1

Ix crouched and examined the flower petals.

As he brought his face close, a faintly sweet fragrance reached his nose. He considered the insects clinging to the stems, then turned away.

Around him was the expanse of a flower field. Red petals flowed in scarlet waves whenever a gust of wind picked up. These flowers were called halni. They weren’t especially rare and were often used for dyeing clothes and the like.

This area was just south of Agnasruze. If you looked north, you could see the plain rows of buildings and the outline of Mount Agnas on the horizon.

“Will doing this find us some sort of clue?”

Ix looked in the direction of the voice and saw Yuui coming his way looking frustrated.

He felt as if he hadn’t seen her face in ages. Though she still seemed somewhat tired, it wasn’t as terrible as she’d looked during his meeting with Tomah. Ix was glad she seemed better.

“Good job finding this place,” he said with his back turned, concealing the relief on his face.

“I just asked Ost if there was somewhere nearby where halni were in bloom.”

“There’s a halni balance sheet written on the same page where the dragon procurement note is.”

“I don’t think that has anything to do with dragons.”

“Well, it probably isn’t much of a clue,” agreed Ix. “But all we can do is investigate everything one by one. So…”

In other words, their investigation had really hit a wall. Even with how far they’d come, the only thing they had to show for their efforts was a single theory with weak supporting evidence, and they weren’t getting any closer to a dragon heart. Seeing as they weren’t able to locate Ega Fulmen in the purification records, contrary to expectations, they had only two lines of investigation left: continue to investigate Mount Agnas and—

“Looking into the festival. That’s our only other option,” said Ix.

“A festival that was held in this town long ago… But even if there was one, we can’t prove that it has any connection to dragons,” said Yuui as she spread her hands, palms up.

“We have no other hypotheses, so all we can do is follow it through.” Ix sighed, shaking his head. “Festivals are usually established with a goal in mind. Usually, they start off more as ceremonies than festivals. But as the generations change, lots of people start participating, so it becomes more accessible and is refined into a real show. Sometimes it merges with celebrations from other areas. That’s how their original meanings get lost. If there was a religion in this town centered on dragons, then the festival was probably a ceremony to worship them. And if we figure that out…”

“…Those aren’t your own ideas, are they?”

“They’re trustworthy ideas. It’s something a scholar who visited my master’s shop said.”

“Well, good luck observing your flowers, then.” Yuui sighed and moved away from Ix.

Since she was in the middle of a field of crimson flowers, it looked as if she was walking away across a red carpet.

According to what they’d heard, the New Order rejected things like dyes and luxuries. The vibrant halni seemed so out of place here precisely because they were juxtaposed against such an austere community.

Ix couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the spot. Even though it was in the countryside, it would’ve been nice if more people were aware of it.

Actually…perhaps it was the opposite.

What if this place had faded only recently from the public consciousness? People harvested these flowers in the past. But they stopped using them, so the halni spread into an entire field. In that light, its presence could be supporting evidence for the theory that there had been another religion in Agnasruze. It was really just a thought, though…

After finishing his observations, Ix stood and looked around him.

Yuui had picked a flower and was twirling it in her fingertips.

As he moved closer, she started speaking, as if to herself.

“It seems Tomah and the others won’t be returning,” she said with a sigh.

“I heard the same thing.”

“The miners saw them heading toward Mount Agnas. No one has heard from or seen them since.”

“So it seems.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“About what?”

“You know where they disappeared to, don’t you, Ix?”

“What would you do if you knew?”

“What do you mean, what would I do…?”

“I’ll tell you what I think happened, but it’s all just an assumption. The other day, when we were investigating an abandoned mine, we discovered there was a strange sound coming from the other side of a dead-end wall. There, we discussed getting some gear ready to check out what was on the other side on another day. After that, we went our separate ways. Then they disappeared. That’s all I can say.”

“Then that area needs to be investiga—”

“Investigated by whom? An abandoned mine filled to the brim with magic beasts? I can’t do it. You can’t, either, not without a wand. Would we ask some adventurers? Who’s going to pay them? Or what if we try contacting their families? Even though we don’t actually know that’s where they went?”

“…It is not uncommon at the Academy for students to die or go missing when working as adventurers. But…” Yuui bit her lip and cast her eyes down.

“Besides, you hate Tomah, don’t you? I mean, it’s not surprising you’d break off a friendship with someone you got along with when you found out they were the son of your enemy.”

Yuui looked up in surprise at Ix.

“Tomah told me the rest afterward,” he admitted.

“…I see.” Yuui closed her eyes. “I was sent to the kingdom as a ‘study abroad student’ because I am related to certain people. With my family dead, I was a very convenient hostage for the other royals. However, the color of my skin and hair was all it took to draw derision from the people here. No matter how much the kingdom pretends we are allies, its citizens regard the ‘savage’ people of the east, who don’t believe in the same god, as lower beings, even when we hold no ill will toward them. If I was not covering myself with a cloak like this, I could not even walk around outside. The same held true at the Academy I was forced to attend, of course…”

“I thought the Academy accepted any who wanted to learn?”

That was the ideal it touted anyway. They swore to welcome all students who excelled, regardless of their social status or ancestry.

“It’s a facade. Neither the teachers nor the students conform to that ideal. And I couldn’t speak Central Standard, so to them, I was just an ‘uncivilized student who couldn’t even understand words.’ The only people who extended a hand of friendship to me were Tomah, Rozalia, and Dann.”

Yuui tore the petals of the flower to bits as she continued.

“They treated me as an equal. They were honor students as well, so the other students wouldn’t touch me as long as I stuck with them. When we had time, they taught me the language. Everything I have now, my ability to live freely, is thanks to them.”

“You’re grateful.”

“Yes, I cannot ever thank them enough.” Yuui smiled and looked down. “…Then the delegation came.”

“With the ‘ambassador’?”

“I…couldn’t watch. I am not certain, but it seemed the delegation truly believed what was just an act. It was ludicrous—how they gave the delegation a superficial welcome, how they made a show of exchanging handshakes, how everyone cheered loudly about how they’d deepened a nonexistent friendship. I was actually meant to attend the welcoming party as a study abroad student, but then I had that conversation with Tomah.”

“He told me it was insensitive, that he shouldn’t have talked about it in front of you.”

“Well, they certainly aren’t good memories. I don’t remember it all clearly, just that the army came and killed my family and friends. People trying to flee were cut down one after the other… I had heard that Tomah’s father was in the military, but to hear that he was actually the one who had proposed that strategy…yes, I was taken aback.”

Yuui smiled painfully, but it didn’t appear to be forced.

“But, Ix, that is not what hurt me. That’s not the reason I broke off our relationship. I have explained it to Tomah many times, but he continues to misunderstand.”

“So then—”

“It was because I realized we could never come to understand each other.”

Her coat flapped in a strong gust of wind.

“He told me that strategy was justified,” she continued. “Claimed it was the right call because it brought the war to a swift end and reduced the overall number of kingdom casualties. But no matter how you try to dress it up, his plan was nothing more than the massacre of civilians. What do you think, Ix? Was that strategy wrong?”

“Depends on your perspective. From the kingdom’s viewpoint, it was justifiable. From the Lukuttan standpoint, it was abominable.”

“What about from an objective perspective?”

“Is there an objective perspective in war?”

“Yes, that is exactly it. That is all I meant.”

Yuui looked up.

“We developed a friendship, our countries irrelevant; we fought together; we spent a year talking with each other. I believed we could come to empathize with each other somewhat. In fact, I thought we had come to that point. But that was impossible. I didn’t understand a single thing about him, and he didn’t understand anything about me… The moment I realized that—how do I explain it?—it felt like strength exited my entire body. And…yes, I fell into despair.”

Yuui repeated “That was all” over and over.

“In the end, I got my own hopes up, and I let myself be betrayed. That is all. That was all…”

With the flower petals torn to shreds, she released them into the wind.

The red fragments spun and danced away.

She stared dimly at her hands.

Now empty, they had been dyed red.

It looked almost as if they were bleeding…

Bleeding…?

Ix held his breath.

That’s it…, he realized.

He slowly let out a breath.

And then he asked.

“You felt despair?”

“Yes.”

“Which is why you tried to get revenge?”

2

Yuui’s eyes opened wide.

With trembling lips, she asked, “…How?”

“I thought it was strange,” noted Ix. “That wand is amazing—it’s the highest of high-quality catalysts. It shouldn’t get damaged from normal use, and it should be nigh impossible for the core to shatter. That’s what led me to believe there must have been a reason it broke.”

“Which is…?”

“A wand’s core determines its disposition. If the user isn’t compatible, or if they try to cast a spell that’s against their catalyst’s temperament, then they can’t use the wand’s full power. Sometimes the wand will even bite the user back. Yuui, your wand has an unbelievably strong nature. It’s unusual, even among the ones Master crafted. It would absolutely refuse to cast a spell that was against its disposition. No, it wouldn’t just refuse to cast the spell. The core might just…”

Ix squeezed his fist, then opened it.

“Do you remember? What that wand’s disposition is?” he asked.

“Incredibly…moral,” murmured Yuui.

And the opposite of moral was…

But Ix continued without touching on that.

“My master was crazy, but he wasn’t the type to make an impossible promise. He should have known that swapping out a dragon heart would have been a hopeless task. He would have known that repairing it would have been fruitless. So then why did he make a contract that stated he would mend it for free? The only conclusion I can come to is that he had another goal in mind.”

“Another goal…?”

