Chapter Three: Shiro, the Magic Nerd, and the Odd One Out

After leaving Eutel’s room, Herscherik began leading the androgynous young man down the hall. Who knows what that archbishop’s scheming, but I’ll take my chances. The Church approaching him after such a long period of no-contact was the perfect opportunity. Herscherik had reached the conclusion that, no matter what trap they were leading him into, it was better than having them continue to do their dirty work out of sight.

I doubt they’ll come at my throat in the castle anyway... Oh? Herscherik realized that he was starting to draw more eyes than usual. He had resigned to a certain amount of uncomfortable attention attached to his princely status, but this was almost alarming... until he saw that everyone they passed was actually gazing right above his head and straight at the person following him.

There was a saying in Japan that a beautiful woman could single-handedly topple a nation. While the person following behind him was not technically a woman, Herscherik couldn’t help but think the saying still applied. His beauty was truly superhuman. As if to prove his point, even the workers in the royal quarters, who were all accustomed to seeing the country’s most beautiful faces on a daily basis, were all stopped in their tracks as they passed, entranced by the man’s appearance.

He’s simply stunning. There’s no other way to put it. Herscherik stole a glance without slowing down. In fact, the man had a different sort of beauty than Herscherik’s father or brothers. While the members of the royal family were attractive, no one would have mistaken them for a woman. William and Eutel might have been a bit on the androgynous side, but they were still clearly male. Almost no one would think the person following Herscherik now was actually a man, though, unless they heard his voice. Even then, he spoke in a bright tenor that could easily pass for a woman’s voice.

“What is it...?” the man asked, picking up on Herscherik’s stare.

“Oh...” Herscherik hesitated for a beat, then timidly asked: “You’re really... not a woman?”

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry!” Herscherik immediately apologized, as the man had glared back at him with a full-blown scowl. The beautiful ones have the fiercest temper—it’s true! He’s kinda scaring me! As droplets of cold sweat trickled down his back, Herscherik began to hurry toward their destination when a thought occurred to him.

I don’t know his name. He had neglected to ask, although Herscherik ultimately blamed the archbishop for skipping introductions.

“Now what?”

Herscherik cowered for a moment beneath the glare of the now even grumpier pretty-boy. Once again, he was reminded of the white cat that had lived in Ryoko’s neighborhood. The resemblance is uncanny. Shiro was a fickle cat who would give a little meow when he was happy, but only ever gave Ryoko a side eye and the swipe of the tail when he was not. Since the cat wasn’t exactly skinny and had a coat as white as a freshly laundered towel, Ryoko had always wondered if the cat belonged to someone. On the other hand, Shiro wore no collar and was out and about late at night. Perhaps he had a few houses that he frequented.

With the image of Shiro the white cat on his mind, Herscherik looked up to meet the man’s eyes. “May I ask your name?”

“You don’t need it. I’m not your servant.”

Herscherik let out a sigh at the stark rejection. Shiro was as cold as ice, too, when he wasn’t happy. Of course, the cat at least had a soft side. He’d at least let me pet him when he was happy. Recalling how cute the cat had been, Herscherik returned his gaze to the man behind him. Speaking in such a way to royalty was enough cause to put him under arrest—though Herscherik himself preferred the cavalier attitude to the usual brown-nosing and thought it absolutely ridiculous to lock anyone up for something like that. Moreover, he decided to be an adult despite his appearance and forgive the teenager.

That being said, it was inconvenient not to have a name to address him by. “I see... Then I’ll call you Shiro.”

“What!?” The man’s brow shot up.

Herscherik responded with a bright smile. “It’s really inconvenient for me not to have a name to call you. What choice do I have if you won’t tell me your real name?” The little prince thought back to how he’d also given Kuro his name without permission as he carefully observed the handsome face before him.

The beautiful young man’s jaw dropped. I feel like he’s not subtle enough to pull off some clever scheme. It’s not in his nature, I think. Even though he’s got quite the bite. If this young man had an ulterior motive, he would have tried to conceal his irritation. Anyone with something to hide wore a pleasant mask for the purpose. It was the same with Minister Barbosse, Archbishop Hoenir, and even Herscherik, who played the harmless little prince. In a way, he was no different from either of them. Herscherik scoffed in self-deprecation—that was the reason he could glimpse those cracks in the mask so easily, after all.

“So, Mister Shiro. I’ll show you to the library first. We have some rare prints, so it’s a wonderful place if you’re interested. Oh, and...” Herscherik bowed apologetically. Shiro was taken aback at the sudden gesture, but Herscherik didn’t notice. “I’m really sorry I mistook you for a woman.” Without waiting for a response, Herscherik straightened his back and started down the hall again.

