Even When the Sun Sets

-slight light, slight hope-

1. Even Further Beneath the Starry Sky

A long time ago, life thrived on the surface.

The trees grew thick, animals ran about, and many people, including the emnetwiht, carried on with their lives.

What so easily destroyed that era of prosperity was what the world afterward called the “Seventeen Beasts.” They appeared seemingly from nowhere, completely obliterating anything and everything on land that could be considered “life.”

Everyone and everything that once inhabited the surface disappeared.

The emnetwiht, the dragons, the morians, the elves—they were all wiped out. The scant few who managed to escape into the sky narrowly avoided death.

Over five hundred years had passed since then.

The last pocket garden of Regule Aire, where the survivors remained, had still not sunk. They were managing to just barely hold out against repeated attacks by the Beasts.

They borrowed the power of the wishing crystals left behind by the emnetwiht—the Carillon.

And they sent out girls who possessed incredibly fleeting lives to die, one after another.

The low, constant reverberation of the enchanted furnace vibrated deep in her stomach.

Nopht got off the windowsill, thinking how bad it must be for her health.

The world beyond the window was blotted out in total darkness. It now acted like a mirror, and all she could see reflected there was a single child scowling at her, lips in a pout. She had no fun glaring back.

“Ugh! Man, I’m sooo bored! Bored, bored, bored!”

She flopped backward onto the simple cot and kicked her legs about. She knew throwing a tantrum would get her nowhere, but her body still moved of its own accord.

This airship—the surface observation ship Saxifraga—now hovered roughly fifty marmer above the ground.

The Seventeen Beasts, the menaces of the surface, could not fly freely. It was estimated they would not be attacked if they kept this altitude.

However, being safe and sound often led to boredom.

“Wasn’t the surface supposed to be full of romance and adventure?! What about the falcon princess trapped on an emnetwiht altar, surrounded by a hundred Beasts, waiting for a prince to save her?! What about the mountain of treasure slumbering just beneath the gray sand and the ghosts of bandit kings waiting to possess you?! Why’s there nothing but sand and rocks here?! Where’s the treasure?! Where’re the ghosts?! Where are the Beasts?!”

“Nopht, please shut up.”

A quiet voice reprimanded her.

Nopht turned her head to look, and there sitting on the cot beside her was Rhantolk, reading some kind of book.

“What’s that?”

“An artifact that emerged from the sand yesterday. I thought it might relieve my boredom, so I borrowed it from the cargo hold.”

Rhantolk always sounded miserable, and she often spoke in a manner that put distance between her and others. That was why the youngest girls at the warehouse were typically afraid of her or didn’t like her… But Nopht thought the girl wasn’t so bad once she got to know her.

She didn’t think Rhantolk was a good person, but then again, the feeling was mutual.

“An ancient manuscript, huh. Can you read it?”

Nopht wrapped her arms around Rhantolk from behind and peered over her shoulder.

It was definitely a book. Though its coloring was a bit off, its binding was sturdy, and it didn’t look brittle at all. Maybe it was better preserved than they thought.

She also directed her gaze to what was on the page, but—well, sure enough, it just looked like row after row of unfamiliar symbols.

“Mm… There are some words I understand.” Rhantolk plucked out a simple biscuit with her slim fingers. “It’s not enough to accurately understand the content. But by stringing together words and imagining what they mean, it’s the perfect sort of puzzle to alleviate my boredom.”

A slight frown appeared on Rhantolk’s face when she felt Nopht’s weight hanging on her back.

“Huh. So what’s it mean?”

“I’m just telling you what I think it means, okay?”

“Sure, tell me what you think it means. Coming into contact with ancient records and setting my imagination aloft is exciting enough.”

Rhantolk sighed, a slight expression of annoyance on her face.

Nopht knew it well. Rhantolk made this face as she complained yet patiently went along with Nopht’s selfish requests.

“—The emnetwiht race should never have been started. This was the first and greatest sin of the Visitors, who created them.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I told you—that’s what I imagine this book is talking about. After staring at the introduction for so long, that seems to be what the first line is talking about.”

“Huh. If that came from emnetwiht ruins, I guess that means they knew they were bad news, too.”

“No, it seems like this was treated as a dangerous idea to the emnetwiht at the time. Perhaps like the heavenward ideology in Regule Aire now.”

