic—far more realistic than Shizuku’s illustrations. Despite Shizuku’s apprehension, Rio looked at the cards and began to give her answers, one by one. Rio pondered and puzzled over every single card that was flipped over, but in the end, she still managed to get each of the words correct. The test had begun with vocabulary that Rio was sure to know, and Shizuku couldn’t help but let out a shallow breath. One hundred was a daunting number. As she counted the questions silently in her head, Shizuku was reminded of the enormity of the task before them. As Rio answered question after question, it felt almost as if the test would go on forever. Under usual circumstances, Shizuku would heap on the praise every time Rio got something right, saying, “That’s amazing,” and “You’re doing so well.” This time, the cards were turned over in silence, but Rio successfully followed along nonetheless. Eventually, Rio reached the thirty-question mark. She hadn’t made any errors yet. Shizuku noticed that the palms of her clenched hands were slick with sweat. She couldn’t help but worry about how long Rio’s concentration would last and how much she would remember. As much as she wished they wouldn’t, these anxious thoughts kept coming to her mind. She looked up at Faneet standing next to her, who noticed her gaze and gave her a nod. He was as emotionless as ever, though, so Shizuku couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The sound of another card being flipped over brought Shizuku’s attention back to the test. This new card was for “clock.” Rio readily stated the correct answer. Shizuku assumed the princess was behind the curtain, yet she hadn’t uttered a single word since the test began. It was impossible to tell whether she was actually there. Niké was standing with his back partially turned toward the curtain, so the princess might not have been able to see his cards. At last, they reached the fiftieth question. Was there a meaning as to why Shizuku had found herself in this world? Was it a positive one, either for herself or for someone else here? Shizuku thought back about all the people she’d met and said good-bye to so far. She’d never felt like she’d saved any of them—not even once. In fact, she was the one who’d been saved by them. Those people would have continued striding toward the future, whether she was there or not. But what about Rio? Could meeting Shizuku really save her life? Once they’d made it past the sixty-question mark, Niké started incorporating questions that didn’t use the cards into the test. He would take real objects out of the box, asking for their names or pointing to parts or colors for Rio to identify. Rio spent a lot of time puzzling over the “parts” questions, but even when she seemed like she would trip up, she always managed to come up with the answer. Shizuku had been concerned about whether Rio could name the color “white,” but in the end, she was able to identify it confidently. When Shizuku heard her come up with the correct answer, the ensuing relief almost made her legs give way. Shizuku had no idea how much time had passed since the test began. She wanted to check, but there was no clock in the room. Rio usually got bored after just ten minutes or so, but it had been much longer than that and she was still sitting politely in her chair. She immediately responded with enthusiasm whenever she was shown something she recognized. However, that came to a stop when she got to the eighty-ninth question. The card was asking her for the verb “to read.” The moment she saw it, Shizuku thought, Oh no. It was such a simple word, yet Rio had always got it wrong. No matter how many times Shizuku corrected her, she couldn’t seem to get it right. With bated breath, Shizuku waited for Rio to answer. It’s “read,” Rio. Yet her silent appeal went unheard. The card depicted a person holding an open book. Whenever Rio wanted Shizuku to read her a book, the young girl would say “sing.” “…Um.” Rio fidgeted nervously in her chair. It seemed like she wanted to look back at Shizuku, but she couldn’t. Shizuku couldn’t help either, as much as she wanted to. Her powerlessness made her grit her teeth in frustration. But just then, she heard the man say, “Ah,” followed by the rustling sound of falling paper. Spread across the floor were dozens of testing cards. It seemed like Niké had let them fall, and he bowed in the direction of the curtain, then hurriedly picked them up again. After gathering the cards, he presented Rio with a new card. This time, it was a word she knew—“sleep.” Shizuku’s dark eyes opened wide, staring at the man who’d resumed the test. Then, for the one hundredth question, Niké took a yellow fruit out of the box. Rio gazed at it intently…then spoke. “Deugo.” There was no way she could have gotten that wrong. Shizuku expelled the air from her