Shiro looked like he wanted to say something, but Herscherik wasn’t sure what it was. I still can’t say if he’s with the enemy. The prince contemplated his companion as they walked along. At the very least, he didn’t sense any animosity or ill intent from him. Caution was important, but acting on preconceptions and assumptions was a dangerous game with irreversible consequences. But the Church made its move... Something must be afoot. That much seemed undeniable.

Herscherik invited Shiro into the library, thoughts whirring inside his brain behind his harmless, pleasant mask. He didn’t miss Shiro’s grumpiness vanishing as soon as he entered the room. Yep. I was hyped when I first came here, too. The library was in the eastern wing of the castle, in the middle of the department of Magic and Research. It spanned three stories, and every inch of the walls was covered in books.

This place is a bibliophile’s paradise. Who needs fresh air when you can have this? Herscherik had begun his studies at age three and scoured through practically every book in the royal library. Eventually the royal collection wasn’t enough, so Herscherik began frequenting the castle’s main library with his father’s permission. Of course, his book-loving father had been excited to grant him access.

Taking note of Herscherik’s entrance, the librarian stood to greet them, but the prince stopped him with the shake of his head. Herscherik would often spend his free time discussing what he’d read with the librarian, but today, free time was in short supply. “Mister Shiro, is there anything you would be interested in?”

Shiro almost protested the unwanted nickname, but shook his head in resignation. “Something about magic, I suppose...”

“Magic... Should be over here.” Herscherik climbed up the stairs. He recalled that the books on magic were shelved in the middle level.

Once shown to the correct section, Shiro picked up a book with curiosity and began skimming the text. Herscherik hesitated to speak to his guest. He didn’t enjoy having his reading interrupted, after all.

Hoenir said he only has eyes for magic. I guess Shiro’s a Spellcaster. Herscherik watched his guest carefully, as he remained focused on his book. Just as he’d first noticed, Shiro was thin and frail-looking for a man. His hand that poked out from beneath his sleeve, adorned by multiple bracelets, looked as thin as a twig. Herscherik, too, had the problem of remaining small, frail, and weak despite his daily training. I’d love to get taller, and I’d want some muscles, even if it’s not as much as Oran or Kuro. While Oran had a more slender build than the other knights, he was secretly kind of ripped, with a six pack and everything. Kuro, too, was fully equipped with rigorously trained muscles that were geared more towards flexibility, compared to Oran’s power.

But where did that leave Herscherik? Giving Shiro a quick glance as he kept his nose between the pages, Herscherik rolled up his sleeve to reveal a frail, bony stick of a wrist. The prince sighed. This is too thin, isn’t it? While he didn’t really have any frame of reference since he rarely saw other children his age, he couldn’t help but think that he was much skinnier than he remembered Ryoko being as a child. Despite holding on to a glimmer of hope that children might just mature at a different rate in this fantasy world, Herscherik knew that it was ultimately nothing but a pipe dream. His brothers were all taller and better built than the average Japanese man, after all. Herscherik sighed, hoping again that he’d end up at least in the ordinary category.

“Prince Herscherik?”

Hearing his name out of the blue, Herscherik’s head snapped up. Any member of the royal family, no matter who, served as the face of the nation. He couldn’t be caught looking woeful or sighing to himself. That could come back to bite him some day. But Herscherik saw he needn’t concern himself with that upon realizing who had called his name. “Mister Sigel, hello!”

The man addressed by that name answered with a little nod. He was lanky and tall, with light-blue hair and indigo eyes behind a pair of spectacles. He looked more like a student than a seasoned scholar. Herscherik had first met him through Marx during the drug trafficking incident; Sigel worked for the department of Research and was Marx’s Spellcaster of service. Most importantly, he was a serious magic nerd. In his own words, he took Marx’s job offer because “you can’t beat a job with three meals and a cot, a lenient boss, and an all-access pass to any lab.”

Herscherik had heard that, naturally, Sigel was quite adept with magic, too. Not that Herscherik had ever seen Sigel actually cast a spell. He was more inclined towards magical items than spells themselves. In fact, he had devoted his life to the study of them. His biggest interest was magical items used in ancient times—Sigel lived and breathed his research into ingenious artifacts lost to history. As a bona-fide nerd, he showed little interest in anything else, although he was socially adept enough to take notice of and hold conversations with people he considered friends, like Marx and Herscherik.

“Looking for a book?” Herscherik asked.

“Yes. There’s something on my mind, and I didn’t have any resources in my room.” Sigel gave his answer and turned to the bookshelf nearby. He looked through a few rows of titles before his gaze came to a halt. It had landed on Shiro, who was still engrossed in his book. “Who may this Spellcaster be?”

