Obvious? It’s true that the only type of magic that never came easily to me is healing. Even back in school, no matter how much I tried, my healing spells would come out pretty limited, and it was definitely faster to have someone else heal my injuries for me. My healing instructor would scold me for fighting with Rockmann all the time despite how bad I was at patching myself up.
It’s a shortcoming I’m woefully aware of, but I’m not reckless enough to go sharing my weaknesses with the whole world. And yet, it saw right through me.
“Ice magic is terrifyingly effective against us, especially those of us endowed with intelligence and close to Städal. To diminish your powers, we cursed your kind with low fertility. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call it a deep-seated grudge that keeps drifting through the world even after its bearer is gone.”
The Ice Ancient said something similar. Städal placed a curse that forbade fire and ice types from having children together. I’d thought Städal was just being a jerk and finding the absolute worst possible way to cope with seeing his crush get all mushy with the Fire Ancient. This whole time it came off to me like a cheap shot, but he actually had a solid reason behind it—namely, to wipe out ice types entirely.
Wait, so... What if there are other curses barring us from all sorts of other stuff we don’t know about? Maybe I’m so bad at healing because they wanted to keep ice types from healing themselves... Hold on, is this why my clothes dispel magic? The director said I got such a uniform because I “push myself too hard,” but what if the Water of Creation was accounting for the fact I can’t heal myself well? Thank you, Harré Mooren. I bring my hands together in gratitude.
“However, your kind have an easier time purging us compared to those with other types of magic. Others may not be able to help that man, but you should be able to relieve him of his burden.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
The demon goes silent again, just like it was when I came in. Sure, I’ve heard what I needed to hear, but at this point I’m curious. I was the one who sent it here. And even though I’m an ice-type, there are other ice-types among knights, so why did it pick me, the very person who, it was fair to say, practically threw him into this cell to begin with? While I hope I don’t have to make use of this whip, I can’t shake the feeling the demon’s plotting something here.
“What is a ‘better love’?” the demon says out of the blue as I stand there wondering, causing me to blink in surprise. What’s it talking about? “What you said to me.”
Well, I guess I did. I just didn’t think that was what confused it, so the question threw me off a bit. Okay, “a bit” is underselling it. This is why it had me come over? It feels weird that a demon would think so hard about what I said.
“Do us all a favor and find a better love next time, okay?”
Okay, no, let’s think about this—it feels weird for a demon to pose a question like that, but let’s not forget that it’s canny and part of Städal. It might not be so weird after all. To this demon, it’s surely not such a strange thing. I should’ve known better than anyone why I said those words at the time, and yet here I am, thinking something rude.
When I embraced the young Rockmann in the past, I was thinking that if Städal ever gets to fall in love again, it should be a love like this one.
“Like... Even if the other party doesn’t feel the same way, you can be glad from the bottom of your heart that you fell in love?”
I get embarrassed halfway into the sentence and scratch my cheek as I face the demon. If only I had Benjamine teach me these things beforehand... She’d be able to say this better.
“So you’re saying what Städal felt was love?”
“Probably.”
“Interesting...”
It seems to have a much better grasp of human emotions than your average demon—makes sense, I guess, when you consider how much time it must have spent in other people’s heads. I’m sure that of all its kin, only a dream demon would be able to follow a conversation about love. I ask the demon what it knows of the subject; it says it’s seen its victims fret enough about it to have a general grasp.
“How strange that one might resent another enough to want to kill, yet long for that person at the same time,” I continue. “Did it not occur to him to curse the fire-types instead? Not that I’m saying it would’ve been okay.”
“Don’t be a fool. Have you already forgotten how that woman came after the man instead of you? It’s the same thing.”
I didn’t get to bask in my superiority for long. Here I was, teaching the demon what a “better love” is, and I didn’t even realize my “student” outstripped me in its grasp of another emotion of just as great an importance. Why would you want to curse the one you love? I wonder whether it would be possible for me to understand that emotion from the outside with any amount of study. It feels kinda scary even approaching the subject.
My mind still wrapped in uncertainty, I report what I learned to Mr. Pinyatz and the knight commander and leave the castle. On my way home, I stop to look at the clear sky amidst a comfortable breeze. I have no plans to see Rockmann in the near future, but what if I come home and there’s a letter from him?
As I wonder about my reply in that situation, I suddenly remember—didn’t Rockmann offer to go somewhere together in the season of distant skies, or something like that...? Wait, what do I do about that?! Hey, hold on, is this really the time to be philosophizing with a demon?!
With the shock I got from that letter hitting me all over again, I charge towards the landing zone with a war cry, anxious to cool my hot face as quickly as I can.
“What’s with her?”
“You tell me.”
The knights I run past give me dubious looks.