lungs. She felt a hot sensation in her chest. She was close to bursting into tears. She wanted to hug Rio. How many hours had they spent studying? While some of Rio’s learning had been incorporated into playtime, it hadn’t all been fun and games. And yet Rio’s hard work had helped her learn around four hundred words in a month. She was now up to par with other children her age who hadn’t been affected by the disease. While some of her speedy learning could have been attributed to the pair’s hard work, it was possible that some innate vocabulary was ingrained in her already and that she’d just struggled to remember it. As Shizuku pondered this, she couldn’t help but want to run over to the little girl. Still, she maintained her composure and waited patiently for Ortea’s verdict. Shortly after Niké had put his cards away and bowed toward the curtain, the woman’s bewitching voice rang out. “You have done splendidly, girl.” Shizuku silently lowered her head. She wasn’t sure whether the princess was talking to her or Rio, so she didn’t say anything in response. However, it didn’t take long for Shizuku to realize that the praise was directed at her. In fact, it was directed solely at her. “In just one month, you’ve demonstrated remarkable progress. I shall have you work for me. I can’t wait to see those mages’ faces when they hear about this. Right, Niké?” “Indeed. I hope they feel ashamed of their own incompetence.” “Any semblance of shame within them has already been worn down. They wouldn’t be able to survive the royal court otherwise. Anyway, Niké, have this girl serve as Seilené’s personal attendant.” Shizuku hadn’t heard this name before. Although she didn’t show it on the outside, she was confused, but an idea came to mind when she saw Faneet begin to stir. Originally, Shizuku had been summoned to the castle to educate a child who was soon to be born. Perhaps Seilené, who she was now being ordered to serve, was the mother of that child. As Shizuku straightened her posture, Ortea—who was still behind the curtain—continued to issue instructions to Niké. “Oh, and we no longer have any use for that child,” she eventually said, raising her voice. “Dispose of it.” It was as though the princess had only just remembered Rio. “Huh?” Shizuku reflexively replied—but nobody else said a thing. Rio, seemingly unaware that the command pertained to her, was still sitting politely in the chair. Shizuku glared at the white curtain past the little girl’s head. “But, Your Highness, she passed the test…” “You did a wonderful job. I said so, didn’t I? I’m giving you a job as a reward.” “I don’t care about me. I’m talking about Rio. “Did you demand that she be disposed of?” As Shizuku made this astonished remark, the woman snorted with laughter. Ortea, the princess of Kisk—whose tendency to harm others for her own enjoyment made her feared across the continent—chuckled airily behind the curtains, ridiculing Shizuku for being so naive. “What’s the matter, girl? You haven’t grown attached, have you? I don’t see why you need her anymore.” “Your Highness…she did a great job of keeping up with my teaching. If it weren’t for her efforts, I couldn’t have achieved this result.” “Striving for survival—that’s simply human nature, isn’t it? Sometimes, our efforts don’t pay off in the way that they should. That, too, is just part of life.” The woman’s voice dripped with venom, as if she were a beast tormenting its prey. Feeling detached from her emotions, Shizuku stayed perfectly still. Effort didn’t always pay off. That much was true. Ortea had the audacity to taunt them with this unavoidable truth, despite making no effort to give Rio the reward she deserved. She was extolling the necessity of effort and demonstrating how fruitless it could be at the same time, and her snickering suggested she derived great amusement from the outcome she’d orchestrated. Shizuku felt as if that laughter was infiltrating her mind through her ears. As her legs began to shake, she rooted her feet to the ground. “…I request an amendment.” “An amendment to what? What am I supposed to amend?” “Your decision to dispose of Rio. I kindly request that you reconsider it.” An angry stare pierced the curtain. Faneet put out a hand to hold Shizuku back, but she brushed it away and stepped in front of Rio. She glowered at the princess through the curtain, shielding the confused child. “I will work for you, Your Highness—but only if you save Rio.” “What a naive thing to say. Aren’t you aware of the idea of utilizing people for your own gain?” “If you execute Rio, that will make you a master who doesn’t reward people’s achievements. I can’t obey someone like that. Please amend your decision.” Shizuku wanted to rip the white cloth that was blocking her vision to shreds and yell at the princess. How hard had she and Rio worked? They’d invested