“You can tell that Mister Shiro’s a Spellcaster?”

“Of course. Who else would carry magical items of that caliber?”

“Magical items? Well, he’s...”

Sigel didn’t give Herscherik a chance to introduce Shiro. “Doesn’t matter who. Hey, you!”

“Huh?” Shiro growled, having had his reading interrupted. If this had been a cartoon, Shiro would have had about three jets of steam coming off his face. When Herscherik had mistaken him for a woman, he’d imagined about five stacks. Herscherik slumped his shoulders, his belief in the correlation of external beauty and severity of temper reaffirmed.

“Show me those magical bracelets!” Sigel pointed right at the jewelry on Shiro’s wrist. “And your earrings and necklaces, too!” What had seemed like mere fashion accessories to Herscherik were apparently magical items. “Did you come up with this formula? Very unorthodox... I see, you shorten activation here... but don’t you spend excessive Magic this way?” Sigel, close enough to easily embrace Shiro, was practically boring a hole into the bracelet with his eyes.

The bracelet in question was made of gold, with a ruby-like gem fitted onto it. Upon closer inspection, Herscherik noticed that there was an incantation carved into the bracelet and stone. More accurately, it was a magical formula that comprised a spell. It was all a little hard to grasp for Herscherik, who had no Magic of his own.

“No... This one’s for emergencies only, specialized for shortening activation time. This one is for magical efficiency.” Shiro took off another bracelet and showed it to Sigel. This one was silver with a blue gem, in contrast to the first one.

“Hm... I see. So you keep it loaded with Magic as a sort of reservoir. It looks like your earrings have a formula to lessen the amount required for casting, too. Wouldn’t it be more efficient if you tweaked the formula a bit here?”

“Thought about it. Doing that interferes with this other effect, and...”

“I see. That’s tough to balance.”

The pair heatedly debated, bracelets and earrings in hand, reminiscent of two nerds crossing paths in a hobby shop.

“Hello...?” Herscherik quietly interrupted the pair engaged in fiery discussion of magical formulas. At this rate, they looked like they would keep arguing into the wee hours of the night. More importantly, Herscherik was feeling left out. Why do I feel like the third wheel?! Herscherik had studied magic, but had only covered the basics since he lacked any Magic Within himself. Since Herscherik couldn’t put any spells to practice, both him and his tutor had given up on that avenue.

“Excuse me, Your Highness. I seem to have been carried away by these rare and potent magical items.” Sigel’s ostentatious apology drew a chuckle out of Herscherik. There was no ‘seeming’ about Sigel being carried away, but Herscherik didn’t remark on that! Sigel lit up with a new idea and turned to Shiro. “I just thought of a good formula thanks to you. I’ve got to get back to the lab! That reminds me—we should be testing new magical items in the field today. Why don’t you come by to watch? Oh, there’s so much to do! Excuse me, Your Highness!” Sigel rambled on, only to leave in a hurry. By the time Herscherik realized that Sigel had left empty-handed despite coming to the library in search of a book, the Spellcaster was already out of the building.

“I’m a little jealous...” Herscherik muttered, after recovering from Sigel’s swift exit.

“Jealous?”

Herscherik looked up at Shiro and his curious expression, and covered his mouth with his hand. It was too late to take it back. “I have no talent for magic,” Herscherik chuckled. “So I’m jealous of you and Mister Sigel.” That much was an irrefutable fact, predetermined since his birth in this world. Weak build and no Magic Within. Herscherik knew there was no way for him to improve either aspect of himself. Despite that, he had ambitions and people who followed him.

Then, Herscherik saw that Shiro was looking at him with a mix of pity and sympathy. “Mister Shiro, if you’re interested in that experiment... should we head over?” Herscherik suggested with deliberate cheerfulness to disperse the awkward atmosphere. Now that he thought of it, he’d heard from the triplets that there was going to be a special experiment on the test field, and now he’d been given an invitation. Herscherik finally recalled his afternoon plans that he had forgotten in the face of his encounter with the Church and Shiro.

The test field was located next to the military training ground, and served a similar purpose for Spellcasters. The construction was warded on the inside and outside, making it impervious to any magical attack internal or external. This was the best-protected place in the castle when it came to magic.

As Herscherik and Shiro entered the building meant for Spellcasters, a voice called to them. “Herscherik, you came!”

“Hello, Reinette,” Herscherik bowed to his brother, who was running towards him with a wave.