“So that if that wand fell into the hands of someone evil or was used for evil, then it would come back to him.”

“…For what purpose?”

“You went to the shop. Didn’t you see what was written on the door?”

Yuui searched her memory, but only a vague image came to mind.

“‘Putting wands in the right hands,’” said Ix.

“Even a broken wand…?”

“Even a broken wand. That was Master’s creed. That contract was a fail-safe, a way for him to get the catalyst back. A wand whose morality was the source of its power. We have no idea if the wands we craft are used to save people or kill them. That’s up to the wielder—it’s on them. But what we wandmakers can’t stomach is an unsuitable individual casting unsuitable magic with our creations. You can’t betray a wand.”

“But… But that’s not—”

“No matter what excuse you try to make, Master’s wands are never mistaken. Yours broke because you did something immoral. Nothing more, nothing less,” explained Ix coldly. “That’s what it means to go against a wand’s disposition.”

He was right.

Yuui had known it was immoral, that it hadn’t been justifiable whatsoever, but she’d cast a spell to get revenge.

And her wand had broken…and her revenge had failed.

“Don’t get me wrong—I’m not judging you,” added Ix. “The wielder determines what a wand is used for. Besides, I’m just talking about an assumption I’ve had. The contract didn’t tell me to take back the wand, either, so I’ll repair it and return it to you. It’s got nothing to do with me if you then try to kill Tomah.”

“Tomah?”

“Yeah, or maybe his father. Or that delegation. It doesn’t matter who. Do you know what that means, Yuui? No matter who you try to get revenge on, it will fail. And you won’t get it again.”

“Get what again?”

“Even if I repair the wand once, I can’t do it again. Next time, I’ll ask for you to pay, and I probably wouldn’t even be able to get the core material. What I’m asking is, do you really want me to repair it for you?”

Yuui realized what he was implying with that question. She couldn’t respond with anything beyond “…How?”

“I’ve had an inkling about what the dragon heart really is.”

“And you can repair it?”

Ix hesitated, then nodded.

Yuui gulped.

“Tell me,” she entreated.

“Dragon heart is probably a mineral that makes up the core of the mountain and creates agnasite,” mused Ix, hand covering his mouth. “Agnasite has been mined from Mount Agnas since time immemorial. But that normally wouldn’t be possible. Mineral veins aren’t some endless spring. They should have been depleted after decades of mining, but they haven’t. In fact, there was agnasite pouring from fissures in the ceiling of the abandoned mine…like it was bleeding.”

“You did say before that, rather than a dragon heart, you could use a compound core that contained agnasite for my wand. Is that why? Does something like that exist? A spring of stone?”

“The dragon heart is warm no matter when you touch it. That alone is strange. It’s inconceivable that something can continue releasing heat perpetually without any input whatsoever. Either the dragon heart has lots of power stored in it or it has the ability to produce power itself. If there is a large crystal of that, it’s a completely unknown gemstone. It’s not unreasonable to assume it would have the capacity to create objects. Then it would actually be appropriate to call it a dragon heart…”

Ix shrugged regardless.

“Even if it does exist, it’s probably buried deep below the mountain,” he continued. “I have no clue how we’d get to it. But since that stone is in your wand, we know there’s got to be a way. I’ll find out how to obtain it before we’re out of time, somehow.”

“You sound none too confident about that.”

“The thing is, Yuui, regardless of whether we can get the core material, the conversation still goes back to the question I asked before.”

“Which was?”

“Whether I should repair the wand. You said that you need it before summer ends. I don’t know what kind of spell you’d be planning on casting with it, but it will absolutely fail if it’s for immoral purposes. Knowing that, do you still need it?”

“…Let me ask you something first.”

“If I can answer, I will.”

“Why did you accept my request?”

“…Because you came with the contract.”

“Yes, there was a contract. But you had no obligation to comply. Your master is no longer here, and no one even knew what was on that agreement. I hadn’t even read it. You could have just pretended it was nothing and torn it to pieces. Even if you hadn’t predicted the repair would lead to this long and difficult journey, you, Ix, broke and only recently independent, did not need to accept the request. Am I wrong?”

Ix blinked a few times and hid his mouth with his hand.

“…That’s right,” he mused, an earnest expression on his face. “Tearing up the contract…that was an option. I’d never thought of that until you mentioned it just now. If I’d done that, I wouldn’t have needed to deliberate over accepting it or not. Huh, you are smart.”

“D-do not be impressed,” spat Yuui, flustered at his unpredictable response. “Fine, so you are saying you accepted it simply because you did not think of another option?”

“No, I accepted it because…” Ix looked slightly up and murmured something quietly to himself, but then he eventually returned his gaze to Yuui. “Probably…because it was Master’s order.”

“Even though he’s no longer here?”

“Well, you should still uphold those things,” he continued, as if talking about someone else, perhaps not entirely convinced himself. “It’s his last order, so I might as well listen to it. Besides, I owe him so much…”

Yuui looked at Ix, his brow crinkled in doubt, and felt her strength drain.

It wasn’t a weak feeling like when she’d argued with Tomah. It was more like peeling off a heavy coat and tossing it aside…like when you’ve realized you’ve been unconsciously grinding your teeth.

She smiled.

“The wand will certainly break if used with ill intent, yes?” she asked.

“Hmm? Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“And my father would have known about that disposition?” she asked casually, trying as hard as she could not to appear grim.

But to Yuui, there was nothing more important than that. What was her father thinking when he placed that wand in her hand and left? That was all that remained within her.

Yuui stared with bated breath at Ix, who nodded.

“Of course. There’s no way Master wouldn’t have explained that.”

After a few seconds of silence, Yuui nodded slightly.

“Thank you. Please fix my wand,” she requested.

“For what purpose?”

“So that I can go save those three.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes… Surely that is a moral thing to do.”

“A moral thing?”

—“Because you are the person most suited to wield this wand. Until I return, hold on to it and live.”

Even though those were the words of someone who’d already passed…

“I figured I ‘might as well listen’ to someone’s last order,” she insisted.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Ix, confused.

Yuui started off through the flower field without another word.

“Oh yes, I have actually found a clue in regard to Ega Fulmen,” she added, turning back to look at him. “Though it might not matter now anyway.”

“…That’s not necessarily true.”

For some reason, that was the only time the surly wandmaker showed a smile.

3

Ix followed Yuui back.

They headed toward an area on the outskirts of town. It was where the poor gathered, where all the dwellings were leaky and shoddily constructed. They saw dirt-covered children cut across the street. A bonfire sat to the side of the road, a gray liquid boiling in the dented pot above it. People crowded around the pot, heedless of the flies buzzing around them. There were no beggars. In this city, people avoided giving money to homeless people.

Yuui stopped in front of a haphazardly constructed stone house. It was slightly larger than the surrounding homes and appeared to have some history. Even so, it gave Morna’s shop a run for its money.

“Is this it?” asked Ix.

Yuui knocked on the door without answering.

After a few moments, a hoarse voice replied, “Who’s there?”

“I apologize for bothering you. My name is Yuui Laika.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“I came because I would like to speak with Mrs. Sheela Fulmen.”

“There’s no one here with that name.”

“Henri told me about her.”

“……”

After a silence, the door grated open.

The wrinkled face of an old lady emerged from the darkness of the room. She was shorter than Yuui, and her stomach bulged out. Her back was horribly curved, and she moved strangely.

“What do you want?” asked the woman as she glared at them.

“Are you Sheela Fulmen?” asked Yuui.

“What if I am?”

“I’d like to ask you something,” insisted Yuui.

“Ask me something? …And who’s this other guy?”

“My name’s Ix.”

“What a rude man. Can’t even bother to tell me your family name.”

“I don’t have a family name.”

“Hmm, is that so? A lowly birth, then.”

“Can we come in?” he asked.

Sheela snorted before shuffling back into the house.

The room was well lit thanks to rays of sun filtering through the cracks, but it still had a depressing air. Spiderwebs stretched across the corners, and there was no sign that the hearth had been used recently.

“I’m not giving you anything or nothing,” asserted Sheela.

“That’s perfectly fine,” said Yuui.

The two sat on dirty rags spread across the floor. Sheela reclined in a large chair and let out a heavy sigh.

“So? Whaddaya want to ask of a poor, senile old lady like me?”

Ix opened his mouth to speak, but Yuui glared at him to stay quiet. She opened one hand slightly and launched into her question.

“I’ll get straight to the point. Are you related to Ega Fulmen?”

“Where’d you hear that name?” asked Sheela angrily.

“So you know of him?”

“…That’s Granddad.”

“He was your grandfather?”

“Yeah.”

Yuui and Ix looked at each other. They’d made a discovery.

“Now it’s my turn to ask questions. How’d you hear that name?” demanded Sheela.

“From this,” said Ix, revealing the Festival Supply Accounts ledger.

Sheela squinted and moved the text closer and farther as she tried to read the cover. Once she confirmed the title and author’s name, she tossed it on the floor.

“Hmph, pathetic,” she spat with a scowl. “His shameful notebook gets dug up long after he’s dead and gets read by people with no relation… That’s what he deserves.”

“Um, your grandpa—”

“He was a worthless fool,” hissed Sheela, taking a breath after every other word. “Was even worse when he went senile from old age. Got into gambling, built up a huge debt, claimed he would pay it off… They took everything from our home. If it weren’t for him, then the house would be…”

Sheela coughed violently.

“So why’d you come asking about Granddad after all this time? If you’ve come to collect on his debts, I’ve got nothing left in here to give,” continued Sheela.