“Oh.”

The heavenward ideology. Nopht had heard of that before.

Basically, the ideology stated that the Regule Aire they lived on now was nothing but a point of passage and that they would have to drift farther away from the corrupted surface and go to the distant stars.

Just saying it brought very little actual harm, but there were more than a few among those who believed it who dirtied their hands trying to steal airships or build airships illicitly, so most islands treated it with caution.

“Then”—Rhantolk’s slim finger followed the line on the page—“the beasts…sealed…the people… Oh, I think it’s the other way around. The people freed the beasts, and a world filled… No, the world filled with a gray truth…?”

“Ohhh.”

Nopht leaned even farther over her shoulder. Consequently, even more of her weight pressed down on Rhantolk’s back.

“Nopht, you’re heavy.”

“So that’s when the land was wrecked by the Beasts. Wow, it’s like a prophecy.”

“You think so? It seems like this was just one of a great many produced, and I think it might have been something like a children’s story or a textbook or a doctrine.”

“I see.”

As she found herself satisfied, Nopht reached forward and “borrowed” one of the biscuits Rhantolk held in her hand. It was dry and crumbly and not very good, but it was perfect for tricking her empty stomach into thinking it was delicious.

“There’s still more to this sentence. Um… The sixteen shards…sing the song of…the reimagining of the true world…and salvation for the end…sea and mother…fear…spoiled…a perfected heart…um, the void…dawn…?”

Nopht tilted her head in confusion.

That wasn’t a sentence. That was a string of completely unrelated words.

“Where’s your imagination?”

“No, it truly is just a line of words here. There’s no room for interpretation in the first place, much less imagination—”

There was a knock at the door.

Nopht furrowed her brow and let go of Rhantolk.

The two of them held special status. Everyone on the airship knew that. No one tried to get close to them or interact with them. Consequently, there shouldn’t have been anyone aboard who would visit this room. The only exception would be if this airship had encountered unimaginable danger that only the two of them could deal with.

But the ship was much too silent for that. They strained their ears, and the only thing they could hear was the humming of the furnace. They could not hear a single scream or howl or siren or artillery bombardment.

“You can come in; it’s unlocked.”

Cautious, they called out to whoever was on the other side of the door.

The knob turned.

“—Is this the convoy guard waiting room?”

A boggard man slowly peeked into the room.

He wore sturdy clothes, made solely with practicality in mind. He didn’t look like he belonged to the military at all. He didn’t even seem like a merchant.

“I need to speak to the guard who made preparations for the Beasts’ attacks… Hmm? Are you ladies the only ones in here?”

“I don’t know who you are, but please leave,” Rhantolk replied coolly. “According to fleet regulations, contact between us and the members of the research team is forbidden. The very act of approaching this room should not even be allowed. What is our guard doing?”

“Oh, him? He racked up a lot of debts to me in cards a while ago. I only had to ask, and he looked the other way for me.”

The boggard gave a friendly grin and, without a moment’s hesitation, stepped into the room.

“Whoops, forgot to introduce myself. I’m Glick. I’m usually a civilian salvager, but today, I’ve been hired by Orlandry to act as something like an adviser for the research team. Well, I’m not usually in a position like this, but I guess stuff happens… And? What might your names be?”

“You think we’ll tell you? We never asked anyway.” Nopht rested her cheek on her knees and waved him away.

“You shouldn’t defy the Alliance’s intentions, especially if you’ve been hired by them.” Rhantolk in turn also waved him off.

“Meh, they’re different. Wouldn’t you want to say hello to someone who’s gonna be watching your back from now on?”

“…You’re an odd one, old man.” Nopht narrowed her eyes. “The only ones here are us two. As you can see, we’re featureless, we’re girls, and we’re children. Do you think we look like amazing warriors meant to protect the fleet from the terrifying Beasts?”

“To be honest, I kinda both do and don’t believe it, but at the same time, I don’t want to. But you know”—the boggard pointed to the large sword wrapped in cloth, leaning against the wall—“young ladies with dug weapons sounds too much like a story I’ve already heard. Leprechauns, was it?”

“Why do you know that?”

“I had the opportunity to hear about them just the other day… And I’m not that old, by the way.”

“You’re older than us, at least.”