When he reached Herscherik, Reinette patted his little brother’s head. “I know I invited you, but I’m still so glad you came. I’ll call the other two over—give me a second.”

Call the other two over? Herscherik looked around, figuring that the people Reinette was talking about, or at least someone who could relay the message to them, had to be nearby.

However, there seemed to be no one else around.

As Herscherik wondered what his brother meant, the other two appeared before even a minute had passed.

“It really is Herscherik... I didn’t think you’d be interested, since you suck at magic!”

“Cecily... I think you should brush up on your social skills.”

Herscherik was wounded by his sister’s blunt comment, especially since he had just been reminded of that depressing fact earlier. I know this feeling. Oh, how deadly a child’s innocence can be... In the midst of this mental assault, Herscherik decided to voice the question on his mind. “How did you call them here, anyway?”

“Oh, you don’t know about us, Herscherik?” Reinette clapped his hands at the realization.

Cecily and Arya finished the thought for him:

“We have a special triplet power. Something different than magic.”

“Telepathy! We can talk to each other with our minds, and we know each other’s general location all the time.”

Telepathy? So that’s how they gathered so quickly at the party. Herscherik had known from his readings that such sixth-sense powers existed in this world. Since these powers were sometimes thought to exist even in his previous world, he didn’t find it particularly surprising that they were real in a universe rife with magic.

“And, we’re testing a new magical item based on that power.”

“Based on your power? And, was the academy in session today...?” Now that they mentioned it, Herscherik realized it was a weekday, and the triplets, despite being royalty, were indeed students. While Herscherik assumed that this experiment was a big deal, he wondered if it outweighed all three of them skipping out on class.

Cecily answered his curiosity. “We’re testing a magical item where three people assist in casting one single spell. I think we’d have a better success rate than normal, don’t you?”

“The goal is to apply it to any group of three Spellcasters, since splitting the Magic cost of a difficult spell between three people would make it much easier to cast. Not to mention that it would lessen the strain on each Spellcaster, and it might just boost the effect of the spell too. Since it’s based on our powers, we have to help test it,” Arya explained. He seemed more talkative than usual.

Even as Herscherik nodded along, he couldn’t quite grasp the full significance of this research. So it’s like a twincast skill from an RPG? Some video games Ryoko played had included powerful spells that required multiple characters to cast, and Herscherik was left with the impression that this must have been a more difficult feat in this world than he might have believed.

“I doubt any of that is possible,” Shiro grumbled, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

“Herscherik, who’s the pretty lady?”

“Oh, no. He’s actually a man!” Herscherik rushed to correct Cecily. While it might have been too late, Herscherik didn’t want Shiro to react the same way he had earlier, since he doubted that the rest of his royal family would be quite as forgiving. I don’t think Mark would care, though, Herscherik thought, judging by how his brother interacted with Oran and Sigel.

Meanwhile, Shiro simply scoffed and added, “There has always been research into the idea of multiple Spellcasters casting one spell together, and it’s believed to be theoretically possible. But every attempt has ended in failure, because of the difficulty involved in harmonizing the nature of both participants’ Magic Within. Two Spellcasters would have been achievement enough, but three?”

The triplets frowned at Shiro’s scoffing, and the air grew tense. Herscherik, now stuck in the crossfire again, was left to fret. What’s happening...? Shiro really does get talkative when it comes to magic, just like he did when talking to Sigel. But what does it mean to ‘harmonize the nature’ of magic? He could understand that it wasn’t as easy as everyone just using the same incantation, but not much more than that due to his lack of fundamental knowledge.

The triplets seemed to understand, though, as Arya took a step forward. “I see what you’re getting at. Even though us triplets have very similar Magic and telepathy, our chance of success is probably low. It will be difficult for Spellcasters to adjust their Magic on their own. But, if each person minutely adjusts their own Magic with a magical item, it’s not impossible.” Arya responded directly to Shiro, much to Herscherik’s surprise. He had always seemed like the least confrontational triplet. It showed how deeply the three siblings were involved in the process.

“That adjustment is easier said than done. The amount of calculation it would require...”

“But that’s...”

The two launched into a heated debate right where they stood. Herscherik felt a strange sense of déjà vu and was about to intervene when he felt a tug on his arm. He looked up to find Reinette and Cecily standing behind him with resigned expressions.

“No one can stop Arya now. Don’t bother trying.”

“Arya doesn’t compromise when it comes to magical theory.”

Herscherik looked to and fro between the pair locked in an argument and the pair looking on in resigned spectatorship. “But what about the experiment?”