“No, that’s not it…,” clarified Yuui.

“Who was Ega Fulmen?” asked Ix as he picked the ledger up from the floor.

“What do you mean?” Sheela frowned.

“As far as I can tell, your grandpa had something to do with a festival. But this town follows the New Order, and there’s no sign of a festival here. The name Fulmen wasn’t anywhere in the purification records. Who was he? And who are the Fulmens? Was there some sort of faith here before the New Order came to this town?”

“…I don’t know anything about that.” She clasped her hands together and looked down. “The New Order folk were already all over town when I was born. They threw mud at me whenever they saw me. I was never purified, and I never went to church. I always thought that was why they treated me so poorly, so I asked Granddad and my parents if I could do the ceremony. But they always ignored me. If I asked why, they wouldn’t tell me… That answer your question? Hmm?”

“I don’t get it,” replied Ix. “Your grandpa and parents aren’t here anymore. You should be able to get purified now, so why don’t you?”

She gave him no answer. Instead, Sheela glared at Ix, a crease between her brows.

“You done with your questions? Then get out,” she grumbled.

“Actually, we’re just getting to the real reason we’re here,” revealed Ix.

“Hmph, you all like to prattle.”

“There’s a note in here about ‘dragon procurement.’ What does that mean? Who was your grandpa? Have you heard anything about this? Are there any legends about dragons in this town? Or something related to a different faith?”

“Dragons…,” Sheela murmured, looking away and staring vaguely in the direction of the road.

Yuui and Ix waited in silence before she finally spat out a reply, as though she’d given up.

“The festival.”

“The festival?”

“Granddad blabbered on about it day and night after he lost his marbles. Told us to get ready for the festival, talked about how preparations for it weren’t complete, went on and on about this year’s setup, yada yada.”

“I knew it…,” said Ix, leaning forward. “What kind of festival was it?”

“…What could possibly make you two want to know about the sleep talk of a senile old man?”

“Who cares—just tell us. What did he say?”

In a low voice, Sheela whispered, “Dragon Remembrance.”

“Huh?”

“Dragon Remembrance… That’s what Granddad called it.”

“What happened during the festival?”

“Hmm… They’d make a giant dragon effigy and burn it. Sounds like a rubbish event to me.”

“They’d burn…a dragon effigy?” gasped Yuui in surprise. “So then ‘dragon procurement’ was—”

“Probably getting the effigy ready. I don’t know how much of it was true, though…,” said Sheela.

Yuui and Ix looked at each other, lost for words.

The “dragon” was just an effigy. A doll.

Just something they used for a festival.

There was no doubt that the festival had been almost entirely forgotten by the end of Sheela’s grandfather’s generation.

The door suddenly creaked, and Henri entered the house.

He glanced at Yuui and Ix, then went into a back room without saying a word.

“So the bastard child’s come back,” hissed Sheela with scorn. “Unfriendly little brat.”

“That’s your grandson,” chided Yuui.

“Not like I want to admit it. My daughter got knocked up at the tavern. Don’t even know who the father is.”

“And where is your daughter now?”

“Dead. Died in childbirth. Left me with a mountain of inconvenience…”

There were no doors or dividers between the rooms of the house, so her grandson had likely overheard her, but she didn’t hesitate to say her piece. Yuui and Ix could just about see Henri from where they were, but he didn’t move a muscle.

Ix readjusted his sitting position and cleared his throat.

“I want to know more about that dragon effigy. I don’t care if it’s only ramblings—just tell me what you know.”

“You want to know…? What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“What?”

“I want you to tell us about that festival in as much detail as possible. He told you about the preparations and planning, right? It doesn’t matter if there are holes in the story—tell me everything.”

“P-please, I would appreciate it as well,” entreated Yuui with a bow of her head. “You are the only one left whom we can ask.”

“…Are you trying to kill an old woman?” Sheela closed her eyes for a few moments, then spoke as if annoyed. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you what I remember. I don’t know how long you two will sit there if I don’t… Who knew a girl with a hidden face and a dreary man could make me feel so terrible.”

“Th-thank you!”

And so Sheela told them.

With her advanced age and how long ago she’d heard the details, there were parts that were unclear, and she easily got off track. But when you put it all together, she essentially told them the following:

First, they would set up the Fulmeninia in a square in town, then pile up the sand and step on it to press it into place. It wasn’t roped off or anything, but the citizens were strictly prohibited from walking over it.

On top of the sand mound, they would construct an effigy in the shape of a dragon. It cut a massive figure, as tall as two or three people, and consisted of straw and wood, things that burned easily, all tied together. Those were the preparations that would take place beforehand.

The morning of the festival, the town would be bustling with open-air stalls and people dancing in the streets. That was the only day when they were allowed to let their hair down, so there was an understanding that minor transgressions would be overlooked.

The main event was the burning of the “dragon.” It was commonly called Sabineit Fulmeninia, which meant “light in the eye of the mountain.”

A lottery would take place in the days leading up to the event to select a “person of purity,” always a young child. After the person of purity was chosen, they would be forbidden from speaking with anyone other than the priests until the day of the festival.

When night fell that day, the townspeople would light bonfires. The lights would begin at the child’s house and continue down the road to the sand mound.

“The bonfires were huge,” Sheela told them.

A frame of three wooden sticks held the container for each bonfire, which made them as tall as an adult and ensured the flames would reach even higher. The fires were never allowed to go out during the festival.

Once midnight struck, the person of purity would leave their house and light a torch with the fire from a bonfire.

Then the child would walk barefoot through town while carrying the torch. No adults, or even friends, could accompany them. No one was allowed to offer any assistance.

When the child reached the mound of sand, they would light the dragon effigy with their torch. The townsfolk would gather in the square and watch in silence until it had burned completely away.

Then, after the flames had died down and they went to clean up the remains of the effigy, they would find “treasures” in the mound of sand.

“Treasure…?” asked Ix. “Was that, like, gems or something?”

“I guess it was all lumps of gold,” said Sheela.

“Lumps of gold… Where’d they come from?”

“They didn’t come from anywhere. Someone probably buried them beforehand. How else would they show up?”

“Uh…”

Anyway, finding the treasure was the climax of the event, and the celebrations continued until the next day.

That was everything that happened during Dragon Remembrance.

“Granddad didn’t even know when the festival started. But I guess he asked his granddad about it, who told him it used to be a calmer ceremony long ago,” noted Sheela.

“Are there any legends or stories told about the festival? Like, with relation to dragons?”

“Hmm, I have no idea.”

“I see…”

“Well, there’re always those tales of adventurers killing dragons and stealing their treasure. Ridiculous that some moron would come up with the idea and pass it down like it was special. It’s a good thing the festival’s gone.”

“The treasure, the gold,” said Yuui, “who did it belong to? The child?”

“Yeah right. It went to the priest, of course. That was why everyone hated my family. The other townspeople accused them of keeping all the treasure for themselves and getting loaded off it.”

“That isn’t strange, is it? It was just the money returning to the people who buried it beforehand…”

“You think the people watching from the outside would be smart enough to realize that, huh?”

“From the outside…,” murmured Ix.

“Don’t mumble like that. If you don’t want to be heard, then don’t bother opening your trap in the first place. And if you got something to say, say it clearly,” shouted Sheela, spittle flying.

“…Fulmeninia means ‘eye of the mountain,’” said Ix.

“Huh?”

“Isn’t that weird? Calling a small mound of sand like that a mountain.”

“So what? Festivals are about making a big thing out of nothing anyway.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ix shrugged.

As they chatted, the light coming in faded, and the room slowly darkened. It seemed they didn’t have any lamps.

Yuui whispered to Ix that they should take their leave soon.

“Thanks for the information,” said Ix, getting up.

“What a ridiculous pair you are, coming to ask about my senile granddad’s prattle,” Sheela said with a sigh.

“Th-thank you very much for taking the time…,” said Yuui.

As they turned toward the entrance, the old woman suddenly stopped them with a bark.

“Hold up!”

“What is it?” asked Yuui.

“That book, Granddad’s ledger…leave it here.”

“Hmm?”

“He’s dead, so that belongs to the Fulmen family. You’ve got no right to have it. Or do you disagree?”

“Wh-what should we do, Ix?” asked Yuui.

“Do as she says. Let’s give it back.”

He nodded and placed the paper bundle on Sheela’s lap.

“Are you sure?” asked Yuui.

“I remember what’s in it. There’s no point in us keeping it.”

“I suppose…”

Yuui looked at the old woman’s face.

She was sitting with her hand on the cover, her eyes closed.

“Haaah…”

A sound passed through her lips, though it was impossible to tell if it was a sigh of grief or a groan of anger.

Sheela said nothing more.

“Let’s go,” Ix told Yuui.

“…What do we do next?”

“We get a dragon heart.”

“What I’m asking is how.”

“Listening to Sheela’s story, there was one thing that stuck out to me…” Ix lowered his voice. “Not on the inside but the outside.”

“What?”

“There are some things you can’t get unless you go out, right?”

He looked sideways, toward Henri’s room.

There was a small window, and Henri was staring out through it.

Mount Agnas towered on the other side of that window.

4

A forest spread out before them. When she looked up, Yuui could see the greenery gradually fade. The summit was shrouded in mist, leaving only a vague outline visible.

Yuui gazed up into a sky filled with drifting gray smoke.

She stood at the base of Mount Agnas.

“Let’s go,” said Ix, pulling up the cloth wrapped around his head to cover his mouth.