Glick’s expression indicated he only somewhat agreed with them.

“Oh, right, I brought you guys a present. You probably haven’t had anything decent to eat, since you’ve been on the surface for so long. Here, it’s a meat pie I got at a stall at the port right before leaving Island No. 31.”

He produced a package and placed it on the table.

Nopht’s shoulders shivered, her gaze bore a hole into the package, her mouth watered, and her stomach growled painfully. The boggard was right. It had been more than a month since they left Regule Aire to provide security for the research team, and the only things they’d been eating were dried meats and biscuits—food that was light and easily preserved, offering little in the way of actual taste. She missed real food so, so much.

“It’s just common sense for us salvagers to be particular about food if we’re gonna be on the surface for a long time. The guy who planned this research stuff is clueless about all this.

“…Oh yeah, I asked them to put more spices in so it’ll keep for longer, but you should eat it as soon as possible. Today, if you can.”

Nopht gulped.

But she couldn’t give in to her appetite right now. She concentrated all her willpower to tear her gaze away from the package. Then, with watering eyes, she glared hard at the boggard.

“You’re kidding. There’s no way you could win us over with such—”

“Thank you for such a kind gift.”

“—obvious bribery… Oh, come oooooon, Rhaaaaan!”

The tears spilled from her eyes as she turned to look at her best friend sitting beside her.

“Why are you doing this?! We’re not supposed to take it!”

“But it smells delicious. We’ve been eating biscuits for such a long time—I can’t resist the temptation.”

“I totally understand how you feel, and my whole body and soul agree with you, but you caaaaan’t!”

“It’s the boggards who have such a different sense of taste than we do, so if we refuse and give it back, the meat pie will just end up going bad. But more importantly…” Rhantolk’s gaze sharpened, and she smiled. “We have some free time right now. I don’t suppose it would be a terrible idea to have a little chat?”

…Oh boy, here we go.

Nopht knew that nothing else she could say would matter.

Once Rhantolk started playing the role of devil’s advocate, there was no one in the world who could change her mind. About six months ago, even when she and that stubborn Chtholly mercilessly argued, it was Chtholly who ended up running out of patience in the end.

Chtholly.

…A name echoed in her memories, one she never wanted to recall again. Something inside Nopht panged her. The two were the same age, but she was nonetheless Nopht’s irritating senior, a friend she argued with often, and family she would never see again, all at once.

The anticipated day had already passed as they wasted time on the surface like this. An exceptionally large Six, Timere, would have launched its attack in the sky by then; Chtholly would have intercepted it and beat back their enemy in exchange for her life.

Just as planned, she would have thrown away her life in the anticipated battle. That was a leprechaun’s duty. There was no need to be afraid, no necessity of feeling sad.

But when Nopht thought about how that cheeky and captious cerulean-haired girl would no longer be there once they finished this tedious work and returned to the sky, she felt a little empty.

“Nopht? What is it?”

“…It’s nothing. If you say it’s okay, Rhan, then I guess it’s fine. Do what you want.”

She threw herself backward onto the cot.

And as she did so, she nonchalantly turned her face away from the other two. She didn’t want them to see her expression.

“I’m going to eat the whole meat pie.”

“Just take half.”

“Oh, very well, I suppose I will… Now, Glick, was it? You’ve been summoned here as an adviser—does that mean you’ve been salvaging for a long time?”

“Yeah, guess so. I’m confident I’ve been doing it longer than the guys who’ve only been around a short while.”

“Then have you met a Beast before?”

Nopht shivered.

“Let’s see…” Glick pressed his finger to his temple in a thinking pose. “I’ve been attacked by Two and Three and Six. If we count the ones I’ve seen from far away, I guess we can include Five and Eleven, too.”

“That many?!”

Nopht pushed herself up. Her tears had evaporated.

“We’ve never fought anything else but Timere!”

“We’re not fighting them head-on like you ladies are. Every time, we come home in shambles, barely holding on to our lives.”

“—Yet it might be apt to think you are much more knowledgeable about the Beasts than we are.”

“I wouldn’t say I know enough to call myself knowledgeable. Oh, I get it. You want to ask me something about the Beasts, don’t you, Blue Girl?”

“Yes…”

The paper crinkled as Rhantolk unwrapped the meat pie, her voice hushed.

