Working at Harré, Part Five

“It’s been over half a year, so how do you think it’s going?”

“How do I think what is going, Director?”

I’m organizing papers at my reception desk, just like I always do, when suddenly the Director comes around from behind my desk to ask me that question.

What could she be referring to?

“Well, so far I’ve been having you receive clients and go on preliminary investigations, but what do you say to trying a different type of work?”

My pen stops mid-sentence, hovering above the report I’m writing. I blink several times.

It’s been eight months since I began working at Harré. I’ve gotten the hang of psychometry and have been sent out on preliminary investigations from time to time. I’ve also managed to become a capable enough receptionist to sit at my desk all by myself. Whenever there’s an issue I’m not sure about or a difficult decision to make, I do ask for help from my senior colleagues, but there’s no doubt that I’ve become accustomed to my work here at Harré.

Still, I’m in this dangerous phase where I’m new, but getting confident in my abilities. Every night before I go to bed, I make sure to reflect on the day’s work. I’ll keep working hard tomorrow, without getting too comfortable in my daily routine. The greatest enemy is carelessness. Those words are constantly at the back of my mind.

The fact that I started being able to perform psychometry because of the advice that loathsome fool gave me is endlessly injurious to my dignity, but it is thanks to him that I’ve gained some of the respect I currently have from the Director. Perhaps I should even pity Rockmann for having given me, his enemy, one of his trade secrets. Zozo’s gotten on my case ever since that time we went on the investigation together, telling me that I should just straight-out tell him “thank you,” but he was the one who literally shut me up with his finger when I tried to say that the first time. I have no intention of trying that again.

I’ve basically already said it, anyway.

There is still the matter of the dress to attend to. Setting aside my irritation about how laborious the process would be, I eventually gave in and went to the Northern Doran Sorcerous Postal Service office to fill out all the paperwork necessary to send it to the Duke’s house in a mail parcel.

I’d had to answer quite a few questions on those forms. Things like “What kind of relationship do you have with the sendee?” and “What method of delivery do you wish to use?” and so on and so forth. This is why I don’t like using the Post to send something to an aristocrat.

I knew from my experience with sending Maris letters that there would be some effort involved, but this time was different. Not only was the whole process troublesome as could be, I had to trouble myself to do this. Ugh. I hate going to all this trouble for him. I feel like I’ve been forced to do one irritating thing after another for him, running around like he’s set my butt on fire. It’s just awful.

And, despite having gone through all that trouble, of all the most impossible things, I later found out that the package was “returned to sender.” My head hurts. The dorm mother had tried to hand me the package on my way home one day, but I fumbled and it dropped to the floor. That wasn’t my fault, right?

I held myself back from exploding in frustration right then and there. I marched right back to the Northern Post Office and politely inquired as to why, exactly, the parcel had been returned, and all the receptionist had told me was that “the Arnold household is a special case. They do not receive packages through the Sorcerous Postal Service.”

Couldn’t you have told me that when I was filling in those forms?! Why didn’t you say anything?!

And so that is how, in spite of all my efforts to the contrary, it is still in my room. I dislike leaving things hanging about, so the other day I had taken it down and put it in my drawers. I took out my top drawer, emptied it of all my coarse, commoner clothes, and tossed it in there. Well, actually, I gently placed it in there, but I’d felt like tossing it, that’s for sure.

“Different work, you say?”

“Want to try doing reception over in the Soreiyu Territory?”

“That’s...to the south, right?”

“It’s a good opportunity for you to try working in a different place, too. The types of requests that come in over there are not like what we get here at headquarters. Plus, I’ll be having you go over there from time to time to help in the future, so you might as well get used to the place now, right? Harris and Zozo sometimes go help them, and most of the workers are girls who live in the same dormitory as you, so I think you’ll be seeing quite a few familiar faces.”

The Soreiyu Territory. Harré’s Sorcerers’ Guild is in the north, but there are also smaller guild offices around the Kingdom. I think of them as “branch offices.”

The headquarters are, of course, here in the north where I’m based now, but for clients and sorcerers living in the south and other faraway parts of the Kingdom, getting here can be kind of tough, so there are three other small guild offices placed throughout the Kingdom. Connecting them all is a magic door called the “Go-Between.”

The door is on the rear side of this building, and Harré employees that are based in the branch offices arrive here at headquarters every day to open that door and set off to their workplaces. Whenever something happens at one of the other offices, they can use those doors to instantly communicate with headquarters and get in touch with the Director. Basically, there is never a single part of Harré that doesn’t have access to the Director. All any employee from anywhere in the Kingdom has to do is use the Go-Between to find her. The Director does, however, go on vacation from time to time, so there’s no helping that, but when she’s gone, Mr. Alkes is usually around, so our quasi-Assistant Director can take care of the issue.

One time I’d been working when all of a sudden an employee burst out the Go-Between crying for help against the demons that were attacking the southern guild office.

“Ca-ca-ca-calm down, please!”

The first thing I’d done was offer them water.

They’d been short-staffed when the attack had occurred, and the demons had been ridiculously large, supposedly. Four of them appeared at the office’s front door without so much as a whisper of warning before beginning their assault. They couldn’t fight them off with so few employees at the office, and the demons had already broken through the anti-demon magic circle that was their first line of defense. The Director immediately set out to recast the circle around the southern office, but there’s no telling when the demons might attack it again.

The southern office seemed to get a lot of requests for exorcisms. We end up posting a lot of the requests up here at headquarters as well, mostly because there aren’t many sorcerers who live in the Soreiyu Territory, and the ones we have up here tend to be a bit more ambitious, perfect for demon-killing.

“After you’ve spent a month there, we’ll put you at a reception desk for sorcerers, even though it’s a bit early.”

“Really?!”

I’m in the middle of work but here I am, shouting. A few sorcerers glance over in our direction. I lower my gaze to the floor out of embarrassment. Even so, I can barely contain my happiness.

Not only am I going to get the chance to learn about a new guild office, I’m one step closer to the day I’ll achieve my dream of sitting in the same seat that receptionist lady had! Just getting a job here at Harré has been wonderful, but to finally become like that receptionist lady I saw as a child all those years ago...! I feel like I’m about to start crying tears of joy, even though I haven’t achieved that dream quite yet.

“Because there are a lot of requests for exorcisms, you’ll need to take extra care on your preliminary investigations, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s been a real relief that you’ve learned how to use psychometry! The only ones who can use it besides myself are Alkes, Orkal, Palma, and Yakkurin, so we really needed another person.”

“I’m just glad that I can be of help, Director.”

I enjoy helping everyone in my role as a Harré employee.

“Okay then, I’ll have you working there starting tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

I get back to work, excited for the adventure awaiting me tomorrow.

＊　＊　＊　＊

“Um, I’d like to file a request...”

“Good afternoon. Please, take a seat.”

I come back from my break to relieve the other receptionist who covered for me. Just as I sit down, I hear a client come over to my desk to make a request.

The client’s a thin man who looks to be in his thirties. I can’t say he looks very handsome, as his clothes have large stains all over them. But it’s not like he himself looks dirty—he doesn’t smell bad or anything. I think I can even smell some hair gel on him.

After I encourage him to sit down, he plops down into the chair in front of my desk and lets out a sigh.

“My dreams lately have been awful. I keep having nightmares.”

“Nightmares, you say?”

I can see dark circles under his eyes. Perhaps he’s younger than I thought...?

The man’s name is Yahman Krak. He tells me he’s 25 years old. That’s more than five years younger than what I’d guessed. I’m surprised by the difference, but also convinced he’s telling the truth. His face doesn’t look like he’s aged that much—it’s more like I can see the tiredness on his face, and the air of exhaustion he carries around with him. His eyes are only half open, and he’s directing his gaze down at my neck instead of my face.

“It’s not just nightmares,” he says. “Every time I wake up, my room looks like it’s been ransacked. I thought it was robbers at first, but nothing was stolen, so maybe it’s just a couple of pranksters? But then I got to thinking it might be pestrokraive. I’m not sure. It doesn’t look like something pestrokraive would do. All the papers and books in the room are torn up every time, like someone came in and ripped the place apart.”

Just hearing about it creeps me out.

I haven’t even experienced it for myself and it still creeps me out. I feel so bad for this guy.

“Does your body feel heavy after waking up?”

“...To tell you the truth, I feel beyond tired, all the time. I find myself staring off into the distance a lot. I went to the pharmacist and got some medicine, but it doesn’t work. Healing spells don’t work either.”

Horrible dreams, and his room is a complete mess every time he wakes up.

He goes on to tell me that the only thing he can remember from his nightmares is being chased by something black. He’s tried writing down more about what he remembers, but when he wakes up, his room’s a mess, and by the time he’s found a pen and paper he can’t recall what he saw. He’s come to Harré out of desperation because he’s tried everything else and is still haunted by these nightmares.

Well, of course he’s feeling desperate. Who wouldn’t be after finding their room mysteriously messy every time they wake up? No matter how many times it happens, I’d never be able to get used to that.

There are many types of healing spells, and when medicine doesn’t work on a certain ailment, a spell usually will, and if a spell doesn’t work then a medicine usually will. People usually manage by using one or the other. For fatigue, which isn’t even a flesh wound, there are several spells and medicines that can be prescribed, but for none of them to work on him? Odd indeed. What’s the real issue here?

“Hel, why doncha try just using some psychometry on him?”

“Mr. Alkes,” I say, turning around to look at him. He’s been organizing papers behind me for a while. He points at the client and twirls his finger a bit.

“Maybe it’s the Dream Demon.”

“Demon?!” The man shouts, surprised, freezing in fear before I can say anything.

A Dream Demon? I don’t know what Mr. Alkes is talking about. He can see the confusion on my face. Pointing to his own forehead, he frowns in concentration, closing his eyes as if to think.

“There was a similar case, long time ago. Involved a demon that got into people’s dreams.”

“Dreams...”

“It would cause the dreamer to have nightmares, then wear out their body and mind by causing them to walk in their sleep. And then, in the end...it would eat them.”

“E-e-e-EAT them?!” The man is understandably shocked by this revelation and has jumped out of his seat.

If this is a type of demon that’s been dealt with before, there should be a record of it in the office archives. With a name like the “Dream Demon,” that information should be easy enough to find. There might also be notes on what methods were used to get rid of it.

“Mr. Krak,” I say, “would you mind if we verify the events of last night?”

“N-no! Not at all! I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of.”

With his consent, I do as Mr. Alkes suggested, pointing my finger in the man’s direction and beginning to twirl it. Psychometry’s all I’ve got in a situation like this. It’d be preferable to do this in an area away from other people, but he looks positively terrified at what I’m about to do, so perhaps being around other people will make him feel a bit more relaxed.

As I twirl my fingers, images of what Mr. Krak did last night fill the air. I see him eating dinner before bed. Then I see him sleeping. He looks as though he’s somehow in pain, struggling and stretching out his hands like he’s trying to run away from something.

But then he gets up, still asleep. His eyes are glowing red as he begins stumbling around the room. He knocks over everything he touches, tearing apart every book and item of clothing he can get his hands on. All the while, an inhuman growl comes out of his mouth: “Garrr! Gurrr...” It’s the sound of a savage beast—or close to it, but it makes all my hair stand up on end.

Maybe he really is being possessed by this “Dream Demon,” just like Mr. Alkes said.

Mr. Krak is staring at the images with his mouth hanging open and eyes wide in shock. He probably can’t believe what he’s seeing. Heck, if I found out that I was turning into something like that night after night and destroying my dorm room, my eyes wouldn’t be open wide—I’d be fainting from the shock.

Regardless of how disturbing the images are, we now have an explanation for the mess: Mr. Krak himself is the one destroying his room every night. The only issue left to address is...

