5. The Forbidden Dream “We lack personnel. We could really use some proficient mages to help us.” He spoke in a dignified way, but anyone who listened carefully detected the tinge of anxiety simmering beneath the surface. The king, who reclined in his leather chair, looked around at his kneeling men. “Anneli’s downfall was its own doing, but now Kisk, one of the Great Nations, seeks to intervene in Rozsark, the very country that attacked Anneli. However, Rozsark is one of the continent’s foremost producers of steel. If it were to fall under Kisk’s control, the balance of power in the major eastern nations would shift drastically. What’s more, the king of Kisk’s younger sister is lurking about. Our nation must act swiftly to acquire a means of defense.” These words of warning were intended to instill a shared sense of urgency in all gathered before the king. A solemn atmosphere permeated the room. Several individuals nodded to signal their agreement. “The matter has been entrusted to our royal chief mage, Idos. Begin your preparations as quickly as you can and be extremely careful not to let Farsas learn of what we are planning. That nation loves to consider itself the master of all things magic.” The king rose to his feet slowly, turned, and exited the chamber. Those who were left remained still, even after they heard the door close behind him. They’d kept frozen while their ruler spoke, too. Perhaps that’s why they failed to notice one man among them who did not act as the rest of the room had upon hearing the king’s intentions. This particular individual had a very different plan in mind. Shortly after they’d rejoined the main road, Shizuku noticed that Erik was scowling as he rode alongside her. The small bird on Shizuku’s shoulder looked behind them and chirped. When Shizuku turned, she saw a lone horseman in the distance hurrying toward them. “Huh? Is that…?” “It must be.” “L-let’s go!” Shizuku gathered up her reins, rattled, but Erik raised a hand to stop her. “That’s dangerous. You never rode a horse before arriving on the continent, right?” “But…” “We’ll figure something out. I’ll make sure no one skins you alive.” “That’s not especially comforting if that’s all you can promise!” “I thought that’s what you were worried about.” “It’s just one of countless things I’d like to avoid!” As the pair bickered, the third rider came close enough for them to make out his face. Shizuku glanced at him, pale. It was Tarkis. The mercenary’s steed swiftly overtook the pair. Once he was ahead of them, he slowed, blocking the path. “It wasn’t nice of you to leave without saying good-bye, Shizuku,” he said with a wicked smile on his face. “I don’t remember being on first-name terms with you!” Shizuku snapped back. “I don’t know what gave you the idea we were friends!” “…” Shizuku noticed that Erik was giving her an astonished look. She waved her hands in front of her face. “Oh, it’s different with you,” she said in an effort to reassure him. “You’re helping me on my journey, after all.” “Are you trying to pick a fight with me?” Tarkis asked, stunned. “Sometimes, you’re so daring that it defies understanding.” Erik’s expression had already returned to his usual stone-faced one. Shizuku met both comments with a dry smile. It was standard to refer to people by their first name in this world, but unfortunately, she found it strange when people she barely even knew addressed her by her first name. Erik glanced at the wary Shizuku, then at Tarkis. It would’ve been generous to call the mercenary’s gaze friendly. His eyes, which were fixed on Shizuku, noticeably lacked warmth. “Is it okay for you to travel so soon after finding yourself a younger sister?” Erik questioned. “‘Finding himself a younger sister’?” Shizuku parroted. She detected an implication in his choice of words. Tarkis raised an eyebrow and laughed. “If I hung around for too long, she’d start to see me for who I really am. Plus, it’s taken me long enough to find you two. I want to know what you’re going to get up to next.” “Who you really are…?” Shizuku whispered. “Does that mean…?” “Yeah. This guy isn’t Clare’s brother. His arrival was far too good to be true.” Shizuku boggled at Tarkis in stunned silence. He grinned, which suggested that Erik’s deduction was correct. Upon emerging from her shock, Shizuku grew furious over the deception. “Why did you trick her?” “Hmm… I guess I did trick her, huh? But the part about her having a brother is true. He passed away a few days ago from an illness.” “What?” “He was the one who asked me to go to that village. Would you have preferred I left that lady be?” There was such confidence in Tarkis’s tone. The pendant was gone from his neck. Had he given it to Clare? Shizuku blinked absently. Erik, on the other hand, didn’t seem interested in hounding Tarkis about that matter. Instead, he posed the man a different inquiry. “What do you want?” “Haven’t you worked it out yet? I assume Shizuku told you about me.” “You offered to take her to Farsas, didn’t you? I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m not naive enough to jump for joy and fall for that offer.” “But it’d make your journey so much quicker. I didn’t expect you to cross the mountains into Candela. If it hadn’t been for that dying brother’s request, we never would’ve run into each other. Apparently, Kisk plans to intervene in response to Anneli’s defeat. Seems like you made a good call avoiding the western highway.” The mention of all these different countries confused Shizuku for a moment, but she soon remembered that Anneli was a nation that had fallen after battle and the Great Nation of Kisk was home to that dangerous younger sister of the king. Shizuku tried to picture the map of the continent to make sure she wasn’t mistaken. Erik, meanwhile, ignored Tarkis’s comment about the turbulent state of affairs and carried on