“I always thought it was strange. It’s been five hundred years since we were chased from the surface. We have lived thus far at the whims of the Seventeen Beasts. The miracle that we’ve managed to escape the looming jaws of the Beasts could even be called the very history of Regule Aire itself. Yet…we know much too little about what these ‘Beasts’ actually are.”

Heeere we go again, Nopht thought.

Rhantolk was, at any rate, smarter than Nopht.

By smart, that meant she was used to the act of thinking itself and was skilled at finding topics to ponder. Or perhaps that meant she had to find an answer she was satisfied with for everything.

There should be no better solution to things that could not be solved by thinking about them than to not think about them.

“What are the Beasts anyway? Perhaps you don’t mind if I ask your thoughts?”

She thought about things she didn’t need to think about; she wanted to know things she didn’t need to know.

Rhantolk’s gaze pierced straight into Glick’s amber-colored eyes.

2. The End of a Dream, the Beginning of a Dream

The warehouse lay deep in the forest on Regule Aire’s Island No. 68.

On paper, it was a facility owned by the Winged Guard, a place where the Guard stored the valuable weapons in their possession. While that wasn’t entirely false, it could scarcely be considered an accurate representation of the truth.

In that warehouse was a magnificent barracks, one that could easily house fifty people. Stored there—no, living there—were more than thirty very young girls. Incidentally, the Orlandry Merchants Alliance was paying for most of the maintenance management costs, and the actual caretakers of the facility were Orlandry employees; it was even designated on the map as “Orlandry Alliance Warehouse No. 4.”

Morning came once again to the warehouse.

The intense light of daybreak asserted itself by illuminating the room through the curtains. The birds sang, their chirping loud and relentless.

Chtholly propped herself up in her bed and stared absently at the ceiling.

It felt like her memory had fogged over, and she had trouble recalling everything that happened up until the night before.

“Ngh…”

She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands lightly.

Her spine shivered, unprompted. Winter mornings were cold. She would get sick if she stayed in her pajamas for too long.

She wondered if she should get up.

Her mind still fuzzy, she tried to remember what her plans were for the day. But she couldn’t. She felt like she remembered that there weren’t any missions planned any time soon. Then that would mean after her daily training course, the rest of the day was free. That was nice. She wanted to use all the time she had, all the freedom she was allowed to follow after him.

—Him.

The image of a young man with black hair appeared in her mind’s eye.

That was what spurred her vague memories of the night before to replay for her.

“…Whoa—”

Oh right—she had collapsed.

The encroachment from her past life had beaten her down, and she fell into a deep sleep she might not have ever woken up from. But for some reason, she did wake up, bursting into tears as she clung to Willem in front of everyone else, her stomach growling. She’d devoured the oatmeal that Lakhesh had so considerately brought to her, then was immediately overcome by extreme fatigue, and she slept hard.

“Uuuuugh…”

What was all that about?

Maybe that’s what she was—a creature that operated only on her appetite and desire for sleep. Something that simply acted on instinct. Clinging to Willem with everyone present must have been one of her instincts, too. Where was her logic? There was a limit on how shameful something could be. Her face felt as if it would burst into flames.

But.

She felt a desire for food and sleep because she was alive. It was proof that her body was trying to continue on. When she considered that, she started to feel somewhat optimistic. No—from now on, she would convince herself to feel that way. Her spirit would wither away if she didn’t.

She lightly smacked her burning cheeks and took a closer look at her surroundings.

This wasn’t her room. This was the infirmary.

Someone must have carried her here after she suddenly lost consciousness in the hallway. Who that might have been was probably—no, definitely—Willem, but she wouldn’t think too hard about it. A smile burst across her face.

Chtholly Nota Seniorious was the eldest of the faerie soldiers and a grown woman. She had to be a good role model for the little ones. Though she’d probably marred some of that image already, that was the very reason why she could not afford any more mistakes.

She decided to get up. She should splash some cold water on her face before someone saw her. Just as that thought crossed her mind and she placed her feet on the floor—

“Oh?”

The door opened, and there stood a redheaded woman.

“It looks like you’re actually up now. What a relief.”

She was tall and a bit older than Chtholly—probably around twenty. Though she was clearly an adult, her expression was somewhat childlike, and she wore a frilly blouse and apron to match.