all that effort so they could pass the test and be freed from this oppression. If they’d failed, Shizuku wouldn’t have cared about what happened to her as long as Rio lived. But they hadn’t. They’d succeeded. And yet, despite this, the princess had decided to give Shizuku her approval and dispose of Rio. That was something Shizuku could simply not accept. “…Your Highness.” Shizuku clenched her trembling fists. Her palms had been sweating just moments earlier, but now she could feel nothing but her blood boiling. The room, shrouded by that sweet fragrance, felt chillingly cold, as though Shizuku was the only person there with any emotion. Even that annoyed her, and she glared at Niké in front of her. Ortea called out to the man from behind. “Take that child away, Niké.” “Yes, Your Highness.” “Wait!” exclaimed Shizuku. She stretched out her hands to stop Niké, but he shoved her backward. Shizuku staggered back, but Faneet managed to catch her. Meanwhile, Niké lifted Rio into his arms. “Wait! Stop!” Shizuku cried out. “Arrest that girl, Faneet,” Ortea commanded. “But, Your Highness…” “Faneet.” Ortea’s voice was unyielding, and Faneet sighed and wrapped his arms around Shizuku from behind. Her attempts to rush toward Niké became futile as she was lifted partially off the ground, leaving her kicking against the floor. Shizuku fought against Faneet’s grasp with all her might. “Let go of me! Give Rio back!” Niké continued to carry the small girl outside. Just before the doors closed, Rio looked over the man’s shoulder at Shizuku, an anxious look in her eyes. “Shizuku?” she murmured. As Rio faded into the distance, Shizuku began to shriek. “Wait! Don’t take her! Rio!” Her cries bounced off the closing door. As Shizuku stared at it, Ortea spoke to her in a gentle voice: “When a beloved creature dies, people mourn its loss. However, eventually that sorrow fades and is forgotten.” Her tone was amicable, but that warmth was merely a facade. The words were insincere, vacuous, and useless. Ortea herself knew this. Perhaps she even found pleasure in it. Having been released from Faneet’s grip, Shizuku bit down hard on her lip. It felt as if all the blood had rushed out of her body. Before she knew it, her whole head and body felt frozen to the core. Being inside her mind was like standing in front of the sea awaiting an incoming storm. Her thoughts were so tranquil that she could almost deceive herself into believing she was calm as she slowly fixed her gaze on the sheer curtain. “I won’t forgive you, Your Highness.” Her assertion crept across the floor and echoed around the room. As Shizuku’s anger burrowed deeper and deeper within her, the princess responded with an unfazed snicker. Her voice was naturally overbearing, but Shizuku didn’t find it offensive anymore. Facing the sheer curtain, she took a step forward. Faneet reached out to grab her shoulder, but she brushed his hand away. After striding up to the curtain, she grabbed the thin fabric and yanked it as hard as she could. The gauze made a high-pitched sound as it tore from the metal fixtures on the ceiling, revealing Ortea. The woman was sitting in her large chair with one knee raised, and she glanced up at Shizuku with a bewitching look in her eyes. “Well, this never happened to me before.” “It’s a first for me, too. However, I deemed it necessary. Your Highness, please reconsider executing Rio.” “Do you really have the power to demand such a thing?” “If you don’t accept my request, I will refuse to cooperate with you at any point in the future.” Shizuku’s eyes exuded a cold, intimidating aura that she’d never displayed before. Even with Ortea directly in front of her, the light in her eyes didn’t falter. In fact, the growing intensity of Shizuku’s gaze brought a mesmerizing smile to the princess’s face. Ortea pointed one of her ivory-colored fingers at Shizuku. “But anyone can do what you did with that girl, right? Faneet observed your methods, so couldn’t he, for example, replicate your success without you teaching him?” “Do you really believe that’s the case? Do you think I showed him all my tricks?” Shizuku countered, causing Ortea to laugh out loud. This exchange with Shizuku, who’d honed her anger to a fine point, was likely nothing more than another source of entertainment for the princess. Shizuku narrowed her eyes and gazed at the beautiful, twisted woman. “I’m an anomaly. There’s no one else like me. In fact, there never has been. I possess a soul unlike anyone else in this world.” “…Huh?” “Wait,” said Faneet, attempting to interrupt Shizuku, but she ignored him. Ortea raised a hand to stop her vassal from speaking. Faneet’s concern was appreciated, but this wasn’t the time for Shizuku to worry about saving herself. Shizuku suppressed her emotions as she explained her story. “I’m a human, but I’m not from this