Working at Harré, Part Four

The next day.

I wake up the next day at the same time I always do. No one would guess from my appearance that I had been at a masked ball the night before. After I’d come back to the dormitory, I’d taken a bath and then collapsed on top of my bed into a deep slumber.

Exhaustion was all I had felt after the night’s events. Why did I have to go through all that for a jerk like Rockmann? He should’ve just married the Princess. As if I cared what he did! I should’ve refused the Duke’s request from the very beginning. He expected Rockmann to open up and tell me, of all people, his true feelings about the Princess. It was too much to ask, even for a Duke.

Irritated as I was, I hadn’t had the time or energy to do anything about the white dress those three servants had forced me into back at the Duke’s house. I’d hung it up on the clothing rack in the corner last night. That’s where it’ll stay for now, I suppose. It’ll be stupidly inconvenient, but eventually I do need to go back and return that dress to him.

“Ha...” Looking out the window, I let out a sigh. The sun is shining brightly today.

Still half-asleep, I change out of my pajamas and into my Harré uniform before making myself some breakfast. I’m so out of it that as I try to take my first bite of rice I shove it into the side of my face, but after that I somehow manage to put the food into my mouth.

Guess I’ll need to wash my face before I head out.

＊　＊　＊　＊

“Ms. Zozo, good morning.”

“Morning, Nanalie. Um, are you feeling a bit tired today?”

“Not at all. I’m full of energy!”

I’ve arrived at Harré, and now I’m settling into my seat at the reception desk. Zozo exchanges a few words with the night shift receptionists before she sits down next to me, yawning. I’d said “good morning” in the same way I always do, but she’s looking at me as if she’s worried, eyebrows furrowed. I’m not tired at all. I’m practically brimming with energy.

“Ms. Zozo, you yourself seem rather tired, yawning like that,” I say.

“Oh, me?” *yawn* “I’m always—” *yawn* “—staying up late reading magazines—” *yawn* “—so I feel the same as always, really.” *yawn*

All the women in the Kingdom have begun to read this one women’s magazine that’s become popular recently. Zozo tells me that she has new issues delivered directly to her house, and it’s apparently her favorite thing to read, filled with secret information that no amount of skills or spells could give her. Supposedly.

She must be exaggerating, right? What could that magazine possibly be about?

Her eyes light up with excitement as she tells me about the three most interesting articles from the most recent issue: “How to Seal the Deal with Your Crush,” “Women Who Are Called ‘Ladies,’” and “Today’s Horoscope.”

Well, based on the titles of those articles alone, little Ms. Zozo here might be in love with someone, I think, looking at her. I might be wrong, of course.

There aren’t many sorcerers or clients who come into Harré in the small hours of the night or early in the morning. There’s actually almost no one here at the moment. The only reason that we’re able to sit here chattering away, even though we’re on duty, is because it’s still so early. If the Director saw us making small talk with each other like this in front of clients or sorcerers, I’m fairly certain she’d fly over to punch us for slacking off. When one of the male employees had laughed at a joke Mr. Alkes made the other day, she’d smacked him with her fists. Twice, at that. I’d seen the two large welts on the employee’s head as he cringed in agony from her blows. I will never end up like that, or so I’d sworn to myself.

“Oh, that’s right,” Zozo says, changing the subject. “There was a sorcerer yesterday...or should I say early this morning? Anyway, it sounds like a sorcerer took care of Ms. Maria’s request.”

“Really?”

Zozo rummages around in some papers in her drawers and pulls out a copy of the request form and shows it to me. That request was made just yesterday! I’m quite grateful to whoever took care of this, especially considering they did it during the night.

As I look over the request form, I spot the sorcerers’ names on the paper, right in the middle.

“O—oh?”

“What’s the matter?”

One of the names is a man’s name, the other, at first glance, easily mistaken for a man’s.

I know both of those names quite well.

“These names...”

“Hello—! We’re back from completing the request.”

As I mumble to myself, looking over the request form, Harré’s front door swings open and two sorcerers walk in. I lift my eyes from the paper and begin to bid them a “good morning,” but fall silent in surprise at the sight of my two friends.

“Hey, isn’t that Nanalie?”

“Nanalie! It’s been so long. How’ve you been?”

The two names on the request form were:

“Naru Perseus Satanás” and “Benjamine Meda Lilith Feltina.”

With even the middle names matching, I knew it had to be them. They’re two friends of mine whom I met back at school, and now, even after graduation, we exchange letters from time to time. They’re both very special to me.

“So the sorcerers who accepted the request—that was you two, wasn’t it?”

They’ve just come back from completing a request, so before we start talking any further, I have them go over to the desks meant for sorcerers so that they can take care of their paperwork.

So this means that Ms. Maria’s request has been fulfilled: her husband’s been found. Somewhere in that forest, filled with demons as it is, they must have found him during the night. I give them a quiet, discreet round of applause as I sit there in awe of how quickly they accomplished that task.

“Those sorcerers took care of business rather quickly, don’t you think? Do you know them?”

“Yes, they’re my friends.”

“In any case, I’m glad that Ms. Maria’s husband was found. I confess I did, you know, think it might end up in that way.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I thought that her husband might have, you know, turned into that demon,” she says, a guilty look on her face. “I suppose it’s in bad taste for me to say that out loud,” she adds, wincing a bit at her own impudence. “Still, I really am glad it all ended well.” She lets out a relieved sigh, placing one hand on her chest as she gives me a smile.

Really, it’s quite fortunate it all ended without any further trouble. I will confess that I too had considered the possibility that he might have turned into that demon, after Mr. Alkes said those horrible things (about its “human-like tongue” or whatever), but knowing that isn’t the case allows me to relax a bit. Having recently become an acquaintance of Dr. Aristo’s, I’d also thought I might pop over to his mansion if this case were to grow more complicated. It seems like that won’t be necessary after all. Still, I’m not going to allow myself to forget I have that particular ace up my sleeve whenever I run into trouble in the future.

Of course, I am still a mere commoner, and if I were to show up at his door, I’m not sure if Dr. Aristo would be willing to speak with me, knowing who I really am.

“Alrighty then! Nanalie, I’m going to leave you in charge here, okay?” Ms. Zozo pats my back as she stands up to leave her seat. “I’m going to be in a meeting with the Director for a bit,” she adds. I nod my head in understanding and watch as she hurries off towards the inner rooms where the Director’s office is.

Now I’m alone at the reception desk. I look down at Ms. Maria’s request form once again. Any summoner who would go up against some mysterious demon in the middle of the night to solve a missing-persons case truly is amazing, in my humble opinion.

The average person would never want to go up against a demon. Even the average mage who possessed the necessary skills and knowledge to attack and defend themselves from demons wouldn’t exactly be jumping at the opportunity to fight one. After all, they eat humans with magical ability. Just that fact alone is enough to freak me out, personally. I’m sure that from the demon’s perspective, it would look like their prey had strolled into its den on its own two legs, begging to be eaten. What beast would pass up a feast like that?

“Wow, Nanalie, it’s so cool seeing you on the job!”

My two friends, having finished their paperwork at the other reception desk and received their reward, have made their way back over to where I’m sitting. Benjamine’s long, wavy red hair is hanging down loosely past her shoulders, and her eyes are all ablaze with excitement as she approaches my desk.

Satanás looks like he’s gotten his hair cut. Those silver curls are shorter than when I saw him last time. The two of them are both wearing clothes that cover every part of their body, leaving no skin exposed. Satanás is wearing a long-sleeved, padded blue shirt with long leather pants, while Benjamine has taken long pieces of cloth and wrapped them around her forearms and calves to provide extra protection beyond the edges of her armor.

It’s just good sense, of course, for sorcerers to have different outfits for different types of assignments. For work out in the fields, they usually wear a pair of light overalls, while for assignments that deal with demons, they go out to work in armor that’s easy to move around in. My two friends are wearing clothes that look like exactly the right thing to wear for their assignment.

“That white uniform looks pretty cute on you, Nanalie,” Benjamine says, smiling.

“That, um, getup looks pretty cutesy-cool on yourself, you know?”

“Compliment me all you like, the only thing I’m giving you is candy.”

“Ooh! You’ve got candy for me?”

Benjamine takes a small piece of candy from a pouch hanging from her belt and gives it to me. I am, technically speaking, “working,” so I simply thank her and hide her gift in a little pouch inside my bag under the desk. I’ll be sure to eat that later!

She’s always been the type of person who keeps her word. Especially when it comes to her love life, she says what she feels and does what she says. She does tend to give up right at the moment of truth, however, when it comes to making a move on a guy—but I like that aspect of her personality too.

It’s reassuring to know that part of her still hasn’t changed.

“Still, it’s rather amazing what you two pulled off. You found Mr. Gouda in just one night, didn’t you?”

“Mmmm yeah. Didn’t have any problems ’cuz that demon on the request form job notice wasn’t there.”

“We managed to find that man quite quickly,” Benjamine adds. “If you go deep into that forest, you’ll find a lake, and he was lying down right next to it. His face was so pale that for a moment I thought that he was dead. But he wasn’t injured, and I must admit we were relieved when he showed signs of life when we called out his name.”

“There was that note on the request form—something about making a note of where we found the guy? We did that, so take a look later, will ya?”

It sounded like they found him almost completely unharmed and, except for how extraordinarily pale his face had been, were able to get him back to normal after they quickly cast a healing spell on him. I’ve no idea whether or not a healing spell works on someone who isn’t visibly injured, but from what they tell me it sounds like he had a healthier complexion after they did so, so it must’ve turned out fine.

They took him straight home to Ms. Maria after that. Apparently she’d collapsed in relief at the sight of her husband, and with both of them in such fragile physical and emotional states, they’d stuck around for a while to make sure they were both alright. “They bowed and said ‘thank you’ so many times, it was starting to get embarrassing,” Benjamine says with a grimace.

By the time the sun had risen, Ms. Maria had calmed down enough to take care of the paperwork. She’d signed off on the request form, and after that, the two of them had come straight to Harré.

Mr. Gouda, however, had never actually “woken up,” even after they’d brought him home, so it turned out that we were still stuck not knowing where he’d been or what had happened to him. Ms. Maria had told the two sorcerers that she would come into Harré with her husband tomorrow. I suppose we’ll have to wait until then to find out what happened to him.

The note that Satanás mentioned is something I had written on the request form in the highly unlikely case that Mr. Gouda was found. With that location, we should be able to investigate the area with psychometry to get a better idea of what he went through. That information would be most useful in the event that Mr. Gouda didn’t wake up: as long as we knew the location of the incident, we’d be able to nail down some details about a possible encounter with a demon.

“Must admit, I wanted to be the one to take out that demon,” Naru says, looking almost wistful as he glances down at the image of the demon on the request form.

“Naru, you’re always getting me into trouble with that bloodthirsty temperament of yours...oh, that’s right, we still haven’t eaten breakfast.”

“Let’s grab something here, yeah?”

“Okay! I’ll go get us something good, alright? You find us a table and wait for me.”

“Sure.”

Benjamine dashes off towards the food counter. Satanás watches as she goes. I realize that now would be a good chance to ask him some questions.

“How long have you been working together? This is the first time I’ve seen you two here, I think.”

It’s been six months since I started working at Harré, but until today I hadn’t seen either one of them come into the Guild. Since my father’s a sorcerer, I do see him around from time to time, but today’s my first encounter with my two school friends. Every time my father comes in, regardless of whether any other receptionist is available, he always waits in the line in front of my desk. At first, Zozo and the other senior receptionists would wave to him, saying “I’m free over here, sir,” but he would always just say in return, “I want to see what my daughter’s like on the job, up close.” He’s said that ridiculous line so many times now that whenever he comes in, all the other receptionists merely smile at him as he waits in my line. It’s more than a little embarrassing for me that he makes such a fuss like that at my workplace, and I’ve tried shooing him away to this or that other receptionist, but no matter what I say or do he always ends up waiting in the line in front of my desk.

“That so? You know, we were just thinking the same thing about you,” Satanás says. “We both had other things to do during the day yesterday, so it kinda ended up that we did nighttime work for a change last night.”

“Ah, now I understand why we wouldn’t see each other. I’ve never been on the night shift, since I’m still just a junior receptionist, so I’m never here when you normally come in to report back after an assignment...”

All of my former classmates are working hard in their new careers. Nikeh and Prince Zenon are serving in the same unit as the Knight Commander, and as Prince, I’m sure Zenon has to work even harder to prove himself as both a royal and a worthy candidate of becoming Vice Commander in the future. Maris, of course, is working hard at learning everything she’ll need to know in order to be an excellent Marquise in the future, while Rockmann is already a captain of the smallest platoon in the Order. Benjamine and Satanás are obviously getting experienced in their everyday work as sorcerers. In just half a year, they’ve grown capable of taking care of a difficult request like Ms. Maria’s in just one night.

Then, of course, there is me. Failing at magic left and right as I fly around casting ancient spells that lead me into trespassing into other people’s mansions due to my carelessness.

“But Nanalie, I still hear a lot about you, you know?”

“...What kind of things do you hear?”

“That you listen carefully to whatever your clients need to talk to you about, that you’re kind to them, and that sorcerers will take care of the requests you post up on the board in under a day. That’s gotta be why I hear people saying ‘when you need to make a request, get that beauty with blue hair to write it up for you.’ ‘Blue hair’ can only mean you, right?”

“Huh...? No, that’s all just exaggeration, right? I’ve only been working here for half a year, and I still need to have the other receptionists help me all the time...anyway, they can’t be talking to me; I’m no ‘beauty.’ They must’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

I’ve never heard anybody so much as whisper anything like that. Who’s going around spreading tall tales like that when I’ve only been working here half a year? Embarrassing is all it is. Besides, anyone who heard those rumors and then saw me in person would be in for a big disappointment. They’d probably think something like, “oh, she’s not as kind as I thought,” or “the sorcerers aren’t taking on my request like they said,” or “she’s no beauty at all!”

From a certain point of view, those kinds of rumors could be interpreted as slander. Too high of a compliment is still a lie.

“Don’t get fussy about the details. You may not realize it, but anyone can see just how hard you’re working, right?”

“The details,” good grief. That’s my line of work, thank you very much. It’s going to be utterly impossible for me to ignore any rumors being spread about my capabilities as a receptionist. My professional reputation is on the line! If only I could be as nonchalant as Satanás is about the whole affair.

Satanás has always been pretty easygoing. I don’t think I’ve ever once seen him panic about anything. Except for those times he hadn’t finished his homework. “Hurry up and show me the answers! I’ve got no idea what to write here!” The number of times he badgered me like that were too many to even count.

“Ooohh, that’s right—Satanás,” I say, trying to seem extremely casual as I broach this next topic, “how’s it been going lately?”

“How’s what been going?”

“You two are working together, right?”

What I’m really asking is how his and Benjamine’s relationship is going.

He must’ve picked up on my line of questioning, because he visibly cringes, diverts his gaze, and puts his hands behind his back. He isn’t comfortable with this subject, that’s clear to see.

Hm? That reaction seems a bit different than what I remember from when I asked him about their relationship before... Could Satanás, of all people, have finally picked up on the signals Benjamine’s been sending him? Back during our school days, he’d always gone on about how he preferred older women with “hourglass figures.” Now perhaps that isn’t the case...?

He looks back at me. I’m positively overflowing with anticipation for his next words, finally admitting what I’ve known he felt for Benjamine after all these years...!

One side of his mouth twitches in discomfort. “You know what, Nanalie?”

“What?”

“The rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriskiest gamble a man can possibly make in the entire world is to tell a woman he loves her.”

Right when I think he’s getting serious about Benjamine, out of his mouth comes that nonsense.

“Dummy!” I poke him in the eyes with two fingers.

“Ouch!”

“A gamble, huh? You aren’t going around playing her now, are you?”

“—what’re you going on about?! Those aren’t my words, that’s what my gramps told me when gramma was slapping him around one time. They’re true alright.”

What are you going on about?

“Then what is it, then?” I ask him. “If Benjamine tells you she likes you or wants to be your girlfriend, how are you gonna answer? By saying that you’re ‘not quite ready’ for that yet?”

“Well, I dunno, maybe?”

“I’m going to say this once and only once: the moment Benjamine comes to me sobbing her eyes out over something you say or do is the exact moment I am going to come after you and freeze you and your stone-cold heart with a blizzard so ferocious it’s gonna make what I did to Rockmann look like a pleasant winter’s day.”

“...Man’s worst enemy, the friends of his woman...”

“Ha? You running your mouth again?”

“Not at all, ma’am.”

Satanás is avoiding looking at me. Now Benjamine walks over to us with some trays from the food counter. “Hey! I got us our breakfast! I thought you were going to get us a table?”

Satanás looks visibly relieved at the sight of Benjamine. He knows I can’t continue interrogating him any longer now. Still, I don’t think it’ll be that long until he finally gives in and admits to how he really feels about her.

“What were you two talking about?”