“Willem was really worried, you know! He wondered if you were going to sleep for a long time again or if this time you weren’t going to wake up. He insisted he stay by your side until you woke up, so I had to chase him out.”

The woman kicked up the heels of her slippers as she entered the infirmary. She opened the curtains, changed the water in the flower vase, and changed the day on the calendar.

“Well, you were sleeping with such a nice smile on your face, and your pulse and breathing and other vital signs seemed okay, so I had you brought here to the infirmary for the time being. So how are you feeling?”

“Huh? Uh, um…”

For a moment, she couldn’t understand that she was being asked a question.

She blinked.

“Nyggla…tho…?”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, uh, nothing.”

She waved both her hands, flustered.

Right. This woman’s name was Nygglatho. She had been dispatched by the Orlandry Merchants Alliance and held the high position of equipment manager here at the warehouse, and she also took care of the “equipment”—the young faeries.

“What’s wrong? Are you still drowsy?”

“Yeah, I think so…”

Her head wasn’t working as it should. It looked like the morning light and Willem’s name were still not enough to wake up her mind, devoured by inactivity.

“I don’t feel sick, but I feel blank. I think I’m going to wash my fac—”

“Miss Chtholly!”

The door that sat ajar burst fully open with a loud bang.

“You’re not a ghost, Miss Chthollyyyyyy!”

A small green-haired girl dashed into the room like an arrow and clung to Chtholly.

“Bwuh?!”

“Come, now. Don’t push Chtholly; she’s just recovering from injury.”

A small purple-haired girl peeked out from behind her.

“…Tiat. Pannibal.”

She said their names, as though confirming who they were.

She stared down blankly at the back of the head of the girl who clung desperately to her stomach.

“I’m sorry, Miss Chtholly.” Pannibal dropped her head. “Tiat was restless the entire time you were broken. I don’t think she slept at all last night, ever since she saw you.”

“Really?”

Now with an explanation, she asked Tiat for confirmation, but there was no answer.

She poked the girl, but there was no response.

Chtholly turned her over to check, and in that small time frame, she had fallen asleep.

“I see.”

It seemed it was true that Tiat hadn’t slept. The girl had worried so much about her, and that made her happy, or maybe it was heartwarming, or maybe she felt bad about it, or maybe it was precious, or maybe—

“You felt restless when you thought about someone dying, didn’t you?”

—it made her a bit sad.

“You’ve grown up, Tiat.”

They said that leprechauns were the result of babies’ lost souls, who died before they understood what death was. That was why, strictly speaking, they were not “living” beings. And that was why their instinct to fear death didn’t work. They didn’t have the feelings to mourn someone else’s death.

But that was when she was young.

As Chtholly grew into an older faerie, her feelings changed. Once her body matured and she began to walk the battlefield with sword in hand, she started to somewhat understand what death was. Her mind judged it to be an irreplaceable loss, something so sad and painful.

In terms of other races, that was considered growth. It was a good thing.

But for leprechauns, it was something terrible. They were beings born and raised to be spent on the battlefield. No one’s spirit could handle it if one chose to mourn every single faerie who vanished. That was why many faeries pretended not to notice those feelings as they welled up inside them; they turned their gaze away. They rejected it as something they didn’t need. They suppressed it as something they should overcome.

If Tiat had chosen to go with none of the above and instead face these unfamiliar feelings head-on, then there would surely be a rough future ahead of her.

“Don’t be afraid to show how happy you are that she’s matured.”

Chtholly lifted her head in surprise. There was Nygglatho, smiling gently.

“Did I just say what I was thinking out loud?”

“No, but I understand how you feel. How long do you think I’ve been here, watching over you?”

…Oh, right.

How Chtholly felt about Tiat right now was the same as how her own seniors felt about her. And Nygglatho had always been right by their side, watching over them.

“Well, why don’t we let Tiat sleep here in the infirmary for now? Chtholly, you…were going to wash your face, was it?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Then when you’re finished, come eat breakfast in the dining hall and show everyone that smile of yours. You can come back here when you’re finished.” Nygglatho pointed to the floor. “At first glance, you seem to be doing well, but we can’t let our guard down just yet. What we can do with the equipment here may be limited, but we can provide you with a simple checkup.”

