Interlude

Menou first learned about Japan during her training in the monastery.

Those who are chosen to become part of the Faust are always female—and orphans as well.

Members of the Faust cannot get married. Once someone becomes a priestess, she will never be allowed to have a family. If ever she wishes to get married, she must give up her position. The official reason was that priestesses devoted their whole selves to the Lord, but these rules were actually in place to prevent partiality due to family, since the Faust have such powerful influence.

At any rate, there was one monastery that collected and trained particularly high-achieving girls.

The headquarters of the Faust, which held sway over the entire continent. Located deep in the holy land, it was isolated from the outside world. When young Menou was brought to this monastery by her Master, a harsh life awaited her.

The intensive training was intended to cultivate the girls’ physical and conjuring-related abilities. This included instruction in deception, survival, and many other skills. They engaged in thorough study of every culture, subject, and specialization imaginable; many students dropped out, unable to keep up with the rigorous curriculum.

Menou was never especially talented, but she spent her days in the monastery where her Master brought her.

They were educated especially thoroughly on the nation called Japan.

The more she learned about it, the more strange a place it seemed.

Its systems were far more complex than any societies she’d encountered on the way to this monastery, and its unique arts and technologies showed no trace of conjuring. It all seemed so unfamiliar that when she learned it was in another world, it made perfect sense.

However, when they were told that people from that place were considered taboo without exception, the young Menou was confused.

“And it’s forbidden? …So people who come from there can’t go back?”

“Good question, Menou.”

Remembering the girl who turned her town pure white, Menou looked up at her teacher, the tall priestess with the dark-red hair.

“Can Otherworlders who are summoned here not go back to their world? The answer lies with the ancient civilization where humanity once reached its peak of glory.”

“Right.”

Very long ago, before the social estates were divided into three and the Lord put in place the current world structure, there was an era in which human culture bloomed. This ancient civilization conquered the land, traversed the seas, and even ventured into the sky and beyond the stars.

“Their culture was so advanced that it was said nothing was impossible. That prosperity was accomplished with the help of many Otherworlders, and more important, rampant use of the greatest taboo of all—Pure Concepts.”

The civilization that had actively worked together with Otherworlders, making cultural strides based on the knowledge they shared and with the help of conjuring drawn from the Concept Dimension, was one day destroyed by four Human Errors.

Sword of Salt. Starhusk. Pandemonium. Mechanical Society.

These enormous calamities, known as the Four Major Human Errors, left severe scars on the planet even now.

“The ancient civilization achieved an incredibly high standard of living, but they were dependent on Otherworlders. So much so that the language of this world even became one with the Otherworlders’ mother tongue.”

The Master pursed her lips.

This civilization had long since fallen, but it proved how valuable Pure Concepts and the knowledge of Otherworlders could be. Surviving artifacts from that era were known as “ancient relics” and highly prized. Most of them were treated as artwork, but the few that were still functional were considered national treasures.

“And even then, it’s said that it was impossible for Otherworlders to go back.”

In other words, even though the people who came from Japan didn’t want to be brought here, there was no way to send them back.

“As soon as they arrive in this world, a Pure Concept is attached to their souls. They cannot go home. So the only solution is to kill any Otherworlders who come here.”

“But did those people do anything wrong?”

“Not really? I’m sure some of them are bad, but as far as I know, most are good people.”

“Then is the ideology of their world dangerous?”

“Nope. I’m sure their world has many different beliefs, just as ours.”

“Then why? Surely, there must be some other way besides killing them, right…?”

“No, there isn’t.”

The Master, who was in charge of this unique monastery that trained Executioners, didn’t stop to think for a moment before responding.

“Why do we kill them? Because we are the villains.”

She spoke deliberately and logically, as if to drill it into the young Menou.

“For justice? For faith? For the Lord? For peace? There’s no excuse. We aren’t on the side of righteousness. We will not be rewarded. We will not be commended. We will not be mourned. We’ll be hated and resented. And someday, we will live out our usefulness and be tossed aside. That is the sort of villains we are.”

The Master leaned in close and whispered in Menou’s ear.

“So kill them.”

In order to carve it into her young heart, her flesh, and the very marrow of her bones.

“Whether the target is good or bad, kill anything that carries a Pure Concept. Kill them all, by any means necessary. Deceive and murder them. Catch them by surprise and eliminate them. Take their hand and exterminate them. Speak words of friendship and destroy them. Whisper words of love and kill them. Use every cowardly, dirty, underhanded method available. Keep on killing, staining your hands in dirt and blood, until the day you die.”

It was a strange lesson.

Not for the sake of the world, or for peace, or for their great Lord, or even for the Faust. The Master offered no words of comfort toward the awful deed.

Kill because you are the villain.

This lesson, which refused to justify the students’ actions, would be difficult for any ordinary person to accept.