Just as he posed his question, another voice interrupted them. “Princess Cecily, Prince Arya, Prince Reinette. May we begin...?” The voice belonged to an old man with white hair and a full beard who seemed rather short, either by birth or old age. His face was so wrinkled that it was hard to tell if his eyes were open at all. “A pleasure to meet Your Highness, Prince Herscherik. My name is Brad, and I lead the Magical Theory Research Laboratory. Is this Your Highness’ first time in the test field?”

That’s right—it’s my first time, Herscherik thought, teary-eyed. He couldn’t help it. As someone who couldn’t use magic, he usually had no business being here. The innocent comment rubbed salt in the wound that the triplets had unintentionally re-opened.

Oh, wait—but isn’t this classified stuff? Maybe Shiro shouldn’t be here... Herscherik wondered if an outsider should have been so casually invited to this experiment, even if he was a member of the Church who was supposed to be politically neutral. Despite Sigel’s invitation, Herscherik wondered if he shouldn’t have confirmed it with someone higher up first. That was just basic business practice, after all. “Excuse me, Lord Brad. I brought a guest with me upon Mister Sigel’s request. Would that be a problem?”

“We don’t normally allow any guests...” Brad said, looking Shiro up and down. “But I see that this one was invited here by that peculiar fellow Sigel, and is proficient enough in magical theory to hold his own in a debate with Prince Arya. In fact, I would request his presence and opinion on the experiment myself.”

“Are you sure?” Herscherik asked, to confirm.

Elder Brad widened his eyes ever so slightly and lifted his lips into a smile. “We are truth-seekers. A successful inquiry requires numerous failures, as well as honest input and willingness to accept it.”

“Thank you!” Herscherik said, and the old man laughed like Santa Claus.

“It is dangerous, though, so stay out of the test field, if you please. I must insist that Your Highness, as well as our guest, remain outside of the barriers.”

Herscherik nodded in wholehearted compliance.

Herscherik and Shiro watched as the test field was prepared for the experiment. The area consisted of an open courtyard platform surrounded by a solid stone building. Herscherik looked at the platform, recalling how Reinette had told him that the building was protected with two magical barriers, and the platform was protected by three for protection from any demonstrations and experimentation on magic.

The triplets were discussing things with the Spellcasters in the middle of the platform. They all seemed quite professional as they passionately discussed the upcoming experiment. I wonder if I could have helped, if I only had a little bit of Magic... While Herscherik didn’t consider himself useless, exactly, he couldn’t help but feel a little down about it. If he’d possessed some physical strength, he could save more people. If he had even a little bit of Magic Within, he could learn more and innovate. He never wallowed in self-pity, but... Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what he could accomplish with a little more power... especially when he saw how talented his siblings and men of service were. “Sense of inferiority, I guess,” he muttered.

“What did you say?” Shiro asked.

“Nothing,” Herscherik smiled. He seemed to be in a sentimental rut today. I never really felt like this before, I guess.

Ryoko had rarely felt a sense of inferiority. When it came to marriage, for example, she only felt happiness for her younger coworkers and sisters who had gotten married while she remained single. Even when some of her male coworkers who started later than her were promoted above her position, she didn’t think anything of it. Ryoko had a very well-defined life that contained the few things that really mattered to her. She didn’t want for much, nor did she need much.

But now, Herscherik had so many more things that mattered to him. He wanted more, needed more, and longed for more. I’ve become so much greedier since I’ve been in this world, Herscherik realized. Perhaps his sense of inferiority was merely the unfamiliar feeling of an indication of longing for something he didn’t have. That made it seem like it might not be such a negative emotion after all.

“By the way, Mister Shiro...” Herscherik turned to the man, seeing that the setup for the experiment would still take a while. If he didn’t understand something, he only had to ask. “Why is it difficult for multiple Spellcasters to cast together?” Herscherik saw that Shiro’s eyes flashed with a look of surprise, as if Herscherik was lacking some universal knowledge. Not that he was bothered by that—not asking might have left him embarrassed for the rest of his life.

“The nature of each person’s Magic Within varies. It’s difficult to match different Magic while casting a spell.”

“Nature? Match?”

Shiro continued. “Think of Magic like water. Some water tastes sweet, some bitter, and some has no taste at all. Those differences affect the activation and effect of spells. You don’t want bitter water if you’re mixing a sweet drink, do you?”

When he put it that way, Herscherik understood—it was difficult to converge individually varying Magic, but his siblings could mitigate the differences in their Magic because of their similar birth and their powers of telepathy, raising their success rate in this particular experiment. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re a great teacher, Mister Shiro... Oh, I think they’re starting.” He looked back at the platform and, seeing that the triplets were waving at him, returned a wave of his own. Behind Herscherik’s back, Shiro looked like he wanted to say something.