speaking in the same blunt manner. “Shouldn’t you head in that direction, then? You’re a mercenary—this could be your chance to get rich.” “I try not to get involved in battles with clear outcomes. If you side with the victors, people think poorly of you, and siding with the losers means risking your life. No small country will stand a chance against Kisk.” “Then what benefits do you see in getting involved with Shizuku?” “I don’t know yet, but my intuition is telling me to give it a go. I feel like she could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You think the same, right, mage?” Shizuku glanced at Erik, unsure how to respond. Then her jaw dropped. The look he was giving Tarkis was so cold that it threatened to turn their surroundings to ice. Shizuku had never seen him like this before. “Erik…?” she called, but her meek word proved too quiet for him to hear. He likely would’ve caught it were he calm. He paid such close attention to her, after all. Presently, he was focused solely on Tarkis, however. “A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? What exactly do you think you’re capable of? If your only intention is to elevate your status, this is not the way to go about it.” “You’re an unfriendly sort, aren’t you? I might be alone, but I can do plenty when I put my mind to it.” “That sounds like delusion. It’s when people convince themselves that they’re capable of doing things alone that they make the biggest mistakes.” Erik’s ruthless dressing-down left Tarkis looking flummoxed. Rather than entertain the discussion, the mercenary smiled at Shizuku, who was struggling to follow the pair’s exchange. “So?” he said. “Wanna come with me? You’re making the journey either way. It might as well be comfortable for you.” “Uh…” Shizuku wasn’t able to refuse him right away, although not because she was captivated by the way he offered his hand. Rather, she was shocked. The Erik she knew possessed an insatiable appetite for learning and was surprisingly proactive. Although he insisted that he harbored no interest in others, he never showed any sign of abandoning those in need. He was an unjaded, well-intentioned person who had his own unique way about him. He considered what Shizuku wanted and encouraged her to make it happen. She struggled to reconcile the fact that the individual sitting before her, who’d callously highlighted the limits of Tarkis’s capabilities, was that same person. Shizuku turned to look at Erik, searching for the right words. His deep-blue eyes usually felt so sincere, but they now looked distraught for some reason. Without thinking, Shizuku began to speak. “Erik, I…” She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. While she tripped over her own statement, he gave her a cold—no—wry smile. One tinged with resignation. “I don’t mind. You can go with him.” “Arrrgh!” she exclaimed. “Stop!” She had no trouble figuring out what to say this time, which was a surprising relief. Her voice cracked, but she chose to ignore that. She held her hands out in front of her as though to stop the idea from reaching her, and Erik’s eyes widened. “Don’t say stuff like that. It makes me sad. Please don’t leave me. I know I’m a nuisance. I’m ignorant, a little naive, and clueless when it comes to assistant demons…but I want you to stay with me until the end. Please.” When Shizuku finished saying her piece, she bowed her head low toward Erik. Her mother had always told her that if she really wanted something from another person, she should prove her sincerity. That was the way the Minase sisters had been raised, and Shizuku abided by that principle. Some of her friends had described Shizuku’s simple and honest demeanor as self-effacing, but she didn’t see the issue with that. Shizuku tried to be as genuine as she could to ensure Erik would continue to accompany her on this journey. In the moment, it seemed the natural and normal thing to do. Her head wasn’t lowered for long before the young mage who’d been traveling with her let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I was in the wrong. You can look up now.” “Erik…” “I really lost it there for a moment. I apologize for troubling you. It’s usually the other way around.” “Don’t worry about it! I do my best in my own way, so you’re welcome to lean on me whenever you need to.” “I know. Thank you.” Shizuku beamed, relieved that the atmosphere between them had returned to normal. Erik answered her with his own smile, then faced Tarkis. “Do you get it now? She’s not coming with you.” The mercenary shrugged. Shizuku remembered he had a longsword attached at his waist and bit her lip nervously. Mea, who was on her shoulder, picked up on her master’s anxiety and let out a quiet chirp. Surprisingly, Tarkis laughed. “Fine. But if you ever change your mind, let me know. Like they say, there’s a time and place for everything. You never know when you’ll need a guy like me on your side.” He casually waved to Shizuku, then took hold of his horse’s reins. In moments, he was galloping away, vanishing down the road. Shizuku waited with bated breath as she watched his horse. Once Tarkis was entirely out of sight, she felt a profound relief wash over her. “I’m glad he’s gone,” she said. “I know. Still, he’s heading the same way as we are. We might run into him again.” “I sure hope not…,” Shizuku replied lethargically, which brought an awkward grin to Erik’s face. She felt like his smile looked more bittersweet than usual, but perhaps she was imagining things. Not only was he four years older than her, but he’d also grown up in a different world and walked a different path. She obviously couldn’t know everything about him. Regardless, she was grateful that he’d agreed to make this journey with her. Shizuku hummed. “I wonder if they’ll demolish that tower properly.” “They might just keep it off-limits for a little