“Remember your hometown. That’s what Otherworlders do.”

Having received such unusual wisdom, Menou sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, then suddenly brought up a different subject entirely.

“Master, do you know the girl who came here recently, who’s just two years younger than me?”

“Nope.”

“I see. She’s very cute.”

There was an adorable, fluffy-haired girl who had just come to the monastery.

Menou remembered her face, which she’d laid eyes on yesterday.

“You see, she cries a lot.”

“…So what?”

Children crying during training was probably nothing unusual to the Master. She looked disinterested, but Menou didn’t pay any mind to her reaction.

There was something else that Menou was concerned about.

That girl always wept at the end of each training or lesson.

I hate this place. I don’t want to fight. Everyone here has a few screws loose.

She kept on crying, even though the fact that she was here must mean she had nowhere else to call home.

Whenever Menou approached her, the girl would shoo her away in tears. When she tried to reach out a hand to comfort her, the crying girl would scream “Don’t touch me!” and slap her away. She glared at Menou every single time, saying she hated anyone who accepted the idea of murder, rejecting her over and over.

No doubt this girl hated Menou.

All Menou could really do was sit close by until the girl stopped crying.

But when she listened to the girl’s complaints, Menou couldn’t help thinking that the girl was absolutely right.

“Anyone would object to killing the innocent, I think. It’s perfectly natural to cry at the idea of becoming someone who executes good people.”

“…And?” The Master looked less interested by the second, but Menou just kept going.

“We all want to be praised, and loved, and accepted, I think. But if we kill good people, then we lose that luxury.”

“……”

This wasn’t just about the girl with fluffy hair.

None of them wanted to become killers.

Would they give up crying and become expressionless? Would they fool themselves by putting on a sardonic smile? Would they devote themselves to their faith and trust that they were doing the right thing?

The girls’ hearts were changing in many different directions, but they all shared one mutual feeling.

They didn’t want to kill people.

Which was exactly why they had to change.

“Only a bad person would kill a good person who hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Even Menou, whose memories had been made white, understood that much.

“So, Master…”

You’re still gonna keep complaining? The Master looked displeased, but then her face froze when Menou continued.

“…I’ll kill more of these forbidden entities than anyone else, as many as I can.”

The Master gaped at her, dumbfounded.

Menou looked right into her Master’s face and explained her logic.

“I’m sure nobody here wants to murder the innocent. They’re all normal people.”

Unlike me.

They weren’t like Menou, who had lost her hometown and memories, who had nothing precious to her.

These children all had pasts, all had so much more than just a name.

“So I’ll kill in everyone else’s stead. I’ll kill as many people as I can.”

That way, the others wouldn’t be forced to kill innocent people—or at least not quite as often.

Menou had made up her mind.

She didn’t have the power to change the world, but she could still dirty her hands in someone else’s place.

“I will be pure, proper, and powerful. I’ll become a villain.”

“…Ha!”

The Master burst out laughing.

“Ah-ha-ha! Bah-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! As many as you can? In everyone else’s stead? You? Kill? Bah-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha… You really are an idiot.”

She abruptly stopped laughing, leaning in close to Menou.

“Menou, your prowess for conjuring isn’t anything special among the candidates who’ve been chosen for this monastery. They’re below average.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Your physical potential is even lower. It’s not at the bottom, but it doesn’t even come close to average.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Regarding your memory, comprehension, reaction, adaptability—your head’s not half-bad, but here, it’s just standard. There are plenty of girls smarter than you. And your faith doesn’t run deep either. Average.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Your face isn’t bad. You’ll probably grow up to be beautiful, enough that you’ll be able to win over your targets, men and women alike. Above average.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“To summarize, slightly below average. Pretty mediocre starting point, don’t you think? And you’re saying you’ll become as strong as me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I see. Then I’ll teach you everything I know. Everything I am. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Menou met her eyes squarely.

The Master was a Faust instructor, formerly the Executioner Flare.

She hunted more taboos than anyone else, making her essentially a living legend.

“Master, please make me into an Executioner.”

“All right. I’ll train you into a top-tier, full-fledged one.”

She opened her mouth wide and laughed, looking genuinely entertained.

“You’ll absorb everything I am with that blanched-white soul and spirit of yours. And if someday it’s all broken down by happiness, and you still manage to survive…well, then you’ll surpass even me.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Bah-ha-ha, good answer. First, we’ll learn Guiding Camouflage, to do something about your horrible control over your powers.”

She half-heartedly placed her hand on Menou’s head.

“And we should do something about your hair. Oftentimes, women can win over a target with looks alone. Your looks are a weapon. So it’s important to be stylish.”

“Yes, ma’am. Stylish. I see.”

Thus, Menou was to be reborn as her teacher’s masterpiece, Flarette.