Magic beasts lived on Mount Agnas, but there wasn’t an Adventurers’ Guild in town, so it was dangerous to tread there recklessly. This also meant the magic beasts weren’t really hunted, despite the mountain housing valuable lumber resources. A single path ran through the forest and continued partway up the mountain, which loggers bold enough to enter used occasionally. Fortunately, the foot traffic kept the trail packed down and free of weeds, so it was easy to hike on. It occasionally crossed with animal trails, but they didn’t see any signs of movement.

Yuui scanned the area slowly, and Ix turned back to look at her.

“Don’t be so on guard,” he said.

“But magic beasts live here.”

“In the higher elevations. They rarely come down to the lower parts. That’s what the loggers said. Besides, I’ve got a bit of a defense ready for if they do happen to show up. You won’t hold out if you’re on edge the whole time.”

“I can’t trust any defense you concocted.”

“Which is why I said you didn’t have to follow me.”

“I came because I don’t have faith in your safeguards. Even weak magic should suffice for intimidation.”

Yuui subconsciously felt for the wand in her inside pocket.

Walking up the mountain for the first time was surprisingly mentally taxing. Though trees blocked out the sun, sweat still beaded on her neck.

Weeds eventually encroached the path before it disappeared completely. Beyond that, the trees continued, along with waist-high underbrush.

“Looks like we’ll have to cut our own path,” stated Ix as he pulled a billhook knife from his bag. “As much as the townsfolk dig through the mountain, there aren’t any who climb the outside of it. They all seem to hesitate for some reason. When I told them I was going to hike up it, they tried to stop me.”

“Normal people would stop. A mountain covered in magic beasts is—”

“There are records of people who have done it.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, most of them were daredevil explorer types. They’d climb to the top of Mount Agnas, then continue northeast along the mountain ridges…or at least they’d planned to anyway.”

“Is there something in that direction?”

“I assume they were going so they could find out.”

“Did they succeed?”

“Who knows. Those explorers never returned.” Ix shrugged.

Once the path disappeared, their pace dropped dramatically. Ix took the front, wildly swinging his billhook, while Yuui held up the rear, guiding him. They wanted to take the most direct route to the summit, but considering they risked running into cliffs on the way, they couldn’t just blindly aim for the shortest route.

Yuui grimaced, feeling disgusting from the sweat, small insects, spiderwebs, and sap coming from the cut weeds that caked her body.

As she sighed for the umpteenth time, Ix suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. She was surprised but quickly discovered the reason why.

“A magic beast…”

From the shadows of the bushes came a pair of long, twisted horns.

It was a magic beast called an illguna. Though they were timid herbivores, they could still pose a threat, since they would attack you unrelentingly if you upset them just once. Even seasoned adventurers hesitated to engage them.

But it wasn’t just one illguna that had appeared. More horns burst from the underbrush, one after the other. Before they knew it, four of the creatures had surrounded them.

Four pairs of black eyes bore into Yuui and Ix.

A weak wandmaker and a student with a broken wand were at a disadvantage here.

But it might have been possible to strike suddenly and scare them. Yuui felt sweat run down her forehead as she quietly reached for her wand.

“Wait, Yuui,” warned Ix, stretching his arm to the side, though he remained facing forward.

“But—”

“It’s all right. Don’t do anything. You’ll still have a chance to use magic if they threaten to strike.”

“…All right.”

Yuui waited, her wand at the ready. She planned to immediately create a blinding light if they took a single step closer.

Beasts and humans stared at each other. Time passed.

“What…is going on?” asked Yuui.

The illguna neither fled nor attacked. They simply observed the two humans, blinking. Once in a while, they’d flap an ear up and down.

All that moved was the foliage around them and the bugs buzzing around the illguna.

“Uh-huh.”

Ix seemed convinced by something and lowered his bag to the ground.

“U-uh, you are taking your sweet time…,” stammered Yuui.

“It’s okay. Look, they’re not charging even if I turn my back.”

“That does appear to be so.”

Since he’d broken eye contact with them, all four of the illguna had moved their gazes to her. Yuui almost let out a small squeak but somehow managed to continue the staring match by herself.

Ix proceeded to remove a long, thin object from his bag. The whole thing was wrapped in paper and cord. He undid the knots to reveal a treated wooden stick.

“’Kay, Yuui, light this on fire,” he said.

“Wh-what?”

“It’s a torch. You can do that much magic, can’t you?”

“Well, yes…”

Yuui looked between the illguna and the torch and frowned. At this point, she didn’t think they would be able to drive them off just by holding up a torch. In fact, it could actually urge them to action.

Ix seemed not to notice her uncertainty. Raising an eyebrow, he whispered, “Hurry up.”

“O-okay, fine!”

She flicked her wand and created a tiny ember. Holding it at the tip of the torch was enough to bring it quickly crackling into a blaze.

The moment the fire was lit, the illguna turned their heads away, as if shaken, before returning to their previous position and continuing to stare them down.

Ix raised the torch aloft and waved it slightly in front of him to show the illguna.

“I-it’s not working…,” noticed Yuui.

“You think?”

“We should run… Huh?”

Then Yuui blinked, unable to believe her eyes.

The illguna’s noses twitched, they suddenly lifted their heads, and then they darted off into the forest.

It didn’t seem as if they’d feared the fire. Instead, it was almost as if they’d suddenly lost interest and left them at once.

“You take this. Don’t set the forest alight,” urged Ix as he held out the torch.

Their journey after that was surprisingly uneventful.

As they drew closer to the summit, the plants and trees thinned, but they also didn’t run into a single magic beast, as Yuui had feared. Those illguna were the first and the last.

Yuui looked at the burning wood in her hand and asked, “What is this thing?”

“It’s made from esne.”

“Esne. That’s the one magic beasts dislike, right?”

“Yep. The smoke spreads out if you burn it as a torch. You can ward off magic beasts in a larger area like that. I bought it at a store in town.”

“Then wouldn’t it have been better just to use this from the start?”

“No, there wasn’t any point.”

“Huh?”

“I said you can ward off magic beasts with this, but to be honest, these esne torches aren’t that effective. They help about as much as a good luck charm. Besides, there’s no way you could ward off magic beasts that had gotten that close.”

“But the illguna—”

“Yeah. Maybe the creatures on this mountain dislike esne way more than usual. Or maybe there’s another reason… Anyway, I think the bonfires and torch meant something like this.”

It took Yuui a moment to understand what Ix was talking about.

“No way… Are we re-creating the Dragon Remembrance?” she gasped.

Ix immediately acknowledged this absurd notion.

“Yep,” he said.

“‘Yep’…?”

“All festivals have their origins. I don’t think the Eye of the Mountain, the Fulmeninia, was originally a pile of sand,” explained Ix without turning back. “Is it normal to give a mound of debris as grand a name as that?”

“I don’t know what you would consider normal.”

“The ceremony that the festival originated from would have had ‘the real thing.’ If you say ‘the mountain’ to anyone in this town, they all think of the same place. There’s a ‘person of purity,’ who heads to the summit but isn’t allowed to receive help. There’s also the Light in the Eye of the Mountain, the Sabineit Fulmeninia, which is the act of using a torch to light the dragon effigy. Don’t you feel like they must represent something?”

“The Eye of the Mountain is Mount Agnas, the person of purity is the person who climbs the peak, and the Light in the Eye of the Mountain is the act of carrying a torch as you climb…?”

“It has to be. Or rather, I wish I could say for certain, but that’s what seems most likely. Dragon Remembrance was a festival that reenacted climbing the mountain.”

“How did you ever arrive at that connection?”

“At first, they probably actually climbed the peak. Then at some point, it was simplified and got replaced with a festival that took place in town. So it stands to reason that we just have to try re-creating the ceremony.”

“And how exactly do we do that?”

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” Ix nodded. “The important part is the treasure you get from the dragon effigy…”

“So were there ‘real’ gold nuggets?”

“Mount Agnas isn’t a gold mine. It wouldn’t make sense for that to be the reward you get for scaling it. Unless that was actually—”

“If all of this was true, then what was the purpose of holding a ceremony or a festival? If there was that much to gain, what possible reason could they have for limiting it to a single person a year— Oh.” Realization dawned on Yuui as she spoke. “It was so the priests could monopolize it. So that they could make a limited resource last for as long as possible. They restricted access to the summit and hid their secret behind the cover of the festival.”

“Pessimistic assumption of you to make, but perhaps.”

“But even if you think we should try re-creating it, we are not children. And it also isn’t night.”

“Those were probably details added later.”

“What makes you think that?”

“No matter how low the elevation of this mountain is, no child could climb it alone. And an adult probably couldn’t manage it at night, either. That leads me to believe those elements were tacked on to the ceremony afterward.”

“…I suppose that could be true.”

“The ‘person of purity’ label probably had less to do with them being a child and more to do with them being unable to recognize the truth despite the fact that they were participating in the ceremony. Someone who couldn’t go around telling everyone what had transpired up there, in other words. It’s possible the priests or their families did the ceremony as well…”

“That’s an unpleasant thought.”

Ix said nothing in response. Instead, he just held his hand out to ask for the torch.

They were nearing the summit and had moved into an area with piles of black stone.

The slope grew steeper, so they had to scramble up on both hands and feet. Yuui crouched on a boulder, gritting her teeth in pain as the straps from her bag dug into her shoulders.

When she looked over at Ix to see how he was doing, she found him nimbly climbing the incline. Was this the same shut-in who did nothing but craft wands? Where was he finding this stamina? Maybe he moved so dexterously since he didn’t weigh much.