while. Tearing it down will be costly.” “Wait… Wasn’t it connected to some sort of religion? There might be similar ones all over the place.” “I can’t deny that’s a possibility, but it was built over a century ago. Who knows what’s become of its possible siblings?” Shizuku was relieved that she and Erik were back to chatting as they usually did. Twelve days later, they reached Candela’s castle city. Candela’s castle city was bigger than any town Shizuku had seen so far and buzzed with activity. Most of the stone buildings that lined the city’s main street were over five stories high, and almost reminiscent of the downtown high-rise areas Shizuku was accustomed to back home. The paths outside the city were alive with people riding by horse and carriage, and they teemed with travelers. Children kept approaching Shizuku and Erik, trying to sell them baskets of fruit or flowers. When Shizuku saw the dark-gray castle looming in the distance, she threw her hands into the air in a show of astonishment. She knew it was a stupid way to react, but it was a real castle, just like the ones she’d seen in picture books as a kid. As she stood there frozen to the spot, Erik unsurprisingly questioned her with a serious look on his face. “What are you doing?” “Expressing how excited I am.” “I didn’t realize that kind of reaction was customary in your world.” “It might be somewhere. But probably not.” “So you’re just strange, then.” “Think before you speak, will you?!” The pair stabled their horses and found an inn to stay at. With that done, they had a decision to make. They could either leave the city on the main road heading northwest when it was time to go or try to gain access to the castle city’s transit ring. The transit ring would be quicker, but a war had broken out nearby, making the situation unstable. Erik and Shizuku would be subject to harsh checks if they wanted to transport themselves abroad from the castle city. Continuing northwest along the road was the easier option, but according to Erik, they’d have to traverse a dangerous region along the way. “For now, we should just remain here and see if we can get approval for the transit ring.” “I’ll stay positive, but I’m not getting my hopes up,” Shizuku said as she opened her notebook inside their room in the inn. “Now, let’s do some studying.” She and Erik were working on creating a dictionary that translated words from her world’s languages to words from his. Erik examined the entries that Shizuku had recorded. “Kanji characters are interesting, aren’t they?” Erik was a man who researched writing systems. The construction of words undoubtedly fascinated him. He’d asked Shizuku about the similarities between English and German and everything to do with word structure, be it prefixes, suffixes, or the origins of the words themselves. He’d also questioned her on what particular kanji characters signified. Presently, he was scribing some notes on these topics while working on the dictionary. He had Shizuku write down some kanji characters that contained the radical for water. When he saw them, he hummed in admiration. “Oh. That character’s used in the word to pour, so that’s why it’s a water-related word. Is it an ideogram?” “I don’t know much about that kind of thing, but you can’t really say it’s an ideogram just because it has the water radical in it. There are actually some kanji that are only used to represent a specific sound, rather than a particular meaning.” “I see. Still, I suppose the radicals can help you guess what a character means.” Erik stared at the characters, pressing the back of his pen against his temple. Then Shizuku pointed at one of the characters and laughed. “That one’s my older sister’s name. Umi, meaning ‘sea.’” “I suppose you did mention you had an elder sister. Were you all given names with a shared theme?” “Our last name… Our family name is Minase, meaning ‘shallow water,’ so that’s where the inspiration came from. My younger sister’s name is Mio, which means ‘waterway.’” “And Shizuku?” Hearing Erik speak her name momentarily startled Shizuku, but she gave a clumsy smile when she realized he was inquiring about the kanji’s meaning. She wrote two kanji characters on the piece of paper in front of her, then pushed it toward him. She poked one of the characters with her pen. “This is the character for the original word I get my name from—shizuku, which means ‘droplet.’ But I write my name with this character, which is also pronounced shizuku.” “That one doesn’t have a water radical in it.” “No. It’s the kanji for rain and the kanji for below, sandwiched into one. Under the rain.” The truth was, when Shizuku first learned to write her name, something about it secretly bothered her. Both of her sisters’ names contained the kanji radical for water, but hers didn’t. Why hadn’t her parents written Shizuku the usual way so she wouldn’t be left out? Now that she was older, though, she was glad for her parents’ choice. She’d grown fond of her name. It was only when she compared herself with her sisters that she began to feel unsure. Such was the case with various aspects of her identity. Erik examined the two kanji characters. Then he looked at the one that Shizuku used for her name and nodded. “I like it. Very pretty.” “Huh?” Shizuku tensed. She knew he was talking about her name, but his casual compliment made her shy. Her heart felt like it was soaring. Not wanting to reveal her excitement, she pressed her hands against her burning cheeks. “Nobody’s ever said that about my name before. You surprised me,” she admitted. “Really? I think it’s a perfectly normal thing to say.” “What we consider ‘normal’ is different, though, isn’t it? I’ve never really been complimented before.” Not only was it rare that anyone said anything nice about her name, but Shizuku had also barely ever received any compliments about herself. Her