“Just about whether he was actually able to get any work done with you around, you know.”

“Rude! I’m not slowing him down at all!”

From what I understand, Satanás had been the one to propose that they work together, and I think at that point, their romantic fortunes were decided. The only reason they haven’t moved on to the next phase of their relationship is because he can’t be honest about his feelings. But I suppose it’s not my place to rush him. I decide I’ll just be as supportive as I can without meddling. I can’t help but smile when I see the two of them together now, anyway, lovebirds that they are.

I’d said that ridiculous line to Satanás about how I would come after him if he made Benjamine cry, but she’s the type who’d go and bring the hammer down on him herself if he ever did anything stupid, so I probably have no business interfering any further.

I have no interest in Rockmann’s love life, but I will confess I am quite invested in the relationship between these two.

After they finished eating breakfast, they went straight home to go to sleep after a long night of work. “If we stay around here any longer,” Benjamine said, “I feel like we’d be talking with you all day long!”

Sure, I would’ve gotten into trouble if they had actually done that, but just hearing those words made me happy.

＊　＊　＊　＊

“What’re you reading?”

“Oh, it’s nothing special.”

“Labor laws and the aristocratic code?”

Work had calmed down a bit. I’m on my break now, eating lunch and going through some books in Harré’s reference library. As I sit there poring over the dense texts, Ms. Harris and Mr. Alkes enter the room, apparently to return a book. They’re each holding three slim volumes, their work satchels slung over their shoulders as if they’ve just come back from some fieldwork.

I didn’t see either of them this morning. They must have been out on a preliminary investigation.

“That’s a rather thick book you’re reading there,” Ms. Harris says, nodding at the tome lying on the desk in front of me. She gently picks it up, brushing her soft, light brown hair behind her ears as she looks through it. “This seems like a fairly complicated text...” she mutters, eyes narrowing in concentration.

That conversation from last night replays in my mind.

“So, so...what’s your answer?”

“Here’s my answer: Articles Three and Ten of the Magical Labor Laws of the Kingdom of Doran, followed by Articles Thirty and Thirty-One of the Aristocratic Code.”

Those words had me stumped. Right when I thought I’d finally figure out what was going on inside his head, out of his mouth came that riddle.

It’s not like I am completely compelled to figure out what he was trying to say, but the possibility that he was making fun of me with that line is too significant to ignore. I’ve gone through all of Harré’s books on law to find these two texts that will hopefully help me decode what he said.

I remember which parts of the laws he had referenced, of course, but I had no idea what he meant by those references.

Was he making a joke? Or was he referring to some implication of those laws when I’d asked him about his feelings?

“You’ve got a lot left to learn.”

I snap the pen in my hands in half at the memory of him and his smug face.

“Um, Nanalie? Your hands are completely black with ink...”

“Please don’t mind me.”

“Hel, you don’t look so—”

“Please don’t mind me.”

That scumbag.

On the ever so slight chance that I did, in fact, have “a lot left to learn,” it was completely insensitive for him to say that to me straight out, without worrying about my feelings. Prick.

I suddenly feel a bit concerned for all those beautiful young ladies who had been fawning over him all night. Girls, really, is this the kind of guy you want to pair up with in the future?

I try explaining the situation to Ms. Harris. “This guy I know was supposed to get married, but the girl he was going to marry ended up having feelings for someone else, or something. I asked the guy whether or not he’d had feelings for the girl in the first place, and he answered me with a citation of these four laws...I’m just trying to figure out what he’d meant by that.”

I’m wiping my ink-stained hands on a brown handkerchief. They both have strangely cautious expressions on their faces while they listen to me complain about “this guy.”

“Don’t people usually have feelings for someone they’re about to marry?”

“Hmmm, well, yeah, but let’s just say it was a bit of a mystery in his case.”

At this point, I too have stopped understanding what point I’m trying to make, or the purpose of those laws.

“Weren’t all these Articles written by Premier Querohli?”

Mr. Alkes takes the book from Ms. Harris and starts paging through it himself, reading all the pages I’ve bookmarked. He stands there stroking his chin in thought with one hand as he looks carefully at one entry. His bangs must be getting in the way of his reading, because every once in a while he twitches his head to the side a bit, as if to get them out of his eyes.

“Premier Querohli?”

“Who’s this ‘Premier Querohli’?”

“Querohli”? Isn’t that some kind of vegetable?

Ms. Harris and I both tilt our heads to one side in confusion. Mr. Alkes goes over to a bookshelf and takes a book from the very top, then brings it over to show to us. On the front cover and along the binding, I see the title: “A List of the Kingdom’s Subjects.”

A list of the Kingdom’s subjects...?

Mr. Alkes informs us that Premier Querohli or whoever was someone who lived around two hundred years ago. “I went through a phase when I was studying law,” he says. “More specifically, I was studying how certain laws had come about and who had written them.”

“Why were you studying things like that?”

“Ah, well...I wanted to pass the bar exam to get on the Royal Court at the time. After a while, though, I got too bored studying law and ended up joining the Knights’ Order instead, of course.” He has a slightly pained grimace on his face as he says this. “Anyhow, it turns out that Premier Querohli was quite a player. He made these laws for pretty specific reasons, and it’s actually kinda funny—all of them are about women:

“Regarding payment for labor, there must be absolutely no difference in wages between that of men and women. The labors of both have precisely the same value.

“The practice of enslaving witches is henceforth forbidden.

“Any hospitality or entertainment establishment where the majority of the employees are female must report on its operations to the Kingdom. Any establishment found to be operating without Royal permission shall be punished according to Article 16.

“Any noble man is forbidden from forcing a working class woman to be his concubine, lover, or into any other informal romantic relationship. Even should the woman consent to such a relationship, it shall not be permitted under any circumstances whatsoever.”

...He’s right. All these laws have to do with women. That’s clear enough on a casual reading, but I still don’t know what significance there is in listing them all together. Perhaps what Mr. Alkes said about the reasons they were written is what Rockmann had been trying to hint at?

“Why were these laws written?” I asked.

“Well, at the time, the Premier had his heart set on a woman, only she was a commoner, not a noble. Apparently he made these laws so as to make her life just a little bit easier, or something like that.

“Right before he passed away, he supposedly whispered these words: ‘I never did manage to make her mine. My whole life...not once have I been troubled by a lack of women in my life, but the one woman whom I wanted more than anyone else never became mine.’ The kicker is that he was married to someone else when he said that.”

“What an awful brute!” Ms. Harris shakes her head. “Not someone I’d like to marry.”

“I hear he was quite the looker, you know?”

“Hmm, in that case, I’d have to think it over...” Ms. Harris apparently cares about how a man looks more than anything else.

Those words must have been awful for the wife to hear, but the fact of the matter was that the Premier had been unable to forget that commoner woman for the rest of his life. Some say that the loves you remember most clearly are those that were unrequited. Perhaps that was the case for him. Not that I would know, having lived only a fraction as long as he did, but somehow I sense that’s how he felt.

“Aha! What if that is what your friend meant to say?”

“What?”

“That he had feelings for someone else!”

Ms. Harris nods. “That must be it!” She’s so excited that she starts yanking on Mr. Alkes’s hair and jumps in the air. I hear something like a snap as she does so. At the sensation of some of his hair being ripped out, Mr. Alkes leaps into action, snatches at Ms. Harris’s glasses and tries to break them.

...Turns out that fights between forty-year-old men and thirty-year-old women are rather lame. To no one’s surprise.

“But then there’s the possibility that he wasn’t referring to himself, but rather the woman whom he was to marry. What if that line—‘the one woman whom I wanted more than anyone else’—referred to her? Maybe he was heartbroken that she hadn’t chosen him instead.”

After my conversation with Mr. Alkes and Ms. Harris, I try searching for other connections between those laws, and other details about the Premier’s background, but all I’m able to discover is that Querohli was quite the womanizer. To the point where no one would have thought it odd if he had been stabbed several times, by several different women. What goes around, comes around.

Mr. Alkes’s words echo in my mind. “He had feelings for someone else!”

I shake my head. For now, I’ll just take Rockmann’s riddle as another way of expressing his disappointment with how things with the Princess turned out. He won’t tell me if I’m right or wrong if I straight up ask him again, so I guess that’s all I know for now.

Still, that had been an extremely roundabout way for him to express his feelings on the matter.

＊　＊　＊　＊

My lunch break is over, so I’m back at my desk. I’d hardly had any time to eat anything thanks to all the research I’d been doing, but somehow I’d managed to take a few bites in between reading the old law books to my heart’s content. While the riddle hadn’t been “solved,” I was now done with it. No point in spending any more time on something like that. I certainly didn’t let it take up all of my lunch break, as the more pressing issue was my empty stomach. As if I could bear dying of starvation while I’m on the job.

“I’m back.”

“Welcome back! I’ll head out on break myself once I post this up.”

I’d had one of my female senior colleagues fill in for me at my seat while I was out on break. We all take breaks in alternating shifts. I give her a nod in gratitude for allowing me to go first. I look around and notice that Zozo’s not back from her meeting with the Director yet. Hmm, what’s taking her so long, I wonder? I haven’t seen her since she got up from her chair earlier this morning.

Something the other receptionist is holding in her hands catches my eye. I point to it and ask, “What’s that?”

“This? It’s something that just got delivered from the neighboring neighbor of the neighboring Kingdom to ours.”

In her hands is a piece of paper with “URGENT! SEEKING ICE WITCHES!” written across the top of it. An urgent need for Ice-Type mages? They must have some big project they’re working on. But what kind of project needs only “Ice Witches?” What exactly do they need them for?

The other receptionist notices my puzzled expression. “They’re gathering applications to become ladies-in-waiting for the Queen of Orcinus,” she explains.

Huh. “Ladies-in-waiting.”

Orcinus is, just as she’d said, a country that is the “neighboring neighbor of the neighboring Kingdom to ours.” It’s a little bit farther away than the Kingdom of Sheera. From what I can see up on the bulletin board, other countries are also sending out special hiring notices, with good pay at that.

I look back down at the request for “Ice Witches.” Oh my, that salary...it’s more than twice what I make here at Harré. I feel rather disappointed to have been born in a part of the world where the coffers are not overflowing with gold as they apparently are in Orcinus. Hold on, aren’t “ladies-in-waiting” the type of women who are servants and art tutors for the noble ladies they serve?

On the paper, not much more is written about what they’re looking for in their “ladies-in-waiting” beyond that they “need not be noble.” You know, it seems awfully naive for a noble to accept just any old commoner to come and work in their household, and I say that as a commoner.

“Whatever could the point be of limiting it to ‘Ice Witch’ applicants?”

“Hey, Nanalie, you’re Ice-Type, right? Wouldn’t that work for you?”

A nearby sorceress had picked up on the topic of our conversation. “Why Ms. Hel, why don’t you go check it out?”

Lately, I’ve noticed that the sorcerers have begun to remember my name, and some are polite enough to call me by my last name. It’s not like anything else in particular has changed about me or the way I do my work, but I do feel happy to feel like my efforts are being acknowledged. I smile at the sorcerer, happy to be remembered.

If I get caught making idle conversation with our customers in front of the Director, though, she’s going to lecture me for sure. Or worse, punch me with that lightning-ball strike of hers.

I glance back at the door to her office, but it doesn’t seem as though it’s going to be opening any time soon. I let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey, Harris, take a look at this.”

Ms. Harris is back from her break. The receptionist next to me calls her up to the desks from where she’s doing paperwork in one of the back offices.

“What? ...Oh my, this girl looks so innocent! Don’t you think she’d be the perfect fit?”

“Harris, you can’t know that just based on appearances, dear.”

“What are you talking about?” I say, confused.

“Oh, well, it’s just...”

I try to take another look at the paper but Ms. Harris has snatched it out of my hands and is hiding a portion of the text with her hands. She gathers the other women around her as they look back and forth between the paper and me, whispering all the while.

Why in the world would they go through this charade of hiding the hiring notice from me? It’s going to be posted up on the bulletin board anyway, right? The sorceress who’s in on the conversation gives me a knowing smile from over the counter when we make eye contact.

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Ms. Hel, it says here that they are only looking for ‘young maidens.’”

Ms. Harris blushes as she says that. “Goodness gracious, you can’t go around saying that out loud in a place like this!” one of the other women whispers, and the rest all giggle.

I have no idea what’s so funny. Right now, I’m sure there’s a big question mark hovering over my head. What part of that can they not talk about “in a place like this”?

“I’d never apply for that, then,” I say. “I’m not some ‘young maiden,’ after all.”

“Is that so?” All of the women start tittering and teasing me. “I must admit I’m surprised,” one of them says, smiling. What is so funny?

“You’re a cute one, aren’t you?” The sorcerer who’d come over and joined our chat gives me a grin and a wave as she walks away towards the doors. She must have a job left to do.

Why would that hiring notice only be for “young maidens?”

Anyhow, I’ve already graduated from school. I’m a grown woman now. The only “witches” who will be applying for that job are those who are having a rough go of it or are quite thick-headed. I’m not going. As if I ever would!

The other receptionist tries to continue the conversation. “Orcinus, you know—”

“Now now, you need to run along and go eat your lunch before your break ends.”

“But Nanalie, I just—!”

I give her a little push on her back and she begins walking off towards the break room. I do like having a chat now and then with my co-workers, but I’d prefer to talk about things like that outside of work, where I can relax and have a bit more fun. “We’ll continue this conversation later,” she says, teasing me before giving me a wave goodbye as she passes through the break room doors.

“Goodness, that took a long time. Sorry for leaving you here by yourself.”

“Ms. Zozo!”

As the other receptionist is leaving, Ms. Zozo bursts out the doors of the Director’s office. She gives me a smile as she sits down next to me. “We ended up having more to talk about than I’d thought,” she says, massaging the sides of her head.

“Did you get it all taken care of?” I ask.

“Well...”

“Excuse me, I’d like to file a request.”

A woman (girl?) about the same age as me comes up to my desk. Dang it Nanalie, focus on your job! I turn away from Ms. Zozo to face the girl and hand her a request form.

“Pardon my distraction. What sort of request would you like to file?” She’s a small young woman with her hair done up in two pigtails.

“The request, right. I’d like to file one about...”

Just looking at this girl is distracting. She’s almost the same age as me—but is she a “girl,” or is she a “woman?” I need to know. I need to know in the same way that I need to know why all the other women laughed when I told them I’m not some “young maiden.”

The age of adulthood is eighteen, so with that in mind, the person in front of me is probably a “woman,” but she has this aura about her that makes me feel as though she’s not quite an adult yet. An uncertain phase of life, for sure.

Then of course there’s the fact that even though we are considered adults once we reach the age of eighteen, we don’t actually go through the Coming of Age ceremony until we are nineteen years old, so perhaps that’s why being this age feels so strange. And that gap is only for women, so we’re the only ones who have to deal with this uncertainty about who, exactly, we are in society. Men go through their Coming of Age at eighteen years old. Why isn’t it the same for women?

I’m sure there are various reasons for that difference, but as far as I know, no one else seems to think we should change that part of our cultural traditions to make it more equal for men and women.

Setting that aside.

“Well, there’s been a lot of prelia in my neighborhood recently, and they’ve taken to destroying all the crops in my garden. I’m hoping that a sorcerer can come help me take care of them.”

The woman pulls out a vegetable from her brown bag. It’s been burned to a blackened crisp. From what I can see, it doesn’t look like there’s a single part left of it that can be eaten. Apparently she’s been growing pukuchi in her backyard, which is a green vegetable often eaten by commoners. I myself have some as part of my dinner every day.

“Prelia are Fire-Type magical creatures, so in order to properly take care of their breeding areas, we’ll need to send around a Fire-Type sorcerer. After all, prelia tend to take well to Fire-Type people.”

“Is that so? You know, I do think I’ve heard that before...”

“Prelia normally only live near active volcanoes, so someone might have gone and adopted one as a pet, but abandoned it after they brought it home.”

Prelia are a type of magical creature that live near volcanoes and in other relatively hot places. Some people apparently adore having them as pets, but some abandon them when their tendency to cause fires starts to cause trouble. In their new habitats near other people’s houses, the only way they can go on living is by burning up all the farms and fields nearby. Unfortunate creatures, really.

Prelia are very cute when they’re babies, looking rather like chubby little mice, but once they get larger, they grow sharp fangs and become half as tall as the average adult human. With tears of lava and their propensity to spit balls of fire when angered, I can’t recommend anyone go out and buy one as a pet.

Having lost their cute, baby-like appearance, adolescent prelia are frequently abandoned by their owners once they become too difficult to care for.

Humans. Who do you think you are, going around and treating animals like they’re your playthings? To make matters worse, there are some people who, after they’ve abandoned their grown-up prelia, go back to the volcanoes to catch another baby prelia to fill the hole in their heart.

The client in front of me seems to be aware of that whole process, because she adds that she wants the prelia to be “returned to the volcanoes unharmed, if possible.”