The air got thinner and thinner, and the smoke hanging in the area made breathing even more difficult. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she kept scrambling upward, coughing over and over. Now it seemed obvious to her why there was no one climbing this mountain—who would choose to travel to a place like this?

Banishing unrelated thoughts from her mind, Yuui instead focused entirely on getting over each rock in front of her. If the stone she grabbed on to seemed as if it would break off, she would have to search for a different route. And if she tumbled accidentally, she would plummet into the rocks below. That was the worst-case scenario. Now she was far more anxious than when they’d faced off against the illguna.

“Hey.”

“…Huh?”

Yuui raised her head in response to the call and saw Ix holding his hand out toward her.

Nothing but sky stretched beyond him.

Gazing downward, she saw a long stretch of piled rocks.

“Take my hand,” pleaded Ix.

“No… I’ll climb…on my own!”

Yuui reached the summit without grabbing his hand.

The peak was a huge circular shape with massive boulders strewn about as far as the eye could see. The edge was probably the highest point of the mountain. It dipped down as you traveled toward its center, where the mouth of the volcano was probably located.

Yuui dropped her bag and sat by Ix’s feet. She pulled off her stuffy, pointless coat. Took several ragged breaths. Swung her arms gently and waited for the numbness to fade.

“It’s a beautiful view,” she said in admiration.

“Mm.”

From the mountain’s zenith, everything at the base looked hazy. There was Agnasruze, with its plain, quiet rows of buildings. The road leaving town was brown, and the crops in the fields swayed in the wind. If she strained her eyes, she could make out a red spot close to Agnasruze. She’d seen the halni field from all the way up here.

Once they’d finished resting, they circled around the summit, taking care not to fall. To the northeast, they could see the mountain range continue far off into the distance. Those mountains were even taller than this one.

After one lap around, they headed toward the crater of the volcano.

As they closed in, the ground suddenly gave way and opened into a deep hole with cliff-like sides.

An unending stream of white smoke puffed out of the opening, bringing with it a strange smell. Yuui checked the cloth over her mouth and wondered if she was okay to breathe it in.

Due to the angle of the sun, its rays didn’t reach the bottom of the hole, which was cloaked in an impenetrable darkness. All they knew was that it was quite deep.

“There’s no pool of lava?” murmured Yuui. She’d wondered if there was going to be a boiling pool of lava, but she’d never climbed a volcano before, so she wouldn’t know.

She looked up at Ix next to her and asked, “…Right, what now?”

“Hmm… There wasn’t any other ceremony in the festival beyond what we’ve done.” He furrowed his brow. “Like, you’d just climb the mountain, and then there’d be treasure lying around.”

“Do we have any other clues? If we do what the Dragon Remembrance did, then we…burn an effigy?”

“Burn… What is there to burn?”

Instead of gold nuggets and treasure scattered about, there was nothing but black stone. There were no signs of vegetation.

“Perhaps…,” Yuui said, looking around the summit, “…when they actually climbed the mountain, there was something. Maybe dragon hearts flew out during an eruption and fell to the rocky earth. Someone took those and bragged about stealing them from a dragon.”

She cast her eyes down and thought back.

“But as time passed, they didn’t find more dragon hearts. Most likely because of a reduction in large eruptions. However, the priest would look bad if they came away with nothing. To rectify this, they changed the treasure into gold nuggets, made the festival finish off within the town’s limits, and somehow managed to maintain the faith…until they gave the town up to the New Order.”

“So we’re too late?”

“It’s just a thought.” Yuui shrugged.

“…Right.”

Ix’s expressions might not change much, but he certainly wasn’t expressionless. Yuui had come to realize this after spending as much time with him as she had. Even so, this was the most morose she’d ever seen him. He looked almost like a child who’d been scolded as he shrank back.

“It was a foolhardy quest from the beginning, Ix. We started with not a single lead, then made theory upon theory until we finally arrived here. That was one success, at least. I’m grateful you have given your all to this,” Yuui consoled him.

“Don’t bother trying to make me feel better.”

“I was only—”

“It’s fine. Just means I really am half a craftsman in the end.” Ix hung his head. “Haah… I should have let Morna take care of it, or…”

Yuui cleared her throat and said, “Well, this isn’t the end just yet.”

“…What do you mean?”

He turned to her in utter confusion and absolute seriousness, which made Yuui smile.

“Even if we cannot manage a dragon heart, I still need my wand fixed. Would you help me with that, Ix?”

“Hmm… Guess I could borrow Morna’s shop again.”

“I have to go rescue those three. And summer will be over soon. We need to make it in time for the start of next semester at the Academy.”

“You’re right… We have to hurry back.”

“Yes, exactly.”

In contrast with what he’d just said, though, Ix made no move to go back. He stayed rooted to the spot, his head turned downward the whole time.

“Um, Ix?” Yuui looked up at his profile. “Are you all right? I know you’re upset, but we—”

“Can I try one last thing?” asked Ix as he hung his head. No, not as he hung his head—as he peered into the crater.

“Hmm? What is it?”

“Just a hunch.”

“What?” Yuui thought hard. “I don’t really get it, but do as you like.”

“’Kay.”

Ix held up the torch and threw it into the crater.

It skipped down the slope, tumbled toward the bottom of the hole, and disappeared into the darkness.

Atop the mountain, they heard nothing more than the wind.

They waited awhile. Eventually, Yuui tried to keep her tone gentle as she asked, “And what was that for?”

“Looks like it didn’t work.” Ix sighed. “Tried ‘lighting the effigy’ in my own way. Was that bad?”

“You thought dragon hearts would fly out if you threw the torch into the volcano’s crater? I see—what a pleasant idea.”

“……”

“Regardless of the correctness of your hunch, however… Um, now that you’ve thrown away our torch, how are we going to get back?”

“The smell is probably on our clothes from when we ascended, and the magic beasts here are fairly tame, all things considered. I think we’ll be fine,” Ix answered calmly.

“Huh…all right. Then let’s pray that at least your final theory is correct.” Yuui put her coat back on. “Shall we go?”

“Yeah.”

The last thing they did before leaving was to peer down into the volcano’s mouth.

White smoke leaked from the tranquil darkness.

That was all.

They nodded slightly and turned away.

And only managed a few more steps.

“What the?” cried Yuui as she stopped dead in her tracks, dumbstruck.

She glanced at Ix; he wore a similar expression.

“Yuui, be careful!”

“Be careful? How?!”

“I don’t know—!”

Ix’s voice was quickly drowned out.

Something roared so loudly that no voice could compete with it.

No human could make that sound.

Nor could any magic beast.

Nor any living creature.

It was Mount Agnas.

The mountain was roaring.

5

The explosive sound surging up from deep underground made Ix’s ears ring.

Then the air moved quickly enough to become a concussive force, sending stones and even boulders lurching.

“Shit!”

Ix instantly reached out to Yuui. They clung to each other, trying to regain their footing.

“Does this mean it’s going to erupt?!” she shouted.

“All because of the torch I threw in?!” he shouted back.

“If it is, I’ll hate you for the rest of my life!”

“There’s not much of your life left, so use it for something better!”

As they yelled back and forth, the roar faded little by little, and the tremors also diminished.

Finally, the sound completely stopped, and silence returned. The stark change in volume filled Ix’s ears with a high-pitched ringing.

Yuui lowered her arms and murmured, “It subsided?”

“I don’t know. Let’s get out of here before a second wave hits.”

“Agreed…”

Just as they started to move away from the crater, they heard another sound.

“Huh…?”

They stopped and turned back.

It wasn’t the loud roar from before but a low, gentle rumble.

No… It wasn’t a sound.

It was a voice.

“Long has it been, people of fire.”

“Wh-what was that…?” yelped Yuui as she looked around, searching for the source of the voice. But she found no one other than Ix, of course.

“No, Yuui. It’s not up here.”

“B-but then where…?”

“There,” he said, pointing into the crater. “The voice came from there.”

“From the bottom of the crater…?”

“No…not from the bottom of a ‘crater.’”

Ix brought his hand to his mouth and shook his head. He realized his hands were quivering. He’d had so many “theories” since he’d accepted this request. Ix hadn’t even told Yuui about the most unrealistic, fanciful hypothesis he’d had. But now it was coming true.

“What does that mean, Ix?!” shouted Yuui.

“It’s a dragon.”

“What?”

“What we’re standing on right now isn’t a mountain… It’s a dragon. Agnas isn’t the name of a volcano—it’s the name of a dragon,” asserted Ix. He took a few unsteady steps and shouted, “Am I right?!”

“…You are indeed,” confirmed the voice.

This time they could hear it clearly. It was a deep, calm voice, but it spoke gently to them.

“We are what you call a dragon, we are what you call Agnas, we are what you call Fulmeninia, and we are what you call a mountain.”

“The mountain…is a dragon?” Yuui shook her head over and over in disbelief.

“…I was about to say it before,” said Ix, almost to himself. “Yuui, you posited dragons were still alive but hadn’t been seen in a while because they had shrunk or turned invisible. That last hypothesis struck me. Just like if they became so small you couldn’t see them, what if dragons had grown so large as to be nearly invisible?”

The agnasite veins never ran out. Fragments of agnasite poured from the fissures in the abandoned mine.

Ix had thought dragon heart, some sort of strange gemstone, had produced those lesser gems… But there was a far more natural explanation than a stone creating a stone.