sisters occasionally showed some appreciation for her, but that was it. When Erik heard this, he looked bewildered. “Why not? I don’t think you have any obvious flaws.” “That’s exactly it… My flaws might not stand out, but I don’t have any noticeable strengths, either. There’s nothing strikingly unique about me, I guess.” “Is that a bad thing?” Erik’s straightforward reply left Shizuku struggling for words. She didn’t want to say yes; it’d be disrespectful to all the other people who were in the same boat. However, she knew from experience how hard it was for unremarkable people like her to attract any attention. Shizuku laughed, trying not to allow the bitterness she’d kept under wraps for so many years to seep out. “Not necessarily, but when nothing about you is remarkable, nobody notices you, for better or worse. Even if you manage to make somebody pay attention, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re uninteresting.” She didn’t want to blame her life in the shadows on how bright her sisters shone. Shizuku had only herself to blame. She’d failed to define herself as a person. Even in a different world, that fact remained unchanged. Shizuku forced a smile and stared at her notebook. “You exist regardless of whether people notice you,” Erik casually remarked. Shizuku looked up. She didn’t get the impression that he was trying to console her. From his perspective, he was stating a fact. A smile suddenly spread across Shizuku’s face. “You’re right… I’m sorry.” The two of them returned to focusing on the words on the many pages before them. That was how their first night in Candela’s castle city was spent. Candela was founded two hundred and twenty-two years ago, after Delas, a state to the east under the control of Mensanne, fell. The king presiding over Delas at the time had suffered a mental decline with each passing year. He’d executed vassals and plunged the royal court into terror. Eventually, a man from a low-ranking noble family, who possessed no title of his own, objected. He claimed to be a descendant of the previous king’s illegitimate child. His affable demeanor and eloquent speech won him allies. Once he’d raised an army, he conquered Delas. That man became the founding ruler of Candela, and his lineage persisted throughout the generations. The incumbent ruler, King Aurow, was the seventh generation to lead the nation. Aurow, who recently turned sixty-three, was slightly stubborn and narrow-minded, but he’d still stewarded Candela for thirty years without much trouble. People had grown accustomed to living in peace. However, the country had undergone a transformation across its two hundred and twenty-two years, despite its flawless facade. “It’s a real castle. This almost makes me want to cry.” “Were there no castles in your world? Wait, that can’t be right; the word exists in your language.” “We have them, but in my country, they’re very much Japanese-style ones. They have golden fish on the roofs and stuff.” “Why fish?” “Who knows? Maybe because they’re cute?” Shizuku offered a theory without giving it much consideration, then returned to gazing at the castle. It was noon on their second day in Candela. After Shizuku had asked if they could take a closer look at the castle, the two had taken a walk to the castle gates. Military guards stood stationed before the entrance, and the gates were shut. Nevertheless, seeing the castle at such close proximity was enough to inspire awe in Shizuku. It was easy to assume that this world’s culture matched that of early modern Europe, but that didn’t always seem to be true. The rooftops of Candela’s castles were not pointy like one might expect. Instead, all but one was domed, and most were made of glass. While the castle resembled a classic storybook castle from afar, it seemed more like an example of modern architecture up close. The one thing that differentiated it from the masses of high-rise structures Shizuku was used to, though, was its primarily stone construction. Shizuku was probably the only person on the entire continent who found the combination of its historic-looking walls and modern design a little bizarre. Suddenly, she remembered her phone. She’d almost forgotten it even existed. She felt a slight urge to take a photo. It wasn’t the picture itself she wanted, but a record of this scenery. Deciding to go with a different approach, Shizuku retrieved a memo pad from a pouch on her hip and took a few steps away from the castle gates. She set to work on drawing a rough sketch of the structure’s exterior. Erik walked over to see what she was doing. “I didn’t know you were good at drawing.” “I wouldn’t say I’m good, exactly. I’m just relatively quick at tracing things or sketching stuff that’s already in front of me.” “That’s amazing. You’ve got a good grasp of the castle’s form.” “I thought I could keep this drawing as a memento from our trip. Like Kiyoshi Yamashita.” “Yamashi-what?” It would have been a nuisance to explain that Kiyoshi Yamashita was a Japanese artist who created art depicting the many places he visited during his travels around Japan, so Shizuku just concentrated on her drawing. About ten minutes later, her small, rough sketch of the castle was complete. She passed it to Erik, who seemed very interested, then stretched her arms in the air. After gazing at the drawing intently for a few moments, Erik said, “How interesting.” He sounded almost impressed. “I’m tempted to ask that you draw some spell diagrams for me.” “‘Spell diagrams’? Are they some sort of magic thing?” “You use them to show and explain to other mages what kind of spell or mechanism you’re using. I’m quite poor at drawing them. Whenever I try, people complain that my diagrams don’t make sense.” “R-really?” Shizuku didn’t know how to respond. She gave Erik a forced, tense smile. It was impossible to tell what somebody’s