“Here’s what I can offer as a reward,” she says, writing the amount down on the form.

“Excellent,” I say, “I will get your request sent around to the sorcerers as soon as I can. It’s still early in the day, so I think someone will likely be over to take care of them by the end of today or tomorrow.”

“Great! Thank you so much.”

“Take care on your way home,” I say, standing up from my seat to give her a bow as she walks away from my reception desk.

I duplicate the request form and send a copy levitating over to the reception desks for sorcerers. One of the receptionists over there plucks it out of the air, looks over at me and gives me a thumbs-up. I give her a thumbs-up back and flash a smile in return.

After the young woman leaves, there aren’t any clients waiting to be served, so I turn back to Ms. Zozo and resume our conversation.

“So, Ms. Zozo, what was...?”

“He’s coming...”

“Director Locktiss?!”

The Director pops up out of nowhere and lays one hand on my shoulder and the other on Ms. Zozo’s. I’d nearly jumped out of my skin in surprise at the sight of the Director. She’s hunched over as if she’s bearing some terrible weight and, from the look on her face, doesn’t seem to be feeling too well.

That’s odd. She looks nothing like the friendly, cheerful Director I know.

It’s not that she’s normally jumping-off-the-walls HAPPY! all the time or anything, but that relaxed smile she usually has on her face when she’s smacking yet another employee who’s screwed up on the job is nowhere to be found.

Let me be clear, she’s not a rowdy ruffian or anything like that on a daily basis, but the way she’s sighing so deeply right now would make anyone worry.

What had she meant by “he’s coming?” Or rather, who?

“Wh-Who’s coming, Director?”

“That BEARDFACE is coming here!”

Beardface.

The Director is squeezing our shoulders very, very tightly right now.

“Owowowowowwowow! OUCH! Do—do you mean the Knight Commander?”

“Yeah!”

Now she’s squeezing even harder. She’s going to rip my shoulder right off at this rate!

Zozo starts begging. “Please, Director, would you kindly remove your hands immediately?” The Director apparently hears the tone of agony in her plea and snaps out of it, releasing us. “Dear me, I’m so sorry about that,” she says, sticking out her lower lip in pity for us.

Thank the Goddess. She would’ve turned our shoulders into mincemeat if that had gone on any longer.

I knew exactly who the Director was referring to when she started going off about “Beardface.” Why, it must have been just the other day when she was telling me that I should “not just toss salt” on his face to “get rid of that slug,” but that I should “freeze his beard right off,” along with a load of other orders I couldn’t make head nor tails of.

“You see, I was just talking with the Director about the possibility of you, me, and Alkes going to do some psychometry at the place Mr. Gouda was found,” Zozo says, massaging her bruised shoulder as she glares at the Director.

“I’m sure you heard this from Zozo before, but you’re aware that we have to report all cases that deal with demons to the Kingdom and the Order, right? It’s such a pain making that report in person, so I just took care of it using the Mirror. I told the Knight Commander that the sorcerers hadn’t found any signs of a demon when they found Mr. Gouda, so we’d be quite alright with just some Harré employees going to take care of the psychometry.”

The Director’s entire body is shivering. It’s quite clear to see that she isn’t shivering out of fear or a chill, but something else entirely.

“Then he says ‘The Order must fulfill its duties with regards to this matter!’ HA! Who cares about ‘the Order’ and their ‘duties’! All he wants to do is take credit for the work we do here, that enormous IDIOT!”

Her fists are clenched, quivering, practically punching the air as she speaks.

The more angry I see her become about the Knight Commander, the more I want to know the reason for her fury. All around us are sorcerers who can very easily see and hear the outburst she’s having in the middle of our office. Maybe she doesn’t care? Usually she’d never shout like this, and she wouldn’t forgive any employee who did so either.

What kind of person could inspire such rage in the Director? I’ve seen him before, at a distance, but now I want to meet him. I really want to meet him.

I’m the type of person who, once I get interested in something, I go all out trying to gather as much information as I can. I can’t just sit still and be ignorant of who this guy is and why the Director hates him so much!

According to the Director, her conversation with the Knight Commander had ended with his decision that the Knights’ Order itself would be going to the site of Mr. Gouda’s discovery, and in order to navigate there, he would be coming to Harré directly in order to retrieve the map. That’s what seemed to have angered the Director.

“I could have just shown him the map using the Mirror! Why does he need to go out of his way to come cause a ruckus in here?!”

There are magical devices called “Morgue Mirrors” that allow one to communicate at a distance with someone else. They are special mirrors that were made a long time ago using ancient techniques, and with them, one is able to speak with any other person who also has a Mirror. As there aren’t that many of them, they are quite valuable, and certainly nothing I’d ever be wealthy enough to own. There are currently five in the country, one in the King’s palace of Castle Shuzelk, one with the Knights’ Order, one in Harré’s Sorcerers’ Guild, and in the homes of two out of the Three Great Houses: the House of Bunachiel and the House of Mozfalt. The Third Great House, the House of Arnold, does not possess one.

There are several others scattered throughout other kingdoms and countries, but even so, I find it a bit strange that we have one here at Harré. I’m not exactly sure how long it’s been here, but our Guild has been one of the most important places in the Kingdom ever since its founding, so perhaps it’s not that much of a mystery.

“He told me that he’ll be bringing along the First and Eighth Platoon when he comes.”

“The First Platoon?” I ask.

“Nanalie?”

The First...?

I’d frozen at the word “First.” Zozo waves one hand in front of my eyes. “Hello?” she says, looking worried.

The Director is also apparently puzzled by my reaction, because she waves her hand in front of my face like Zozo is doing as well.

“He’s Captain of the First Platoon now, you know.”

I’m almost certain that’s what Nikeh had told me.

You’ve got to be kidding me. It isn’t enough that my private life is being interrupted with worrying about him, now I’ve got to see his bastard face at work too! How did it come to this?

＊　＊　＊　＊

It’s suddenly gotten loud outside.

The doors are closed, so I can’t hear what’s going on very well, but I can tell there’s something causing a commotion out there.

From Harré’s windows, I catch glimpses of pegasi. More than one of those creatures are walking around out there. There’s only one reason why such a large group of pegasi accompanied by their human riders would be outside Harré’s door:

The Order of Knights has arrived.

Harré’s heavy doors with their quiet, carefully oiled hinges swing open. In walks a man taller...no, larger than the average fellow, wearing his Knight’s uniform.

“Is Theodora here?”

His cheeks are lined with several scars. He’s the type of man that seems like, every time he went out to battle, he survived by only the skin of his teeth. Those wounds must’ve been so deep, not even magic was able to heal them. Scarred though his face may be, he still looks every bit the brave hero.

If he hadn’t been wearing his uniform, he would’ve looked like a total bandit. Having said that, there’s this mysterious sense of dignity he seems to possess that’s present in every step he takes and every gesture he makes. He’d be no ordinary bandit—he’d be the Bandit King.

What am I even going on about?

“Director Locktiss, the Knight Commander has arrived.”

I, who’ve been sitting at my reception desk and staring at the Knight Commander for several seconds, finally decide to alert the Director to her visitor. She’d been somewhere among the desks behind me, complaining about something or other to Alkes. I’d figured that she’d come up to the front to meet him sooner or later, having heard his voice when he came in, but she showed no sign of slowing down her incessant whining to Alkes, even after the Commander called for her by name.

“Theodora, I’m here, so why don’t you come out and show your face?”

“...‘show—my—face—’? Hmm? Is that what you want?”

Zozo and I exchange glances. The Director wasn’t taking too kindly to the Commander’s words. Letting loose something like a growl, she stands up from her seat and begins making her way towards him.

Excellent, she’s finally gotten up.

Now Harré’s doors are flung open again. A cute little voice rings out like a bell in the reception area:

“Commander, please don’t leave me behind like that!”

It’s Nikeh. Her long blonde hair is no longer in pigtails but in one tight ponytail. Its light color stands in sharp contrast to the black Knight’s uniform she is wearing.

“Sir, we flew so quickly that we apparently left behind the First Platoon.”

That’s Prince Zenon’s voice. He comes in after Nikeh, glances back at the doors, and winces a little. “Nikeh, you practically slammed those doors open. This isn’t your dormitory back at the Order.”

“Oh, you’re right—sorry about that.”

The Prince’s black hair matches his black uniform. “Noir” indeed. He doesn’t look like he’s changed a bit since I saw him six months ago. Rockmann is, of course, taller than the Prince, but Prince Zenon is taller than me. He’s certainly taller than the average adult man. There are a lot of tall men in the Knights’ Order, but he is head and shoulders above even his fellow Knights. Or at least that’s the impression I have. I, on the other hand, am a bit taller than the average woman but not noticeably so. I’m normal, really. It’s a bit frustrating to think that even when it comes to height, I’m somehow “less than” he is. Grown up and independent as I may be, I am still a sore loser when it comes to him.

“I can’t see the First’s pegasi yet—can you?”

“The First Platoon is going at their own pace, like they always do. There’s no panicking or rushing for members of the First, that’s for sure.”

The Director had said earlier that the First and the Eighth Platoons were coming today. That must mean Nikeh and the Prince are members of the Eighth. Rockmann is with the First, so he’s not in the same platoon as them.

I make eye contact with Nikeh and the Prince, giving them both a smile and a bow in greeting. Nikeh’s smile is so adorable that it makes me feel even happier to see them.

Several other Knights come into Harré after them. It’s not noisy so much as it’s crowded. The sorcerers clustered on the other side of the room near the job board notice the entrance of the Knights and begin whispering to each other in excitement. The Knights, on the other hand, make no idle conversation whatsoever, and wait quietly in formation behind the Knight Commander.

“Hey, we did you the favor of coming all this way to get that map.”

“‘Did me the favor’?!”

The Director emerges from behind the counter to confront the Commander. She points her finger at him and stabs it in the air, her rage plain as day.

“‘Did me the favor’? What a BEARDFACE thing to say!”

She’s getting a little violent with her language, but her left hand, holding the map, is steady.

“Good grief, there was absolutely no need for you to come with such a crowd for an errand as simple as this. Take it and begone!”

Complaining all the while, she hands the map over to the Commander. Business finished, she immediately turns around and goes back behind the reception counter.

“No need to get all grumpy with me, Theodora. Oh right, there’s someone who I’d like to re-introduce you to—”

At the Commander’s words, the doors to Harré open once more, and a tall man dressed in a pitch-black robe comes in all the way to stand before the Director. On his robes are embroidered the flowers of the Kingdom.

He has a hood over his head, so I can’t see his face very well, but he is the spitting image of a mage. His garments look exactly like those worn by the Great Wizards I’d seen in picture books as a child. He’s carrying around a long golden cane, and it looks somewhat like my own Cudgel of the Goddess, Dare Labdos. (Mine’s silver and his is gold, however.)

Several other people come following in after him dressed in much the same manner. The shorter ones must be women, given the long hair I see spilling out from under their hoods.

The man takes one more step forward, lifts a hand to his hood, and faces the Director.

“You are as beautiful as the rumors claim, my lady. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Captain of the First Platoon, Alois Hades Rockmann.”

Wait, who?

Or so I think for a second.

He lifts back his hood to reveal slightly curly golden hair. He shakes his head a little and it straightens out, gently falling to his shoulders. Above his smiling lips is his sharp, aquiline nose and almond eyes with those pupils reminiscent of red flames.

I can’t help but think: this again?

The man is Alois Rockmann. Him.

“Oh my! Well aren’t you a good man, the complete opposite of Grove over there! Why, it’s enough to make a woman blush,” she says, smiling brightly as she shakes his hand.

Ugh. This bastard’s gotten to the point where he’s hitting on my boss.

Director Locktiss’s cheeks are flushed red. Director, you’re completely mistaken about him. He’s completely fooling you with that gentlemanly appearance. Don’t fall for it. I look suspiciously at Rockmann, trying to puzzle him out. What’s with that getup? It doesn’t look very Knightly at all.

The others behind him, however, are dressed in the same way. The ones who came in after the Knight Commander, on the other hand, are all wearing the normal Knight uniform.

“The First Platoon is a collection of individuals who are all particularly gifted with the use of magic. We normally keep them in our rearguard during battles, but they do their jobs when I order them to strike the finishing blow on our enemies. I’ve set up the Morgue Mirror so that Alois, in addition to Zenon, can use it from here on out. Should you ever need anything when I’m not around, they’ll take care of it. I do hope you’ll get along with them.”

It sounds a bit strange for a unit to “strike the finishing blow” from behind the front lines. Perhaps they’re more like weapons of last resort than normal fighters? Hmmm... Lost in thought, I sweep my gaze across the room—and lock eyes with him.

“...”

“...”

We glare at each other for a few seconds (actually, he just looked at me normally), and then I look away, back down to my hands, which are holding a pure white request form.

I can’t do anything stupid like allowing my own personal loathing for Rockmann to influence how I perform my job. Nor do I want to think about all that at the moment. He’s working right now too, so I doubt he wants to start trouble with me.

Oh, but now that I think of it, this might be a good chance to return that white dress. If I miss this opportunity, I’ll have to go back to that mansion myself. It’s an enormous pain for commoners to send a package to nobility, so I can’t just take the “simpler” method of mailing it to him. Just sending Maris that one letter took a lot of effort, so I can’t imagine what I’d have to go through in order to get that dress delivered.

Well, I suppose that if by coming here, he’s saved me a lot of trouble, I don’t mind him being around too much. It actually feels like a great, dress-sized weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

“I should mention that we didn’t come here just for this map.”

“What, then?”

“Well, we haven’t eaten lunch yet.”

“Excuuuuse me?”

The Director is practically hysterical as she reacts to this latest line from the Commander. “So what?” she says.

“We’ll be eating our lunch here. No worries, we brought money, so there’s no need to treat us to a meal.”

“If you’d asked me to treat you to lunch, I’d be throwing you out the door faster than you can say ‘bunny-bird.’” With a harumph of displeasure, the Director shakes her head and waves the Knights towards the dining area.

＊　＊　＊　＊

Among the Knights wearing those black robes is a very, very beautiful woman. “Captain Alois,” she says, calling out to Rockmann.

She’s a beauty of a different sort than Nikeh. If Nikeh’s the type of girl whose beauty is a sort of soft aura she carries with her, this other girl’s beauty is like a red or orange frisson that she wears like a carefully polished coat of armor, the type of beauty that would complement someone who had a calmer feel to them, like a blue or a green. She’s sitting next to Rockmann right now, and they’re eating lunch together.

I don’t have any particular reason to be troubled any further with the Knights and their business, so here I am at my reception desk, quietly performing my duties. Waiting, as I am, for another client to come ask me for assistance, my gaze strays, from time to time, over to where the Knights and sorcerers are having their lunch.

“Captain, please have this. I’ve not yet touched it.”

“Oh, thanks. You don’t want it?”

“I’m quite alright.”

“No need to push yourself. Here, eat half.”

“Th-thank you very much.”

Hm, so she’s a “good girl,” isn’t she. Rockmann is now patting the head of that beautiful woman I was describing earlier. Her light brown hair looks soft and pleasant to the touch. He’s slowly running his left hand from the roots of her hair down to the edges of her locks.

Unbelievable. Who in their right mind goes around flirting with women in a place like this?

I get the feeling that if he was the last man in the world, he’d marry multiple women and build up quite the harem without a moment’s hesitation.

Even so, should Rockmann be the very last man alive, I would never join his harem.

I notice the Director and the Knight Commander are in the middle of talking about work when something on the job board seems to catch his eye. “One of those posters is here, too?” he mumbles. I follow his line of sight and see that he’s looking at the “Seeking Ice Witches!” flier that had come from the Kingdom of Orcinus.

“That? Right, the thing from Orcinus. It passed MCFT inspection, so I’ve allowed it to be posted here, but I have my suspicions about it.”

The MCFT is a Royal institution that examines all goods coming into Doran to determine whether or not they are legal within the Kingdom. Their full name is the “Ministry of Customs and Foreign Trade.”

“I don’t think there’d be too many ‘Ice Maidens’ around these parts,” the Commander says, looking around the room.

“We have Nanalie here working for us, but I hope she isn’t tempted by those salary numbers. I’d be quite beside myself if she told me she was leaving for the money.”

She looks at me, smiling. I know what she’s trying to ask.

“I’d never apply for something like that. I’m not a ‘maiden,’ after all.”

“WHAT?!”

“Huh? Wh-What?”

Nikeh, who’d been busy eating until a moment ago, is now staring at me, jaw hanging open. The utensils she’d been using to eat fall with a clang, and she lets out a sort of strangled yell.

The Director is also staring, blinking her eyes rapidly as she sizes me up.

What in the world is all this fuss about?

“Dear, you really aren’t a maiden?”

“No, I mean, a maiden at my age? That’s not a thing, right?”

“Well, I suppose you may have a point there...”

The Director is stroking her chin in thought, muttering to herself. “I guess I, too, at that age...”