“Only thing to do is rip it out with a rite of exorcism. It’s gotta be done by a skilled sorcerer, an Air-Type.” Mr. Alkes has been next to me the whole time, watching the memories. It’s him who suggests the solution.

“Air-Type?”

“These demons fly around through the air, riding the wind. A mage that can control the flow of the air will be able to get rid of it easy.” He pauses for a moment, frowning a bit. “We still don’t quite know if this really is the same type of demon as the Dream Demon, however.”

Be that as it may, we do know that we’re dealing with a demon. There’s only one thing to do.

“Now then, Mr. Krak, due to the fact that your request involves a demon that is endangering your life, we will be posting this up on the notice board immediately, alright?”

“Am I...going to be okay?”

“No matter what it takes, we will find you someone who can rescue you from these nightmares. If you’re concerned about going home, however, why don’t you spend the day here at the Guild?”

“Would you mind?”

“We won’t force you to stay if you’d rather be at home, but there’s food you can buy here, and we’re open all night. I just thought that once we identify a sorcerer that can help you, it’d be quicker to have you nearby so that we can resolve the issue as soon as possible...”

“Oh, of course! I was scared thinking about going home by myself, so I’d much prefer to stay if you’ll let me do that instead!”

Mr. Krak nods vigorously in relief as he listens to my suggestion. I roll up the white sleeves on my uniform and immediately get to work on writing up his request form. After I’ve finished filling it out, I have him go rest in a chair in the corner. I’ve warned him not to fall asleep, but considering how exhausted he looks, I’m worried he’s going to pass out anyway.

“There have been more demons around lately, haven’t there?” I ask Mr. Alkes.

“Well yeah, it comes and goes. For some reason we get a lot of requests for exorcisms in the spring, when the flowers start blooming... I’m gonna go take a look into the archives. Anything comes up while I’m gone, ask Zozo or Harris for help.”

“Thanks for your help, sir.”

I bow my head in gratitude. Maybe tomorrow I should go take a look in the archives myself? Find out a bit more about these demons, and how past sorcerers dealt with these kinds of requests. I’ve been going there more often recently, studying how requests for different sorts of problems are written. There are so many books in there, you’d think it was the local bookstore. I do my research in there, obviously, but sometimes I also pop in to read a chapter or two of whatever interesting novel I happen to come across.

Only moments after posting the request on the notice board, a sorcerer appears to accept Mr. Krak’s request, and the two of them leave Harré together. Mr. Krak, probably relieved at the prospect of a good night’s sleep, is in tears as he expresses his gratitude to the sorcerer over and over on their way out, saying “Thank you sir, thank you sir!” He’s so insistent with his thanks that the sorcerer is practically bending over backwards to avoid getting whacked by Mr. Krak’s repeated bows.

The only thing left for me to do now is pray. Please, Goddess, please let that man find peace.

＊　＊　＊　＊

“With all these flowers blooming, people’ll be sending bouquets to each other soon enough, won’t they?”

After work is over, Zozo and I head over to the Vegetarian Wolf for dinner, just like we always do. Anytime she says she wants to “nom on some meat,” we always end up at this restaurant. Zozo dines out so often it’s practically her defining characteristic. She tells me that she absolutely refuses to cook for herself, and while I do find that to be a bit of a worrisome philosophy for an adult to commit to, she looks so happy when we’re out eating and she’s stuffing her mouth full of meat that I can’t seem to make myself reprimand her. It helps, of course, that this place serves bunny-bird skewers, so I happily accept whenever she invites me to come along.

When it comes down to it, perhaps I am just as much a fan of dining out as Zozo. “I bet every lovestruck maiden is giddy with excitement right about now,” she says as she twirls her fork in the air, the thick chunk of meat glistening in the light of the restaurant’s lanterns.

I suppose I should explain what she’s talking about: right now, Doran is in the “Season of Flowers.” The “Season of Flowers” is also called the “Season of Love.” Doran has three seasons in total. When the winds are warm and flowers are blooming throughout the Kingdom, it’s the “Season of Flowers.” When the winds blow cold and the snow falls, it’s the “Season of Distant Skies.” Finally, during those long, easy days when a refreshing breeze blows throughout the lands, we have the “Season of Light.”

The longest of the three seasons is the Season of Light, which lasts about half the year. This year’s Season of Light, however, ended a month ago, and now flowers color the landscapes throughout the Kingdom. If you walk through town, you’re likely to see petals dancing in the wind as they fall from the trees, while at the edges of the streets you can see many bright flowers planted here and there, completely changing the scenery with their colors.

“Who will you be giving a bouquet of flowers to, Ms. Zozo?”

“Me? I won’t give them to anyone. Doesn’t look like I’ll have much luck with love this season after all,” she says, her expression quite dark as she shows me a page in one of her popular magazines. She always carries them around with her, so I’m not surprised she has one on hand. By now I know that whether she’s at home, on a walk outside, or even at work, she has at least one of those things hidden on her somewhere.

I roll my eyes and take a closer look at the article she’s pointed out. “Alright, where does it say that?” On the page is written:

“For those Earth-Type women born during the second month of Flower Season, it’s best if you refrain from interacting with men this month as much as possible: Give flowers to none and you shall not become undone. Only a fool would break this rule; else horrible disaster you shall ever abide, or worse, no man shall ever take you for his bride.”

“Well,” I say, blinking my eyes quite rapidly, “when you’re given a warning like that, you can’t exactly ignore it, can you?” Her fortune is exactly as bad as she said. How unbelievably rude of the author to write it straight-out like that! If I were to show this to the Director and this was her fortune, why, the very next day this “fortune teller” would get her face punched inside-out!

“Lady Merakisso’s fortunes are the real deal,” Zozo says, “I don’t think any Earth-type witch born in the second month of Flower Season will be giving anyone flowers this year. Sad, really.” She has an incongruous gloating smile on her face, as if the fortune somehow doesn’t apply to her. “As if you’d be allowed to do something happy like give flowers to someone,” she mumbles to herself.

The look in her eyes frightens me.

Or rather, the fact that Lady Merakisso’s fortunes could make Zozo act so out-of-sorts is scary. But if they make her feel this strongly, perhaps those fortunes aren’t all baseless superstition. They must be right at least some of the time. “Fortune telling,” I should mention, is not a formal branch of magic, and personally I don’t have much faith or interest in the sayings of fortune tellers.

“Flower gifting” is, by the way, one of the main customs associated with the Flower Season Festival. On the first day of the second month of Flower Season, the King and the Queen Consort fly down from the Royal Isle. They go around the towns in a wonderfully extravagant horse-drawn carriage, sprinkling petals from Isle flowers onto the streets as they pray for continued peace in the Kingdom.

Flower gifting, however, is only indirectly related to what the royals do at this time of year. The custom of lovers or engaged couples exchanging flowers on the day that the King and the Queen Consort come down from out of the sky became known as the “Rite of the Giving of the Flowers” long ago, over the course of many years.

In ancient times, the King and the Queen Consort were said to be god-like beings. In modern times, we obviously don’t go around treating them as our deities, but they do still retain some of that image in the common perception, especially in our marriage ceremonies. Whenever two people are married in Doran, they swear a vow to the Kingdom’s founding deity, Pramána. As the founding deity, Pramána is kind of an ancestor of Prince Zenon, according to the stories.

So that’s why it’s so special to confess your love for someone on the day that the royal family flies down from the Isle. It’s not clear why, exactly, confessing your love for someone is something that should be accompanied by giving them flowers, but I guess someone just happened to do so at first, and it became more and more popular until it’s gotten to the point where everyone does it now.

“Wow, are they still doing this?”

“SEEKING ICE WITCHES! THE QUEEN’S NEXT MAID IS YOU!... Is that so? The more catchy they try to make it sound, the lamer it gets.”

Underneath the article on fortunes, there’s an advertisement that looks similar to the one that I saw on Harré’s notice board. That one had ended up being taken down, though, so it’s not there anymore. I don’t know if there were any applicants for that particular job, but based on the advertisement I’m reading in the magazine, it doesn’t look like they managed to attract many potential “maids.” They must be pretty desperate to take out an ad in these sorts of magazines.

“When were you born, Nanalie?”

“I was born in the first month of Distant Skies.”

“Distant Skies, first month, Ice Witch...ah, here we are.”

Zozo runs one finger down the columns to look for the fortunes for those born during the Season of Distant Skies. “‘Work will go well for you this month. You’ll likely be able to save up some money,’ is what it says.”

“Sweet!”

I’m a simple person. Even if I don’t believe what’s being said to me, I’m still happy to hear it’s all good stuff.

“As for your fortunes in love this month, however...”

“I don’t need to hear that. Don’t care.”

“Well I care, so let me read it.”

Of course, I’m not one to criticize other people for taking an interest in other people’s love lives, so I shrug and listen to what she reads.

“Here it is: ‘A brush with the blazes of passion shall melt you to your core. In the second month of the Season of Flowers, beware Fire-Types. Fortune shall be with those who avoid them. A Lightning-Type man shall bring you good luck.’ That’s your fortune!”

Zozo sounds incredibly amused as she reads this out to me, watching my reaction with a big smile on her face.

I frown a bit. “There are plenty of Fire-Types in my life, so it’ll be a bit difficult for me to ‘avoid them.’”

“But then it says that ‘a Lightning-Type man shall bring you good luck,’ so why don’t you give flowers to a Lightning-Type?”

“As if there’s any likelihood of me doing something like that!”

Dinner was incredibly delicious. I ate so much that I almost couldn’t finish dessert, but in the end, I confess that I made short work of the sweet cocotte bird eggs. Unfertilized cocotte eggs are sweet all by themselves, and are used quite often when making sweets, a rare natural food that requires absolutely no seasoning. In contrast, the salty eggs of the gogotte bird aren’t suited for making sweets with, but are commonly used in recipes for savory dishes.

Both types of eggs, however, are a bit expensive. For someone on a budget like myself, I almost never got the chance to eat them. Not that I should be complaining about the prices of food on a night when I went out to eat, though.

“Goodnight, Ms. Zozo.”

We’re now back at the dorm, saying goodnight to each other in the hallway in front of our doors. The dorm has three levels, and both Zozo and I have rooms on the top floor. Ms. Harris also lives on this floor, so I see her often even outside of work.

Harré’s interior is mostly wood, but the outer walls and roof are made with bricks. The dorm building is built in much the same way. That’s why all the employees who don’t live in the dorms, or rather, those who dislike living in the dorms, say that living here is like “being at work even after work.”

I won’t deny there’s some truth to that idea, but once I’m inside my own room, I don’t feel that way in the slightest. I find my room quite comfortable, and I think many others feel the same way—after all, we aren’t obligated to live here, but even so, the majority of single Harré employees choose to do so anyway. Most of the married employees, however, commute to work from their houses. For those who aren’t married but do have a lover of some sort, they usually move out of the dorms and rent out a room from a lodge nearby, since we aren’t allowed to have visitors in our rooms.

There aren’t many people of the latter sort, however, and just the other day I chanced upon one of my senior female colleagues sneaking her lover into her room. There’s nothing like an “anti-man charm” placed around our dorm, so it’s quite easy for them to get inside. Still, I can’t imagine why they want to spend their time inside the dorm when that means they have to avoid the attention of the dorm mother the whole time. I can’t imagine they’d find it relaxing in here.

Zozo and I had caught the two lovebirds sneaking around together. When I’d spoken to her later about it, she’d said, “There’s kind of a thrill to getting caught, don’t you think?” and then bit down on her thumb as she waggled her eyebrows at me.

“Night!” Zozo says, then stops. “Oh, hold on—Nanalie, I’ve got something for you.”

Right when we’d been about to go our separate ways for the evening, she hurries into her room to grab something and then thrusts it into my arms. She does it so quickly that I fall over.

I take a look at what she pushed into my arms. It’s one of those monthly magazines she’s always carrying around. The same one she showed me while we were eating. I look up at her, incredulous. “For me?”