strengths and weaknesses were. Shizuku’s only point of pride was her sense of direction. Countless other people were better at drawing. Perhaps as a result of her tendency to be overshadowed by her sisters, Shizuku wasn’t sure how good she had to be at something before she could be dubbed proficient. Whenever someone praised her talents, she received it half-heartedly. On the contrary, she possessed a relatively clear grasp of her weaknesses, her main one probably being her lack of proficiency with ball sports. This ineptitude left her with nothing but terrible memories of physical education at school. When she moved on to college, hoping she’d never have to deal with such things again, she found herself forced to play tennis and volleyball. Needless to say, she’d made a show of herself. “Don’t worry about it,” Shizuku said in an effort to reassure him. “I mean, I’m terrible when it comes to spiders and snakes.” “That seems a little different,” Erik replied. The groan of heavy iron brought an end to their discussion. As the pair turned to look, they saw the gates slowly opening inward. A number of soldiers and official-looking people walked out, nodded at one another, then dispersed in their respective directions. One member of the group, however, spotted Shizuku and Erik and approached. When Shizuku noticed the soldier moving straight for them, the color drained from her face. “Sh-should we make a run for it?” she asked Erik. “Why? We haven’t done anything.” “But he’s coming over to us! What if he skins us alive…?” “Enough of that.” Shizuku wanted to insist that this was still a very real threat, but she chose to keep that to herself. Before she knew it, the soldier was too close to flee from. Nervousness flooded Shizuku, but the stone-faced soldier didn’t spare her so much as a glance. His attention was focused entirely on Erik. “Are you a mage?” he questioned. “You could say that,” Erik responded. “Then take this. It’s a notice from the castle,” the man said haughtily. He thrust one of the dozens of papers he was carrying at Erik, then immediately walked off. Shizuku found the whole thing pretty anticlimactic. Erik inspected what he’d been given before summarizing the contents. “Seems they’re looking for mages. They need people who are good at spell configurations, so that’s what they’ll examine candidates on… It’s only for a few days’ work, and those who make the cut will be rewarded handsomely.” “Ohhh. A part-time position, huh? I didn’t expect the castle to do stuff like that.” Shizuku didn’t know why, but people seemed to know that Erik was a mage from his clothes. It wasn’t like he had a long robe trailing behind him or a cape over his shoulders, though. What else could have given it away? Before Shizuku had the chance to ask him, Erik muttered, “This might be useful.” “What do you mean?” “The reward won’t necessarily just be money and valuables. It sounds like I could earn preferential treatment within Candela. If all goes well, they might allow me to use the transit ring.” “What? I know this is a great opportunity, but you’ll be working inside the castle… A-are you sure you’ll be okay?” Shizuku asked hesitantly. Erik had admitted that he wasn’t the most powerful mage. Would he be able to pass the screening process? The young man smirked awkwardly at Shizuku’s nervous question. He showed her the notice, pointing at a particular line. “Look at this. It sounds like the emphasis is on spell configuration. I should be able to manage that. If they told me to fight a demon, that’d be another story.” “I—I see…” Shizuku had never asked what role spell configurations played in magic specifically, but she gathered they were related to assembling one’s magical power to execute a spell. To Shizuku, it sounded like a computer programming term. Still, Erik was academically inclined. He undoubtedly possessed some proficiency in the subject. After all, he’d been capable enough to repair a complicated magic implement. Shizuku nodded, having mostly persuaded herself. Erik, on the other hand, crossed his arms and looked up at the sky. “The truth is,” he began, “I’ve always avoided this sort of work because I’m so bad at it…” “You are?!” “Not spell configurations. I mean spell diagrams,” he explained. “But now…” He glanced at Shizuku, forcing a faint smile. As she realized what he was about to say, her jaw hung open. “Wait, you’re not… You want me to help?” “Yeah. Let’s see if you can draw one.” Shizuku pointed at herself, eyes wide. She’d stumbled backward into a new job. “They’re recruiting mages?” the woman asked. As she read over the notice, her red lips curled up at the corners, and a sinister shadow fell over her beautiful face. The old man who’d given her the paper he’d received from a guard stole a glance at her legs, which protruded audaciously from her mage attire, then snorted. “What are the higher-ups thinking? Are they planning on repeating the mistakes of that fallen nation? They say that if a pillar leans too far in one direction, it’ll never stand straight again,” the man said, doing little to hide his disdain. An ominous aura hung about him. The woman narrowed her red-brown eyes. “If they’re looking for people talented at spell configurations, perhaps they intend to put together a large-scale spell.” “Surely not that one?” Silence filled the room. The pair’s thoughts seemed to ooze into the ground beneath their feet. The woman flicked her fingers to create a red flame, then set fire to the piece of paper. The old man let out a hoarse laugh. “Either way, this is a good opportunity for us. We can put our secret weapon to work,” he said. “Is that right? It’ll be a real spectacle to see how many of this town’s citizens can keep themselves safe. And should they all fall prey, well, that will be quite the show as well.” The woman picked up the thick book beside her. Its dark-red