The first experiment involved a wind spell. The triplets lined up and began their incantation, each with a wand-like magical item in hand. Then, a band of light depicting the incantation shimmered into existence—small at first, before expanding and surrounding the triplets.

After a moment, a whirlwind roughly twice as tall as a grown man materialized in front of the siblings as they concentrated. Staying focused, they maintained the spell for a while before both the band of light and whirlwind dissipated.

A cheer erupted from the Spellcasters in the audiences. This apparently constituted a success, as the triplets reported their results to the researchers before taking up another set of items and trying different incantations.

They went on to perform the same task with different elements. Unless literally nothing happened, Herscherik couldn’t tell the difference between a successful cast and a failure. However, he was able to get a vague sense of what was going on from listening to Shiro mutter about the results of each attempt.

Eventually, the triplets seemed to have completed their tasks. A trio of ordinary Spellcasters took over to try the same spells over again, to no avail as Shiro had predicted. As disappointment began to hang heavy in the air, the Spellcasters continued to repeat the experiment.

And then, something strange began to happen.

“Doesn’t that fire look... odd?” Even Herscherik could tell something was wrong. The fireball that had appeared before the three Spellcasters began to grow and shrink haphazardly before ballooning up to a size much bigger than any previous attempt had managed to produce.

But that wasn’t all. Someone rushed up to the Spellcasters on the field, yelling something at them. “Did it fail?” Just as Herscherik muttered this to himself, the Spellcasters all fell to the ground like marionettes with cut strings and the fireball (now more than three times the size of a person) shot straight towards Herscherik and Shiro like a loosed arrow.

Herscherik, even as he was surprised, didn’t think to run. He had been told about the three-layer barrier between him and the experiment platform, after all. He was sure the fireball would dissipate as soon as it hit the first barrier. Everyone there was expecting the same result.

However, a sound like a pane of glass shattering echoed through the field. “What?” Herscherik said, out loud—and then another shattering noise tore through the air, as if to drown out Herscherik’s voice. The roaring ball of flames was bearing down on him. Feeling the scorching heat even through the final barrier, Herscherik instinctively covered his face with his arms. Even though he knew he had to get out of there as fast as possible, Herscherik remained motionless. He couldn’t move, as if his feet were sewn to the ground. Even with his arm covering his eyes, he could feel the heat of the approaching fireball on his face.

An annoyed tsk came from beside him, and the heat disappeared as suddenly as it came. Herscherik peeked through his fingers to find a head of white hair and a long robe standing in the face of the heatwave. Mister Shiro! Herscherik reflexively reached out to grab Shiro’s robe. Shiro paid him no mind as he stuck out his arm, his gold and silver bracelets clanging, and began an incantation to construct a magical formula.

Two beams of light, laced with incantations in varying shades of blue, manifested and danced around Shiro. At the same, Shiro’s long white hair seemed to glow a clear sky blue as it fluttered in the air. The gems embedded in Shiro’s bracelets and earring began to glow as well. With a bright flash, Shiro concluded his spell. The fireball had stopped, trapped in a prison of water that had materialized out of nowhere, like a precious jewel locked in a clear glass case.

With another incantation, Shiro waved his extended arm. With that gesture, both the water and the ball of fire within it disappeared, along with the belts of light that twined around him.

Now, there was only a trace of warm humidity and silence in the air. Everyone remained speechless, staring at Shiro, who paid no mind to any of them. He only took a deep breath.

There goes a few more... Shiro looked at his arm. The central gems on a few of his bracelets were cracked and the formula that had been embedded in the metal was nowhere to be seen. Shiro assumed that his earrings were in a similar state. More precise and powerful spells required more time and Magic to cast, and took a greater toll on the caster’s body. In emergencies like this, Shiro used magical items to shorten the time required for his spells and made his Magic expenditure more efficient.

Despite all of this, he’d had to use up the pre-loaded Magic in his items, as well as his own Magic Within, to cast instantly. Even that wasn’t enough for such a complex spell—a water-elemental barrier. Shiro looked at his own hair that had fallen onto his shoulder. The sky-blue glow was fading. His body had automatically gathered Floating Magic from the air around him, converting it into and multiplying his own Magic Within. The change in his hair was a clear sign of that. It reminded Shiro of his accursed past.

You monster! You’re no son of mine! His father had spat at him. If it wasn’t for you... he wouldn’t have changed! Stay away from me, you monster! His mother had screamed. They had made it clear how they felt about the power Shiro had been born with, to convert Floating Magic and use it as though it was his own. Shiro shook his head to banish his haunting memories.

Then, the Spellcasters around him began to talk.