What’s gotten into her? Why would she give one of her precious magazines to someone like me who doesn’t even read them? I feel the pages of the magazine. Hold on, this feels brand new—newer than the one she showed me at the Vegetarian Wolf, anyway. There’s not a single crease or crinkle anywhere on the paper.

“I always buy four copies,” she says, “one to display, one to read, one to put into storage, and another to give to someone else.”

As she sees me hesitating to accept her gift, she laughs and pulls out another copy from inside her jacket. That’s the first I’ve heard of this “four copy” system.

“What’s the point of having a copy for storage if you also have one for display?” I say, teasing her a little.

She’s quite serious when she yells back at me. “What foolish nonsense!” Apparently there is a very big reason for having both a storage and a display copy. She goes on to tell me the magazine covers on her display copies are practically small pieces of furniture in the way that they decorate her room, while the storage copies are useful for this, that, and some other purpose that she goes on to elaborate about over several minutes.

Well, I may not understand much about her penchant for this magazine, but there’s no doubting the fact that she is a valuable customer for its publishers.

But if this is the “copy to give to someone else,” why me? I look down at it again.

“After talking again with you today, I knew I was right.”

“Excuse me?”

She places one hand on her hip, thrusts out her other hand and points right at me as she says, very clearly:

“You need to try broadening your perspective on life.”

I’m a bit at a loss for words at that.

“Nanalie, you’re always going on about this, that, and the other when it comes to work stuff, but you never show any interest in anything else!”

“I like my job.”

“At it again are we, Zozo?”

“Ms. Harris.”

From two doors down, I can see Ms. Harris opening her door and sticking her head out into the hallway. Her glasses are resting on top of her head and it looks like she’s just gotten out of the bath, because her hair’s wet and her cheeks look a little flushed. She squints down the hallway at us. Without her glasses, I doubt she can see much at all. “I heard voices from all the way inside my bathroom. I got a little worried so I came out to check,” she says, adjusting her glasses to rest neatly on the bridge of her nose.

“Zozo’s given me several copies of that magazine over the years,” she continues. “We tend to cluck our tongues and tsk tsk those couples who go around kissing each other in public, so perhaps you think it’s a bit strange for single ladies like us to recommend these types of magazines.”

Zozo nods vigorously. “It’s just that, if we can’t manage to get men falling all over us, we at least want you to find someone to love!”

“Alright, alright, I get it!”

Ms. Harris steps out into the hallway. The only thing she’s “wearing” is a bath towel wrapped around her body. I imagine it would be positively traumatizing for her if a man were to suddenly appear and take a look. I’m used to living in all-girls dorms, so I don’t find it to be an unusual thing to do, but still, for some reason my heart pounds to see her like this out in the hallway. If Nikeh or Maris were here, I’m sure they’d tell her something like, “You’re a girl! Have a little self-respect and stop walking around naked!”

“Both of you will be heading to the Soreiyu District tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, we will. Once she’s spent a month working over there, our little Nanalie will be a fully-fledged receptionist.”

“I’ll do my best!” I ball up my fists in anticipation, ready to take on whatever I may encounter tomorrow.

“Hmmm, perhaps if you showed this sort of enthusiasm in matters outside of work...” Ms. Harris is about to give me another earful. I say a quick “goodnight!” to the both of them and then run into my room, shutting the door behind me with a satisfying click. Faintly, I can hear them still talking in the hallway. “It’s you I’m worried about, Zozo,” Ms. Harris would say, only for Zozo to reply with “No no, it’s you who we should be worrying about,” and so on and so forth they go on talking.

I sigh, walk away from the door, and roll into bed. I realize that I still have the magazine in my hands. I’m not about to go back out there and return it, so I guess I’ll leave it here for now... I place it on top of my desk. The magazine stands out quite a bit in my room, filled as it is with reference books, dictionaries, and maps.

Oh, that’s right—the dorm mother gave me a letter from Maris earlier today. I pull out a red envelope from my desk drawer.

“Maris has such nice stationery,” I say, happily humming a little tune to myself as I pull out the letter.

Dear Nanalie,

Are you doing well?

I suppose you’re tired of being asked that. I’m sure you’re doing quite well...or I would be if you answered my letters more often! I send you a letter every week, but there you are, sending me only one letter every two weeks! What’s the meaning of this?! Are you trying to make me out to be some sort of clingy, overbearing correspondent?! One reply for two letters! One!! ...My goodness, dear, there’s a limit to how indolent a person can be, you know. I’ve been sending Sir Alois one letter every three days, and he still manages to find time to reply to each one. He’s not often at his mansions, so I’ve been addressing them to the castle. Really, follow his example and just write back to me, would you? Anyway, I’m sure you’re aware that flower giving is going to start soon, yes? But you being you, without the slightest notion of Love on your mind, will probably be sending your harmless little bouquets to your parents and friends. Why, it’s because you and Nikeh show no interest in Love that my life’s become so boring, you know. P.S.: On the first day of the second month of Flower Season, I’ll be going up to the Royal Isle, and I’m sure you’ll have the day off as well—if you’re able, let’s have a little chat, shall we? Face-to-face.

Yours,

Maris Hestia Lovegol Caromines.

I roll back onto my bed, still staring at the letter.

There are several lines that I have feelings about, to say the least, but first of all let me say that I am aware that I’ve been rather lazy in writing my replies to her. The best time of day for doing that sort of thing is right before breakfast, but for some reason I find writing letters to friends to be rather difficult. Perhaps I’m just the type of person who prefers to talk face-to-face. I’ve been working hard at writing out my replies to her, trying to find the right words to say, but in the end I suppose I’m just bad at writing back to people. This time, I’ll work harder to try and reply before she sends the next one.

I do feel a little of that competitive spirit taking over now that I know that Rockmann manages to respond to her letters once every three days, while I’ve been barely getting by on once every two weeks. It’s immensely vexing for him to be able to do something that I can’t.

But what in the world do they talk about in their letters, writing every three days like they do? Aristocrats sure are different from us common folk.

“A red envelope...” I mutter to myself, looking down at the envelope Maris had put her letter into. Red. Maris is a Fire-Type witch, isn’t she? Who else... Oh right, Benjamine is a Fire-Type too. Now that I think about it, both of them are rather intense in their romantic affections. While neither of them are exactly “melting” out of love for anyone, their lives are definitely ruled by those “blazes of passion” that had been in my fortune.

Rockmann is also a Fire-type, but the fire he carries around doesn’t inspire passion so much as it inflames one with irritation with his holier-than-thou attitude. That womanizer behavior of his is going to get him stabbed someday.

“A brush with the blazes of passion shall melt you to your core.”

“...No way,” I say, shaking my head. Fire’s a common magic type. I can’t let myself get carried away worrying about that fortune. Besides, what did the whole “melting” thing mean? Would I physically melt away to nothing? I slip Maris’s letter back inside the envelope. Now for a bath, and then to bed.

The next morning, I do as the Director instructed and wait in front of Harré’s back door.

“There’s not many people working in the Soreiyu District. I hear they’ve got it rough.”

“Is Harré short-handed, then?”

Zozo’s going to be coming with me, so right now we’re waiting in line in front of the back doors and discussing our plans for the day. It’s early morning, and while it may be the “Season of Flowers,” I’m feeling a little chilly. It’s colder outside than I had expected earlier this morning.

But with the brightening rays of the sun comes warmth that brings out the verdant aroma of the new greenery and the perfume of the blooming flowers along the streets. Around the Guild, the pleasant scent of the kurette flowers is particularly strong, and I can’t help but feel happy as I smell it. It’s a scent that is somehow nostalgic, a scent that I feel I encountered once long ago, and it puts my mind at ease as I stand here, waiting to start a new day and a new adventure.

“Short-handed? Well...yeah, I guess you could say that.” Zozo nods, and leans her chin on one hand in thought. “The only newbie this year was you, and considering the fact that we only accept applicants with stellar grades, it’s not too surprising that we find ourselves without enough employees to go around.”

“Why doesn’t Harré try using an entrance exam system to find new employees? I’m sure there’d be plenty of applicants.”

“A lot of the others have been talking about something like that, you know. Mr. Alkes, as a mid-career hire, joined Harré by passing a test the Director put him through... Then, of course, we occasionally get the odd stranger who feels the need to disparage us by saying that ‘anyone could do our jobs.’ Of course, that kind of person is usually just bitter about other aspects of their life. Most of the time it’s some sorcerer who’s out of work and down on his luck, drinking away his days at the guild canteen.”

My eyebrows jump in surprise at this information. “You’ll get wrinkles if you keep doing that,” she says, laughing a little bit as she smooths away the crease on my forehead. “Our profession, you know, isn’t the flashiest, but we do put our lives on the line when we go out on investigations. Our work isn’t quite as important as that of the sorcerers and the Knights, but the reason our job exists is to protect the lives of the sorcerers and their clients. That’s why there are receptionists who have died in the past while out on preliminary investigations, and that’s why there need to be people like us around to ensure that the requests being made by the clients are being accepted by sorcerers who can do them without losing their lives in the process. No matter how someone might try to insult us and the work we do, that will never change. I do, of course, still respect the sorcerers and how they help people, even if some of them can be a bit rude from time to time.”

“They know that, I think. After all, every receptionist has a smile on their face when they’re on the job, no matter what attitude the sorcerer has.”

“Haha, caught on to it, have you? Ours can be a bit of a thankless profession,” she says with a wink.

Before I’d gotten my job at Harré, all I had known was how it looked from the outside. I hadn’t known why future employees of Harré had to study so hard, nor why they had to be such good mages. When I’d told my friends that I’d be working here, they’d seemed confused, asking me why I’d want to work in “a place like that.”

Now I know that most people think of Harré as “a place like that.”

“But you know we often meet Knights when we’re out in the field, so they do understand and respect our work, just as we appreciate what they do. It’s because of that sort of relationship that people like Alkes change jobs, leave the Order, and join Harré, so it’s a give-and-take, really.”

Harré employees often work together with Knights from the Order, so both groups understand that neither of them “has it easy” on the job, or so she tells me.

“I’m not saying that’s the whole reason why, or anything, but there are several girls who have a knightly lover in the Order, you know.”

“Is—is that so?”

“Dalia, you remember, she snuck that guy in the other day, right?”

“That was a Knight?”

“And to think, she met him while on the job! You don’t go out into the field just to find love, you know—you’re supposed to work! But if you follow that line of thinking too much, you’ll end up like the Director, who is still sing—ouch!”

A hand as pale and slender as a whitefish slams down on Zozo’s head.

“Sing-what?”

Wearing a Harré uniform that’s neither white, nor black, but blue and extends all the way to her ankles, is the Director. She has on a large round hat the same color as her uniform. Her expression appears to be caught between amusement and irritation—upon looking closer, I can see the edges of her mouth twitching down to frown, so I guess she isn’t smiling. Her height is, at this distance, intimidating to both of us.

She has both hands on her hips. Her sleeves, which are rolled up to her elbows, are unusually long, and are billowing gently in the wind to create the illusion of some larger than life figure standing right next to us.

“Sing...singularly sexy,” Zozo stutters, “You’re a woman who carries a singularly sexy aura with you wherever you go.”

“Thanks.”

The Director seems satisfied with Zozo’s “explanation.” She gives her a nod, then gets down to business. “Zozo, I’ll be needing you to take care of Nanalie, okay? Guide her around in the manner I’ve written down on this paper. Also, it’s a little warmer down there than it is up here in the north, so be sure to show her how to modify her uniform.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Excellent. Nanalie, Zozo—good luck.” After the Director finishes making her request to Zozo, she gently pats my head in farewell.

“Yes ma’am!” is how I’d intended to reply, but upon seeing the smile on the Director’s face, I freeze up.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nanalie?”