“Oh…”

Right. That was important. Why hadn’t she thought of that herself? Her brain still wasn’t functioning. She had to wake up.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Tiat was still sound asleep and clinging to her, but Chtholly peeled her off and laid her down on the bed. She lightly tapped herself on her cheeks to perk herself up.

“…Huh?” It was Pannibal, sounding confused. “Did you have a change of heart?”

“Huh?”

She pointed to Chtholly—specifically, a section of her hair.

Just in that portion of her cerulean hair, she found quite a few red strands.

“What…is this?”

She rubbed it, but the color stayed. She pulled on it, but it wasn’t fake hair. She brought it up to the light coming from the window, but all that told her was that it was indeed her real hair color, not at all artificial.

“It must be an aftereffect of your previous coma. I don’t think we have much to worry about. Hair color changes due to the weather or maturity aren’t unusual in other races,” Nygglatho chimed in. “It’s a beautiful color. I think you should keep it as is; don’t dye it back.”

That was probably it.

Chtholly never really liked the color of her hair anyway, and she didn’t mind at all if it ended up changing. Since only one part of her hair turned red, she didn’t have to worry about the clothes she already had no longer matching. And—

“I’m sure Willem will say he likes you as you are, even if you don’t force yourself to get all dolled up.”

“Seriously, could you not read my mind, please?!”

Chtholly’s protest sounded more like a whine.

What am I? Chtholly thought.

The answer sounded simple but was just a little bit complicated.

Leprechauns: the dead who failed to die. The living without life. Weapons who threw that all away for the sake of those who had real lives.

The name of her compatible dug weapon was Seniorious. She was fifteen years old. She was born in the forests of Island No. 94.

…And almost one month had passed since the emergence of her unrequited feelings.

3. I’m Home

Early in the morning, he went to the market to buy ingredients.

A cloth bag contained his spoils in one bundle: flour, butter, eggs, milk, sugar—and a little bit of honey, various nuts, and dried fruits.

Willem Kmetsch walked along a small forest path, the dappled sunlight filtering in through the trees.

The stones making the path were sparse and unkempt, various weeds breaking their way through the gaps. It wasn’t exactly easy to traverse, but it at least kept them from getting lost as long as they followed it.

“Um, um, the bag isn’t too heavy, is it?”

Lakhesh walked beside him, peeking up at him in concern.

“What do you take me for? I’m an adult. This thing’s light as a feather.” He readjusted the large bag he carried in his hands as he responded. “I might as well let you ride on my shoulders while I’m at it.”

“O-oh, um, no thank you. I will pass.” She hurriedly waved both her outstretched hands. “I, um, I know the way now because of work.”

These girls—these faeries—were nominally secret weapons owned by the Guard, so their freedoms were heavily restricted. They were not allowed to leave the island to do anything if it was not a part of some battle strategy (though flying to nearby islands with their own wings was often tacitly permitted).

But on the other hand, they were guaranteed a rather free life here on Island No. 68.

“How long’ve you been working at the bakery?”

“Um, almost six months now. I made so many mistakes in the beginning, but now the manager has started to tell me I’ve been doing well.”

“Huh.”

A crabby middle-aged semifer man ran the bakery in the town center. It might have just been his natural expression, but he always looked grumpy and didn’t seem the type to compliment others.

“He said he wants me to help make bread not only in the morning but also during lunchtime, and he said that he wished he could just adopt me.”

“Huh.”

“…U-um, Mr. Willem, is something wrong? You look scary.”

It’s nothing. I’m fine. I’m calm. I don’t believe that blatant lip service at all. Yeah, I don’t. That said, maybe I should go say hello to the baker sometime soon.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you got permission to take a part-time job. Soldiers aren’t typically allowed to moonlight, y’know.”

Strictly speaking, the faeries weren’t soldiers but weapons. And no matter how he thought about it, any military allowing its weapons to take a side job wasn’t normal… But then again, Willem himself was in the odd position of taking on a military role as a kind of side job. He wasn’t in the position to really pursue the issue.

“I heard the important military man… The manager who worked here before you was real sour about it. But Miss Nygglatho convinced him.”

“Oh… I see.”