“How did he conjure up that much Magic...? I can’t believe a fireball that size just vanished.”

“I’ve never seen a formula like that. Did you see his hair...?”

There was an unmistakable note of fear and apprehension in their surprised tone, opening old wounds on Shiro’s heart.

I hate people. I wish everyone would disappear. He’s the only one who... If it hadn’t been for the command of the only person who ever accepted him, Shiro would have never come here in the first place. Dark emotions began to rise up in Shiro; but just as he was about to sink lower into their grasp, he was pulled back out. Physically, too—his robe was being pulled from behind, with enough strength that it was beginning to choke him.

As he coughed in his tightening collar, Shiro recalled that the prince was behind him. I don’t want him to cry... Shiro particularly disliked children. They never held back their opinions nor masked their emotions. He remembered how the children in his neighborhood used to call him a monster and throw rocks at him when he was little. However, Shiro turned around to find the prince wearing an expression he had never expected to see.

“That was amazing! And gorgeous! How did you do that, Mister Shiro!?” With glittering eyes, Herscherik had forgotten all about his brush with death and held on tight to Shiro’s robe, as if he was keeping a treasured find in his grasp. His expression was one of utter amazement.

“Aren’t you...?” Afraid of me? Shiro wanted to add, but failed to vocalize it.

While Shiro was at a loss for words, Herscherik tilted his head. “What? Can you say that again? While you’re at it, can you use that magic again—?”

“Hersch!”

Herscherik turned around to find his men of service, who must have sprinted to the scene. The two were breathing heavily, like they were some sort of weirdos on the street. Herscherik was a little taken aback by their demeanor, but didn’t mention it. “Kuro? Oran? What’s wrong?” Herscherik asked, having forgotten about what had just happened.

“Are you alright?! Are you hurt?!” Oran asked, as Kuro examined Herscherik from head to toe.

“Hurt? Not at all.”

“Okay... Good. I was in the training grounds nearby, and I heard the barriers break. You told me you’d be in the test field, so I rushed over as fast as I could... I’m so glad you’re all ri—”

“Who’s in charge of this operation?” Kuro interrupted. “Weren’t there any security measures in place?” Kuro rose to his feet, having made sure that Herscherik wasn’t hurt. “You better answer carefully, because...” Kuro let out a guttural chuckle. While his tone seemed calm on the surface, the two who knew him best understood that Kuro was truly enraged.

“Woah, calm down, Black Dog. When you say stuff like that—”

“Shut up, Sir Delinquent. If something happens to Hersch, I’ll end their whole bloodline...”

“Gahhhh! Shut up, you creepy butler! Stop saying things like that! If you go out there, you’ll only make things worse! Let me take care of it! I’ll look into the whole thing. Put those weapons away!” Oran rushed to hold back Kuro, who seemed ready to turn the whole field into a bloodbath.

Herscherik held his forehead. “Calm down, you two...” Herscherik sulked at the conversation playing out in front of him before he was swarmed by the triplets.

Meanwhile, Shiro watched Herscherik, with something visibly on his mind.

Shiro gazed out of the small window in the running carriage. While Gracis was relatively temperate, there was the occasional snowfall in the winter. The snow, which had been infrequent since the previous year, had laid out a white carpet all throughout the castle town. A child was running through it. A portly woman came into view, and the child ran to her—clearly she was the child’s mother. Shiro watched this scene as he passed by in the carriage. I wonder how my mother is doing. Shiro’s last memory of his mother was her watching him being taken away, her cheeks sunken in and her eyes devoid of any light. A single teardrop had fallen out of her eye, but Shiro never knew why she had shed that tear. Even when he tried to remember more, it seemed almost like a thick fog had obscured his memory.

“Today was a big day. How was the prince?” Hoenir, who sat across from him, brought Shiro out of his reminiscence.

Shiro turned from the window to his adoptive father. Hoenir was the one who had saved him, in the end. “He was a strange one...” He had expected the prince to reprimand him for his attitude, but Herscherik had only let out a chuckle. Then, despite his royal status, he was quick to apologize. He expected the prince to flee in terror upon seeing a glimpse of his monstrous powers, but Herscherik looked at him as if he had just discovered something wonderful. He could still feel the tug on his robe.

“How interesting.” Hoenir smiled. Shiro usually barely noticed, or even actively disliked, most people. “Now, you must continue to observe the prince. He may end up being the salvation of our world.”

“I’m... not good with kids.” Shiro frowned.