With one hand still on the top of my head, the Director looks at me carefully, eyes wide as she tries to figure out what’s wrong with me.

Zozo’s looking at me as well, head tilted to one side.

“Good luck.”

“Welcome back. You’ve done well!”

From somewhere beside me, I hear the voice of a certain woman. It can’t be...can it?

My eyes remain on the Director. I blink once, twice, three times.

—I know this feeling. It’s what I felt all the way back then, when I first came to Harré and experienced something like love at first sight upon meeting my first love.

I’d been totally unable to move. All that I’d been able to see was the smile of that person.

That smile had seemed brighter than the sun, the moon, and all the stars in the sky put together.

I don’t know how old she was.

All I know is that the image of her at that moment remains etched quite vividly into my memory. Long, straight brown hair. Brown that had a little bit of red mixed into it. Eyes as calm and colorful as the sunset. The warm, perfectly curved smile she gave me every time I walked in the door.

She was always sitting there, greeting everyone with a smile. That lovely, lovely receptionist lady.

Why hadn’t I noticed it earlier?

I’ve seen her so many times that it’s strange that I’d only realize this on a day like today.

Of course, I might be mistaken.

But I don’t think I am. My memory’s always been my greatest strength.

The person who’d changed my life so greatly, after all this time, I knew she was—

“Director, you really are a good woman, you know.”

“What are you going on about, silly? Get going, and take care!”

Quite unexpectedly, today was the day I finally discovered who it was I’d been aspiring to become, after all this time.

I hold back the flood of emotions I feel as my heart pounds with excitement. The Go-Between door is opened, and without hesitation, I step into that glowing, shimmering light.

In the southern part of the Kingdom that makes up the Soreiyu District, there’s a small branch office of Harré’s Guild for Sorcerers. According to what the senior receptionists have told me, the weather down here is a little warmer than it is up at headquarters in the north. Even within the same Kingdom, we experience some variation in climate. It’s too hot down here to wear our long-sleeved uniforms during the Season of Flowers, let alone the Season of Light. But that doesn’t mean it’s so hot that we’re dripping with sweat down here—the heat is just at that level where your forehead gets a bit damp with sweat just by walking around, and the humidity creates this sensation of being just slightly sluggish all day long, no matter what you do.

Before actually stepping through the Go-Between, I hadn’t really understood what the other receptionists had been talking about. Why, of course if you’re walking around all the time, you’ll have better circulation, and that’ll result in a higher body temperature, right? I’d thought that after arriving here I’d understand what they’d been trying to tell me about the heat.

“Hey, Bell! What are you doing?!”

I’ve just stepped through the Go-Between. I haven’t had so much as a second to take in my new surroundings before all my attention is drawn to one, very strange sight: there’s a near-naked woman lying down on the ground, inside the confines of the rear break area of the Soreiyu District office. I do believe she’s...“tanning?”

All my worries about climate and humidity and whatever else disappear in an instant at this unexpected sight.

“Hm? Well now, y’all are a bit early in gettin’ here, doncha think?”

Zozo sees the nearly-naked woman on the ground and instantly realizes what’s going on. She stamps her feet in righteous indignation and yells, “We are not ‘a bit early’! The workday’s just about to start!”

Ms. Berryweather Landon. She lives in the same dorm as we do. Everyone calls her by the nickname “Bell.” I believe her natural skin color is actually quite pale, but she tans so much that it’s golden brown most of the time, not too different from Zozo’s own dark brown skin. She keeps her curly blonde hair to about shoulder length, but right now she has it tied back into a ponytail.

Bell doesn’t get up off the ground as she looks at me. “Morning, Nanalie,” she says, giving me a wave. “Good morning,” I say in return, but I find myself so distracted by her uncovered breasts and bare legs that I blush and find it difficult to make eye contact. What’s she thinking? Lying around like that in a place like this? I’d die of embarrassment if I were her and a male employee happened to walk by.

I look around nervously to see if anyone else happens to be noticing how Ms. Bell looks right now. Ms. Bell seems to understand what I’m thinking. “’s alright,” she says, waving away my concerns. “Everyone’s used to this. I lie down here every morning before work. The weather’s good today, you know, and I’m on the day shift. There’s nothing like a good tanning session before work. Hasn’t anyone told you about me before?”

In fact, I believe someone has told me about Ms. Bell and her antics before.

One day while I was working, a sorceress wearing a rather risqué getup came into Harré to accept a job request. After she left the building, all of the other receptionists broke out into whispered conversation.

Ms. Harris, who’d seen the sorceress, said something like, “My goodness, she looked like she took fashion advice from Berryweather, don’t you think?” I’d only ever seen Ms. Bell walking around the dorm wearing perfectly normal outfits, so this remark by Ms. Harris had been rather puzzling to me. Zozo herself had also never seen Ms. Bell in her current getup. I remember her asking Ms. Harris, “Does she really dress like that?” While Zozo has come to help out the Soreiyu branch office from time to time, she’d told me that she’d never seen Ms. Bell wear clothes that showed quite that much skin. But then again, Ms. Bell’s rumored near-nude sunbathing only occurred in the early morning, and as Zozo only went to Soreiyu for occasional night shifts, she’d not yet stumbled across the sort of sight greeting our eyes this morning.

As I remember all those stories, I take another look at Ms. Bell. She’s quite something, isn’t she? Although perhaps I should find her current behavior to be very impressive.

She’s her own person, that’s for sure. I’m not certain if that means she’s just an independent woman, or that she doesn’t care what the people around her think about her behavior, but in any case, it sure takes guts to walk outside half-naked like that.

As a fellow receptionist, I must say that I’d appreciate it if she refrained from exposing that much of her skin, but as Ms. Bell said, the people working in the Soreiyu District office seem used to this state of affairs. No one else is paying her, or her near-nudity, any mind whatsoever.

“I’d heard the rumors, sure, but that ‘tanning outfit’ you have on is just ridiculous.”

“Hey now, don’t go slanderin’ the Holy Garments of Pre-Work Tanning.”

“Girl, cut it out, please. I’m starting to feel embarrassed for you.”

Zozo, in her own kind, patient manner, is trying to give advice to one of her colleagues about her appearance, only to have her words completely ignored. She holds one hand against her forehead and sighs, then turns back towards me.

When she’s irritated or confused, Zozo tends to massage the sides of her head, but when exasperated, she has the habit of pressing one hand against her forehead. I know she’s calmed down when she smooths back her black, glossy hair away from her face, takes a deep breath, and then opens her eyes to look at me again.

“Nanalie, now that we’re here in Soreiyu, I need to show you how to modify your uniform—or rather, I need to show you how to use your uniform.”

“Use my uniform?” What could that mean? Obviously, I know how to wear my uniform, but why’s she talking like it’s a tool to be “used”?

“Yeah. The Director hasn’t told you about this yet, has she?”

Now Ms. Bell gets up from where she’s been sprawled out on the ground and starts walking towards Zozo. I don’t see any of her clothes lying around on the ground. She’s getting closer and closer, still half-nude. I’m torn between asking Zozo what, exactly, I haven’t been told yet and asking Ms. Bell to kindly put some clothes on. I’m so flustered that I end up saying nothing to either of them.

Ms. Bell seems confused by my silence, then shrugs. “You ain’t gotta even ask,” she says, nodding as she stands next to Zozo, apparently offering to be her model for whatever she’s about to teach me.

“Each person’s uniform has a different type of functionality, of course, but there are some aspects that are the same.”

“Like the three lines and the color scheme?”

All Harré employees receive exactly one uniform from the Gígnesthai Nero. They don’t get dirty. If mud gets on them, all it takes is a gentle wipe and it all comes off. It absorbs sweat, but magically enough, the sweat disappears from the material. No odor can cling to the fabric, so there’s no need to wash it. Should it become frayed or ripped, it’ll mend itself instantly and go back to looking like new. Harré uniforms are one of the few items of clothing that are truly both “all-purpose” and “all-weather.”

With a gentle pat, I dust off my spotless white sleeves out of habit.

“Well, sure,” Zozo says. “But they also have something else in common. We haven’t had any super hot days yet, and it’s not cold like it is during Distant Skies, so I haven’t had a reason to show you this yet, but...”

As she’s talking, Zozo rolls up the long sleeves on her uniform. She does so quite tightly, creating thick bands of sleeve material around her upper arms, just above her elbows. What’s she about to do? I watch as Zozo takes in a deep breath, and then begins blowing on those rolled up sleeves.

“Whoa...”

I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. The rolled-up uniform fabric simply disappeared, and now her sleeves were only half as long. Her dainty, slender forearms are now exposed to the sun.

I blink several times in surprise at the sudden disappearance of part of her uniform. Ms. Bell laughs at me. “It is kinda mysterious, right? I think I had the same face you do when I first saw that.”

What’s mysterious to me is not the literal fact of the fabric’s disappearance, but the reminder that I actually have no idea what the Harré uniforms are made of. My uniform, just like the Director had told me when I got it, is the “Dress of Nullification.” It repels any attack that comes my way: it’ll reflect lightning, and even should I be engulfed in flames, I won’t burn. It nullifies all spells that try to affect my body, except those that I cast myself.

I remember feeling like this uniform was too great a gift for me to receive.

Zozo’s uniform, on the other hand, is imbued with the power of invisibility. Even without using a Coat of Many Colors spell, she can easily become invisible whenever she wants. One time I’d had her show me how it works, and when she activated the invisibility function, it seemed like she was literally melting into thin air. I couldn’t sense her presence in the slightest. I was glad it was a trusted friend like her that owned such a powerful uniform. Just think, if a man had a uniform like that, where he could become totally undetectable at will, it’d be awful! I know it’s a bit sexist for me to think that way, but I am deeply relieved that it is my cute little friend and mentor, Zozo, that owns that particular uniform.

But then again, I don’t suppose the Gígnesthai Nero would give a uniform with that ability to someone who’d use it for illicit purposes.

“How does that work?!” I ask.

“I don’t really understand it either, but the breath of the uniform’s owner can change its shape. You don’t have to necessarily blow on it, I suppose—might be a bit gross, but drool or blood works too, even tears. If the person that owns the uniform gets a little bit of their bodily fluids on the fabric, they can change its shape.”

“I think I’ll stick to blowing on mine.” Obviously. As if I’d do otherwise!

“Then, when you want to make it go back to how it was before, just blow on the sleeves as you stretch them out. You might get a little lightheaded, of course, if you try to do it all at once—but it’s not too difficult, really.”

Ms. Bell holds up one hand. “Having said that, you can’t change the basic style of your uniform, ’kay? Like, Nanalie, you can’t turn your skirt into a pair of pants, and Zozo can’t turn her trousers into a skirt. You can make what you have longer or shorter, but that’s all.”

“It all sounds very interesting!” I mean that, really. Now that I know about this feature of my uniform, it’s like being given a brand new toy to play with! “Hmm, let’s see how this works...” I start rolling up my sleeves just like Zozo did, until they’re all bunched around my upper arms, and then I start blowing on them. At first, I can’t tell if it’s working or not, but after about ten seconds, I can definitely tell that the rolled-up sleeves are disappearing. It doesn’t happen all at once—slowly, little by little, it goes, goes, and then it’s gone.

I wave around my newly bared arms, appreciating just how much cooler I feel. The other receptionists were right. The humidity here does make it feel a bit warmer than it actually is. I might be imagining this, but I do feel that it is slightly, ever so slightly easier to work up a sweat here than it was up north. The breeze feels nice and cool, but the way the sunlight feels on my skin is different. And it’s not just the humidity in the air that’s causing me to feel that strange dampness—it’s as if my own sweat clings to my body a bit more here.

The Season of Flowers usually has warm weather, but what I’m experiencing now down here in the south can’t be simply called “warm.” But it’s not hot, either. I’m not sure how I’d explain it to someone who’s never been here before. I suppose that’s why the other receptionists had a hard time explaining it to me.