world. For some unknown reason, I ended up coming here from another world. That’s why the king of Farsas was trying to root out what made me different… I suggested that we could teach language to children because that’s the norm where I’m from. I have knowledge of how language is acquired from a whole different world. But, Your Highness, if you dispose of Rio, I’ll die and take that knowledge with me.” Shizuku was haggling, taking advantage of her own unique status to save Rio’s life. It was by no means an unfair deal. Time and time again, Erik had asked Shizuku if she knew how unique she truly was. Unsurprisingly, Ortea’s eyes widened hearing this sudden confession; however, her expression soon went back to normal. Tilting her head to one side, she looked up at Shizuku. “What a foolish story. Is that what you want me to say?” “I’m telling the truth. You’re welcome to assume I’m lying, but you’ll regret it once you’ve lost me.” “How can you prove it’s the truth? Is your body built differently? Shall I tear you apart and take a look?” “Do as you please, but my body is perfectly normal. They examined me in Farsas after I almost died. The only things that are special about me are my soul and my knowledge. However, if you fail to amend your decision to dispose of Rio, I won’t be able to offer you even a sliver of that wisdom.” This negotiation felt like walking on a tightrope. Still, fighting on was Shizuku’s only option—even if the odds weren’t in her favor. From Ortea’s perspective, a child’s life may have been no more significant than that of a bug. However, if it mattered that little, allowing her to live shouldn’t have been a big deal, either. That’s why Shizuku needed to persuade the princess—a woman famed for her cruelty above all else—of her own value. All of a sudden, Ortea had stopped smiling. Just one corner of her crimson lips curled upward. “I could use psychological magic to drag that information out of you, you know.” “If that’s what you think, why not give it a try? Are you aware of the recent events in Farsas? Have you heard, for instance, about the man who attempted to use psychological magic on me—only for his own mind to collapse?” Shizuku needed to take advantage of anything she could. She refused to back down. She had to lure the princess into her trap, whether accidentally or as a result of her misunderstanding. Shizuku needed to convince Ortea that her cooperation was essential. “If you promise to treat me appropriately, then I will use my knowledge for your benefit. I will give the children the gift of language, rid them of their illness, and help them regain their knowledge. However, if that is not what you wish for, then this negotiation will reach an impasse. I will not be able to offer you a single word of what is inside me.” Shizuku spoke confidently, without hesitation, and Ortea observed her closely. For the first time, Shizuku saw a hint of doubt in the princess’s upward gaze, reminding her that she was just nineteen, after all. After a long pause, Ortea finally spoke. “You’re suggesting I spare that child’s life?” “I want you to spare all the children who were forced to undergo those experiments. And you should treat them well, as compensation for the ordeal they’ve been through.” Shizuku wasn’t begging Ortea for help. If Rio hadn’t been taken out of the room, she might have done so—but the situation had changed now. Shizuku and the princess were already on equal footing. Unlike before, Shizuku’s demeanor now exuded cold authority. Ortea narrowed her eyes. “You’re confident you can deliver on your claims, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice lacking any trace of mockery. “I’m sure of it. I promise.” “Very well. I accept your conditions.” Ortea gave Faneet a signal with her eyes. The man nodded silently, then exited the room. Shizuku, now alone with the princess, had been giving Ortea a distinctly cold look, but she swiftly bowed in a somewhat self-important manner and turned around. As she walked away, the princess’s sharp voice pierced the air, directed at the nape of Shizuku’s exposed neck. “What’s your world like?” she asked. “…Apart from the fact that language isn’t innate, it’s not much different from here,” Shizuku responded. Without turning around, she continued to make her way out of Ortea’s room. Starting that day, Shizuku was formally welcomed into Kisk’s royal court. Her role was that of a court lady, but within the castle’s walls, she was treated like a magistrate. In the end, Shizuku never got to see Rio again. That privilege was outside the scope of the rights she’d been granted, so the castle mages turned her away. However, when Shizuku heard the orphaned Rio had been taken in by one of the mages retiring from the castle, she accepted this outcome. The middle-aged mage had grown weary of the repeated experiments