After the incident, Herscherik had met with Hoenir and explained what had happened, before apologizing for putting Shiro in harm’s way. The fact that Herscherik struggled with magic came up, and Hoenir had offered Shiro’s services as a tutor. Herscherik declined at first, but finally relented against Hoenir’s polite but firm insistence.

“The prince seemed to take quite a liking to you. At the end of the day, I don’t think you dislike him, either,” Hoenir said. The fact that Shiro, who couldn’t stand most people, didn’t immediately reject the idea of being Herscherik’s tutor was proof enough of that—although his face remained fixed in a scowl. If Shiro really didn’t want to do something, he couldn’t be convinced by any means, regardless of any royalty involved. He would reject a proposition he found distasteful with force, if he had to. Hoenir could easily predict that Shiro would agree to his request, albeit reluctantly.

“Understood... Master Hoenir.”

Hoenir smiled. “Thank you. And I’m counting on you... my dear Noel.”

Shiro, the outcast Spellcaster, returned his gaze to the window. Hoenir said nothing, knowing full well that this was how the young man masked his joy.

“From what I could find, the magical item had been swapped out.”

It was after ten o’clock in the evening. Clutching a cup of hot milk that Kuro had prepared, Herscherik was listening to Oran’s report on the recent incident. Coffee did exist in this world, and as Ryoko used to enjoy the stuff, Herscherik had requested the beverage—only to be refused by Kuro. Another tragic consequence of being stuck in a seven-year-old body.

Herscherik returned his attention to the issue of the magical item that had caused the whole incident earlier. “Swapped out?” How? Herscherik asked with his expression. The castle was defended with a magical barrier that encompassed the entire grounds. While the aging wards had a few cracks here and there, no ordinary intruder could have found them. Moreover, the artifact they’d used in the experiment was kept in the vaults of the Magical Theory Lab, one of the most strictly guarded locations in the entire castle. Is there someone on the inside again? Herscherik couldn’t imagine who that could have been. He shook his head and continued to listen to Oran.

“The item that replaced the original had its formula altered to remove all restrictions on it. Anyone interacting with the item in that state would have had their Magic siphoned out,” Oran added. The three Spellcasters had their Magic Within drained to their limits, and were still unconscious as they spoke. “There may be permanent damage, in some way,” Oran said with a painful expression. “Sigel’s looking into it more deeply. I’ve never seen him that angry.”

Herscherik imagined Sigel, his eyes wide and red with rage. The man was infatuated with—or rather, obsessed with—any kind of magical equipment. His wrath would surely fuel his quest to uncover how his precious artifacts had been tampered with. I’ll leave Mister Sigel to investigate the items, but... “I don’t know how they swapped them out, but it’s very likely that it was pulled off by the Church or the minister’s faction. After today, there’s no doubt that the Church is on the move,” Herscherik said.

Hoenir had pushed for Shiro to become his tutor in magic. Herscherik assumed that this was their latest move. But apparently he doesn’t know that I have no Magic Within at all. There were very few who did, outside of his immediate family. As far as the public was concerned, Herscherik was simply less talented than usual in the craft. Hoenir didn’t know—or perhaps he did, and had recommended Shiro as a tutor anyway. “Kuro, look into what the Church is doing, please. Take note of any detail, no matter how insignificant it seems.”

“Got it.” Kuro left the room.

“Oran, can you report to Mark about what happened today? About William and Eutel, too. Tell him to watch his back. Oh, and that we’ll be borrowing Sigel for a while.”

“Understood, but that will be done tomorrow. After what happened today, I’m not letting you out of my sight, Hersch.”

“Fine...”

“Don’t look so unhappy about it.”

I really feel fine, but after what happened... The “accident” had been set up within the castle grounds, where Herscherik had always felt safe. It was only thanks to Shiro’s intervention that he had remained unhurt. After leaving the test field, Herscherik had finally gotten over his excitement and thanked the man properly. Shiro had returned an expression of mixed emotions, like something was stuck in the back of his throat.

If the Church is trying to kill me, it seems contradictory that I’d be saved by Shiro, an ally of the Church. But does that clear them completely...? Even though it felt like the accident was directed at him, Herscherik knew that he would have most likely never attended the experiment at all if it wasn’t for Sigel’s invitation. It was chilling to think that even that friendly suggestion might have been part of someone’s darker plan. Am I overthinking this...? No, it’s too dangerous to act on assumptions. Besides, there’s one more thing I have to take care of.

The day of his meeting with Barbosse’s daughter was fast approaching. Herscherik slowly sipped on his cup of hot milk. The hint of herbs and the subtle sweetness of honey seemed to calm his nerves. Let’s see if fortune really does favor the bold... Failure isn’t an option. Herscherik finished his milk with a twinge of anxiety.