“She’s a bit of an odd one, isn’t she? Interesting, but odd.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Both of the other receptionists are watching me with incredulity as I shorten and lengthen the sleeves on my uniform over and over again. I don’t try experimenting with anything else, because I find this simple action and its reverse to be fascinating. When I see the slow changes of the fabric, the sense of satisfaction is similar to how I felt upon casting my first successful spell years ago. Something I find particularly interesting is the fact that the embroidery on the edges of my sleeves initially disappears from view when I roll them up, obviously, but when I blow on the bunched fabric to shorten them, the exact same design quickly reappears on the edges of my newly shortened sleeves.

As I’m standing here toying with my uniform, it’s getting closer to the start of the day shift. More and more employees are emerging from the Go-Between and coming over to join our little circle. When they hear how excited I’m getting over just learning how to modify my uniform, they all burst out laughing. “Hey! You don’t need to laugh that hard,” I pout, frowning a little back at them.

“So-sorry,” one of them says, nearly keeling over with laughter. “It’s just that we’ve never seen someone react like that before!”

They may tease me a little more than they need to, but basically all the people at the Soreiyu branch seem to be nice, friendly people.

One of the male receptionists takes a look at Ms. Bell and what she’s wearing—or rather, not wearing—and claps one hand against his forehead in exasperation. “Are you still walking around like that at this hour?”

“This is the branch notice board.”

The Soreiyu guild hall is about a quarter of the size of the Harré headquarters. Ten employees work in this branch: three receptionists that work with sorcerers, two receptionists that work with clients, two male employees that do clerical work in the back offices, and three others who take care of the fieldwork.

One of the receptionists assigned to fieldwork is someone the Director mentioned when she was telling me about who at Harré could perform psychometry, Mr. Yakkurin. He’s the older brother of one of my former classmates, and the first time I walked into Harré, I’d recognized how familiar his name was and that his face resembled that of his little sister, Kara Yakkurin. Kara had told me about a brother who was several years older than her, so on a hunch I asked if they were related, and what do you know? They are. I sometimes see him at Harré headquarters, and we say hello to each other. He’s the type of guy that women my mother’s age would call a “nice young man”—unlike most of the other men at Harré, who tend to be in their thirties or forties, he’s only twenty-five years old.

That’s why he is, or perhaps, another reason why he is so popular with the female employees.

On top of his youth and general good image is the fact that he’s single, which makes all the single women at work practically giddy with dreams of becoming “the one” for him. According to what Zozo’s told me, however, he does have a girlfriend, and she’s his childhood friend at that. I’m not sure why Zozo would know that.

Speaking of Zozo, right now she and Ms. Bell are guiding me around inside the building, showing me where the lavatory and the break room are, where the employee library and the nap room are located, and finally they bring me into the main office space just behind the reception counters. I already know all of the employees working here in the Soreiyu District, so I don’t have to go through any sort of formal introduction or anything. Everyone I see just gives me a smile and says, “Glad to have you here with us,” which is about the best thing anyone could say to me right now.

Ms. Bell finally gets around to changing into her white uniform. She’s the one who informed all the other employees that I’ll be working here for the next month. After we’ve finished making our rounds, Ms. Bell takes us over to the notice board and shows us what kind of requests we’ll be dealing with for the next month.

I squint a bit as I try to make out the details in fine print on the requests, but even without looking very closely I know exactly what kind of requests are common here: quite unlike the notice board at headquarters, requests for exorcisms practically fill the board, placed together so closely that the edges of the papers overlap.

“There’s a good deal of requests that deal with demons,” I say, trying to take it all in.

Ms. Bell nods her head heavily. “Take care of one demon and another will take its place, and if you get rid of that one, two more will appear! It’s always like this,” she says, sighing. “Especially during Flower Season. I wish we could just hurry up and be done with it.”

“You’ve been pretty busy, haven’t you, Bell?” Zozo pats her back and gives her a sympathetic smile. “It’s not only demons you’re dealing with, but perverts too! Must be tough.”

Ms. Bell shakes her head in disgust. “All these lovestruck loons have gotten just a little carried away with the seasonal festivities this year.”

“That’s for sure,” Zozo says, nodding.

From what they tell me, while there certainly are a lot of demon-related requests, there’s also been an increase in the number of women reporting stalkers following them around, and then there are the pranksters who seem to find it amusing to terrify little kids from the orphanage nearby. It sounds like the Order of Knights’ Fifth Platoon took care of those pranksters. The Fifth Platoon is commonly called the “Citizen’s Aid Company.” They keep the peace in the Kingdom, just like any other platoon, but they are also assigned the unique role of patrolling the streets throughout the Kingdom. I often see them when I’m out and about in town.

Ringaling! The bell attached to the guild hall’s door chimes as someone walks inside. We don’t have a bell on the door up at headquarters. Those little chimes make it feel like it’s an old-timey bookshop or something in here.

“Berryweather here?”

Zozo, Ms. Bell, and I all turn to face the man who’s just come in. Apparently he has some business with Ms. Bell, since he asked for her by name. It’s still early in the morning so there aren’t many sorcerers in here yet, and his voice echoes a bit as he calls out for her.

As soon as I get a good look at him, I realize—

He walks up to the reception counter. “Oh hey, there you are. You got those records for all the demons that have shown up here down south in the past month? And the notes on what they look like? Also, I’m in a bit of a rush, again—sorry about that.”

Ms. Bell answers his request with a bright, sincere smile. “Why, Captain, welcome to Harré! We do indeed have those records! Please wait here a moment while I go and fetch them, okay?” She goes hopping off to the back offices.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Hadn’t she just been completely distraught by all the reports of perverts in the area? What happened to that attitude? Perhaps it’s her philosophy to never show anything but a smile to guild visitors. So there’s no chance she’s acting all cutesy right now just so this guy will like her, right? Right?!

Zozo notices the grim look on my face. She leans over to whisper in my ear. “The Soreiyu District is the jurisdiction of the First Platoon. On occasion, members of the Third and Eighth will show up here too. Twice a month, someone from the Order comes here to exchange information with us about demon activity, and to recast the spells that maintain the defense barrier.”

“Hmm...so that’s how it works here.”

Ms. Bell’s gone, and he’s just loitering near the reception desks. In other words, he’s standing right next to me. I squint up at him in suspicion. He has that full-body black robe on, but unlike when I last saw him two months ago, isn’t wearing his hood today, so I can get a good look at his face. I can’t imagine how hot he must be inside that thick, black robe. I’m in short sleeves, but just looking at him makes me feel like I’m going to start sweating.

There isn’t a single bead of sweat on his brow as he looks down at me, apparently as cool as can be. His crimson eyes meet mine, and he raises one eyebrow, blinking a few times as if he’s making some sort of surprising discovery in the wild. He’s—well, not smiling, but something close to it.

I can’t read minds, so I’m a bit puzzled as to where that friendly grin he’d had on his face until just moments ago has gone. Zozo’s still right here next to me, so it’s not like we’re alone. It’s rather refreshing to witness this abrupt shift in expression. I feel like I’ve caught him off guard or something.

Still, I despair at my horrible ill luck. On the exact day I arrive, he just happens to show up for one of his bimonthly meetings. How likely is that? What am I, cursed or something? Next weekend, I need to go to the temple and get myself Purified. I can’t go around being haunted for the rest of my life.

“Let me guess—you were demoted?” Rockmann looks truly worried as he says this, as if he’s thinking, “Ah. The Director’s finally given up on her. I knew it’d happen eventually, but still, a sad sight to see.”

To which my answer is:

Who the hell are you to be going around saying crap like that?!

My package was returned (despite all my efforts). He drank me under the table (after I challenged him). He carried me back to the dorms over his shoulder like I was some sort of ragdoll (because I was passed out drunk). Ever since then, the dorm mother has seemed to be laboring under the delusion that something is going on between us (infuriating). All that has been almost all my fault, of course, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s been frustrating beyond belief to have to keep dealing with this fool.

My face tenses up as I’m caught between forcing a smile and staring daggers at him. “Would you kindly shut up with your lies?” I crack my knuckles for good measure. They say your fingers will get thick if you crack them, but I don’t care about having dainty, ladylike hands. I’d actually prefer they get as thick and strong as they can, so I can pack a better punch.

Rockmann takes his blond hair (which is depressingly long for a man) and tucks it behind his ears, like it’s in the way of him giving me an expression that shows how tediously bored he is with my antics. How rude! He has to know that super “calm and collected” face he’s making at me right now is pissing me off.

“Hey,” I say, affronted, “you’re being rude to everyone in here, you know.”

Strangely enough, none of his fellow Knights have followed him inside. But I suppose I don’t know that much about his work, and perhaps he goes out on his own quite often.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, everyone. Oh, wait—you know I’m not apologizing to you, right?”

“You little brat!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, I lift my leg to stomp his foot like the insect he is. I’d really rather use magic, but I hold myself back from that because we’re inside the Guild. There are people watching. I guess I shouldn’t go any further than crushing every bone in his foot. “Mercy” is something even I’m capable of, after all.

But Rockmann’s too quick for me. The instant my leg rises, he instinctively steps sideways, then sideways again as I slam my foot down over and again.

“Quit running away from me!”

“Oho, we can’t have you thinking I’m running now, can we?” His own leg darts out now, aiming to crush my right foot.

I’m not the kind of girl who can be defeated that easily, however. With a flash, I dodge, flex every muscle in my right leg in anticipation of obliterating Rockmann’s left foot, make my attack—and pound the floor. Dodged again!

Poundpoundpoundpoundpound...

We do not speak as we attack each other, evade, counterattack, and then evade again.

Ms. Bell reappears. “Uh...what’s all this about?”

And the battle is over.

In the end, I never did manage to step on his toes, but then again he never stepped on mine, either, so I guess we’ll call it a draw.

Now he’s back over at the counter talking to Ms. Bell as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. As if he hadn’t just been frantically attempting to crush the foot of some woman.

I attempt to hide my irritation by folding my arms and turning to Zozo for comfort. Wait, what’s that look on her face?

“Why do you always...act like that?” she says, quietly, sighing as she looks at me with something like sadness in her eyes.

“Like that?” What does she mean? I don’t think she’s insulting me, but... “Sorry,” I say. Sometimes apologizing is simply the best thing to do, even if you’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

How stupid of me, though, to lose my mind like that while I’m on the job! It’s not like I intended to get violent, but really, I do have to start acting like the adult that I should be—the adult that I am. Maybe I’m just not mentally there yet. I suppose I should work on that.

“Well, we can’t spend all day just standing in front of the notice board, now can we? Come on,” Zozo says, leading me back behind the reception counter.

The way they do things here in the Soreiyu office is a bit different from headquarters, but the basics are the same. Zozo and I switch out with the two receptionists sitting at the client reception counter. (They’re heading out into the field, apparently.) I’m happy to be finally sitting at a reception desk, of course, but I’m still feeling a bit flustered after what just happened. The two other receptionists, however, smile at me and say, “We’re so glad you’re here,” and those words are enough to make me feel right at home. To them, even a newbie like me is a big help. Based on how many requests I saw posted up on the notice board, I’m sure there are plenty of preliminary investigations that need to be done. With me here, the paperwork will be done a little faster, and everyone’s jobs will get a little easier. I hope.

Zozo pulls out stacks of paper from under the desk. “Alright then, we don’t have any clients yet, so let’s take care of that thing the Director asked us to do.”

“Sounds good.” I look down at the papers piled on the desk. The Director has asked us to go through requests made here at Soreiyu and pass along any that look like they could be taken care of at headquarters. There are more sorcerers and employees up north, so it’s more efficient than letting them all stack up down here.