“NnnnGAH! This paper’s burning up!”

As I’m looking over at the Director, completely confused, the pure white request form that I’ve been holding in my hands goes up in flames, and in an instant, turns into ash.

After I’ve managed to lift my eyes away from the ash that’s fallen all over my knees and the floor, I look over at Zozo.

“Pestrokraive? Don’t worry about it, it’ll go away soon enough. We also have a lot of other request forms, so don’t concern yourself over losing it.”

“Well, sure, but...”

When someone is in an unstable emotional state and they’ve lost their temper, there’s this phenomenon called “pestrokraive” (strange game) that can occur even without the caster consciously invoking a spell. All the magical energy stored up inside flashes out and tends to cause accidents like this.

It’s over in an instant, but for families that have children who tend to lose their tempers easily, it’s no small matter. Up until now, however, I’ve never let myself get worked up into a state where I feel like I’m going to explode, so I don’t have any prior experience with this.

I don’t think I felt anything “explosive.” At most, I felt a very strong desire to punch Rockmann (for the millionth time) after seeing his irritating face, but the magic didn’t express itself that way. In that case, whose feelings caused those flames, and why in the world were they feeling like that?

“Hey, you.”

Just as I’m cleaning up the ash with a spell, I realize that Rockmann has left behind the members of his platoon and is making his way towards me. There’s no question who he wants to talk to: he stops and stands directly before me.

With his height and that black robe, he actually looks a bit intimidating. But what does he want with me? I look at him with a slight frown on my face. I realize that I shouldn’t be making that sort of face at work and I freeze up for a moment.

“Eek!”

From behind the golden hair of his bangs I catch glimpses of his narrowed, crimson eyes... He’s glaring at me. With a face like his, so scarily symmetrical and with such perfectly sharp features, what I feel is not “attraction” but fear when I look at him. But I can’t allow myself to be afraid of some fool like Rockmann. As if I’d ever forgive myself if this is the moment I finally give in and admit defeat. Maybe he’s come to start a fight.

From behind the counter, I slowly lift both my hands up into attack position, ready to rumble.

“When did you stop being a maiden?”

“Excuse me?”

“When?”

He slowly bears down on me from above, his face getting closer with every question. I try to maintain some distance between us, and I find myself bending backwards to keep myself from getting too close.

“When?” What kind of question is that? And why would he care?

“I don’t really know how to answer that,” I say. He’s getting too close now. I push back against his chest and avert my gaze. It’s not like I’ve done anything bad. Why’s he acting like this? Who cares about whether I’m a maiden or not? Furthermore, who gives a fig about “when,” exactly, I stopped being a maiden? What kind of person spends their time thinking about such things?

I’m already eighteen years old. After graduating from school, I’m not in any kind of position where I can go around calling myself a “maiden.”

“Since graduation,” I say.

“With who?”

“Who?”

What in the world is he going on about?

“Aaaanyway! Why would you need to know about something like that?! Who cares whether I’m a maiden or not?! Do you want to become some little maiden?!”

“I simply thought that you were putting on airs with all that talk about not being a maiden. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s alright.”

“What is ‘alright’?! Do you understand what exactly you’re saying? I don’t think I’ve been asked about such nonsense in my entire life.”

What a weird guy. What did he mean by “putting on airs”? That’d be strange of me to do, wouldn’t it? Maybe he’s just an idiot?

“Captain Alois?”

“Don’t you think the Captain looks a little off?”

Shoot. I forgot to watch my language when speaking with this bastard. He’s a noble, just like Prince Zenon, after all. Now that I think of it, I’m pretty sure I’ve always spoken my mind around him, holding nothing back.

“Captain? We have to finish up eating here soon, so...” The female Knight that Rockmann had been eating with earlier has now gotten up to urge him to return to the table. Where he’d been sitting, I see a half-eaten plate of meat and vegetables.

What a lovely meal he just up and abandoned. Bizarre. Lunch is the most important time of day, and he pays it no mind! Quit trying to start something here with me and get back to eating. I try to communicate that to him with a glare, but my gaze locks not with his crimson eyes but a pair of blue ones.

He looks back at me with a questioning look in his eyes. I feel something race down my spine. It’s different and stronger than what I felt when he was asking me about my status as a maiden.

For some reason I can’t understand, the female Knight standing next to Rockmann is looking right at me with an expression utterly devoid of any emotion.

“Forgive me for saying this to you when we’ve just met,” she says. I’m trying not to blink too much in surprise. “But are you aware of who, exactly, you are addressing with that tone of yours?”

I think I just blinked one hundred times in one second. My eyebrows are twitching.

“There’s no way someone working at Harré wouldn’t know who this is,” she says. There’s an edge to her voice as she addresses me. That and the strange look in her eyes contrast sharply with the image given by her soft, silky brown hair that falls down her back. She’s tilting her head to one side right now as she looks at me, and all that beautiful hair flows down over her left shoulder. She takes one hand and slides her hair back behind her ears, exposing the clean, perfect lines of her neck.

Of course, she’s a looker... or so I think, like an old man would, before I say:

“No, well, you see...ahem,” I can’t quite finish speaking before I swallow my words in anxiety. Yeah, I’m not imagining it—this woman’s lecturing me, right here, right now. I look back at Rockmann, and he doesn’t seem to be concerning himself much with what’s going on. He’s calm, cool, and collected as he looks at me, giving nothing away.

Wait, he’s not just looking at me—he’s observing me. Somehow I find that even more irritating.

I slowly drop my hands down to my sides as I turn back to face the true cause of all this trouble: Rockmann. I feel like that other woman’s going to cut me to pieces if I look back at her, and I don’t have the courage to go through that right now. I’m not about to get into an argument with someone from the Order, let alone a woman I just met.

The quiet rattle of the ceiling fan above us is audible over the silence between us.

“He-hey now, what’s your deal? Nanalie, you’ve done nothing you need to worry about, okay?”

Zozo steps beside me and puts one arm around my shoulder as I stand in front of the beautiful woman with the oddly menacing attitude. She must’ve been worried about me, trying to find some gap in the conversation where she could tactfully step in and stop the drama from spiraling further out of control. I do nothing but cause her trouble.

“Ms. Zozo,” I say, trying to admit that the whole thing is my fault, but before I can finish, the brown-haired woman has slammed one hand down on the counter, shoulders heaving in irritation.

Even Zozo jumps at that.

I don’t really understand what’s going on, but whatever it is, it’s not good.

“I was not speaking to you,” the woman says to Zozo. “I was speaking to her,” she says, jutting her chin at me. What a waste. Her lovely, beautiful face is totally ruined by that awful expression. She looks as though she’s chewing on some bitter insect. Such a shame, being that beautiful and not showing it off with a smile.

My father had always said that no matter how old a girl is, she’s always the most beautiful when she’s smiling. My mother, however, upon hearing that, had gotten irritated for some weird reason and said, “You’re not going around saying that to just anybody now, are you?”

“This is Harré!” Zozo says. “It doesn’t matter who you are or what family you’re from when you step through those doors.”

“What an ignorant thing to say. Is Harré full of other rude people like yourself?”

I could hear something audibly snap inside Zozo when the woman said those words to her.

“HAH?! Stars above, you Knights think very highly of yourselves now don’t you?”

Zozo’s professional manner has disappeared in an instant. That snap I heard earlier must have been the breaking point for her patience. Does Rockmann like this person who’s going off on us right now? I blush a little as I try sneaking a glance at him from the corner of my eyes. The way he looks right now reminds me very clearly of those days when he was surrounded by all those noble young ladies back at school.

It’s something that’s just become clear to me now, but I realize that all the girls that have liked him have tended to be the bold, outspoken sort. Maris had been that way, and the fangirling classmates had been that way as well. Perhaps I’m taking this too far, but this woman next to Rockmann right now is bringing back all those feelings I’d struggled to hold in check when arguing with those noble girls that clung to Rockmann.

“Hold up! There’s no good that’ll come of starting a ruckus here.” Nikeh’s gotten up from the table where she was eating and is now standing between Zozo and the other woman, hands held out to keep them apart.

“Nikeh, I—”

“No, Nanalie, you’re not to blame for this.” She looks quite apologetic as she cuts off my attempt to take responsibility for the commotion. I’m the one who should be apologizing here.

I catch a fragment of something Nikeh’s muttering under her breath: “Good grief, when it involves Nanalie, it always gets like this...tsktsk.” So I am to blame. I feel awful.

I’ve caused all this trouble. The Director’s sure to scold me now. I look away from the women around me to see how the Director’s taking this—and there she is, next to the Commander, both of them watching the scene developing before them with something that looks like amused interest, smiles wide and eyes bright.

By the Goddess! What do they have to be so excited about? Just a little while ago they’d been practically snarling at each other, but now they’re cheerfully commentating on this spectacle like they’re the best of friends. What’s that about? Why’s the Director suddenly so buddy-buddy with the Commander?

The other Knights are looking over at us now as well, whispering as they glance back and forth between me and the other women. Prince Zenon seems to have been watching Rockmann closely for some time. He doesn’t look at Nikeh or me, nor does he seem like he’s about to intervene in our little scuffle.

I notice that all the sorceresses who are turning this way to see what’s going on take one look at Rockmann and blush, red as can be. Rockmann himself doesn’t seem to understand the looks he’s drawing, his gaze fixed on me and the other women. Ridiculous. You’re all grown women, surely you can refrain from blushing at the mere sight of an attractive man?

“But Brunel, for her to speak like that to the Captain is simply unforgivable. Only His Highness the Prince and the Knight Commander talk to him like that.”

“I think you’d better calm down. You’ve got to stop flying off the rails every time your Captain starts a conversation with someone. Unless, of course, you don’t mind if you’re transferred to another platoon?”

“But, but I can’t...” The brown-haired woman trails off as Nikeh gently pats her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

Hmmm...well that’s that, but still.

Right now, I am technically on the clock, working. Rockmann’s not someone who’s come to seek services from the receptionists at Harré, and I’d tried so hard not to let my personal feelings interfere with my work while he was present inside the Guild, but I’d slipped up and spoken to him a bit unprofessionally, despite the circumstances.

No matter how absurd his questions, no matter how irritatingly he asks them, there is no excuse for me to lash out at him in response. Still, what had she meant by asking if I “knew who he was?” Had she been referring to the fact he’s a Captain? The son of a Duke? That his title is Marquess Cheese Fondue? (Note: his real title is “Marquess Fodeuri.”)

The more I think about it, the less I understand. A guy this perplexing makes himself my enemy just by existing.

I cast my eyes downward. My blue hair falls down to hang over my chest. It’s not exactly relevant to what’s going on around me, but the following thought passes through my mind: That calm, refreshing blue really matches the white of my uniform, doesn’t it?

“Forgive me, I am fully aware of his station and status. Pardon my indiscretion.”

I shall not bring my personal feelings into this. I shall not bring my personal feelings into this.

That’s all that’s running through my mind as I decide I might as well say I’m sorry. I bow in apology to the woman.

I hear Nikeh let out a small gasp at the sight of my bow.

“Weldy, I don’t want you misunderstanding what’s going on here.” I suddenly realize that someone has stuck their elegant, hard finger quite forcefully against the middle of my forehead.

“H—n?”

I was in the middle of trying to bow to the woman, but I’ve been stopped halfway. At the corner of my vision I can see the black sleeve of a robe—the one poking my head right now is Rockmann.

For a guy who’s usually so sweet on women, I’m a little surprised to hear how sharp and cold a tone he’s taking with this woman. Hadn’t he been the type to say embarrassing little lines like, “gotta treat all girls right,” or some such when he was hitting on one girl or another?

As that’s going through my mind, I stubbornly try to go through with my bow, only to find that, slowly but surely, my head is being forced back to its upright position by Rockmann’s unyielding pressure.

“Captain?”

“Weldy” must be the name of the woman next to him. She’s got one eyebrow raised in confusion at the way Rockmann’s touching me. What the hell is he intending to do now?

I try to force back his finger by pushing against it with my head, but it’s rather strong. His finger’s more likely to puncture my skull before I’m able to budge it. It hurts so much, I feel like he’s actually going to make a hole in my head.

“He-hey—”

No need to push that hard!

I screw up both my eyes to focus on the finger pressing against my forehead. It slowly moves down to directly between my eyes, and then brushes down along the bridge of my nose.

“I do not allow this woman to bow to me.”

His finger’s now pressing against my lips.

“I do not allow her to speak politely to me, either.”

He’s holding my chin with one hand.

My head’s slightly tilted upwards, and I feel him tracing the edge of my lower lip with his thumb.

His head is ever so slightly tilted to one side, and he has a small smile on his face.

His golden locks are resting against his black collar, and his cheeks have a pale tinge to them, lighter than the average man’s.

“Um...Captain...Alois?”

“This woman is my friend, and you have no place to say anything about my relationship with her. I was the one who was indiscreet; I apologize, my Lady Receptionist.”

I don’t recall ever becoming friends with him, but unusually for him, he’s got this pained look on his face and averts his gaze when I try to make eye contact. I stare right at him, but he refuses to look at me.

In contrast to his words, however, I still feel his thumb gently pushing against my lower lip. Is he seriously apologizing to me, or just playing around?

...Does he find prodding my lip that entertaining?

Hurry up and get your hand off me!

I don’t say that out loud. It was so unexpected for him to apologize to me that I kinda felt like the wind had been taken out of my sails.

Maybe I should just bite his finger and gnaw it to pieces. Surprisingly, however, I too decide to refrain from pushing this any further, and like the adult I am, my mouth remains closed.

I look over at the woman (Weldy?) and see that she’s looking at us with her eyes wide. Those blue eyes of hers look like they’re about to pop right out of their sockets. She’s gripping the sleeves of her robes, shaking a little. Hold on, is she about to cry? That’s absurd, she can’t go crying over something like this!

“Um, I—”

“Yes?”

“Hehehehe.”

Rockmann’s got this suspicious look in his narrowed eyes as he watches me try to open my mouth to say something. Finally, he removes his hand from my mouth and lips. I leap at the chance and bow all the way down. “My sincerest apologies for my earlier indiscretion, Sir Alois Rockmann. I am woefully inexperienced in the aristocratic formalities, and, truly, I am just as naive as this woman proclaims me to be.”

He doesn’t reply.

“Whatever seems to be the matter, Sir Alois Rockmann?” I tilt my head to one side and lower my eyebrows, trying to look meek and mild-mannered.

“Is that how this is going to go?”

Rockmann seems to have picked up on my cheeky plan. He massages his furrowed eyebrows with his fingers, closing his eyes as if in thought.

“Nanalie, you...?”

Nikeh holds one hand over her mouth, glancing sideways at the Knight next to her. She, the Knight with the brown hair, looks beyond dismayed. This “Weldy” woman seems to have gotten into the habit of being insufferably polite to Rockmann. For her to see Rockmann suddenly become irritated when I act like a polite, mild-mannered woman must be not just confusing, but discomforting to her as a woman, believing that she’s been pleasing him all the while with her ever-so-refined manner of addressing her Captain.

Two birds with one stone, that’s what this strategy is. No matter what happens, I benefit. After all, if Rockmann tells me not to do something, I want to do it all the more.

I’d thought I’d die before I ever spoke to him like that, but in this world, you can’t go around speaking your mind to whomever however you please and expect to get by without any trouble.

I’m giggling internally at the sight of the immensely displeased expression on his face. That smoking sense of unease I’d felt upon his appearance at Harré is gone, replaced with the clear, refreshing blue skies of self-satisfaction.

Surely this will be enough to stop him. Not even he, a renowned ladykiller, is going to make a scene by making this girl shed tears here in front of her co-workers.

“Thanks,” he says. He’s got a grimace on his face as he thanks me (for what I have no idea).

“Huh?”

Hold on. Stop just one moment—did Rockmann just tell me “thanks?” That’s strange. But he’s been acting strange ever since he arrived. Now, he’s not only apologized to me, but thanked me as well—just what in the world has come over him? For someone who was just pestering me about my status as a non-maiden, he sure is acting rather mature now.

“But your ‘polite’ way of talking is starting to annoy everyone, so would you mind kindly cutting it the hell out?”

“Mature” my ass.

“Oh no sir,” I say, with a big, fake smile on my face, “that is quite out of the question.”

“This’ll end with your hair getting burnt.”

“In that case, would you prefer that I cool down your honored self with some freshly materialized ice? It’s a bit warm outside today, so I think you’ll find it most refreshing. Let’s get you chilled down ’til you’re frozen stiff...ngh!”

He claps one hand over my entire mouth and forces my lips shut.

“Sher, huar ew o’ng?” (Sir, what’re you doing?)

My lips stick out at odd angles from between his fingers, distorting my speech. He’s pinching my cheeks inward, very likely making my face look quite ugly. I guess this because Nikeh has a particular look on her face, the kind of face one makes when looking at a distinctly pathetic creature.

“Commander Grove.”

“Wha-What’s going on?”