Put simply…

…the dragon heart was a heart.

It sent something throughout the mountain, the dragon’s body.

Whatever circulated throughout its massive form crystallized when it bled out.

“It wasn’t a coincidence that the compound core made of shinee aletts and agnasite was similar to the dragon heart. Of course they would be similar—they’re both partway between a mineral and a living tissue. That strong thumping I felt before wasn’t just in my mind…”

Even though he was the one saying this, Ix also couldn’t believe it. Not even fairy tales would depict a mountain who was a dragon. Who would believe such a childish fantasy…?

“…I have awaited your arrival. When last did you come…?” Agnas inquired, slowly stringing the words together.

“Th-there aren’t any records of dragons in the past thousand years,” Ix stuttered.

“A thousand years… We understand little of the calendar used by the people of fire… But that would seem to be quite some time.”

“Y-you understand our language?” asked Yuui, also quite frightened.

“Yes, we do.” The air rumbled every time Agnas spoke. “Our eyes see to the horizon, and our ears hear every feather that glances off the water’s surface. If we wish to speak with you, we can even know your hearts, regardless of the distance.”

“Dragon magic…,” murmured Ix.

Dragons had unlimited magic and could create anything they could imagine, so what Agnas was describing shouldn’t have been a surprise.

Ix felt as if his knees were on the verge of giving out, but he resisted sinking to the ground and said, “You told us we came before. What kind of people were they? Do you remember?”

“We are unable to tell apart you people of fire… Yet, yes, they only ever came alone. Though, at that time, we were smaller than we are now.”

“W-wait,” interjected Yuui. “You were smaller? I’ve never seen a record indicating Mount Agnas was smaller. Why did you get bigger? Just how long ago are we talking?”

Her shout echoed across the summit.

There was a pause afterward, and the mountain started trembling. They were hit with small, quick vibrations accompanied by a strange noise.

Agnas was laughing.

“…I see now. You know not of us,” it chuckled with some amusement.

“There are a number of legends, but…,” started Ix. “I at least have never met someone who’s seen a dragon.”

“I see, I see.”

“Um, Agnas, would you please tell me something? Why are you here? What did you mean when you said you became bigger?”

“As you wish.”

Agnas quickly agreed to her request, but Ix still couldn’t wrap his head around the situation. To a dragon, humans would be nothing more than insects crawling across its skin. So why was it being so kind to them? Ix suddenly imagined an old beast who’d calmly accepted its death.

“Are you certain, though? We have the time, but you people of fire are given so little of it,” warned Agnas.

“Well, if you could just give us a brief overview,” said Ix, to which the dragon laughed again.

“How amusing… The other people of fire who came here did not converse as you two do.”

“I-I’m sorry, have we offended you…?” asked Yuui.

“No, no, all is as it should be. That is why I am here.”

And so, Agnas began its story.

“Not even I know from whence we came. I am the last of our generation. When my eyes first opened, we soared through the skies, and we made our homes in the forests and mountains—in distant jungles, dark woodlands, great crags, mountain chains, and this very rock here.”

“In the forests and mountains…?” murmured Yuui.

“Yes. At the time, we were not so large as we are now. We had a relationship with you people of fire, and we granted you what you desired. And how different the things you lusted after were. At times, it was gold; at others, knowledge or life—I have even granted swords and the like.”

That sounded almost like the kind of treasure a hero got when killing a dragon or when a priestess beseeched a dragon.

“Wait a second,” interrupted Ix as he held a hand up. “You gave them what they wanted? What do you get out of that? Even helping humans—”

“It is not only the people of fire whom we assist. We fulfill the wishes of other peoples as well.”

“O-other peoples?”

“The people of black wings, the people of blue scales, and the people of twisted horns, which you two met before. There are many other peoples besides our own, and we draw on the energy they release. We give them what they covet so that we may return the favor. Though you, the people of fire, were the first to come to us wanting something other than sustenance, the first to come and speak with us…”

“You draw energy… Is that the source of your power?” asked Ix.

He and Yuui had discussed this before: Where would dragons get the energy to sustain their infinite magic and massive bodies? If they had the ability to absorb the magic that living creatures gave off, then you could truly call that infinite. As long as it didn’t have a cap…

“You people of fire were intriguing. There were those of you who actively engaged with us, while there were others who attempted to sever their connection with us. It was particularly amusing to interact with you through the medium of language. There were those among you who spoke of many things. That was the first joy I knew. And yet…”

Agnas’s words ceased for an instant, and white smoke blew from the crater.

“…an eternity had passed since we began. Many of us were tired. At one point, one of our kind decided to sleep and become one with the earth. When they did, others wished for that same respite. However, one of you people of fire happened to learn of our coming slumber and made a request. Said they, ‘We will be lost without you. Would you find a way to continue trading with us?’ Thus, we selected one of our youngest and tasked them with all future interactions.”

“And that was you, Agnas?” inquired Ix.

“It was indeed. That person of fire was unusual. We agreed upon a signal to be used at each visit, and we promised we would not speak outside of those times. Their kind always came one at a time. In accordance with their wish, I oversaw all engagements. The others of my kind were relieved. They drifted to sleep on top of me, one after another. Our bodies combined, and I became we. Even those of my generation eventually tired of life and sank into a torpor. And then we became longer and larger still.”

In other words…

…it wasn’t just Mount Agnas. The entire mountain range that stretched far to the northeast was a dragon collective?

“I know not how long ago that was on your calendar. That is the answer to your question.”

“Are you not…?” started Yuui. “Are you not tired?”

“I will not tire, so long as the people of fire come. I was chosen because I find a particular joy in our interactions. However…” Smoke billowed from the crater again. “From some point onward, you no longer came. We no longer engaged in conversation; you only wished from the foothills. And even that came to an end. There are a small few who come this way and a number who dig into my body, but they give no signal, nor do they wish for anything. A very few have reached these heights since, only to go far away. I simply continue to wait. I gather the carved material from inside my body and spew it from my mouth. Sometimes I doze. Yes, since this has become the norm…I suppose I have become weary.”

The records stated that dragons went extinct over a thousand years ago.

At some point, interactions with Agnas had morphed into town festivals, and now even that had gone.

How long had Agnas been biding its time?

It had become an immobile mountain. It had endured years upon years of waiting with no end in sight.

“Why?” Ix couldn’t stop the word slipping from his lips.

“What do you ask?”

“Why…do you still continue to do the task you were assigned? I get that the other dragons entrusted it to you, but you’ve done plenty. You’re tired but refuse sleep, even though humans don’t visit you. No one would even notice if you went back on your word now. What reason do you have to keep waiting here by your lonesome? To keep doing what a bunch of people who aren’t here anymore told you to…?”

“Ah,” said Agnas gently. “So long as I have what I was entrusted with, then I am we, person of fire. I am never truly alone.”

“…Oh, I guess so.” Ix shook his head a few times, then slowly spoke again. “Agnas…the steps to interact with dragons, that signal included, haven’t been passed down. Nobody knows that you exist, that you dwell here.”

“I see… I had suspected as much.”

A strong wind blew away the smoke.

“Yet, you have remembered. People of fire, you have not forgotten me. You came here and gave the signal and conversed with me. If you have, might not others as well? Might they not visit me, as they did in the past? Is that not possible?”

“…It’s not, Agnas.”

“Ix!” Yuui glared at him.

“I’m just speaking the truth. We made it here essentially by accident. I don’t think others can do the same.”

“We just need to spread the word!”

“We don’t have that kind of power,” Ix countered firmly. “So we might be able to spread the word to the few people who are near us. But who’d believe us? And even if someone does, that kind of knowledge is fragile. In the grand scheme of things, we’re going to die soon, and anyone we tell would die soon. That’s why the people made a festival so long ago; they knew people would forget eventually. That way, the story would be passed down to future generations and internalized, even if they would forget most of the details… But as strong a method of passing on information as it was, the festival was still lost. And now, those who only barely remember it are going to disappear soon…”

Ix shut his mouth.

“…I see,” murmured Agnas. “You will no longer come.”

“Agnas, I will—,” started Yuui.

“No… It is fine, person of fire.”

Smoke rose again from the mountaintop.

The distant view faded as white fog settled in.

“So if that is the shape of things, then my task has been fulfilled. The wants of the people of fire have been fulfilled…and perhaps that is fine. I will slumber, and we shall bring a brief chapter of history to a close.”

“But that’s…,” started Yuui. Her shoulders sagged. “It’s like a chapter of a book that no one ever read or was even aware of, so it simply rotted away…”

“What’re you talking about?” asked Ix.

“No, it’s nothing…” She smiled quietly. “Are there no other dragons awake besides you?”

“There are not. I am the last.”

“……”

Agnas’s gentle voice came from the direction of the white smoke.

“Tell me your desire. No matter your wish, I shall grant it.”

Ix and Yuui exchanged glances.

They nodded to each other, and Ix raised his hands.

“I wish for your…for a dragon heart. About as big as I can carry is fine,” he stated.

“Understood. So you shall have.”

“I-is that okay?” Yuui couldn’t help but ask. “It’s your heart…”

“There are a number of hearts within my body,” replied Agnas. “If there were not, they could not carry the warmth throughout its entirety. Losing one or two is simply a fragment of the whole, so it will do no harm. Here.”

From the center of the smoke rose a gemstone so large, you could wrap your arms around it.

It was red. Steaming. Something between a mineral and the flesh of a living creature.

It was a dragon heart.

“There was one other before who also asked for one of my hearts…,” noted Agnas.