I remove the wooden clasp off of the stack of paper, and together Zozo and I begin scanning them for important information and sorting them into different piles. I take my special pen out from its pouch on my belt, just in case I need to mark something up. It’s a green pen with a gold pattern of twisting vines inlaid onto the case. The vine pattern is identical to the one on my uniform.

This lovely little pen of mine is something I bought at Peropepéne’s Stationery Store, soon after I began working as a receptionist. With my first earnings from Harré in hand, I’d gone shopping there, carefully looking through everything in the store before deciding on this one.

Peropepéne’s is a store known in the northern towns as dealing in somewhat expensive stationery. They aren’t quite at the level where they’re supplying the royal family with pens and paper, but they count a number of mid- to upper-level aristocrats among their patrons. Also, I should mention that while expensive, they aren’t exclusive, so as long as you aren’t too dirty and have money to pay, they’ll treat you well. I’d opened the store door feeling rather nervous, but the old man running the store had given me such a nice smile it had set my mind completely at ease. He’d been most kind as I’d browsed around the store, explaining the merits of different pens for different types of hands or writing styles. I’d never felt like he was trying to force anything on me. After he’d told me about all the pens, he’d told me to “take my time” and left me to my own devices, adding that I should ask him if I needed anything.

There are good, respectable people working in every profession. I wonder—if I hadn’t encountered that receptionist at Harré all those years ago, would I now be working to become the owner of a bookstore instead? I’d enjoyed the experience so much it had made me imagine that alternate life I could’ve lived.

The memory wipes away any remaining irritation I’d felt upon Rockmann’s appearance, and I’m finally able to concentrate on my work again. That store was such a good store, just the memory of it makes me feel happy. It’s probably due to the kindness of the owner more than the store itself, I suppose.

I read the request descriptions on the forms in front of me.

“In the evenings, I hear a strange sound through the walls of my house. It sounds like it’s coming from the lake. A neighbor, who fishes there during the day, tells me that he’s seen dark shadows in the water. Possibly a demon. Fish carcasses are floating up to the surface and are just laying there on the water. They grow more numerous, day after day. Please, do something about it.”

“There’s a round black thing on my walls. Looks like an insect. I’ve been trying for days, but I can’t seem to get it off. It looks like it’s growing larger, day by day. I don’t know if this matters, but all of the magical plants in my garden are withering and everyone in my family has been feeling ill lately. I want someone to come out and remove the thing from my wall, then figure out the cause of all this.”

“On my way to Steel Mountain, I encountered a wolf with dark violet fur. I managed to run away, but ever since then I haven’t been able to go to the mountain and pick the herbs I need. Can someone please exorcise the place?”

After I finish reading the requests, I put the ones I’ll take back to headquarters in a pile to my right and the ones I won’t in a pile to my left. Naturally, I’m not making these decisions entirely on my own—I make sure to check with Zozo before I decide left or right. She herself asks me for my opinion on the requests she’s going through, too. Slowly but surely, we go on sorting the papers together.

“Do you think these three would be good to take back to headquarters?” I ask her.

“Yeah, I think so. What about this one?”

“Seems like the problem’s north of here, so it should be good to take back. I think one of our regular sorcerers lives in that neighborhood.”

“She’s sure to have a lot of experience in the area, so it’s an even better reason to have her do it.”

We receptionists have generally memorized a good deal of information about the sorcerers that come into Harré. There are, of course, files on each sorcerer available in the employee library, but it’d take up so much time if we were constantly reading those. That’s why for most of them, if we have their name and know what they look like, we make sure to be able to recall what type they are, what jobs they’ve done, and other facts about their background. Of course that doesn’t mean we never look at the files when recommending them a request—plus, we also consult with them personally about what’s available, and in the end they’re the ones who choose what requests they want to take care of. Obviously, we don’t have their home addresses memorized or anything, but we do know what region of the Kingdom they call home.

The receptionists who work the sorcerer desks have to keep all that information in mind when balancing the interests of the sorcerer with the needs of the job, and then deciding which requests to give to them. It’s a lot of information to keep track of, which is why Harré tends to hire people with good memories.

“This one and this one are probably good too.”

“Yes, those seem fine.”

Once we’ve begun, the rest is easy. Zozo, veteran receptionist that she is, zips through the papers and moves them left, right, left. I try to do what I can to help her, carefully reading every line on the request forms, then carefully placing them in one of the piles. The pile of papers slowly grows smaller.

I love clerical work. There’s that indescribable pleasure of seeing a stack of forms slowly disappear. Sure, my eyes get tired, and I can’t use magic, so it’s not the most exciting way to pass the time, but the process itself is rewarding, somehow.

As I’m focusing on my paperwork, I glance up from time to time at the guild door to make sure I’m aware of any clients as soon as they come in. It’s an old, creaky door, nothing like the thick metal one back at headquarters. It drags on the wooden floor when you open it, and it has a bell attached. I hear it ring, look up, and see someone has come in.

“Captain.”

But it isn’t a sorcerer. It’s just a woman wearing the same uniform as Rockmann, so I look back down. Her footsteps echo as she approaches—but then she goes to the sorcerer receiving desks, where Rockmann’s talking with Ms. Bell.

So he isn’t alone today after all.

No sorcerers are in the Guild at the moment, and all the receptionists are quiet as they work. In the small interior of the hall, I can hear them speaking on the other side of the room.

From what fragments I can hear, this woman from the First Platoon, who’d been waiting outside, had grown impatient with how long Rockmann was taking and so decided to come in to check on him. “You’re just here to pick up some papers!” “We should get back to the castle.” “We still have work to do!” and so on and so forth. Just listening to her speak is distracting, so I force myself to ignore her and focus on the task at hand. I’ve got to focus. What part was I reading? I scan the request form in my hands.

I’m busily looking through papers when all of a sudden a shadow falls across my desk.

I’d ignored their conversation, but I have to be ready to help anyone who comes up to my desk, so I know instantly who’s standing in front of me right now: a beautiful woman with blue eyes, her silky brown hair flowing down over her left shoulder as she leans forward ever so slightly. She’s looking down at me.

“Goodness gracious, why if it isn’t Ms. Hel. It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

“Hello, Ms. Weldy. Yes, it has been a while.”

She’s wearing the same robe over her Knight’s uniform that Rockmann is, and looks as though she doesn’t feel the heat in the slightest. Not only that, but she’s wearing gloves. Every part of her body is covered except for her face and neck. Surely she feels at least a little warm?

“Have you been transferred here?”

I carefully set aside my papers in order to explain the situation. It would be painfully embarrassing to have her think I was unceremoniously “demoted” like Rockmann did.

“...So that’s why I’m here, not because I was transferred, but as part of my training as a new employee.”

“Is that so? Hmmmm...” She nods her head. “Harré certainly knows how to educate their staff members well.”

What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t get a chance to clarify further, however, as she soon changes the subject to begin talking about herself (to no one’s surprise).

She talks about what kinds of demons she’s fought recently, how she killed them, which restaurants she’s become obsessed with, how wonderful it is to find Rockmann asleep at his desk (what?), how she wants to have a new suit of armor made for her, and on and on and on with barely a word from me.

“Brunel talks about you a lot, you know, so I’ve come to know—quite by accident, mind you—your likes and dislikes, among other things.”

“Do you talk about me that often?”

“Oh! Speaking of things we like, I don’t ‘like’ or ‘dislike’ that much in particular, you know? I’m not picky. Captain Alois seems like he’s the same way, so perhaps that’s why we get along.”

“You might be right about that.”

“Speaking of ‘getting along,’ I was talking with Drografia the other day—he’s a Knight, you know—and sometimes his pegasus—”

Ms. Weldy goes on gesturing and gesticulating with great enthusiasm as she continues talking. I watch her, trying to make sense of it all.

Is she...killing time...by talking with me?

Rockmann must’ve dismissed her after she’d tried to interrupt his meeting with Ms. Bell. She must be over here to kill time.

When I first met her, she left me with the impression that she was a cool, reserved woman, but now I can see I was completely mistaken about her. I’d only had how she looked to make my judgment on, so it’s no surprise I was wrong. As we’re chatting with each other, I can tell that she’s passionate about her job, has the usual feminine fascination with love and romance, and many other interests besides. This is only the second time we’ve met, but here she is, talking to me as if we’re old friends.

I’d been shocked when she’d lectured me at that first meeting. The difference between now and then, I think, is the reason why hearing her tell me all these things about her private life makes my heart pound a little.

From time to time I nod, agree, and chime in with my opinion on whatever she’s just said. Zozo’s at the counter next to me, arms folded and listening closely to our conversation. Apparently she’s finished sorting the papers, because now even the ones that had been in front of me are gone. I guess she took care of that while I was listening to Ms. Weldy. Sorry, Zozo! I’m glad it’s morning right now so no sorcerers can witness me slacking off at work like this.

“By the way, Ms. Hel—have you decided who you’ll be giving flowers to?”

“Excuse me? ‘Giving flowers to’?”

Ms. Weldy’s suddenly changed the topic of conversation and I’m a little thrown off.

Where in the world did that come from?

“Like—I—said,” she says, drawing out each word, “who are you planning to give flowers to?”

“Well, Ms. Weldy, what about you? Who will you be giving flowers to?”

“Me? Oh, you know...hahaha.”

“To the Captain?”

I point over at the likely suspect of her affections.

“Goodness! Can you not take that suggestive tone with me?! Whatever do you mean by it?!”

I, who am looking over at the guy Ms. Weldy’s been dragging on about for the last eternity, find myself being urged to “put away my finger” by a panicked Ms. Weldy in a strained, hushed voice. Her cheeks grow flushed with embarrassment, which she tries to hide by covering them with her hands.

“Oh, dearie me! It’s just that there are so many murderous women after the Captain! He’s only half as popular as His Highness Prince Zenon, man’s man that he is, but the Captain isn’t just nice to aristocrats, but even lowly commoner women like myself, and so, so kind and honest—oh, I just can’t bear to let my guard down around him, I don’t want to imagine what might happen.”

“You call that kind? He’s just a womanizer, you know. The Prince seems more kind and honest than that guy ever is.”

The Prince is a good guy, inside and out. In fact, the Prince has always been more my type of man, much better than him. That’s just talking about my “type,” of course. I’m not about to go confessing my love for His Highness. Literally everyone would start thinking of me as some “uppity commoner girl” at that point.

“The word ‘honest’ has a lot of meanings, you know. Not that a kid like you would understand.” She makes a little hmph! of disappointment and shakes her head at my “naivety.”

I’ll have you know that this “kid” you’re talking to is the same age as Rockmann, girl.

She’ll never be able to understand his “kindness.” To be frank, there’s not a single time I can recall that he’s been kind to me (not that I’ve been kind to him, either). But I won’t argue that he is indeed conspicuously chivalrous to other women. Equally to all of them, at that. Perhaps too equally. Were I a stranger and saw him consorting with some woman on the street, I’m pretty sure I’d think he was some sort of philanderer. Not that he isn’t, of course. But on the other hand, as far as I know, he’s never lied to anyone and led them on by returning any sort of affection. Somehow that’s made him even more popular. Any normal guy who did that wouldn’t find women chasing him around like Rockmann does, and yet all those girls back at school, at around graduation, started saying things like “He’s not married yet, so I can’t be certain he doesn’t like me!” Masochistic girls, the lot of them.

“A womanizer he may be,” Ms. Weldy says, “but there are many such noble lords who do the same. If I’m the only one he truly loves, well, shouldn’t that be good enough?”

“Those are just the words of some good-for-nothing woman who’s in love with a playboy.”

“I beg your pardon, Ms. Hel?! Where did that come from? Did you say that? With this mouth? This mouth?!” She pinches my cheeks with both hands and yanks me up out of my chair. “You don’t get to just say anything you like if you say it with a smile, you know!” My cheeks are very much in pain by the time she gets done with me, and at last she’s just squeezing my mouth open and shut, humming a little tune of vengeance to herself as she plays with my face.