The instant Rockmann begins to remove his hand from my face, I attempt to freeze it, but Rockmann, of course, is too quick to allow that. He evaporates my ice with a quick burst of his flames, leaving nothing but a thick cloud of steam in the air.

That cloud of steam, however, blows right into my face. It makes my bangs float upwards. It’s all over so quickly that I can’t tell if the steam was hot or cold when it blasted my face.

“It’s about the psychometry, sir—wasn’t the original plan to have someone from Harré come along with us?” Rockmann casually glances back at me as he asks the Knight Commander the question.

Dude, get your hands off me. You gonna fix this face if you break it?

“Oh right, I think so.”

The Director interrupts before the Commander can elaborate further. “The plan was,” she says, “to have Alkes, Zozo, and that Nanalie you’re tangled up with over there go with you to do it.” She points at me when she says my name. Is she laughing right now? Please, Director, enlighten me: just what part of the current situation do you find amusing?

“Is that so?”

“Commander, we’ve come all this way—why don’t we bring along those three from Harré?”

“Yeah?”

“It sounds like some of them are still in the process of learning how to perform psychometry, and anyhow, they’d originally planned to go by themselves anyway, right?”

“Well yes,” the Director says, letting out a snort of laughter as she looks at me.

“I want to teach her,” Rockmann says. “I want to teach this cute little receptionist how to perform psychometry.”

“How to perform psychometry.”

He brushes his bangs aside with the hand not clamped over my mouth and looks at me as if he is seeing something quite pleasing to the eye, smiling as if he’s enjoying himself.

“Yewrshesteece’oturshhh!” (You worthless piece of trash!)

Then, at last, my ice beats his flames.

I freeze his whole arm solid. Weldy, standing next to him, witnesses my trespass and slams her fist right into my face, causing yet another raucous tussle. The fight goes on.

＊　＊　＊　＊

The wind on this clear, bright day blows pleasantly against my skin. Riding on Lala’s back as we fly through the sky makes me feel all the more relaxed. Her white, soft Lykos fur shifts in waves against the wind.

“When’re these gonna go away?” I mumble, rubbing the two bumpy bruises on my forehead.

“Lady Nanalie, it’d be best if you didn’t touch them all that much.”

I pay no mind to the sound of the Knights around me talking to each other and simply gaze down on the pretty landscapes of the Kingdom below us, shifting from town to farm to town again as we fly.

There are two large bumps on my forehead, sticking out like deserted islands in the white sea of my forehead. The one on my left side is a little bigger than the other.

Ouch, these really hurt. I tap tap tap against them with my fingers, hoping they’ll subside quickly.

Zozo pulls up on her familiar, Purl, next to me. She sounds a bit exasperated as she calls out to me, having apparently noticed how much I’m massaging these bruises. “You should’ve just used a healing spell.”

“Hel seems like she could heal those bruises out of sheer spite.” Alkes has pulled up on the other side of me, riding on top of his phoenix familiar, as he calls out to Zozo.

We’re currently flying towards the forest along with the Order of Knights. The Knights are on their pegasi, while we are riding our familiars. The Knights are flying in formation. The Eighth Platoon is ahead of us, the First Platoon behind us. It had been the Knight Commander who’d invited us to accompany them on this mission, so we’re flying a bit closer to the Eighth.

Rockmann and Weldy are both in the First, behind us. Rockmann’s flying at the back of the First’s formation, the tail end of our whole group.

I’m overthinking things, of course, but it feels like he’s got me cornered from behind. Not that I’d prefer him to be in front of me either, but still, I don’t like it. I gripe about it to Zozo, and she just shakes her head and laughs. “You sound like one of those sorcerers who are always trying to pick a fight.” I decide to keep my mouth shut after that. I don’t want to sound like I’m some vindictive, petty person, but if I’m being honest with myself, I know I can be pretty vindictive when it comes to Rockmann. Suppose it’s too late to do anything about that aspect of my character anyway.

“I can’t use a healing spell on these,” I say, pointing at my bruises. “It’d be a waste of magical power.”

“You’re just torturing yourself,” she says in return.

“I shall never allow myself to forget this agony.”

My poor head, victim of Weldy’s rock-hard fist.

The worst thing about the whole situation is that just after she’d punched me the first time, she punched me again in the middle of her apology for the first punch! If you’re going to apologize, I’d really rather you not hit me like that. Still, I suppose I’d been the one to lose my composure first, and I’m used to getting beat up after all my fights with Rockmann during our school days. Her punch was much weaker than I remember his being. It was almost cute. Once we’d both managed to calm down a little, we apologized to each other, this time without punches. “I’m sorry,” she’d said, “but when it’s something involving the Captain, I just...” She’d looked completely beside herself when she’d said that. I had actually felt something like pity for her, and comforted her with words like, “Oh that’s quite alright, hit me as much as you’d like, I won’t get mad. I’m also to blame for what happened.”

He, being the bastard that he is, had completely relieved her of all her distress by gently patting her head, whispering, “That was a good punch you threw at her.” He’d said it with a gloating smile on his face, as if he’d beat me at something.

Weldy had probably been nervously anticipating a firm scolding from Rockmann, but he’d praised her instead, so she must have felt a great deal of relief at being complimented by him. Or so I decide to think.

Now, I can see that she’s flying in the far back, next to Rockmann. Surveying the rest of the members of the First Platoon, I notice she’s the only woman in the entire unit. There are about six other women in the Eighth Platoon along with Nikeh. Each platoon must have some sort of special characteristic like that.

The Eighth Platoon has twenty members. The First, however, has only ten. The First Platoon has rather different duties than the Eighth, so I suppose that’s understandable.

“We’re heading down to the forest! All units, follow my lead.”

And so, with those words from the Knight Commander, we descend as one.

＊　＊　＊　＊

“This is the place on the map.”

We see the large lake in the middle of the forest as we are descending.

After we land deep in the eastern part of the forest, I get off Lala’s back, shrink her, and set her on my shoulder. The pegasi apparently don’t shrink, so the Knights are having them rest near the edge of the lake. With thirty of them crowded so close together, the whinnying and baying is approaching the level of a dim roar, making them all the more amusing to watch.

“Let’s set up a barrier around the perimeter.”

At the orders of the Knight Commander, the black-robed members of the First Platoon materialize a transparent, magical shield around us.

“Waibars pulunkt.” (Thwart Evil.)

“Amraia.” (Defending Wall.)

“Noumos.” (Avert.)

Ms. Weldy is casting the spells, just like the rest of her platoon. Rockmann, Captain that he is, is giving instructions to the Knights under his command. “Let’s cast over there as well.”

Personally, I find that dynamic a bit odd; don’t the other Knights in his unit find it irritating to be ordered around by someone younger than themselves? Then again, perhaps it isn’t odd at all—Rockmann looks a great deal more mature than he did back in our school days. Someone who doesn’t know either of us might not even guess we’re the same age, but still—even Ms. Weldy is a year or two older than us, and yet she follows his orders without complaint.

There is something odd, however, in the manner they all so incessantly refer to him as “Captain.”

“The lake’s beautiful,” I say. I stand there on the edge of the lake, lost in my thoughts as my gaze wanders over the clear, emerald water.

I’d never imagined that there was such a large lake in the depths of the forest. When I asked Satanás and Benjamine about the site where they’d found Mr. Gouda, I pictured the lake to be something not much larger than a pond.

One of the men from the Eighth Platoon sees me looking at the lake and comes over to speak to me. “You know,” he says, “I’ve heard that a long time ago, mermaids lived in these waters.”

“Is that so?”

Mermaids are widely known to be rare, real beings that exist not only in legends, but in faraway seas where they are occasionally sighted. They aren’t regarded as “magical creatures,” and while perhaps they aren’t quite recognized as “humans” either, most tend to think of them as the “people who live in the sea.”

“That’s amazing. It looks even more beautiful to me now,” I say.

The forest is dark, but the surface of the lake is quietly sparkling in the sunlight.

“It’s said that mermaids can turn into the most beautiful people when they wish to walk on land.” He pauses, and then looks at me with a small smile on his face. “My lady, you wouldn’t happen to be a mermaid yourself now, would you?”

“Oh my, I’m certainly nothing of the sort. Why, even mermaids would find a man-eating piranha like myself to be too much to welcome into their society,” I say, laughing a little at my own joke.

“I’ll be the one who performs the psychometry.”

The Knight and I look over to the source of the voice. It’s the Knight Commander, and he’s standing next to a very large fallen tree at the lake’s edge. From the report Satanás had written, I knew that they’d found Mr. Gouda collapsed near that tree.

“Nanalie,” Zozo says, walking over to take my hand and lead me towards the fallen tree. Mr. Alkes is there, motioning for us to stand next to him.

“We just can’t leave you alone now, can we?” he says with a twinkle in his eyes. “The minute we do, someone starts hitting on you.”

“Hitting on me?”

“Anyways, right now we gotta focus on this psychometry, ’kay?”

Mr. Alkes looks at the tree. I notice that the First Platoon has finished casting the defensive spells and has returned from the perimeter to gather around us, along with the members of the Eighth Platoon.

The Commander stares at the tree in question, holds out his right hand, and begins spinning one of his fingers in little half-circles. Around and around he spins his finger, continuing the gesture for several dozen seconds until a black mist begins to form. The cloud of mist grows and grows until it has covered everything surrounding us.

The events of the past are projected onto the mist. There in the darkness, Mr. Gouda appears—being dragged along by that human-like demon. Well, that should erase any doubts about what happened. The demon definitely did something to him.

“Nikeh, look there—it’s standing on two legs, the freaky bastard.”

“Ugh, it’s revolting.”

Prince Zenon and Nikeh are watching from a little ways away. I catch their attention and they edge near me, grim expressions on their faces. Nikeh comes up next to me, rubbing her arms as if she has a chill. Prince Zenon stands on the other side.

“Is that the demon that you said looked like a human? It’s creepy, even for a demon.”

“Well, we still don’t know where, exactly, the demon started dragging him from... Hold on, is it trying to eat him?” Prince Zenon frowns as he watches the demon move about inside the psychometric projection. It’s lowering its head close to Mr. Gouda’s neck, and then, of all things, it bit him.

Unconscious as he was, Mr. Gouda didn’t seem to feel any pain, flinching not in the slightest at the bite.

“Did he really...not have any evidence of a wound on his body?” The Commander, continuing to cast the spell, glances over at us Harré employees and makes eye contact with Mr. Alkes, his rough, sharply featured visage revealing nothing of what he’s thinking.

“None.”

“As far as I can tell, it sure looks like he’s being bitten, but...”

Its jaws are moving, chomp, in a way that certainly looks as though it’s taking a bite. But not only had there been no mention whatsoever of any injuries in the report, Benjamine had told me directly that “he had no injuries.” I doubt that “bite” left any trace of a wound.

“Look! Commander, the demon is moving away from the body!”

“Based on the direction of its movement, it looks as though it’s heading towards the Kingdom of Sheera.”

“Shall we attempt to follow after it?”

“No. We can’t go crossing borders. This lake here’s the farthest we can go. Let’s rewind the psychometry back further and look around the area for more clues. After we finish with today’s investigation, we’ll go over to meet this Gouda Krain tomorrow. Seems as though we’ll need to give him a full physical inspection.”

The Commander snaps his fingers and the magic is over. The image of the demon disappears.

“Yeah, this’ll be a good chance for some practice. With this many people here, you should be able to help each other out and review how to do an investigation using psychometry.”

The Knights disperse at the Commander’s orders and begin casting their spells at various places around the site. According to what Nikeh tells me, even in the Knights’ Order there aren’t too many people who can successfully cast that spell. In the First Platoon, only Rockmann and three other members can do it, or so she says.

Nikeh herself doesn’t seem to have grasped how to do it yet, and she’s continuing to crack her knuckles in nervous anticipation.

“Can you do it, Nanalie?” said the Prince.

“No, I cannot. What about you, Your Highness?”

I am making a point of referring to Prince Zenon as “Your Highness.” Back when we were students I’d referred to him as “Prince,” but as we’ve grown older, the situation’s changed. It would be inappropriate for me to go around calling him “Prince Zenon”—commoners are supposed to refer to royals by their titles, not by their names.

The Prince seems to have a sense of what I’m thinking right now. He laughs a bit when he sees the expression on my face.

“Nah, I still can’t do it,” he says. “Still, it’s a bit unusual, isn’t it? For you not to be able to cast a spell.”

“Well the magic itself doesn’t cause me too much trouble, but that doesn’t mean I can get anything useful out of it yet. I’m not so talented that I can master magic like that in mere days.”

“Really? Huh. I guess no one is...”

I see Mr. Alkes is casting the spell on some grass nearby.

“Mr. Alkes,” I say, “why are you able to use that spell so easily?”

“Who knows? In any case, it always helps to have as many tools available to use as possible, right?”

He’s so skilled with his magic that he’s continuing to spin his finger around, black mist growing thick, even as he continues his conversation with me. He certainly doesn’t lack for powers of concentration. The amount of focus that’s necessary to successfully cast the spell should be too much to allow him to speak, but here he is, unwavering in his spellwork.

Zozo doesn’t seem satisfied with his answer. “I don’t need a lecture about my toolkit,” she says, looking rather desperate as she pushes him for answers. “What we really mean to ask is, ‘Why can you cast the spell so easily when we can’t?!’”

Zozo’s the type of person who can generally cast any spell she wants, but these psychometry spells seem to be giving her trouble. Alkes, on the other hand, is a former Knight—perhaps that has something to do with it. He quit the Order ten years ago. Doesn’t that mean that he should know some of the other Knights here today? He’s been acting like the Commander and the rest of the Order are all complete strangers to him.

“Maybe it’s because I like magic?” he says, his bluish-black hair shaking as he lets out a laugh.

“Why don’t you take me seriously for once...? Whatever am I supposed to make of that answer?”

“Sorry Zozo, it’s just that I’m not good at teaching others. I kinda, you know, let my intuition steer me around.”

“...Are you claiming to be a natural-born spellcasting genius?”

“Well, to put it nicely, yeah.”

Zozo starts chewing on her thumbnail in irritation. “Freaking geniuses! Pisses me off— ngh!”

Psychometry doesn’t require any verbal incantation, but according to the textbooks and reference materials I’ve seen, it does require a great deal of concentration. But just knowing that fact doesn’t help much—if you can’t concentrate, you can’t concentrate. No amount of book reading is going to help that.

“Captain Alois, is this—?”

“Yeah, for that you just—”

“Captain, what about over there?”

“Hm, alright, sure.”

On the other side of the lake, I can see that the talented First Platoon is proceeding rapidly with its area of investigation. They’re walking methodically along the edge of the lake side by side as they cast their spells. We Harré employees, on the other hand, are fumbling around in a haphazard, time-consuming manner. I feel as though any second Rockmann’s going to turn around and yell, “What’re you doing, wasting your time like that?”

I’d come prepared for him to lecture me about this and that on the specifics of the magic of psychometry after what he’d said to me back at Harré, but it doesn’t appear as though I’ll have to go through that. What was that he’d said? “I want to teach this little Lady,” or something like that? I’d felt like I’d swallowed a bug when I’d heard him say that.

Anyhow, he looks too busy teaching his unit how to do the spell to have any time for me. They’re far away, so I can’t quite make it out, but it looks as though Ms. Weldy and Rockmann are touching each other’s hands for some reason. Is that what it means to “hold someone’s hand” when teaching them? I’m just watching Mr. Alkes and attempting to copy his posture as he performs the spell. No hand-holding going on here, that’s for certain.

“Nanalie, you’re working so hard!”

“Nikeh, I’m sure you can do this too.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

I thrust out my left hand and make a circle with my thumb and index finger. With my right hand, I point my index finger into the circle, right at the target of the spell, and begin twirling it in a circle, round and round, counterclockwise, just as I’d read in the manual.

It seems like this should be enough for the spell to take effect, but if it was this easy, then everyone would be doing it. If concentration is what’s necessary to pull this spell off, then I’d even go so far as to find some waterfall hidden deep in the mountains and stand under it, all to train my ability to focus.

Failing that, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do this spell.

“Ah...” I let out a sigh. Despite how tense my hands had been during my attempt to cast the spell, I’d felt nothing around me change.

“Still can’t do it?”

“Yyyiikkkeeeess!”

When did he get over here?!

Rockmann’s standing next to me. Did he already finish his investigation of the lake’s perimeter? No, that can’t be it—I can still see members of the First Platoon going around and casting their psychometry spells. In quick succession, I see the Knights move from one area to the next.

“Please don’t get in my way. I still have work to do, you know.”

He shrugs. “I got done with mine already, so I’m all good. Unlike yourself.”

How ’bout I blast you to smithereens, here and now? Something about the way he’s acting grabs my attention.

“What’s with the casual act?” I say, noting how he’s dropped the polite manner he’d had on earlier. “You have a split personality or something?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just thought that you looked like you were struggling over here. You probably won’t understand how to do it no matter how long you think about it, you know.”