and had long expressed a desire to quit. Shizuku gave all of her self-made flashcards to the man, who intended to go back to his hometown with Rio. In exchange for this going-away present, Shizuku received a portrait of herself that Rio had wanted to give to her, which she put inside one of her books for safekeeping. The other children who had been confined to the laboratory were either introduced to adoptive parents or taken into foster care. As a result, they all found a place they could call home. Niké gave Shizuku a list detailing where all fifty children had ended up, telling her she had the right to know. It seemed like he’d been the one to arrange everything. Although Shizuku knew she couldn’t read it all, she gratefully accepted the document and sometimes found herself gazing at it before bed. The month since Shizuku had parted ways with Rio passed in the blink of an eye. She, alongside Faneet, had been appointed to serve the lady named Seilené. The pregnant woman possessed the kind of beauty that one would expect from a noble and was just one month away from giving birth. In addition to her work surrounding early childhood education, Shizuku assisted Seilené in various aspects of her daily life, assuming the role of a court lady. Once her child was born, Shizuku’s real work would begin, and she spent her days studying diligently in preparation for that moment. It had been two months since Shizuku had first been brought to this country. Before she knew it, she’d spent more time in Kisk than she had in Farsas. In a corner of the castle garden stood a small cabin. Shizuku stood in its doorway, gazing into the emptiness within. “Are you crying?” came a voice from behind. Shizuku smiled awkwardly and turned around, running her fingers through her windswept bangs. “No. Why do you ask?” “It just looked that way,” Faneet said, as expressionless as always. Shizuku appreciated his concern, though at the same time, she felt it was unnecessary. She didn’t want anybody to mollycoddle her. She no longer saw herself as a child who needed protection. Faneet draped the shawl he was carrying over Shizuku’s shoulders. He must have brought it for her, since she’d ventured into the garden at dusk with only light clothing on, and she accepted it with a word of thanks. “It sounds like Rio’s doing well,” he said. “Oh. I’m glad to hear that,” Shizuku replied. “Do you miss her?” Without responding to his question, Shizuku turned away from the hut with a serene smile on her face. She walked past the man and began striding ahead. Faneet positioned himself beside her. “…I thought you might sneak back to Farsas once the test was over,” he said. “I’m not going back. I made a promise to the princess.” She should have called it a deal, rather than a promise. Shizuku had chosen to keep fighting from within the castle—not only to save Rio’s life but to provide a future for children with language difficulties, including those who were yet to be born. At the very least, Ortea had enough influence to stop the experiments when Shizuku managed to produce results. Under her patronage, establishing measures to address language impediment might be a possibility. That was why Shizuku had decided to stay in Kisk. Instead of searching for a way to get home while Erik protected her, she was devoting herself to what she could do about the problem in front of her. Some people might call her choice stupid or claim that she was betraying Erik and Mea’s trust. However, there were times when you couldn’t choose either of the alternatives available to you. Shizuku could feel herself beginning to get emotional, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. “…There’s still stuff I need to do. I’ll be fine.” She closed her eyes and felt a warmth behind her eyelids that reminded her of her childhood. At some point, those memories would disappear, too. Shizuku wasn’t the only one who found herself repeatedly saying good-bye to those she couldn’t bear to leave behind—it was a universal experience. She’d let go of people who’d been extremely precious to her, but that was how she knew that the decision she’d made was the right one. Shizuku lightly pressed the inner corners of her eyes and let out an inaudible sigh. The sky was red from the setting sun. The breeze felt a little cold against her skin, which made her smile. “Hey, Faneet,” she said. “Yeah?” “Thank you for bringing me to this country.” Shizuku’s true feelings were hard to construe from her tone of voice, as if they were obscured by a delicate gauze. The man furrowed his brow. “…I don’t think that’s something you need to thank me for.” “Maybe not.” Shizuku began to laugh. Her gentle voice rippled across the grass, spreading as far as the eye could see. With that, she slipped inside the small hut, bringing a touch of warmth to it just as she’d done before.