Nominally, these girls were weapons owned by the Guard. But in reality, they were private assets in possession of the Orlandry Merchants Alliance. Managers dispatched by the Guard were nothing but decoration, and the actual supervision was done by a caretaker dispatched by Orlandry. In this instance, that caretaker was Nygglatho. If she wanted to do something, the manager from the Guard would not be able to dispute it, whether they liked it or not.

“Oh… You’re part of the military, too, right, Mr. Willem? Do you think this should be allowed?”

“Hmm?”

“Um, us as weapons of the Guard, working and saving money like anyone else…”

“Oh, that.”

Sure, as someone clad in a Guard uniform, maybe he, too, should be making a sour face about it.

“Why not? If a kid says they found something they wanna do, then at the very least, it’s the adult’s job not to get in the way if they don’t plan on supporting them. As long as you’re not selling secret information or putting our equipment on the black market, I won’t say no.”

“Wow… Really?!” Lakhesh beamed. “Um, I love you so much, Mr. Willem! Us faeries don’t have parents, so we don’t really know what it’s like, but if I had a dad, I’d want him to be someone like you.”

“I love you so much.” Huh.

They were words of affection, ones he was honestly happy about, ones he could readily accept.

“I’m already kind of like your parent.”

“Really? Heh-heh-heh!”

Lakhesh grinned bashfully. Willem, in turn, smiled. But—

“…Oh, but then we need a mom… I love Miss Nygglatho, too, but I think Miss Chtholly would go better with you…”

Once she started murmuring about some terrifying-sounding things, he pretended not to notice, as always.

A baggy lab coat Chtholly had never seen before sat on Nygglatho’s shoulders, over the apron she usually wore.

“I got this when I earned my basic medicine and cooking licenses at the academy.”

She was a little surprised Nygglatho had something like that.

Medicine and cooking. Both of them were the most valuable skills someone working as the caretaker at the faerie barracks could have. And since she was a talented woman who had a good grasp on both, Nygglatho alone was left managing their home.

“I feel more motivated to do work wearing the lab coat, and we’re going to make this checkup the real deal, okay?”

And then, just as she announced, she started a very authentic-seeming checkup.

She began with percussing and palpating all over Chtholly’s body, then she brought a light to her eyes to see how they reacted. She had her take some medicine meant for the exam and asked how she felt, drew a little bit of blood, and made jokes such as, “Oh, I think I would understand much more if I just had a nibble on your flesh.”

“Hmm…”

She took data, wrote them down on her chart, and took data again. As she repeated these actions, Nygglatho’s expression became one that was hard to read, a mix of surprise and perplexity.

“I’m not infected with some kind of terrible disease or something, am I?” Chtholly asked doubtfully.

“Mm, no, that’s not it. It really isn’t, okay?”

She replied with an even more puzzling response.

The general checkup was over.

Nygglatho cradled her head with both her hands and lay face-first on the desk.

“…What does that mean? What happened?” Chtholly asked as she got herself dressed.

“The powdered purifying silver came back negative.” Nygglatho sat up abruptly as she spoke.

“—And? What does that mean?” Chtholly asked nervously.

There was a myth that silver had the power to purify evil. Countless tales said that it could keep vampires away or cut short a troll’s infinite life force.

But in reality, those were mostly nothing but tales.

Real silver was only a soft and unstable metal. It reacted readily with toxins and noxious gas, deteriorating and turning black. But at the same time, that meant it was a valuable tool in discovering those sorts of dangerous irregularities. That might have been why heavy and cumbersome silver utensils were popular among the rich—as a caution against poisoned food.

But it was hard to tell how this situation and that were related.

“Purifying silver is made with a special kind of ash that changes color not for regular poison and all that but in response to distorted death… To put it simply, it’s a chemical meant for finding ghosts and ghouls and that sort.”

“Ghosts…”

The word escaped Chtholly’s lips absentmindedly.

She thought for a moment.

“Um… And what does that mean?”

She gulped hard, then asked another question.

“…Don’t tell me that’s exactly what you mean?”

“It is, of course. I have no idea what happened to cause this, but this is all I can say when I put together both conclusion and result.” Nygglatho waved the test tube she held in her hand. The silver rattled around inside it. “As you know, leprechauns are a type of spirit. And so, by mixing your blood with the reagent, it should have turned black in an instant. But it was instead the impossible result of no reaction, so I can only come to one conclusion.”