Once she’s finally let me go, I carefully lay my hands against my bright red cheeks and chill them. Being an Ice-Type is worth it for times like this.

“Ah, if only he were to confess his love for me atop the Flower Garden’s Tower...” She sighs and closes her eyes to imagine the scene.

“The Flower Garden’s Tower?”

“Weldy, we’re leaving.” Rockmann waves goodbye to Ms. Bell as he calls out to Ms. Weldy.

The instant he says her name, she leaves the counter where Zozo and I are sitting and walks towards the door with him without so much as a glance backwards.

“Love sure is strange,” Zozo says.

“Yes,” I nod my head, “but as the ancestors said, humans cannot live without it.”

All at once, my idle chitter-chatter with Ms. Weldy is finished. She wasted absolutely no time in getting over to Rockmann. If I blinked, I’d have thought she teleported. Amazing.

Was it because he’s her Captain and he ordered her that she chased after him so quickly? Or was it because it was Rockmann calling out for her? I hear her continuing to call after him. “Captain, Captainnnn!” Perhaps it was both of those reasons.

Rockmann opens the door and pulls her outside. I watch the door close, then turn to Zozo. We both let out a deep sigh of relief. It’s over.

“Now that we’re done sorting,” I say, “what’s next?” It doesn’t look like clients are about to start arriving. If there’s something that I can busy myself with to take my mind off that whole interaction, I’d very much like to do so.

“Hmm, let me think. Ah, yeah, let’s have you take a look at a map of the area here. Memorizing the landmarks would be a good idea. I’ll try to find one...hold on a second.” Zozo gets up and heads to the back office area to search for a map. I’m a little nervous at the prospect of being alone as a newcomer here, but I stay in my seat and try to do like I always do back at headquarters. That’s what the Director told me to do, after all. I take a deep breath, chill out, and calmly wait for Zozo’s return.

She’s taking a rather long time. Is that a spell I hear?

Faintly, I hear Zozo chanting behind me, “Map, pocus!” (Reveal yourself.)

—Ringaling!

The door opens. Someone comes in. Surely this time it’ll be a sorcerer or a client, right? When I look over to check, however, it’s none other than the recently-departed Rockmann.

I have no idea why he’s come back. He marches straight towards me and the sound of his boots against the wood floor echoes in the hall. One of the receptionists over at the sorcerer’s desk calls out, “Captain? Was there something else you needed?” Rockmann just smiles at her and shakes his head.

He stands right in front of my desk, bends over to place his face near my own, and lays one hand gently against the side of my neck. There’s a sharp, fierce glint in his eyes as he looks at me between strands of his golden hair, unblinking.

“Let me ask just one thing of you,” he says quietly, his mouth right next to my ear. It’s at this distance that I smell, ever so faintly and without any intention to, the hint of something like perfume. It’s the smell of freshly laundered pajamas or bath soap. It’s a smell that makes me want to close my eyes and let sleep carry me away.

I confess: I rather like this smell.

I snap out of it. “Huh? No.” I don’t like him getting this close. I take one hand and shove his face away—far away. The fact that he nearly lured me off to sleep with just the way he smells has me on edge. Terrifying bastard, that’s what he is. I’m irritated at the momentary lapse in my watchfulness. I start pushing his pretty face away, over and over, to make the message clear.

“...If you don’t stop that right now, you’ll get worse than what you’re giving.”

“Not that I care!”

I sigh. No matter how much I pinch and pull the skin on his face, I can never manage to turn it into anything ugly. It’s rather frustrating. The only thing left for me to do is shove my fingers up his nose, I suppose. I pause, looking for an opening.

But he’s not the type to just let me do that. “Gah, you’re a pain, you know that?”

He counterattacks. “Mmmmph!!” He tightly grips my whole face with one hand. Snap! I feel like I hear something break inside my skull. Ouch!! Through the gaps in his fingers, I can see his hateful face smiling at me, with evil, evil eyes, narrow as threads, glaring back at me. Okay, yeah, this hurts a lot more than whatever I was doing just now.

“Owowowowowowow! Why do I have to listen to anything you have to say?!”

I hit his arm several times. I also pound the desk I’m sitting at for good measure. If he keeps this up, he’s gonna crush my bones! My face will be crushed!

“Be quiet and listen,” he says, grabbing my hand that’s pounding the table and leaning in close to me again. He keeps his hand on my face.

Dammit! I told myself I wouldn’t allow myself to cast spells inside the guild hall! Without my magic, there’s no way I can beat this guy, not on arm strength alone.

And so, unwillingly, unfortunately, I am forced to resort to extreme tactics.

“O-okay, I’ll listen! I’ll listen so just get your hands off me! I’m sorry for what happened earlier, it was my fault! Hey!”

I apologized.

“......”

“What?”

“......”

“What’s that face for?”

He looks like he’s thinking.

“If someone asks you if you’re an Ice-Type witch,” he finally says, “don’t answer them.”

He still has his hand on my face. Granted, his grip is a little looser, so it doesn’t hurt like it did before. I should applaud his persistence, however—he doesn’t believe me for a second that I’ll listen to him if he sets me free! He’s totally right, of course.

“Huh?”

I don’t understand what he’s trying to tell me.

“If someone asks you what type you are, tell them you’re a Water Witch. Never tell anyone that you’re an Ice-type.”

“But why?”

Likely because I’ve now shown him I’m actually interested in having a conversation with him, he finally lets go of my face. “I’ll remember that, you pompous prick.” I glare fiercely back at him as I massage my chin and forehead back into shape. The guy who looks back at me has this sinister smile on his face, as if he’s just pulled off the world’s best prank. Hateful. Completely hateful. Don’t laugh at me like that!

“There’s a certain country that wants Ice Witches. So, you know, I want you to be careful.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be talking about that business with Orcinus, would you?”

Now it all makes sense.

I remember what Mr. Drografia had been talking about at the tavern with the other Knights. They talked about how the Knights are on guard against Orcinus, which is trying to collect Ice Witches, and also taking a census on the number of Ice-Type witches present inside the Kingdom.

“Lately, we’ve warned to stay on alert for this sort of stuff, and...well, you’re an Ice-Type. I’m not at all worried about you, but the Commander’s ordered us to give the same advice to all Ice-Type witches we encounter.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Anyway, that’s all I have to say. Don’t be lured by the prospect of that salary.”

“As if I would!”

Rockmann walks away without another word, waves goodbye without turning around, and this time he really does leave Harré.

I don’t know much about Orcinus, but since Rockmann went so far as to tell me that, I guess I should do as he says. I hadn’t even imagined he’d been trying to warn me about something. For him to have come all the way back inside to tell me that must mean it’s quite serious. If it wasn’t, he’d never tell me to “be careful.”

Anyhow, did Zozo ever find that map? I haven’t heard her moving about for some time. She’s probably just searching quietly.

I turn around. She has the map gripped tightly in one hand, and is standing next to one of the male clerks. They’re both staring at me in what appears to be total shock. I find their behavior a bit strange, but I’m glad she’s found the map.

“So you were able to find the map after all. Thank you very much, Ms. Zozo.”

“Oh, uh, sure. No problem.”

I’d tried to imply in my thanks to Zozo that I wanted her to come over to where I am sitting, but she’s still standing next to the clerk, showing not the slightest intention of approaching me.

I look around the Guild. Ms. Bell, and all of the other employees, are staring right at me. I tilt my head to one side. What’s everyone looking at?

Finally, Zozo takes one step, then two, approaching me as if she’s trying to walk on eggshells.

“You and the Captain—are you sure you aren’t friends?”

“Nope, not friends. Absolutely not.”

Another day, another person making another weird assumption about Rockmann’s and my relationship. So it goes.

＊　＊　＊　＊

It’s gone by all so fast.

In just two more days, it’ll have been a full month since I arrived in the Soreiyu District. Each day seems to pass by quickly, but at the same time is so long that my eyelids are drooping heavily at the end of it.

After all, it’s been so incredibly hectic every day.

I’d known before coming here that there aren’t too many sorcerers in the area. Despite the large amount of work relating to demons in the District, few sorcerers live nearby—but I suppose that’s also because there are so many demons around.

The result is that there aren’t enough receptionists to go around to adequately staff the sorcerer desks—most of us are too busy trying to go through the veritable mountain of client requests and do as many preliminary investigations as possible. I’m trying to be as useful as I can be during my time here, but I feel sorry for everyone permanently based at Soreiyu.

In two days, I’ll be heading back to headquarters. The other employees have even begun asking me things like, “You aren’t thinking of requesting being transferred here permanently, are you?” Half of the time, I can’t tell if they’re joking or serious with their questioning, but it always makes me tear up a little. I’m not crying because I don’t like being asked that—I just find myself so tragically worried about the state of the Soreiyu office after I leave that I feel guilty. I feel like I’ve been working myself down to the bone here, but they’ve all taken such good care of me. Whenever I’m looking a little too thin, they make sure I sit down and eat a steak or something to keep up my energy.

But it won’t be like this forever—the Flower Season will be over soon enough, and with it the seasonal rise in demonic activity. The Director herself had visited to give everyone a pep talk, saying that this crazy state of affairs would be over “soon enough.” The Soreiyu employees hadn’t been too encouraged by these words, but when the Director had gone on to say that “once it’s Distant Skies season, I’ll treat all of you to ‘red and black phoenix,’ as much as you want, at one of the top restaurants in the Kingdom,” they’d shown more enthusiasm for their work than I’d ever seen before.

I wonder if the whole “food as motivation” is a Director thing, or a Harré employee thing. We’re so busy, I don’t know how they have the energy to even think about eating something special months from now—but perhaps we Harré folks are a simple bunch.

“Yakkurin! Behind you! One of those scrawny little things!”

“Huh?! Ugh, it’s disgusting! Hel, blast it away or something!”

“Braggiarms Megistooooo!” (Super strength.)

I clench my fist and punch right at the little critter.

“Wheeeeeeeeee...!” The demon is blasted away by the force of my hit. It flies up, up, up into the sky, until it winks out of existence and joins the stars.

Excited, Zozo claps in admiration. “Ahhh! Nanalie, you’re freaky strong!”

“Oh, it’s just a spell, you know!”

The demons keep popping up along the path. I send each one flying with a “wheeee...” or a “whooooo...”, and we manage to continue making our way up the mountain.

The three of us are here on Steel Mountain for a preliminary investigation, and we find ourselves...being preyed upon by a horde of demons. A little while ago there’d been a request asking for someone to exorcise a wolf demon, but this time it seems like there’s a different type prowling the area. We’re here to find out what, exactly, it is.

The day had begun with completely clear, blue skies, but for some reason the sky right above Steel Mountain is a heavy, grayish color. Must be the demons that are causing that. I look up every time I send another demon flying into the heavens to watch it vanish.

The members of today’s team are Zozo, Yakkurin, and myself. This isn’t the first time we’ve gone into the field together—we’ve probably gone on seven or eight missions in the past month. This also isn’t my first visit to Steel Mountain. With its black and ash-gray trees, the whole mountain really does have the color of steel. Many medicinal herbs, tasty vegetables, and fruit-bearing trees grow here. No one owns it, and no matter how many herbs people pick, they just come right back, so it’s like this endless source of fruits and vegetables for the surrounding communities. Despite its appearance, it’s surprisingly rich in resources, some of them likely as yet unknown. Many people come here trying to discover some new herb or fruit they can sell at the markets.

But of course, with a mountain like this that is teeming with life, it’s also full of demons.

There’s been between ten to fifteen exorcism requests this month, just for Steel Mountain. Way too many. And despite the danger, people still come up here to pick wild fruits and vegetables. Are they so delicious that they’re worth risking your life for?