“Oh is that right?”

Dammit! Has this guy come all the way over here to make fun of me while I’m working?

There’s something like amusement in his eyes as he looks down at me. I still haven’t managed to produce anything with the spell.

And then on top of all that, I now see that Ms. Weldy’s coming over here with two other Knights. She appears to still be laboring under the idea that she and I are somehow rivals, her lips twisted into a small, thin frown as she watches me.

You can love and respect him all you want, but please, leave me out of it. But maybe it isn’t just her who’s come to mock me. I hear something like stifled laughter coming from the two Knights behind her. At their appearance, Rockmann looks none too pleased. Well now, if this isn’t a rare sight: Rockmann unhappy to see young women gathering around him.

“Ah, guess there’s no helping it. What’d you eat for breakfast this morning?”

Rockmann takes the golden staff he’s been carrying and passes it off to one of his subordinates, then walks around to stand directly across from me.

Why’s he asking me about breakfast?!

I’m looking straight ahead at him, completely at a loss for words.

“Hello? You listening?”

He casually leans in towards me, looking at my eyes for signs of life.

I’d like to avoid having to look at his annoying face as much as possible, but if I turn away now, I’ll feel like I’ve lost something, so I glare right back at him. He’s got no sense of personal space today! Maybe he’s just trying to irritate me. Even if he is, I’m not about to back down. It would be unspeakably cowardly to desert my post in the line of fire.

“...Shouldn’t you be busy finishing your work, way back over there? I’m trying to focus right now, so if you wouldn’t mind—”

“What did you eat for breakfast?”

I glare at him and clench my fists in frustration.

“There they go again,” Nikeh says from somewhere behind me.

“..Nikrom soup and pani.”

Oh well. I suppose I’ll answer his questions anyway.

“Did you make them yourself?”

“Well, yeah.”

“So then around what time did you wake up this morning?”

“Just before dawn.”

“That’s pretty early. But what time did you go to bed yesterday?”

“...Right after I ate dinner.”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“I did.”

“What’d you have for dinner?”

“Yalnikka and green beans.”

“That so? By the way, what’s your style of pajamas?”

“Um, white... Hold on! What kind of question is that?! As if I need to tell you about my pajamas!”

What could he possibly be trying to get at?

“...Huh?”

At that very instant, light flashes out from the tree I’ve been attempting to cast the spell on. The light grows brighter, then dimmer, turning into white mist. After most of the mist dissipates, I notice that part of it’s moving strangely—it coalesces into the form of a small bird sitting atop a branch. It’s twitching and shuffling in a way that looks as though time is going in reverse. It leaves the tree and flies away—backwards.

Could this be...?

“I just knew a simple technique like that would work on you.”

“What? No way, I did it?”

How?

This is a spell that I’d struggled with all night long, paging frantically through the manuals to figure out what I’d been doing wrong. It’s a spell that only a few Harré employees could cast—not even Zozo could do it yet.

I’d learned nothing useful when I’d asked for tips from those who could perform the spell. To think that all it took to perform the spell was recalling what I ate for dinner last night—could it really have been that easy?

“Psychometry is a type of magic that can only be intuited, not directly learned. There’s a limit to how much you can learn from textbooks, you know.”

“Then—then what were those earlier questions about?”

“I still didn’t think that you’d be able to pull it off even with those questions, but it seems like that method worked for you.”

“Th-thank—”

“You’re a simpleton, after all.”

I freeze in the face of his insult.

Simpleton.

All I’d wanted was to sincerely thank him for guiding me through the spell, but with an insult like that, all the motivation I had to say “thank you” goes right out the window. Dear Goddess, I pray that all blond men who go around smiling as they call people simpletons are doomed to go bald at an early age as punishment for their impudence.

Setting all that aside, I still think it’s incredible that I was able to cast the spell after being asked just a few questions. All I’d done was go through my memories of yesterday. I can’t say I understand the principles of psychometry any better now, but I feel like I have gained that “intuition” necessary to successfully cast the spell after doing it once.

It’s all thanks to the work of my superior intellect. Let me say that again: it is ALL thanks to MY superior intellect.

Still, I have to admit that Rockmann has “taught” me, just like he said he would. How frustrating.

I’m happy to have succeeded with the spell, but to have done so in such a shameful manner... I squeeze my eyes shut and muster every last ounce of patience I have in my body to say:

“Th...anks.”

“What?”

And just like that, my gratitude is utterly crushed under the shrinking curse so breezily uttered by this fool.

If he really hadn’t heard me, well, then there really isn’t an issue, but he has that teasing look in his eyes. Truly, he is the lowest of the low. I’d made the effort to go and directly thank him, but evidently that had been completely pointless. I hate losing to other people, but I hate doing pointless things even more. But I suppose no one likes feeling like what they’re doing is pointless.

“Nanalie, that’s amazing! I think I’ll try doing it too.” Zozo’s been watching me from the side and leaps into action to try the new “recall” technique herself. “I have a great memory after all!” She then launches into a detailed account of where she went last weekend, of all things.

Over the course of the next few minutes, I learn quite a bit about her everyday life outside of work.

“Dang, I can’t do ittttttt. Maybe I’ll never be able to do it...”

No matter how much she goes through her memories, she isn’t able to cast the spell. She hangs her head in defeat and drops her hands down to her sides.

I try to reassure her that isn’t the case. “No, I think you’ll—” Before I can finish my sentence, however, Rockmann interrupts me by stepping in front of Zozo, taking her hands in his own and lifting them back up. He’s gentle with her, as if he’s holding a wounded animal.

“No ma’am, you will be able to do it. For just as idiots have their idiotic methods, women like yourself have their own methods of learning spells. Unlike that simple woman next to you, I am sure that the mind of one so wise and beautiful works in entirely different ways. Please, continue to believe in yourself and your abilities.”

“GAH! I can’t with you!”

“There’s no need to rush things, right?” he said.

Zozo’s blushing as she looks at Rockmann.

I’d never once imagined that I’d witness the moment she fell for this bastard. By now he’s gone after not only my boss, Director Locktiss, but Ms. Zozo as well! Does he intend to take everyone away from me?!

I’m so frustrated that I go crying to Mr. Alkes. “Ms. Zozo, she...!” I sob, to which he says, “There there,” patting my back to comfort me, just like my father would have.

Mr. Alkes is about the same age as my father, so it seems natural to see him in that way. That said, I’m not sure whether it’s because he’s single or not, but he still feels like a young guy, despite the fact he’s in his forties. I feel a little guilty for forcing him to play the role of my father in this situation.

In the end, the only person who managed to successfully perform psychometry for the first time today was me. The Knights had followed the demon’s trail for some time before re-grouping back at the edge of the lake. From what they told us, it sounded like the demon had come from the direction of the Kingdom of Sheera, and returned in that direction after its attack on Mr. Gouda. It sounds like the Third Platoon will be visiting him tomorrow. Because the rest of the investigation will involve crossing borders, it would be taken care of at a later date, once all the necessary permissions had been secured.

The only thing left is to place an Exorcist’s Circle over the eastern portion of the forest. Rockmann takes out his golden staff, holds it firmly in both hands, then thrusts it down into the ground, releasing a magic circle.

Isn’t that rather like what my cudgel can do?

Anyhow, on the way home I’m invited to go out drinking with the Knights at some tavern. I, very politely, turn down their invitation.

Or at least, I attempt to.

Zozo and Mr. Alkes, however, seem like they’ll be joining the Knights tonight. I give the Commander a bow and a few words of farewell, but as I turn away to go home, both of them place one hand on either shoulder:

“Nghu?” (That’s my voice there. Not even I know what I’m trying to communicate with that.)

“NO!”

“Nanalieee, we’re going together!”

“Who the hell wants to spend their free time getting drunk with that pompous a—”

It’s Nikeh, of course, that strikes the finishing blow on my resolve:

“Nanalie...pleeeeease?”

As if I could ever say “no” to you.

With a sigh, I nod my head. To the tavern we go.

＊　＊　＊　＊

Right after we’d made the report on our investigation to the Director, our shift ended. We tried to invite her to come along with us for some drinking with the Knights, but we’d been met with a rather puzzling refusal: “I can’t! If I drink with that thing, he’ll insist on paying for me!”

“That thing” had clearly been referring to the Knight Commander, but why would she refuse an invitation to go out drinking on the basis that someone would pay for her drinks?

The three of us change out of our Harré uniforms and into our casual wear back at the dorms. Soon after that, we meet up with Nikeh, the Commander, and the others at the bar. The Knights are still wearing their uniforms, but it seems like they’ve left their pegasi back at their stables. They must have used their familiars to get here, but when Mr. Alkes, Zozo, and I get to the tavern, we don’t see any evidence of them.

The bells marking the rise of the Evening Star have finished ringing, and the sun is shining from down near the horizon. Directly overhead, I can see the dim outline of the moon hiding in the early evening sky.

“Welcome!”

“Hey barman, you gonna be good with this many of us here today?”

“’Course I am, half the seats are still empty, so sit where you like. I’m keepin’ out the local folk until the festival next week, so it shouldn’t get too crowded tonight.”

I can smell a mix of alcohol, spices, and perfume as soon as I walk in the door. The Knight Commander’s taken us to a neighborhood where all the businesses only open around sundown—an entertainment district.

There are, of course, plenty of businesses staffed by beautiful young ladies—but if you take a peek down one of the dark alleys, you might catch a glimpse of a strange old lady, sitting at her fortune-telling booth, or you might find some scoundrel who’s had too much to drink, asleep and lying on the ground. All of us, Knights and Harré employees alike, are walking down the streets together when all of a sudden the Commander yells for us to halt.

“This is it!” he says, stepping inside a tavern that has the words “TWO HUNDRED YEARS IN BUSINESS!” in large letters on its sign. The words are handwritten and bunched together on the board like they’re graffiti. Well, it’s not the tidiest storefront I’ve ever seen...but inside it’s nice and homey.

A burst of laughter comes through the open door. As I step inside, I see that the lighting is not too bright, not too dim, just right. The Knights are acting like they’re regulars here. I’ve only ever been out to the taverns near Harré with my colleagues, and we’ve never seen Knights in those places. Then again, I’ve never been to a sketchy entertainment district neighborhood like this before, so perhaps that’s why.

The tavern’s clientele is quite varied, ranging from women exposing an excessive amount of skin to men with muscles that are practically bursting through their shirts. I look left and right, fascinated to see this other part of society. Zozo pushes in through the door behind me and urges me forward.

The Commander gestures to a row of empty tables. “Hey, you two girls from Harré, take whatever spots you like. The rest of you can sit where you want too, but Mr. Alkes—you’ll be sitting next to me.”

“Alright, alright,” Mr. Alkes says, sounding slightly exasperated.

As we’re shuffling into the tavern, the Commander slaps Mr. Alkes on the back and tells him exactly where he’s going to sit. They have to know each other, right? The Commander sounds excited when he’s talking with Mr. Alkes. “It’s been a while since we last talked, you know—tell me everything.”

Is it just me, or is the Commander speaking to Mr. Alkes a little more politely than he does to his own Knights? I’m sure they have a lot to talk about—likely nothing that involves me. I move away from them to sit at the other end of the table.

“Ms. Hel, why don’t you sit way over there. I’ll be sitting here with Captain Alois, after all.”

“Sure, whatever.”

Ms. Weldy had placed her hand on the seat next to Rockmann and is now shooing me away. She’s so direct with her antipathy, it’s almost refreshing. She really must dislike me.

Rockmann merely shrugs as he witnesses our little interaction, as if her behavior is entirely normal—natural, even. The rest of his subordinates take the seats around him. From an outsider’s perspective, it must have been quite strange to see that dark, heavy atmosphere that clung to their table, dressed in black robes as they all were. Fortunately they had all removed their hoods upon entering the tavern—had they not, they would have looked like a group of suspicious hoodlums, despite the Order insignias.

The robes, however, seemed to be a bit much to wear at a tavern table. As soon as they claim their spots, they take them off and drape them over the backs of their seats.

“Ms. Weldy certainly has a rather intense personality, don’t you think? But I find I don’t mind it at all. I wonder why?”

“Why indeed?”

Even if she hadn’t told me to sit halfway across the room, I would’ve done so anyway. “Alright, I’m going,” I say, giving her a wave so she understands I don’t intend to push her on the issue.

The reason you “don’t mind it,” Zozo, is because she’s treating us less like we’re rivals for Rockmann’s affection, and more like we’re little kids that need to be kept away from her precious golden child. She might as well be telling us to “go off and play” with a big happy smile on her face. You’re older than her, Zozo—how can you be okay with that sort of treatment?!

Rockmann must not find her behavior too annoying to be around. Perhaps he even likes her. She’s fawning all over him and I haven’t seen him so much as frown once, so he probably does.

“Why don’t we sit here?”

Zozo and I sit down at a table for eight a little distance away from Rockmann and his platoon. There are several extra chairs stacked up on one side of the room, so if we need more seats at our table we can always go grab some.

“Captain Alois, would you mind if we joined you?”

“Sure. Please, sit here.”

“Thank you so much!”

I look back over at Rockmann’s table to see that some women from the Eighth Platoon are scrambling to claim a seat next to Rockmann. Ms. Weldy is watching them, slack-jawed. Aww. I almost feel sad for her. The women sit in between the men already at the table. They look up at the menus posted up on the walls, chattering away about this entree or that drink.

“It’s always like that when we go out drinking.”

“Nikeh!”

“But I can’t handle that kind of energy, so I generally stay away from all that.”

Nikeh’s smiling as she says that, casually taking a seat at our table.

“Can’t handle that.”

Sure, Nikeh certainly doesn’t seem like the type who’d do well in that crowd. I can’t even picture her over there talking with them. “Anyhow, let’s get to drinking! We’ve never had a chance to drink alcohol together, have we, Nanalie? It’s nice, isn’t it? Um...it’s Ms. Zozo, right? Do you mind if I call you that?”

“Yes, please. You’re Nikeh, right? I’ve heard so much about you from Nanalie. It’s good to meet you.”

After they’ve introduced themselves to each other, the three of us pore over the menus, Zozo sitting in between me and Nikeh and giving us her opinion about all the various drinks and cocktails. You know, right now I could do with some wine or even Manas liquor.

Someone had told us earlier that the Commander would be paying for all of us, so “there’s no need to hold back!”

“But before we start drinking, we’d better eat something, otherwise all that alcohol will hit us pretty hard. Shall we start with some kind of bird dish?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Mind if I sit here?”

Just as I was about to turn to the wall to take a closer look at the menu, someone speaks to me from behind. It’s one of the Knights of the Eighth Platoon, and he has a few others with him. He points to the seats around our table.

“Not at all,” I say.

“It’s alright if the rest of us sit here, right? We missed out on the other table.”

Nikeh teases them as they claim their seats. “You mean, you missed out on sitting next to all the girls over there, rightttt?”

“Brunel, shut up.”

The “girls” they’re referring to must be all those ladies sitting next to Rockmann. Nikeh has a playful smile on her face as she teases them some more.

Prince Zenon’s here too. He’s sitting at the Commander’s table, which is relatively calm compared to Rockmann’s. He’s a prince, and while he may be only third in line for the throne, I do question the wisdom of bringing him into a place like this. But the majority of the Knights have noble backgrounds, so I suppose it isn’t that big of a deal.

“I’m beat. We flew so much today that my thighs hurt.”

The men, after sitting down, raise one knee and push it against the table’s edge, then start massaging their upper thighs. Some of them were practically punching the muscles on their legs. True, they must’ve been on their pegasi for quite some time today. I’m sure it really does hurt.

“Nikeh, what about you? Do your legs hurt?”

“Ha! I know how to properly use healing magic, so I’m just fine.” She laughs at the men punching their legs around us. “They just haven’t put their minds to figuring out how to do that for themselves yet,” she said, sighing. “The pegasi are sorer than you guys are!”

“Well, yeah, I bet so. Let’s just go ahead and order something.”

“Hey, barkeep!” One of the men calls out to the master of the tavern and orders a lot of simple dishes. After he finishes, all the men go around introducing themselves, probably so Zozo and I can get an idea who they are. They ask how old we are, complain about their jobs, get excited when they start talking about their hobbies, and we all begin chattering away, about ourselves and the world at large.

The one who asked me for permission to sit at our table is “Victor Drografia.” He’s told me that I can call him whatever I like, so I stick with the safe option and refer to him as “Mr. Drografia.” I’m not about to go around calling someone I just met by their first name, after all. However, in Ms. Weldy’s case, all I have to go on is her first name. I suppose there’s no helping that—I’m certainly not about to go asking her for her last name.

“Huh? Look over there, at that poster on the wall.”

Right as the food is being brought to our table, the guy sitting next to Nikeh points at something on the wall and everyone looks over to see what it is. It’s the same poster I saw earlier at Harré: “Seeking Ice Witches!”