It floated to Ix and settled in his arms, weighing them down.

“It’s heavy! And hot!” he shrieked.

Ix nearly tossed it aside but somehow managed to hold on to it without letting it go.

He looked at the glimmering red object in his arms. He felt as if he could hear a faint thump, thump.

He finally had it.

As he gazed at the dragon heart, a grin spread across his face. With this much, he could craft wands to his heart’s content.

“Now, tell me your other wish,” said Agnas.

“…Huh?” said Yuui. “I—I thought…it was only one wish?”

“There has never been such a restriction. There are two of you. Therefore, I shall fulfill two wishes. Speak, person of fire.”

“I-Ix…,” stammered Yuui as she looked at Ix with unease.

“Ask for what you want, Yuui,” he insisted.

“But the dragon heart is for me!”

“No. What you wanted was for the wand to be mended. Needing a dragon heart for it was merely something for myself.”

They were each reflected in the other’s eyes.

Eventually, Yuui nodded.

“…All right.” She wetted her parched lips. “Agnas…are there people inside you?”

“Yes, there are many.”

“Um, not those ones. I mean, any within your body who are trapped? There should be three of them.”

“Hmm… I am not certain if they are unable to leave, but some have not moved in quite a while. But there are indeed three. They are caught partway down one of my vessels.”

“Are they…s-still alive?”

“They are. It is weak, but the flame of life still burns within them. All three of them.”

“Oh, thank goodness…” Yuui let out a sigh of relief. “Agnas, please, please rescue those three!”

“Is that what you wish?”

“…Yes.”

“Understood. So shall you receive.”

“Th-thank you!” She bowed.

“No…it is I who should thank you.”

The smoke slowly cleared.

It vanished to reveal a clear blue sky.

“I would thank both of you, people of fire, for remembering me, for journeying here.”

“N-no, thank you so much. I pray from the bottom of my heart that your slumber is peaceful,” said Yuui.

“Slumber is, by its nature, a peaceful thing. But your kindness brings me joy.”

“…I-Ix, don’t you want to say something?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” He seemed unsure of what to say until Yuui prodded him. Then, suddenly, he began with, “…Hey, Agnas.”

“Yes?”

“Do dragons also become dust when they go to sleep?”

The mountain momentarily shook in delight.

And then the voice of the last dragon came no more.

Yuui and Ix lingered on a mountaintop scene that was just as it had been when they’d arrived.

6

Yuui and Ix descended the mountain.

They climbed down the rocks, passed through the underbrush they had cut away, and marched down the forest trail.

No magic beasts appeared on their trip back.

“By the way…,” Yuui said to Ix as they walked. “Was Agnas’s answer helpful?”

“What answer?”

“Why it still did what people who were gone had told it to.”

“Oh…no, that wasn’t really what I meant by my question.” Ix looked upward slightly.

Perhaps Agnas had realized the question had been intended for Ix himself.

And Ix had understood that as he’d listened to Agnas’s answer.

The sadness he’d felt as he left the shop back then—it wasn’t sentimental attachment to the home he’d grown up in…

Ix sighed, hiding his emotions from Yuui.

And so his reason had been the same as Agnas’s.

As long as he had something that had been entrusted to him, then the dead were not truly gone.

That contract had filled the hole left by his master’s death.

But Ix wouldn’t share that with anyone.

He sealed his reasoning deep within his heart and did not think of it again.

It was too painful to acknowledge.

He felt like a child.

“By the way, why did the townsfolk make that agreement with the dragon?” Yuui wondered aloud, changing the subject as if she’d been deliberating over it. “Whatever you wished for, the dragon would grant you. And yet, they limited it to only a single request from a single individual a year…”

“You’re the one who said it was probably so the priests could monopolize on the profit, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes. But…” Yuui brought a hand to her mouth. “What about this? If something could conveniently grant everything you could imagine, then people would overuse it. Perhaps they were trying to protect the dragon from humans by hiding it behind a ceremony…”

“That would be ironic, considering it was because they hid it behind a ceremony that people forgot the original intent and stopped climbing the mountain.”

“Agnas is too kind. It even granted the wishes of people who didn’t climb the mountain…” Yuui sighed. “We’ve researched so much, yet there are so many riddles still left. For instance, how did the New Order so completely eliminate the old faith?”

“We’ve gone over it before.” Ix nodded slightly. “Because the townspeople were angry that the priests hoarded all the treasure from the festival.”

“But the opposite is also possible. If they actually took that treasure and spread it throughout town, then the people would get rich. They all happily held their faith, and so the New Order had to come down hard.”

There was a loud flapping of wings, and a black bird flew over their heads. It quickly disappeared behind the tree branches.

“Documents… If we search, we might find records about that,” posited Yuui.

“We’re out of time. We couldn’t find out why.”

“Sigh… There’s so much we don’t understand.”

“That’s normal.”

The only thing that spoke of the past were records.

So they would learn nothing else of this place.

How lively was that lost festival?

How kind was the dragon they had sung of?

No document could tell them that.

7

When Ix opened his eyes, a ray from the morning sun peeked into the room. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. He moved Morna, who was sleeping on the pile on top of him. She let out a groan when she hit the ground.

Ix yawned and went to the front of the shop.

Excited by the opportunity to work with the dragon heart, he and Morna had stirred themselves into a frenzy. For the past few days, they’d labored until their bodies couldn’t, sleeping only when they passed out from exhaustion.

When Ix entered the hallway, Yuui turned to him.

With her hands on her hips, she said, “Good morning. It’s already noon.”

“Mm, morning.”

“It’s not good for you to go without rest—you know that, right?”

“My body will tell me its limits.”

“Really…”

Ottou was there but didn’t look toward Ix. He was engrossed with cleaning the shop. With his small grin plastered perpetually on his face, he took the scattered materials and furniture and put them back in their place.

Ix sat in a chair and bit into a hunk of bread.

The wand repair was going well, since he also had Morna’s help. It seemed they might just be able to finish it in time for Yuui’s next semester.

“Anyway, please stop pushing yourself so much,” insisted Yuui as she pulled her hood far down over her face.

“You going out?” asked Ix.

“Yes, I have a promise to—”

Just as she was about to open the door to leave, someone opened it from the other side.

“Hello!” came the high-pitched voice.

A young girl stood in the entrance. She had long golden hair and wore high-end clothing, though her outfit was slightly oversize. It appeared that a daughter of a noble family had somehow wandered into their filthy hole-in-the-wall.

She beamed a smile as bright as the sun and looked at each of the three people in the shop in turn.

“Shigan Aym,” said Ottou immediately.

She spoke again before Ix could ask how Ottou knew her.

“You figured me out even like this… Interesting.” The girl brought a hand to her chin. “We should assume my appearance didn’t tip you off. Perhaps my posture or my accent allowed you to determine my identity…”

Ix was surprised by the sudden change in the girl’s tone, and then she quickly began to expand.

There was an odd popping sound as each of the bones in her body warped.

Then an old man stood before them.

He was quite tall and of bony build, but he had perfectly straight posture. He resembled a narrow beam. The wrinkles cut deep into his face, and his eyes glinted like a hawk’s. His white hair was cut short.

Standing next to him was Yuui, who suddenly had to look up at him.

“Uh…P-Professor Shigan?” she asked.

“Hmm? Are you a student at the Academy?” Shigan raised an eyebrow.

“Y-y-yes… My name is Yuui Laika.”

“Yuui… The study abroad student from Lukutta. Have you come for a wand order as well?”

“No, I have requested a wand repair…”

“I see. Ms. Morna’s skills are top class. To excel at magic, you must first find an excellent wandmaker. You have quite the potential.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Are you a student as well?” Shigan turned his eyes toward Ix.

“No.” His denial was blunt.

“Oh, h-he’s a wandmaker as well,” clarified Yuui hurriedly. “His name is Ix. He’s actually the one I asked to repair my wand.”

“Ah…Munzil’s last apprentice?”

“…Yeah,” answered Ix.

“Ix, you’re being rude!”

“No, it’s no problem. Wandmakers place wands above people. As they should,” said Shigan before turning to look down at Yuui. “Anyhow, were you about to leave?”

“Oh, yes, I was, but…”

“Pay me no mind, then. Feel free to go. We shall meet again at the Academy.”

“Y-yes, sir.” Yuui looked between Shigan and Ix and vaguely bowed her head. “I-I’ll be taking my leave, then…”

As that was happening, Ottou had brought a staff over from the rack in the shop. It was painted completely white, with a blue gem embedded in the top.

“Here it is,” said Ottou as he handed it over to the professor.

“Mm, thank you, Ottou.”

He took the staff and slipped it into his inside pocket. It disappeared from sight, though there was no way it could have fit.

His eyes swept the shop until they came to settle on Ix again.

“Ix, would you mind taking a walk with me?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“I have something to speak with you about. Come with me.” Shigan opened the shop door as if it was a given that the other person would do as he ordered. “Ottou, please express my thanks to Ms. Morna.”

“Okay.” Ottou nodded.

Shigan tucked his chin in slightly, then turned and left.

Not knowing what else to do, Ix also left the store. Shigan was apparently a fast walker, as he’d already moved some distance down the street.

Ix jogged to catch up and fell in beside him.

The sounds from the busy main street drifted to where they were.

“Munzil did a lot for me,” noted Shigan with no other introduction. “Many of the wands and staffs I own were crafted by his hands. He was the greatest wandmaker in history. His death was a terrible loss for the magic community.”