leather cover and gold decorative border lent it the appearance of a tome found only in the castle’s private library. The old man glanced at her. “Will you be content merely to spectate, Aviella?” he asked. “That’s a very good question,” she replied. Aviella rose to her feet. Once she’d left the room, she examined the book she carried. It had no title. Very few knew why. Even she, as the tome’s current owner, wasn’t completely sure. Despite this, she had already decided how she would put the knowledge within to use. She began to cackle. “Histories undocumented, events that never occurred—all this needs to be divulged. Once that task is complete, this continent shall be reborn. Rough diamonds hold no value. Only those who overcome all odds earn the right to inherit the next era. And it begins now.” Her face lit up with tremendous joy. Her smile was radiant and free of notions like good or evil. “Minase? Which one?” As soon as Shizuku heard this, she instinctively hid in one corner of the hall. She waited out of sight as the familiar voices of the boys echoed down the hall. “The older one, obviously. The one in our class.” “Sure, but you gotta admit, her younger sister is the one who makes an impact.” “The younger one’s pretty feisty, though. I know she’s cute, but still.” “She totally destroyed a third-year in an argument the other day. Pretty scary stuff.” “According to my older brother, the oldest Minase sister is a real natural beauty.” “Really? I guess the middle one is the bland girl, then.” Shizuku was used to hearing these kinds of conversations. However, she never grew comfortable with the dull pain that came with them. She hung her head, her lips quivering… “I just think you’re being inconsiderate!” Shizuku shouted. When she looked up, she saw a stupefied young man staring back at her. She went stiff. He had deep-blue eyes like no Japanese person she’d ever seen and golden-brown hair. His androgynous face looked younger than usual, perhaps because he was surprised. He must have been watching her while she was napping. He meekly retreated a step. “Maybe I was. I’m sorry.” “W-wait! I was dreaming! Dreaming! Dreaming about something that happened in the past!” “Oh, I see. Did somebody say something inconsiderate about you?” “Yes.” Shizuku awoke in such a strange way that it left her feeling curiously alert. She’d been looking at existing spell diagrams so that she could learn to draw them herself. These magic configuration arrays reminded her of geometry, which made them enjoyable to look at. However, she’d found herself growing sleepy at some point and had eventually dozed off. Shizuku ran her fingers through her bangs, shaking off what remained of her drowsiness. “Both of my sisters really stand out. People often compared me with them and said inconsiderate things about me.” “Oh. So you lashed out at them?” “Nope. If I stood my ground every time it happened, I never would’ve had time for anything else. I just walked away.” “If the memory was painful enough to invade your dreams, you should’ve spoken up.” Erik’s rebuttal was refreshingly curt, leaving Shizuku unsure of what to say. Whether she argued back or not, it had been a painful experience. That was a fact. Still, her past self had elected to stay silent. She didn’t think voicing her discontent would change anything. She couldn’t deny she felt there was truth to what those boys said, too. “To be honest, the idea of arguing back didn’t really occur to me at the time…” Shizuku knew she’d grown better at expressing herself, but perhaps that was simply because of her present predicament. Being stuck in another world was an extraordinary situation. “What must your sisters be like for them to stand out more than you? I can’t imagine it,” Erik muttered as he sorted through his notes from his seat opposite Shizuku. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea about me. I’m a really plain person.” “Plain? How?” he replied, mystified. Shizuku struggled to answer. She pointed at her own face, which was considered unusual in this world. “My face, for example. Unlike my sisters, I’m not beautiful or cute. Even personality-wise, I’m the epitome of mediocre.” “Is that right? I guess I just don’t know what’s considered pretty.” “Argh.” Erik had said that he took no interest in people, but Shizuku hadn’t expected him to be this oblivious. During their travels, she had come to realize that beauty standards in his world didn’t deviate significantly from those she was already familiar with. However, Erik’s attitude toward people never changed, even if he was confronted by someone exceptionally lovely. It was so bizarre that Shizuku sometimes wondered if he saw others at all. The young man, who had a rather handsome face himself, glanced around. “I know the symmetry of someone’s features factor into it, but nothing more. Don’t you find that personalities tend to show on people’s faces, though? That’s the part I find more interesting,” Erik said. “That does apply to some, but…aren’t there women who are really pretty but have horrible personalities?” “That’s exactly what I mean. Their personality shows through, so they don’t look pretty anymore.” “Oh.” Shizuku sort of understood, yet at the same time, she didn’t. Erik’s stance seemed way too philosophical for a twenty-two-year-old man. No matter how someone made themselves up, Erik saw right through them to the inside. Shizuku thought it was a bit cold in a way. She was struck by a desire to ask Erik what he thought of her face, but she immediately pushed the temptation from her head. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was too scary. Although she was extremely curious, if he told her she resembled a ring-tailed lemur, Shizuku knew she’d never be able to get that image out of her head. Besides, ring-tailed lemurs probably didn’t even exist in this world. “R-ring-tailed…,” Shizuku whispered. “What are you talking about now? Is that some kind of incantation?” “Oh, it’s nothing… My curiosity and shame just got the better of me and spilled out…” She held her head in her hands for a moment, then looked up to find Erik staring at her. Filled with an urge to flee, Shizuku half stood from her chair. “Wh-what is it?” “Nothing, really. I was just thinking how small your head is. It’s like a doll’s.” “Are you telling me I look like a Hakata doll?!” “What’s that?” There was no way of explaining what the traditional dolls looked like if Erik had never seen one. Shizuku sat back down and picked up her cold cup of tea. Erik continued to stare at her, which she found uncomfortable. She felt so uneasy that she couldn’t work out the tea’s taste at all. When Erik’s gaze fell on her, she found herself avoiding his eyes. “You’re not as ordinary as you think you are,” he stated. “…What?” That was the only response she could manage. It was hard to know how to reply. Erik stood and made them some more tea. The two spent some time absorbed in their respective studies. Erik devised a spell to submit to the castle, while Shizuku continued doing her homework, which she was supposed to hand in after summer vacation. An hour later, Erik looked up and inspected the book Shizuku had open, looking fascinated. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Writing a report about a text from more than a thousand years ago,” she answered. “This part of the book is a criticism of the written word.” “A criticism of the written word.” Erik’s curiosity was piqued. He urged her to continue with his eyes, which brought an awkward smile to her face. “I guess I can try to summarize. ‘When people study the written word, they tend to rely so much on written information and become forgetful. They put less effort into recalling their own memories and, instead, lean on external written materials to recall things.’” Shizuku tapped the loose sheet of paper with the tip of her pen. “The written word always elicits the same response in the reader, and when a text is misinterpreted, the writer must assist by clearing up a misunderstanding. As such, written text is nothing but a replica of the words that a real, living person once spoke.” “I see… There’s some truth in that.” Erik nodded, looking impressed. He pointed at the library book Shizuku had open. “And those exact words have been preserved in written form in this book for all this time.” “That’s right.” The pair shared an awkward smirk. It was ironic that the criticism of the written word was conveyed using the written word itself. The person who’d drafted the complaint over a thousand years ago must have been aware of that irony. Erik put down his teacup. “What they probably mean is that words are just a tool to express thoughts—for better or worse. While I agree with the point they make about memory, from a broader perspective, both the spoken word and the written one are mere tools for communication. There’s a limit to how much you can express verbally. The text might also be telling us not to rely too much on tools or neglect cultivating our own knowledge.” “Tools…?” “Yeah. Words always elicit the same response in the reader, but there are advantages to that, too. The written word can last much longer and spread farther while still remaining unchanged. With the spoken word, the opposite is true. There’s potential for people to misinterpret speech as well… Words are inherently restrictive.” What Erik said felt so complicated that Shizuku needed to concentrate to understand. She felt like she’d stepped into a lecture. “Restrictive in what way? I thought words were useful,” she remarked, taking notes as she spoke. “They are. But they still have limits. You can’t let yourself forget that.” Erik picked up the eraser lying on the table. It was small and white—Shizuku had only just started using it. Erik squeezed it between his fingers and showed it to Shizuku. “What color is this?” he asked her. “White,” she replied. “Yeah, it looks white to me, too. But what color is it, really?” Shizuku was unable to follow. “What do you mean?” Erik smiled, looking amused. He made his point carefully. “This is just an example, but let’s say it looked red to me. I say it’s red, but I think red is the word for white. In that situation, the eraser might appear ‘white’ to you and ‘red’ to me, but in reality, we’re just using different words to describe the same color.” “Oh! I get it! Words mean different things to different people, so that can create misunderstandings.” “Exactly. We can’t look inside each other’s minds, so even if we wanted to check if there was a misunderstanding, we’d have no choice but to communicate verbally. This makes it impossible to conclusively deny whether there was a disagreement. Whether you’re speaking aloud or expressing yourself through writing, it’s inevitable that other people will misinterpret you to some small extent.” His view was slightly bittersweet and, at the same time, levelheaded. Shizuku grasped Erik’s point, and for a moment, she was astonished by how outrageous this idea was. Even if somebody told her they loved her, their definition wouldn’t necessarily align with hers. In that case, what did it mean to love somebody? Even if you employed an extensive array of words to try getting to the bottom of someone’s feelings, the discrepancies in your interpretations of those words would prevent you from ever being on the same page. Shizuku felt isolated, lost as she wandered an endless maze. For as long as humans remained human, they were fettered by chains they could never escape. This newfound wisdom left her anxious. Since her arrival in this world, Shizuku’s greatest source of comfort was her ability to communicate with others. Yet now she questioned whether it was right to trust that. If there was no way of