Now that I look around the room a bit more, I can see that there are several of these posters hanging up on the walls. For there to be this many... What could possibly be the reason that they so urgently need ‘Ice Witches’?

“The poster’s from Orcinus, huh. Don’t hear too many good things about them.” One of the Knights sitting across from me has some meat on his fork as he comments on the poster.

“What’s the deal with Orcinus?”

Zozo’s too curious to let his comment go unexplained. She’s still continuing to put vegetables in her mouth as she asks the question. Ms. Zozo, please decide whether you’re going to eat or talk. Mr. Alkes gets onto her for this bad habit of hers from time to time. Even in front of all these Knights, she persists with that behavior. She’s told me before that every time she’s hungry, she’s in the mood for talking, so whenever we go out to eat the conversation never ceases. I enjoy it, but Mr. Alkes seems to find it irritating.

“Well,” the Knight says, with a rather conspiratorial look in his eyes, “it’s said that the Queen of Orcinus is a beautiful and benevolent monarch, but that she’s got a bit of a fixation on youth.”

The beautiful Queen of Orcinus, with her purple hair, seems like a perfectly normal, intelligent queen from the pictures I’ve seen of her. Apparently, within the Kingdom of Orcinus, there isn’t poverty, war, or any social unrest at all.

“The Queen of Orcinus—she’s already turning fifty years old, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, I think it’s something like that.”

Nikeh leans her face on her hands and looks at the Knight.

“Some say that she’s done quite a bit to maintain her beauty,” he says, “and not all of her methods have been...pleasant, I guess you could say.”

Mr. Drografia has a grimace on his face as he says this. I can’t help myself and ask for more details out of curiosity.

“‘Quite a bit’? Like what?”

What in the world could he be talking about? “Unpleasant” methods to stay beautiful?

“There are rumors that she drinks the living blood of dragons, in addition to hunting and eating the flesh of the mermaids in the sea.”

“Eating the flesh of mermaids?!”

“Of course, those are all just rumors, you know. Tall tales.”

While drinking dragon’s blood is bad enough, surely she’s not so lacking in common sense that she actually is eating mermaids?

In the old texts that I’d read, there were stories about how mermaids were ageless, eternally beautiful creatures, and some humans had attempted to do exactly what the Queen of Orcinus was reputed to be doing. However, some recent research had come to light that proved mermaids weren’t actually immortal, and as a queen, she should have been aware of that.

The research had gone on to say that while merpeople certainly are beautiful, they apparently have a lifespan of about 150 years, and do age as time passes, losing some of their beauty in the process. They are born as little babies, grow up and become pregnant with their own children, and become old mermaids and old mermen, just like humans do.

All this is to say, what’s being told to me right now is a completely baseless rumor.

“What becomes of these ‘Ice Witches’ that become her retainers? What kind of relationship do they have with the Queen, I wonder?”

“Well, you know what they say: where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

Nikeh and Zozo both look at me.

“You’re an ‘Ice Maiden,’ right?” Mr. Drografia says. “There’s not been too many Ice mages recently, and it’s rather odd that on top of looking for Ice-Types, she specifically wants maidens. The Order has been put on alert to monitor the numbers of Ice Witches inside our Kingdom to ensure there isn’t anything suspicious going on, but nothing’s come up as of yet.”

“Ms. Hel’s probably one of those ‘Ice Witches’ that we’re keeping an eye on,” says the Knight across from me, pointing me out to the whole table.

“But earlier, didn’t you say you weren’t a maiden?” Mr. Drografia says. “That must mean you have a lover or something, right?”

“No? I’ve never had one.”

The instant I say that, every single person sitting at the table freezes.

“Oh, well, then like a one-night stand?”

“Um, Nanalie? Come here for a sec.”

Nikeh interrupts the conversation before I can reply, switches seats with Ms. Zozo and then whispers to me. “You...there’s no way...uh, Nanalie, you know the word ‘maiden,’ right?”

She puts her hand over her mouth and leans in closer to whisper quietly into my ear.

Why does she feel the need to whisper like this about it? What could it possibly be?

The very instant that thought crosses my mind, Nikeh tells me the following:

“‘Maiden’ refers to, you know, women who’ve, ah, never done those things with a lover. Those things that result in getting pregnant with a baby when done with a man.”

...I beg your pardon?

“A, a, a BABY?!”

Inside my head, I imagine some cute little babe crying at my outburst.

“No! Absolutely not! I’ve never done anything like that.”

“That right? I figured, you know. I was really surprised earlier when you said that you weren’t a maiden.”

I, who had felt a clamping chill come over me as my heart practically stopped at the revelation of the true meaning of the word “maiden,” now suddenly feel blood pumping all throughout my body, quite forcefully, and in my cheeks...no, across my entire face, my entire body, I feel a sudden and flaming heat race across my skin.

Even I know how babies are made. We’d verrrrrry lightly touched on the subject at school, so I’m not that clueless.

But hold on, does that mean that earlier, when I’d told everyone that I wasn’t a maiden, I was essentially declaring, with no shame whatsoever, “I’VE HAD SEX!”?

“If there’s a, ho...hole...”

“Nanalie?”

“If there’s a hole, nearby, I’d very much like to hide in there right now.”

I cover my face with both hands.

“You can hide right here.”

“Thanks.”

It’s not a hole, but Nikeh holds out her arms to embrace me. I hug her close, still sitting in my seat, and bury my face into her breasts, noting (why?) that they are somewhat larger than mine.

Now would be a good time to use that time-travel spell. I’d like a do-over, please. In fact, I think I’d like a do-over of my entire life since birth.

“Maiden.” I suppose that is the term to use for that sort of thing. They never taught us that at school, obviously, but surely I should have come across it in my reading or heard it from a conversation with friends?

“Ummmm,” I mumble, loud enough for the Knights to hear.

“Ms. Hel?”

I sit back up and turn to face Mr. Drografia—with my hands still over my face.

“Actually...I’m still a maiden.”

“What?”

Of course, it’s not like I had told him directly that I wasn’t earlier, but I want to make sure he isn’t leaving this conversation with a gross misunderstanding, so I try to set the record straight. I peek out at his face from between my fingers. He is, understandably, confused. Why, anyone would be, being suddenly told something like that.

“It’s just that, I didn’t understand what the word meant. I’m very sorry.”

I hate losing, but I hate lying even more. Some people apparently think that “the honest man is a foolish man,” but he’s a good deal better than a liar, in my opinion, and furthermore that saying is just slanderous to us honest people. Any type of truism that attempts to claim that one loses something by telling the truth—it’s that kind of thinking that I hate hate hate more than anything else.

Not that I particularly mind if someone lies to me. Go ahead, fool me, I don’t mind. I won’t forgive you, though.

The bigger problem for me here—bigger than my embarrassment about this whole “maiden” debacle—is that earlier, I might have lied, knowingly or not.

My mother had been extremely firm about this with me as a child: “You must never tell a lie!” Even now, I still follow that rule, thoroughly and without exception.

Perhaps “thoroughly” sounds a bit strange, but I do take care not to break that rule.

A long time ago, there’d been this one time when I told my mother a lie. It had probably been about how I had or hadn’t snacked before dinner, or something like that. My mother, however, had seen through me in an instant, cast a levitation spell on me, and floated me over an open well in the backyard. It wasn’t the sight of the apparently bottomless well that scared me, per se, it was the possibility of something unseen waiting for me down there in the dark that was more terrifying than any demon. I hadn’t been able to use magic yet back then, so all I could do was scream, “I’m sowwy! I’m sowwy!”

I later found out that the “well” had actually run dry a long time ago. If I had fallen, there wouldn’t have been any trouble at all because there was a magical fluffy pillow waiting at the bottom.

Still, whenever I have the fleeting urge to tell a lie, that horrible experience flashes through my mind, and so I’ve been unable to tell a lie ever since.

“I must say I find it a bit strange that you’re being so straightforward about this,” Zozo says, trying to hold back her laughter at my confession of maidenhood.

Well, you’ve got a point there.

“Well, it’s no big deal; it’s all good, right?”

“Mr. Drografia?” I ask, lowering my hands so that now they only cover my cheeks.

“Actually, I’d say I’d prefer it that way.” Mr. Drografia, a Knight, is now blushing as well as he caresses my right shoulder with his hand. Both his eyebrows and eyes are drooping down a bit, and his face is flushed like he’s drunk. But we haven’t had any alcohol yet—he can’t be drunk.

Perhaps he’s drunk on the atmosphere of the tavern, or something.

“If you’re still a maiden, I’d be happy to be your first.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Grnnngh!”

Mr. Drografia’s head is slammed into the table.

Unless I’m imagining things, Nikeh has just kneed his head from behind. “Ohhhh myyy, Sir Victor? I am so sorry, it looks like I’m totally drunk.” She gives me a thumbs-up, and I let out a sigh of relief. I’m not certain why I’m relieved, and I ponder that feeling as I observe Mr. Drografia’s face, sunk into the table as it is.

“Hey, the alcohol’s here—let’s drink up.”

Sometime during the course of our meal, Mr. Drografia manages to sit back up straight. Apparently he’d lost consciousness because he’s asking everyone, “What were we talking about?” I wonder if he’s all right in the head.

“Is it really okay for us to drink this much?”

Enough drinks are being carried to our table that I’m sure they could fill a whole barrel.

“It’s fine! I’ll only drink a little, and if these blundering idiots start giving us too much trouble I’ll just stop them with a petrification curse. Nanalie, Zozo, if it comes to that, give me a hand with the spellwork, would you?”

I giggle a little. “That sounds just like something you’d think up, Nikeh!”

Nikeh and Zozo switch back to their original seats. I pick up the pitcher in front of me and fill up both of their glasses to the brim.

The bewitchingly beautiful barmaids are climbing on top of the dining tables and beginning to dance to the music that starts to play. They flap their flowing skirts up and down, and every man in the room has their eyes locked on them as they move. The men begin to clap in time to the music, while the women look on and sing an accompaniment.

It’s my first time at a tavern like this, and it’s actually pretty nice here. The food is several times better than anything I can make, so... No, I can’t just go out for dinner all the time; I’ve got to learn how to be a better cook.

“Let’s give thanks to being alive! Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

Clang, ring. The room is filled with the sounds of our toast.

＊　＊　＊　＊

Gulp! With every swallow, another little wave of heat races down my throat.

It feels good. Another. Another. The more I drink, the more I want to drink.

“This is delicious, don’t you think?”

Perhaps now would be a good time to mention this: however unladylike it may be, I am quite capable of holding my liquor.

“Nanalie, are you still drinking?!”

“Oh my, our little Nanalie is quite something, don’t you think?”

Nikeh looks surprised. Next to her, Zozo is bragging about me, much as a proud mother would about her own child.

“The wines certainly are tasty, but this yam liquor is rather delightful as well.”

Gulp! Another swallow.

Being able to hold my liquor, however, isn’t necessarily a good thing. I have no intention of bragging about it myself. I’m not trying to make a show of my ability to drink, here—it’s just that this stuff is heavenly. I want to drink as much as I can! That’s all.

Up till now, I’ve just been drinking whatever Mr. Drografia recommends. He’s sitting to my left. He pours, I drink, and on it goes, until the first barrel is almost gone. Wait, are we already on the second barrel?

“You drink them down real smooth, don’t you, Ms. Hel? What about this one?” He pours into my cup again, and again, and I gulp them all down without the slightest hesitation.

Or at least, that’s what had been going on until a few minutes ago. As he was pouring my drinks, he kept drinking his own all the while, and now it looks like he’s completely wasted: his face is flushed bright red and he’s collapsed onto the table. He’s laid his head down onto it, turning to one side to watch me. I hold my glass up in one hand, triumphant, and then continue guzzling down the sweet, sweet ambrosia that is this liquor. Look at him! What is he, crying? It looks like he’s about to start shedding tears at any moment.

All of the other Knights seem to have entered a sort of pleasant drunken stupor. Even under the influence, however, they remain most gentleman-like as they get garrulous with all the ladies in the tavern, putting their arms around their shoulders or laying their heads down to nap in their laps.

Perhaps all that is normal for a place like this...? The tavern owner laughs at the antics of the drunken Knights around him as he polishes glasses over at the counter. It’s more peaceful here than I imagined it to be. The place where Zozo and I usually go is without a doubt safer, but I find I rather enjoy this kind of establishment as well.

“Alois, come on, drink up.”

“I’ll be drinking even without you telling me to, thank you very much.”

“Drinking all prim and proper like that is just wrong in a place like this, you hear me? You gotta get a li’l wild, let your guard down a little—stop being so uptight, alright?”

The Commander had, at some point, changed seats and is now sitting next to Rockmann. The way the Commander is drinking right now could definitely be called “wild,” that’s for sure. Mr. Alkes and Prince Zenon are also sitting at the same table. The Commander is roughing up Rockmann a little, slapping him on the back as he encourages him to drink more. I pity him a bit as I look on. Actually, let me rephrase that—he looks pitiful to me in this moment.

The Commander seems to have temporarily managed to chase away Ms. Weldy and her incessant affections for Rockmann. Even though she’s sitting opposite Rockmann drinking, she’s turned away from him and is engaged in a lively conversation with the women nearby, who are snacking on pieces of fruit.

Rockmann looks to be finding the Commander’s insistence irritating. “I’d much rather be sitting next to a young lady than you, Commander. To put it bluntly, you’re filthy from the day’s labors and a foul-mouthed drunk to boot.”

“You watch your mouth! I’ll cast a transformation hex on you that’ll turn you into a woman if you keep going on like that. The night’s just getting started!”

Rockmann runs off to the end of the table dominated by women. “Kaldiana, Teyri—mind if I sit between you two?”

“Not at all! Please, there’s no need for you to even ask!” Two of them leap up and are now escorting him to his seat.

“I don’t remember teaching you to solve your problems by running away to women,” the Commander says, shaking his head.

“Didn’t you say that ‘the only things that can comfort a man are liquor and ladies’? You taught both His Highness and me that, I think. I’m not wrong, am I?”

Prince Zenon nods his head. “He’s right.”

I attempt to brush away all memory of that wretched conversation by draining my glass. There’s nothing worse than the talk of drunken men. I’ve never been drunk myself before, however, so perhaps I shouldn’t go around pointing out the poor behavior of others without a little empathy. If it can change people that easily, alcohol truly is something to be feared.

That reminds me. There’d been this one time when I’d gone out with the Director and some of the other Harré employees, and one of the guys had gone just a little too far over the top: he’d teased the Director by saying, “You’re a bit past your prime now, doncha think?”

Anyone can guess what happened to the employee after that.

“I didn’t...mmphf—think you were...this strong...”

“Are you alright?”

Mr. Drografia is holding one hand over his mouth, cheeks bulging.

There’s no way he...?

“Unnngh—!” Barf.

The instant I ask if he’s alright, he vomits the entire content of his stomach out onto the table. All of it. The red flush on his cheeks disappears and is replaced by a sinisterly pale blue. Even without him saying so, it’s quite clear that he’s feeling awful.

“It’s because you drank too much! Oh no, look, you got some on Nanalie!”

“Nikeh, calm down. Mr. Drografia, would you like me to take you to the lavatory?”

“Unh...burp. Yeah, sorry, Na-na-lee-lee.”

I don’t remember giving him permission to call me that, but I don’t suppose that matters right now.

“Oh, it’s just this...there we go!”

With just a little flick of my finger, I cleanly remove the bit of vomit that had gotten onto my blue skirt, using a bit of magic I learned in a panic after that time I stained Benjamine’s clothes. It’s not a particularly difficult spell, but it comes in handy from time to time.

The tavern owner seems used to this sort of thing. He casts a spell on some rags and they float over to our table and begin to wipe up the mess. As for the vomit still on Mr. Drografia’s face, I take out a white handkerchief and clean it off. His complexion, which had gotten quite pale, seems to regain a bit of its original reddish color.

“There, all good. Now then, let’s get to the lavatory.”

“Na-na-lee-lee!”

I, who am on my knees trying to clean up Mr. Drografia, suddenly find that he’s grabbed my left hand as I hold the handkerchief in the other. He’s sobbing as he tries to communicate something to me.

“I, I thought right then, that I was really done for, but...I wasn’t!!”

I suppose it was too early for me to think the alcohol had worn off.

I pat his back. “You know, you really shouldn’t shout like that.”

I’m used to looking after drunks; I’m not going to get thrown off by someone vomiting in front of me. Having said that, I am concerned by how poorly he is feeling, so I do my best to make him feel better. Unfortunately, healing magic is ineffective on drunkenness, so the only thing to be done in a situation like this is to buy some hangover medicine from a pharmacist.

When I go out drinking, I usually bring some along with me, but tonight’s outing came about so suddenly that I hadn’t had time to grab any. I also hadn’t predicted that we’d be drinking this much. The greatest mistake of my life.

“Hey, look at the number of empty glasses here! Who drank all these?” The Commander sounds a good deal closer than he was before.