“Uh-huh.”

“However, instead of wands, he left behind excellent apprentices, Ms. Morna being at the top of that list. I have already availed myself of her services on several occasions. The staff I received this time is also of superb craftsmanship.”

“Morna would be happy to hear it.”

“I will order from you in time as well.”

“No point. I’m just half a craftsman.”

“Is that so?”

Something suddenly struck Shigan.

There was a large brown stain on his clothes. Ix looked down the street to see a group of poor children who seemed to have hurled a ball of mud at him. They noticed Ix glaring at them and fled as quickly as possible.

But Shigan’s eyebrows didn’t even budge. He kept walking at the same pace, staring ahead as before. The complete lack of reaction made Ix wonder if he’d even noticed the mud ball.

Ix caught up with him again, and the professor said, “I met you once before. Do you remember?”

“No.”

“Really? It was you who gave me the wand.”

“I gave it to you?” Ix’s brow crinkled for a while; then he murmured quietly, “…Engraved number 9889, Transmitted?”

“Ah, there’s that memory. It was excellent even back then. I went to pick up the wand I had ordered, and Munzil called you over, just a little child. All he said was ‘Get the wand.’ An absurd order. Yet, in no time flat, you found the wand and brought it out from that horrifically cluttered shop.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” countered Ix, frowning. “It might have looked cluttered, but it was organized. Everything was sorted how Master liked it, by crafted date, core material, wood material, disposition, engraved number. It was easy as long as you knew that.”

“But for a child so young he could barely speak to have that kind of memory?”

“I was an abandoned kid. Anyone could do that if it ensured their survival.”

Shigan nodded, then said, “This is a conversation we couldn’t have had while Munzil was alive, but… He often talked about who among his apprentices had the most talent. He told me it was his last apprentice… That it was you, Ix.”

“…That’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s true.”

“Impossible. I don’t have magic. I can’t even use test magic. Even if I go through all the effort of making a wand, I can’t test its abilities myself. Talent isn’t even part of the equation—I’ve been half-baked from birth.”

“It was because of that that you were peerless. Your greatest talent is the fact that you are unable to use magic.”

“What are you saying?”

“Listen, if you wish to push a wand to its utmost potential, you have to see it from the outside. You can’t go inside. Imagine if you were inside the belly of a massive beast. All you could see from in there would be the inside of its stomach. What you could understand would be only a fraction of the whole. You don’t even know what the beast looks like, do you? It’s the same for all kinds of things. If you look at something from the inside, all you can glimpse is a tiny portion of it. If you go outside, you can finally grasp its true nature. Using magic means you are trapped within its stomach. Once that happens, it doesn’t matter how much you improve your skill—you will never be able to escape that viewpoint. In that regard, you are unblemished. Because you cannot use magic, you, and you alone, can observe it from the outside. You have a talent that no one else does.”

“Who would say—?”

“Those were Munzil’s words.”

“Master…?”

The two continued, walking away from the main road.

The hubbub died down, and they finally returned to a quiet alley.

“I don’t believe you. I don’t have that kind of talent,” Ix said.

“Hmm, you really think so?”

“Of course. What can I even do?” Ix glared at Shigan as if challenging him. “It’s because I’m untalented that—”

“You fixed Ms. Yuui’s wand, did you not? That wand.” Shigan’s eyes showed a brief sparkle. “Could any craftsman besides you have accomplished that?”

Ix suddenly came to a halt.

Shigan didn’t seem to notice, and the sound of his footsteps grew distant.

“Shigan, you know about that wand…?” asked Ix.

The professor gave no reply.

Ix looked down the road, but there was no sign of Shigan.

Ix continued on, alone.

Shigan’s words swirled through his mind.

Master?

Really?

He’d actually said that?

To look from the outside, not the inside?

“Ah… For the love of… It’s this kind of thing,” Ix muttered to himself, a hand to his forehead. “It’s way too late for advice now…”

8

Curiosity was plastered on all the faces of the people gathered on the main street.

They were staring at the Lukutta delegation in the middle of the road where a group of people walked—their skin brown, their hair black, and their clothing unfamiliar.

They were likely treated as some sort of strange exhibition when they’d arrived in the capital as well. It seemed they drew quite the crowd. Yuui sighed.

A person in the mob would cheer, then another would jeer, and then it would devolve into a huge ruckus. You couldn’t tell if they were taunting the delegation or welcoming them. All Yuui knew was that if her hood hadn’t been on, she would have been treated exactly the same.

Separated from the crowd, Yuui stood facing another person.

“…How have you been feeling afterward?” she asked.

“Ah, no problems. Dann and Rozalia seem good, too. That all happened, but it’s so weird…,” said Tomah with a bewildered smile. “Actually, I say ‘That all happened,’ but I don’t even know what ‘that’ is. We broke the wall in the abandoned mine and fell into a river, and it’s blank after that.”

“I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

“…But really, what was that?”

By the time they’d come to, Tomah, Dann, and Rozalia were collapsed on the sand mound in Agnasruze for some reason. It caused an uproar, since there was the question of how a group who had supposedly met an unfortunate end had gotten there, but there had been other reasons for the commotion.

For one, despite the square’s heavy foot traffic, not a single person saw the moment they arrived. It wasn’t as if they fell from the sky or came up from the ground. They just appeared in an instant, as though they’d been there from the beginning.

Another strange thing was that they had all been coated in blood, from head to toe. They’d been dyed completely red, worse than you would even expect from a mangled corpse. Yet, there also hadn’t been a single identifiable wound on their bodies. They’d undergone harsh interrogation about whose blood it belonged to.

In the end, with some help from Tomah’s family, they’d returned to Leirest without incident, though the questions only grew from there. Even Yuui wasn’t sure how they’d gone uninjured. Either they’d been unbelievably lucky or someone had wished for their safety, and their wish had been fulfilled.

“…Anyway, Yuui. Thanks for taking the time to talk,” said Tomah.

“I did promise.”

“Then let me just get this out,” prefaced Tomah, sobering up. “I’m sorry for the insensitive things I said back then. It was my fault. So…why don’t you come and be an adventurer with us again? I know I’ve hurt you, and if there’s anything I can do to fix it, I will. I know I’m being selfish, but please. We need you.”

“Aren’t you being a little too flattering?” chided Yuui gently. “Is this proposal meant for my own good?”

“Yeah, well, I won’t deny that I’ve got a selfish desire to help you, but I meant what I said. You are excellent both in your studies and in magic. I have no idea how many times you’ve saved our bacon. So…please, will you help us?”

“…Tomah, thank you.”

“So—” Tomah’s expression brightened.

“But I’m sorry—I cannot accept,” Yuui admitted, holding up a hand. “I am grateful for everything you three have done for me since I arrived at the Academy. You treated me with such kindness, even though I came from an enemy country and could barely speak your language. Truly…I couldn’t repay you even if I worked for my entire life to make it up.”

She paused and shook her head.

“But I can’t be with you. For the sake of our happiness,” she said.

“I know I—”

“Please don’t misunderstand. Tomah, I don’t hate you. And I don’t hate your father. This won’t change the fact that we will still be classmates. The person I hated…”

She looked down and touched her earring.

“…To be honest,” she mumbled, her voice low, “I planned on getting revenge.”

“Huh? O-on whom?” yelped Tomah in a panic, and he looked left and right.

“It was…,” started Yuui, and she smiled sadly.

It was before the wand broke.

She spoke with Tomah at the Academy, and she felt despair.

She despaired at her own stupidity.

The one she’d thought foolish was herself.

And then the delegation… How they, like her past self, so optimistically believed they could come to understand one another if they talked.

Yuui had wanted to show them how foolish that sentiment was. And to do that, she would show them her revenge.

She would exact vengeance.

On whom?

On the liar.

The liar who’d told her he had no desire to die yet never came back.

She would get revenge with the wand he’d placed in her hand.

He told her to live, and so she would get her revenge.

She did it as soon as she thought of it.

Brought the wand to her own throat.

Closed her eyes.

Then there had been a shattering sound.

But she knew now that the liar hadn’t lied. She’d realized it when she’d glimpsed that wandmaker apprentice’s face.

“It was…an immoral thing. I can no longer do immoral things,” admitted Yuui.

“I don’t really understand…” Tomah crossed his arms. “Yuui, you’re not the kind of person who can do something immoral.”

“So it seems to you.”

Yuui adjusted her hood so it wouldn’t be blown off by the wind.

Then she looked straight forward and stared at Tomah.

“Tomah, we cannot come to understand each other. Just as there are some things you can never grasp no matter how much you research, no matter how much we talk things over, we are two people who cannot empathize with each other. That is why we can’t be together. We can chat at school, and we can learn side by side. But…it’s still impossible for us to be together right now. Neither of us did anything wrong; it is just a simple fact. We’re never going to see eye to eye.”

“But, Yuui!” shouted Tomah. “You said ‘right now,’ yeah? Does that mean I can hope we will understand each other someday?”

The crowd grew louder.

If that was to happen, she thought.

If that was to happen, it would be far in the future.

Once the beginning had been forgotten and only a festival remained.

When they weren’t just two countries, allied in name only but connected by true discourse.

On the day when the delegation from the east could walk down this street and meet a joyous welcome.

Even someone who’d refused to speak to anyone, just to uphold an agreement, had gotten their wish granted after many years.

“Yes. Yes, you can,” said Yuui. She had a truly happy smile on her face. “It may be a hundred years from now, or maybe a thousand, but someday we will.”