“Parasta, make sure you’re keeping track of all this!”

“I got it, alright! Whoa, above you!”

“Kieohn!” (Ice pillar.)

A demon is falling down onto Yakkurin, so I instantly thrust out both arms to summon a pillar of ice. It grows from the palm of my hands like a plant would, only at the speed of sound. The pillar is so large it chills the air around us.

The little demon had tried to open up its mouth as wide as it could to swallow Yakkurin whole. Now, however, it’s completely trapped inside my pillar of ice. It can’t even move its eyes, which are now frozen solid, looking ahead at nothing at all.

I wait a few seconds to ensure that it isn’t about to break free, then snap my fingers to shatter the ice. The demon inside shatters as well, breaking into tiny shards on the ground. Not even a single fragment of it remains.

Demons with only one eye, bodies the size of a human head.

Those little black spheres come bouncing towards us. We get rid of one and another soon replaces it.

Persistent! Irritatingly persistent!

It really would be nice to be able to use the Coat of Many Colors, but the demons would be able to see us even if we became “invisible.” All we can do is continue to press forward. In contrast, Zozo’s uniform and its special invisibility feature seem to actually work against the demons for some reason, so she’s going undetected as she makes notes on her clipboard about the amount of demons present, their type, and so on.

But the point of this investigation isn’t even to deal with these demons—we’re looking for one that has a much more animal-like shape. A demon larger than a wolf, larger even than the trees growing on this mountain. Apparently, however, a different bunch of demons sprang up here after the client came in to make their request. They hadn’t said anything about these guys!

“Ahhh this isn’t going anywhere! Blast ’em with ice!”

“But—”

“The Director told me that we need to avoid any injuries, so use that super strength you had earlier and that sword spell!”

“What?! Uh, okay!”

When we return to Harré, we go through the records we made during today’s investigation. The three of us are at a back counter inside the guild hall, sitting around a table with a map of the area spread out over it.

Yakkurin sighs. “I’d really like to just ban humans from Steel Mountain altogether and be done with it.”

Zozo shakes her head. “No, we can’t do that—if we put up a magic barrier it’ll dissolve soon enough, and we can’t expect the Knights’ Order to add that to their list of maintenance projects. Even if we were to put up a fence or something, there’d still be crowds of people forcing their way over.”

“The place really is quite strange,” I say, “but I suppose that makes sense. Dr. Aristo did refer to the mountain itself as a demon, you know?”

“Are you still reading books like that?” Zozo looks legitimately incredulous as she asks me this.

“Just in my spare time.”

“Hel’s the type who’s a complete bookworm off the clock, right?”

Yakkurin runs a hand through his light brown hair and closes his eyes. He, Rigel Yakkurin, is the older brother of one of my former classmates, Kara Yakkurin. I’d been somewhat surprised to discover he was working here. I knew that Kara had a brother, but certainly had no idea he worked at Harré. Having said that, though, I guess I hadn’t exactly been open about where I’d intended to work in the future when talking with my friends—if I’d told Kara, I might have been able to ask her a lot of questions about her brother’s experience before arriving. But it probably would have been improper for me to have asked a bunch of questions about her brother, who I’d never even met. Perhaps it’s best I didn’t know about the connection until I arrived.

“I like reading books. Reading books can calm the soul.”

“I have literally no idea what that must feel like.”

I’d thought they resembled each other when I’d first met him, but he didn’t have that spontaneity that was so typical of Kara. After graduating, she told us all she was going to become an archaeologist, and now she is flying all over the world, according to Yakkurin. Her family had been disappointed that she’d chosen that route after working so hard during her time at the Royal School of Magic, but I think she’s making good use of the skills she learned. She can use her familiar to take her anywhere she likes, and with her magic, she’ll be able to defend herself against any dangers she encounters. Plus, she’s a Lightning-type, so if any creeps try to make a move on her, she’ll send them sparking up into the sky.

“I really think there’s nothing that can be done about the demons on Steel Mountain but have the Order cast a barrier around it, time-consuming as that will be,” I said. “At least one layer around the base.”

Zozo nods. “You’re right.”

I hold out one hand to Yakkurin. “In that case, I’ll be sending these request forms and investigation papers over to the Director.”

“Please,” he says, rolling up the papers and tying them with a string before handing them to me.

“Hey you three, time to switch with the night shift.”

“Yes, thank you!”

The senior receptionist in charge of the night shift is urging us to leave. We let her take over the reception area and begin getting ready to go home. I pick up my black overcoat. Going back to the dorm is as simple as walking through the Go-Between in the rear garden, so I’m in no rush to be on my way. If I had to fly all the way home it would take hours, but with the Go-Between I can be at headquarters in no time, and it’s only a few minutes walk from there to the dorms.

I wait in front of the Go-Between for Zozo and Yakkurin to finish getting ready.

“You two are only gonna be here for another two days, right?”

“Yeah, but we’ll swing by to help out every now and then, so it’s all okie-dokie.”

“Oh, sweet. Be glad to have your help.”

I wave over at them.

“Nanalie, the three of us should go out to eat together tonight!” She pats her belly and laughs. “You wanna come, right, Yakkurin?”

Yakkurin glances over at me and tilts his head. “Whaddya say?”

I have no particular reason to say no, so I nod my head. We just got our paycheck the other day, so it’s not like I have to be miserly tonight. “I’m in the mood for it,” I say, “especially after the day we just had. But Ms. Zozo, it’s not just ‘tonight’ we’re eating out—we’re eating out again tonight.”

“Now even Nanalie’s getting sassy with me,” she says, half-smiling.

It’s only been a little less than nine months since I began working at Harré, but Zozo and I have gotten along well enough that I feel comfortable being more candid around her than I was at the beginning. We often eat together, and while we aren’t quite “friends,” I’m with her more than I am with my friends. She’s my mentor at work, sure, but I also talk with her more than anyone else, and she takes good care of me on the job. I respect her, too. I guess most people would think we were “work friends,” but for us it’s a little different. Something I can’t quite describe.

“I’m sorry!”

I clap one hand over my mouth. Did I ruin the mood?

“It’s alright! You’re funnier that way,” she says, laughing, with her hand still on her stomach. Whew. That’s a relief. I guess if she felt like we always had to be prim and polite with each other, it’d be exhausting for her.

Yakkurin seems to feel the same. “You spend three years here and you’ll stop caring about all that junior-senior stuff, so it’s no big deal,” he says, trying to get me to relax. He turns to the Go-Between and opens it up. What lies within glimmers brightly.

...Three years, huh. That’s still a long time from now. It’s only half as long as my time back at school, but still.

Following after Yakkurin, Zozo and I both step through the door together, returning home to the north.

＊　＊　＊　＊

I slowly lift the geejee on my fork up to my mouth. Sure, bunny-bird is good, but meat from three-headed geejee cows is pretty scrumptious as well.

The sharp smell of spices in the air marks out this restaurant as Zozo’s and my usual haunt after work—it’s the Vegetarian Wolf.

Zozo’s basically a regular here. She’d raised her hand and said, “Three mugs of Namus beer, please!” the instant we sat down. She’s sprawled out on the bench like she’s right back at home. I’ve been around her too much, I guess, because I don’t find that strange. I’m not a regular like Zozo is, but I’m getting there—the tavern mistress knows my face. When we’d walked in, she’d said, “Oho, got our paycheck now, did we?” with a knowing smile on her face as she patted my shoulder. She knows exactly what sort of financial state I’m in whenever I come here. Just what I’d expect from a tavern owner.

Yakkurin sits down across from me and Zozo, takes a sip of water, then leans forward on his elbows. “You girls got dates for the Flower Goddess Thalia’s festival tomorrow?”

I’m still mid-chew, so it’s Zozo who answers first.

“The festival, right... Well, I do kinda have a date. I’m gonna try ignoring my fortune and seeing how that goes.”

Well, this is a surprise. “You’re going to go against the words of Lady Merakisso?”

“Yeah. But if something bad does happen, I’m prepared to follow whatever she predicts for me for the rest of my life.”

Zozo seems pretty intent on going against Lady Fortune’s prediction. And she believes so strongly in that kind of stuff...! I have no idea who she’s planning on going with, but I bet if I asked her right now, she’d answer me. I watch Zozo carefully as I munch on another mouthful of geejee meat. She’s got one fist thrust into the air as if to defy the Goddess herself.

Yakkurin seems interested in knowing who her date is as well. “So who is it?”

...He asked, just as I’d expected him to!

Zozo, however, doesn’t seem to be in the mood to tell us. “’s a secret,” she says, before guzzling down some more beer. Dammit! I was so close to finding out!

“Don’t string us along like that, jeez.” Yakkurin shakes his head. “What ’bout you, Hel?”

“I’m going to meet up with a friend after the festival is over.”

I have plans for a rendezvous with Maris. She’d told me to come up to the Royal Isle after the festival, but she hadn’t told me why we had to go there. I’m not a student anymore, and it’s not like I work at the palace or anything—is it even alright for me to set foot on the Isle anymore?

“And during the festival?”

“Well, I thought about joining my parents and enjoying the festival with them, but when I sent them a letter asking about it, they told me they wanted to just go by themselves. So I suppose I’ll just wander around, seeing whatever’s interesting.”

I’m relieved that my mother and father are back on good terms, but I feel somewhat left out. Even so, it is the Season of Flowers. They should be free to be as lovey-dovey as they like. I don’t need to feel bad about not joining them.

“That so? Huh...well why don’t we go together, Hel? You and I, to the Flower Goddess’s Festival.”

“With you?”

I hadn’t considered the possibility of him asking me out. I give him a long, hard look to gauge how serious he is, and to think of my answer. Nikeh’s going to be working, and Benjamine wrote to tell me she’d be going with Satanás. All of my other friends have dates, or said they’d want to go to the festival on a date, not just “with friends,” so I certainly wasn’t about to ask them to come with me.

It’s not that I mind going with Yakkurin—I wonder, is he actually fine with going to the festival with me, of all people? Doesn’t he have some childhood friend that’s his secret lover...?

I glance over at Zozo, the source of that rumor.

“Oh, that rumor about him having a girlfriend? I made it up and then told everyone.”

“What? Why?”

“He was struggling with all the girls asking him on dates! Some of them wouldn’t give up with a simple ‘no,’ either, so that’s why I decided to help him out. So it’s okay, really! Why don’t you go together?” She slaps my back in encouragement.

Well, I mean, sure, there aren’t many nice young men at Harré, but to think that he had so many women after him that they needed to tell a lie like that...

“We don’t have to if you don’t wanna. Just, you know, if you don’t have anyone else. Whaddaya say?”

“Well...”

I wouldn’t mind going to the festival by myself, but I also have no strong reason to turn him down. It’ll be my first time going out somewhere with a guy around my own age (Satanás doesn’t count), so perhaps it’ll be a good experience.

Still, it’s a bit risky to go out in public like that when there are rumors floating around that he already has a girlfriend. If we bump into someone from Harré, they’ll figure out that he doesn’t have a girlfriend—or worse, think that he’s cheating on her with me.

I rub my hands together a little as I look back at him.

“Um...are you sure you don’t want to ask anyone else?”

“Nah, I’m good. I don’t wanna keep lying about that ‘girlfriend’ anyhow. If someone says something to you about it, I’ll get them off your back, so you don’t gotta worry ’bout it.”

“Really? Why, in that case, I’d be happy to go with you.”

If he says it’s fine, it’ll be okay, right? I’ll just tell them the truth if asked, and it’s not like we’re doing anything scandalous. Zozo understands that I don’t, or rather, hate to lie, so I wasn’t too worried that I was being drawn into some scheme of maintaining the story of the fake girlfriend.

“Alright! We are all gonna have a blast tomorrow!!”

“It’ll be great!”

“You sure are excited, huh, Zozo?”

I suppose I am, too. Tomorrow!