The bartender answers his question. “Oh, those? It’s that girl from Harré. Right, Nanalie?”

I turn around to see the Commander standing next to the table and drying off his hands with a small towel, as if he’s just come back from the lavatory. It looks like Rockmann went with him, because I see him standing behind the Commander.

“That’s impressive. With drinking skills like that, you really should’ve joined the Order.”

One of the Knights lightly taps his shoulder. “Commander, please—Harré’s Director is going to get angry at you again if you talk like that.”

“If you’re able to drink that much,” the Commander says, ignoring his subordinate, “you’ll probably enjoy this other liquor even more. Wait here, I’ll have the bartender bring us out some of the good stuff.” And there he goes, walking over to the bar before I can so much as say a single word in reply.

All this happened just as I was about to take Mr. Drografia to the lavatory. Nikeh apparently heard my conversation with the Commander. She gets out of her seat and pats me on the shoulder, saying, “Let me take care of this.” Without further ado, she yanks on Mr. Drografia’s collar and drags him across the floor towards the back of the tavern.

With my charge taken out of my care, I am left at loose ends as I wait for the Commander to return. But I am not alone—Rockmann is here with me and, quite unfortunately, I happen to make eye contact with him.

Rockmann glances at the wine barrel on the table, then back at me.

“And despite all that...”

Rockmann looks at me closely. He wants to tell me something—I can see it in his eyes.

“You know,” he says, “you’re the first woman I’ve ever met that I can’t think of as ‘cute.’”

I know what he’s trying to say. But really, what’s so bad about a woman enjoying her liquor? I’m not a drunken mess right now, am I? I’ve done nothing to deserve reproach.

It’s not like I’m going to have any problems paying for my drinks. I did remember to grab my purse, so I have some money on me. I’ll pay for what I drank. I seem to recall that he didn’t like it when I spoke politely to him earlier...hmmm...

I force myself to put a big, cheesy smile on my face as I say, “Ah, why I am honored by your exalted praise of my humble self, good sir.” I drop the smile. Too much effort. “No one wants you to think of them as ‘cute’ anyway. I’ll just find someone else—someone who’ll manage to call even just a commoner girl like me ‘cute,’ thank you very much.”

“That’s cute.”

“You planned that!!”

Vhum! An audible hum arcs across my skin as I am practically electric with frustration at this bastard.

“Sorry for the wait. Oh, Alois, you drinkin’ too?”

“This wouldn’t happen to be the Kolassi Cocktail from Hell now, would it?”

I smooth down the gooseflesh on my arms. The Commander’s holding out a transparent glass bottle and showing it to me and Rockmann.

Rockmann seemed to know exactly what it was the moment he saw it. He’s glaring at the Commander, eyebrows furrowed.

“The Kolassi Cocktail from...Hell?”

“Well, it does have another name—‘Drink of the Dragon Killer.’”

“That sounds rather violent.”

“If you can still stand after we finish this, you’re a world-class drinker. Even Alois can only handle a cup and a half.”

“Rockmann can only drink that much?”

Rockmann can’t hold his liquor.

I can.

I can drink more than Rockmann.

In other words: I win.

“I’ll have some!”

I thrust out my empty cup, faster than light, pleading for the Commander to pour.

If I can down two cups of this, it’ll mean I’ve beaten that bastard.

Zozo tries to stop me. “Nanalie, are you serious?! This is the Cocktail from Hell!”

Rockmann holds up one hand to prevent her from getting any closer. “Ms. Parasta, please allow her this indulgence. She’s probably thinking she’ll ‘beat me’ or something else equally stupid.”

I’m not a fan of the fact that he’s completely read my mind, but the Commander’s already filling up my cup to the very tip-top, so I set my irritation aside to focus on the drink. It’s colorless, perfectly clear, shimmering beautifully in the tavern light. Whoever thought the “Cocktail from Hell” was a good name for this drink? It looks lovely.

“Come now, drink up.”

“Yes, sir!”

I bring the cup close to my lips. I get into attack position as I prepare to take a sip.

Two cups, that’s all. If I drink two cups, a bright tomorrow awaits me—a future where I’ve beaten Rockmann at something.

“Nnn?”

The instant the liquor enters my mouth, my entire body is assaulted by a heat that feels as though it’s going to burn me up.

“Nnnnnnn?!”

I haven’t even swallowed yet, but it feels like a giant just punched me in the head. I can feel my pulse becoming erratic, my veins gurgling with terror at this fresh shock to my system.

This—this is—

Oh, oh dear—my eyes—

Both of my elbows are down on the table as I press my face into my hands, trying to keep my eyes in their sockets.

This nausea isn’t unpleasant—but my vision is starting to get blurred. Just one mouthful of that stuff, and I still haven’t swallowed it—it’s slightly terrifying.

So this is what it feels like to be drunk.

As I feel the first sensations of drunkenness, my heart beats a little faster in excitement at this new discovery of feeling. It’s not like the actual sensation is fun, per se, but to have personally discovered the novel sensation of drunkenness is a satisfying experience for an exceedingly curious person like myself.

I still have to swallow. I steel myself for the coming heat, clench my jaw, and swallow it all.

“Gu—ack, what, was that?”

“You’d forgotten that you’d already drunk two barrels’ worth, hadn’t you? And on top of that, now you’re adding the Drink of the Dragon Killer to whatever else is in your blood... There’s no way you wouldn’t be affected by it.”

“...Right.”

Right before my eyes, Rockmann takes his own cup of the Kolassi Cocktail that the Commander’s poured for him, and without further ado downs it all.

“Can’t say it’s delicious, but in all probability it could kill a dragon.”

What a jerk. How can he say that with a straight face, after what he just drank? Maybe after he drank a cup and a half the last time, his tongue was permanently fried, and now he can’t taste anything. There’s no way he could down it like that otherwise.

“Hey, you alright? Guess Kolassi would be enough to knock out a heavy drinker after all.”

“Nanalie? You sure you feel okay?”

The Commander and Zozo both look worried as they see the expression on my face. “Ah, I’ve done it now,” the Commander mumbles to himself, eyes drooping with worry as he massages the back of his neck. “Theodora’s gonna yell at me for sure.”

“Y-yeah. I do feel a bit, you know, nauseated. My skin’s hot.”

“I’m sure. Your face looks a lot redder than it did before. You want some water?” Zozo raises a glass of water to my lips.

“Sorry for gettin’ ya so drunk,” the Commander says. “Would y’all, uh, mind keeping this a secret from the Director?”

“The Director’s likely to be furious with you, Grove.”

Mr. Alkes has walked over to see what all the commotion is about. He lays one hand on the Commander’s shoulder, takes a look at my face, and laughs. “If she finds out that you’ve managed to get our heavy drinker Hel drunk, she’s likely to hate you even more than she does now!” He seems to be almost threatening the Commander for getting me into this state. The Director shouldn’t be mad at him. I was the one who agreed to drink it in the first place.

“Ah, you’re right. There’s nothing left but to call it a night. Men, we’re headed to Dollmott next! Women, be careful on your way home. Harré girls, thanks for stickin’ around. Glad I got the chance to talk to you for the first time in a while, Mr. Alkes.”

“Not at all. My pleasure.”

We’re calling it a night. The Knights stand up from their tables and carefully tidy up all the plates and utensils. No one usually does this at a tavern, of course, but they’re apparently regulars, and the owner seems to take good care of them every time, so they do it out of gratitude.

I try to help them tidy up, but Zozo stops me. “You sit right back down, young lady.” I’m uneasy watching everyone else working to carry the plates over to the bar, but they get it done quickly, so I don’t feel bad for too long.

“Night’s already over, isn’t it? Nanalie, I heard you had some of the Kolassi?”

“Nikeh...”

She’s sitting back down in the seat next to mine, having apparently finished taking care of Mr. Drografia. Her beautiful blond hair brushes against my shoulder as I lean in to give her a hug.

“What happened to Mr. Drografia?”

“Oh, he’s over there,” she says, pointing to two Knights holding up Mr. Drografia between them.

“Nikeh, thank you,” I say. “Even though, I got this, drunk.”

“It’s no big deal. You know, you’re free to go up against Captain Alois anytime you like, but take care of yourself, okay?”

“Okay.”

She looks at me, eyes full of a mother’s heartwarming affection. I’m jealous of the person Nikeh chooses to spend her life with. She’ll be a beautiful bride, an excellent mother... I wonder if I’ll ever have children? Perhaps not.

“Jeez, Nanalie. I wouldn’t have taken you to be the type that drinks this much. How’re you holding up?” says the Prince.

“Your Highness... I’m well, thank, you.”

“I thought that with Nikeh here, she’d stop you from going too far, but it seems like she was busy taking care of Drografia.”

Prince Zenon’s standing next to Nikeh. It would be rather presumptuous for me to call him my “friend,” but he is friendly with me. Even though he’s the same age as myself, I admit I do hold a special sort of respect for him.

Rockmann, on the other hand, shows not the slightest concern for me. He waggles his finger at us in disapproval, returns to his seat, and puts his robe back on.

“Good grief. There must be nothing in the world more tedious than a ‘men’s night out.’”

“But Captain, surely an aristocrat like yourself is merely bored being forced to socialize with us commoners, right?”

“Well, perhaps. Why don’t we just hurry up and get along home?”

The lady Knights yawn and bid the Commander and the gentleman Knights goodnight before exiting the tavern.

“Captain Alois, I’ll be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow!”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, bye.”

“I will see you tomorrow!”

“Sure, tomorrow. Take care on your way home.”

“Yes, sir!”

Ms. Weldy, of course, is the one taking so long to leave. “I will see you tomorrow!” she says, looking quite reluctant to leave the tavern alone, but leave she does. Perhaps Rockmann thinks stuff like that’s cute. I find it amusing to watch Rockmann see her off with a big forced smile on his face. There’s a sort of desperation he has about him when he deals with commoner ladies like Ms. Weldy. It’s rather refreshing to see.

After the lady Knights leave, Nikeh, Zozo, and I are the only women left in the tavern. Now the men are starting to leave as well.

“Oh...hold on, back at the dorm, I have, the dress.”

Just as Rockmann’s about to leave, I quickly reach out to tug his sleeve. I’m not letting you leave so easily. Well, perhaps I should rephrase that so I don’t sound like some perverted man trying to cop a feel on some poor woman: I’m not going to let you leave here empty-handed.

He twists his head to look down at me, glancing between my face and my hand on his robe. His expression makes it clear he sees me as nothing but a nuisance. “Dress?”

“The white one, I borrowed, from the Duke... I wanna give it back, so wait here.”

“No need for that. It’s yours.”

He seems to be in a great rush to leave the tavern. He pays absolutely no mind to my grip on his sleeve as he moves towards the exit, so I end up sliding across the floor like I’m on some horse-drawn sleigh. All the Knights are incredulous as they see me hanging onto Rockmann’s sleeve.

I try as hard as I can to stop him from leaving. I flex every muscle in my body to drag him back towards me.

“Unngh—!” Rockmann lets out a distinctly un-Rockmann-like grunt of displeasure as he whirls around to glare at me.

“No,” I say. “I’m giving it to you today.”

“Why?!”

“Just looking at it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Well how ’bout you feel uncomfortable for the rest of your life.”

“Don’t wanna.”

I yank on his sleeve again and this time he falls to his knees. I’m staring right into his face. He doesn’t seem relaxed like he normally does—he looks tired, almost sad as he meets my gaze.

“Um, I kinda want to leave, you know.”

“Captain Alois! We’re going to leave you behind!”

The male Knights around us are in high spirits as they begin to leave the tavern. I hear snatches of their conversations—“all the girls at Dollmott are pretty cute, yeah?” and “the liquor’s a bit iffy, though.” Rockmann’s acting like he intends to join them. He waves to a couple of his subordinates after they call out for him to hurry along.

As if I’m going to let him leave—!

After all, I’m not likely to ever see him again. I’m definitely not going to seek him out myself. Now’s my only chance!

“Release me, you foolish girl.”

“Not until you say you’ll come to the dorm!”

I completely refuse to release my firm grip on the left sleeve of his black robe. He shoves a hand against my face, trying to break free. Neither of us back down. Stalemate. What can I do next? Perhaps I should get out the Cudgel of the Goddess and use it on him. Might even be a good idea to use that teleportation spell it has in it to bring him back to the dorm with me. I’ll be able to hand over the dress to him then and there. Then I can teleport him away, to Dollmott or wherever.

Pretty good plan, if I do say so myself.

“Sorry for all the trouble this little one’s gotten you into,” says Mr. Alkes, as if he’s my father.

Rockmann grimaces. “No, it’s all fine, really.” Unconvincing.

Mr. Alkes gently grasps my hand from behind and tries to remove it from Rockmann’s sleeve. It remains quite firmly within my grasp, but for my behavior to have forced Mr. Alkes to intervene makes me feel kind of guilty, so I slowly, reluctantly, let go.

My momentum carries me backwards against Mr. Alkes, and I find myself resting my head against his chest. “No more Kolassi for you,” he chides me, quietly.

I sigh. “Oooookayyyy.” I look back up at Rockmann, my lips twisted into a frown. “What’s your problem, dummy? Womanizer! Player! Handsome! Brilliant! Tall!”

He shrugs. “All true, for better or worse.”

Zozo crouches down next to me and pats my head.

“Ms. Parasta, is the employee dormitory near the Harré guild hall?”

“What? Oh, yes, it’s directly behind it.”

“There’s no use fighting her any longer. I’ll see her back to the dorm and then take the dress with me.”

“Huh?” Mr. Alkes had been holding me back from getting to Rockmann, but now I find myself falling into his arms. Whoa there, 1, 2, 3... I push lightly against his chest and take three one-legged hops towards the door.

“Hey, we’re leaving now,” Rockmann calls out to me.

“...You’re coming?”

He’s apparently had a sudden change of heart. Escorting me outside the tavern, he summons his familiar. “Yuri, take us to Harré.”

“Why, if it isn’t Miss Nanalie! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

A black lynx is bowing its head to me. “Yuri?” I ask, a little confused by what’s going on.

“Please, get on my back,” the creature says, and without further ado I throw one leg over his back and sit down. His fur isn’t quite as soft as Lala’s, but he has that special warmth of a living creature, and that makes him feel comfortable enough. I’m sure if I was used to riding Yuri, his fur would feel comfy indeed. I give his thick neck a hug.

“Commander,” Rockmann calls out from behind me, “I’ll be arriving a bit late.”

“Alright. We’ll wait for you there. Be careful.”

“’Kay, we’re going now,” Rockmann whispers to me as he gets on Yuri’s back as well, sitting behind me.

“You’ve been kind of rude all night, you know,” I mumble. He ignores me.

Yuri’s back is so warm. The night winds are chilly. I feel them stealing away some of the heat I’d felt racing through my body ever since I drank that Kolassi. The sky looks a bit closer than usual. Wait, that’s because we’re flying! Of course, that’s why the stars seem just a little closer than normal... I close my eyes as I feel the cool wind caress my cheeks. (We haven’t actually taken off yet.)

“You really...”

“‘You’ this, ‘you’ that! It’s irritating to hear you go on like that, you bald bastard.”

“Even drunk you’ve got a bad mouth on you, don’t you?”

I am not drunk.

“Also I am actually still a maiden.”

“I know.”

Oh, so you knew that already?

I roll my eyes. Not that he can see that. “The next time we meet, I’m gonna attack you from behind.”

“Then I’ll just eat you before then.”

In other words, he meant to do me in before I could finish him off.

“I’m not delicious, so by all means have a bite.”

“Can’t know if you’re delicious or not before I have a taste.”

He wouldn’t like the way I taste at all, eating all his fancy, delicious foods like he usually does. With how refined his diet is, I’m sure he’d find anything less than scrumptious completely unpalatable.

“Take care of yourself when you’re hungover tomorrow,” he says, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. We take off, flying up into the stars. The last thing I remember is soaring through the night sky over the glittering lights of the Kingdom below us.

“...Huh?”

The next morning, I wake up in my own bed, covered up by my soft, fluffy sheets.

My head doesn’t hurt or anything, but my memory is fuzzy due to the effects of that Liquor from Hell or whatever it was. I visit the dorm mother and ask her what time I came home. She tells me that I came in late last night with “an extremely handsome young man” carrying me like I was a princess all the way up to my dorm room. “He left soon after, though,” she says, sounding a bit disappointed, but she gives me a wink and a smile as if she’s in on the secret. Not that I have anything to hide.

I don’t remember any of that. I run off to ask Zozo what happened, and she tells me that I had been very drunk and brought Rockmann back home so that I could “return a dress” or some such.

...I brought him back home?

I feel a little more awake as I head back into my room. Upon opening the door, I can see that the dress is still in there, same as always. There’s a small note attached to it. On the paper reads:

“Kolassi Cocktail. You, one mouthful. Me, one and a half cups. Catch you later, loser.”

“......”

I shred the note into a million pieces.