confirming whether another’s understanding matched yours, then misconceptions would arise. That was especially true for Shizuku, who’d come from a different world. Speaking the same language was almost irrelevant. For the first time in a while, Shizuku found herself remembering how anxious being an outsider made her. Noticing that she was growing upset, Erik waved his hand at her. Although his expression remained the same, he seemed somewhat flustered. “That was an extreme way of putting it. I mean, there aren’t that many things in the world that you can disprove entirely, and everything has its limits. In reality, nouns and simple words leave very little room for misinterpretation.” “…Okay.” “This is just something you need to be aware of when using the tools that we call words. It’s when you know their limits that they are the most powerful.” Erik concluded things there. Shizuku felt relieved. If she was to express that emotion in words, how much of it would reach him? After all, her feelings formed part of her own private world that no one else could touch. Castle cities in this world were the equivalent of capital cities in Shizuku’s. When she thought about it that way, it made sense that they were so busy and offered many things that caught her eye. At one point, she found herself distracted by a sculpture that decorated the outside of the shop, and Erik pulled her by the arm. She’d been so close to bumping into a passersby that he had to shield her with his arm. With a solemn look on his face, he issued her a word of warning. “I’m not going to tell you to keep your eyes ahead of you at all times, but you need to make sure not to bump into people.” “I-I’m sorry. That thing just looked so strange, I got distracted. What is it? Is it this world’s version of the Shigaraki yaki raccoon-dog statues we have in Japan?” “Shigaraki yaki,” Erik repeated, struggling to pronounce the type of stoneware. “That’s hard to say.” Shizuku pointed at the object dangling from a nearby shop wall. It was a weird, black, spiral-shaped thing. Many other buildings sported the same little trinket, too. Shizuku wondered if you could create something similar by painting a traditional mosquito coil black and hanging it from its center. “I’m not sure. They seem to be everywhere,” Erik said. “Huh? You’re not familiar with them?” “Not at all. They almost look like snakes.” “Oh yeah, I can see that.” In her mind, Shizuku replaced the image of a mosquito coil with that of a curled-up snake. The thought of it twisting its long body into a spiral and rearing its head made her skin crawl, but it fit the otherworldly street scene better than a traditional Japanese insect repellent. “Maybe they’re fashionable,” Shizuku remarked. “I didn’t see them in any of the other towns we visited, though.” “Perhaps they affirm a shop’s position on something—a visible signal to customers.” “Like a no soliciting sign?” Erik and Shizuku exchanged glances but said no more on the subject. Instead, they wandered to a back-alley magic-implement shop. This particular venue didn’t have one of those black coils on display, only a faded signboard. The pair had spent a few days testing out different spell designs, but they were yet to begin creating a spell diagram to submit to the castle. They were visiting the shop to buy some magic implements to draw one with. Erik walked around, picking up a ruler he happened upon. “You can draw circles with this.” It was a ruler with a round hole in it—the exact kind that children used to play with in Shizuku’s world. The silver instrument was extremely thin, and the circle in the center was about the size of her palm. Along the edge, there were short graduation markers, each of which had a small stone embedded into it. All the little studs were positioned at the center of the markers. Shizuku took the ruler from Erik and turned it over. “Huh? But all the circles I draw will end up the same size, won’t they?” “Try moving the stones.” Shizuku did as asked and tried moving one of the pebbles to the right on the scale—and the hole in the center of the silver slab rapidly shrunk. This curious sight left Shizuku stunned. “Wh-what just happened?” She moved the stone on the same marker in the opposite direction. As soon as she did, the circle widened. It expanded up to the markers at the edge, almost large enough to overtake the ruler itself. The other stones all seemed to alter the circle’s shape in some way. For example, by distorting it diagonally or bending it. Even the slightest movements caused the circle to change. Shizuku’s eyes sparkled as she flicked the stones in different directions. “This is amazing! I love it! It’s so interesting! I want one!” she exclaimed. “Give it back so I can buy it, then.” While Erik was at the register, Shizuku took a look around the shop, still brimming with excitement. From what she could tell, there were lots of magical drawing implements. She was simply amazed by the way silver metal could move as smoothly as liquid and wondered what the others might do. When Erik returned, he passed Shizuku the ruler. She let out a cry of delight. “Magic’s amazing, isn’t it? Do you have anything else? Anything that allows you to draw CG images by hand?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but yeah, I have plenty of different stuff. These items are relatively small, and the magic is infused into the silver during their creation, so they’re not too expensive. They’re essentials for anyone making diagrams.” “That’s cool. In my world, we accomplish the same thing with machines. You can even do it with devices like the ones I take photos with.” “Really? That’s interesting.” Shizuku and Erik left the shop, bought some dinner, and returned to the inn. Erik watched from across the table as Shizuku experimented with the ruler, resting his chin in his hands.
Chapter 9
41 min read