Her logic was clear and simple; there was absolutely no room to question it.

“In short, right now, you are not a leprechaun.”

“…Wait. I don’t follow. People are usually born as one race and stay that way until they die, right? You can’t just decide one day, ‘Hmm, I don’t think I want to be a troll anymore,’ then go down to city hall and start being something else the next day, right?”

“I don’t know why you used trolls as your example, but generally, yes.”

“Then, why?”

“I don’t know why. I told you—it’s just what it is by looking at both conclusion and result. I can’t give you any further detail unless we take you to a specialist.”

“But then I—”

The dug weapons—also known as Carillon—were superweapons that only the already-extinct emnetwiht could use. Leprechauns, who were beings born to work in place of the emnetwiht using their tools, however, could wield these ancient superweapons as though they were emnetwiht themselves.

That was the reason why the faeries had been placed in this warehouse as anti-Beast weapons.

“I know. It might be best for you not to come into direct contact with dug weapons anymore. We don’t know what’ll happen… I’m not threatening you! You know that if someone of any race not related to the emnetwiht touches a dug weapon, it might take a serious toll on their health, right?”

She knew. That was why the majority of the lizardfolk soldiers stayed away from them. The brave ones who interacted so closely with them, like Limeskin, made up only a small minority.

“You’re featureless, and you don’t look too different from an emnetwiht, but this isn’t something we can decide by superficial features alone.”

She knew that. The possibility was small, but it was there; she couldn’t force her life into danger.

But.

She was named Chtholly Nota Seniorious because her compatible dug weapon was Seniorious. If she was no longer able to touch the sword, then all that was left was the worthless name of Chtholly.

“…If I can’t use a sword, then I’m no longer qualified as a faerie soldier.”

“That’s true,” Nygglatho casually agreed as she jotted something down at the bottom of the chart.

“And since I’m no longer a faerie soldier, I should leave.”

“Um… I suppose that’s the natural conclusion, isn’t it?” The troll furrowed her brow. “Don’t say that, though—you’re staying here. I can take care of the one or two relevant documents for you to stay, and it’s not like you have an active reason to leave now, right?”

“But—”

“I have nothing to do here is not a valid answer. You need to learn that the word boredom is not relevant to the life of a woman who has dreams and ambitions.” She wagged her finger like a mother scolding a child. “You came home. And you are here now. You need to cherish this, you know.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re right. I suppose we can start your homemaking training in the meanwhile.”

……

“What?”

“Seriously, though, Willem’s contracted time here will be finished in three months. I mean, the job was originally one where the person in question could be gone, but we would make it seem like he was here on paper, so there’s no basis for it at all if we decide to extend his contract. But to lose him after all this time would be a huge setback for us. Do you understand what I mean?”

She knew that. And yet…

“But this is Willem we’re talking about, meaning if we asked him to stay, I doubt he would try to leave. That wouldn’t be enough, though. He needs something—something tangible, something to make him truly feel like this is his home. Do you understand what I mean?”

She felt like she did, but at the same time, she didn’t.

“You discipline the cows and sheep to come back to the barn at night if you want them to roam freely during the day, right?”

She didn’t quite understand the metaphor.

“Not to mention that the emnetwiht bloodline has now been revived in the modern era—it would be such a pity to see it end with him alone. Even placing edibility aside, he should have a wife, start a family, and make children and grandchildren, no?”

Wait. Wait a second. Before she even considered if she understood this or not, she felt like it was something she wasn’t supposed to understand.

“I was actually thinking that I might be a good candidate—”

“You can’t!!”

Ka-thunk. Chtholly stood, kicking her chair backward, and it fell over with a loud clatter. Her face felt hot.

Nygglatho’s shocked expression slowly transformed into a mischievous smile.

“I can’t? Why?”

Willem himself had stated once before that he was into older, broad-minded women. Sadly, those were conditions Chtholly was incapable of fulfilling, no matter how hard she tried. And Nygglatho fulfilled them both perfectly, if only just those two things.

“…Then I won’t…stand a chance.”

“Really? I suppose that is where it’s just a matter of opinion.” Nygglatho shrugged slightly. “Then put your whole life into becoming a good woman and snatch him up. Some other girl or I might get ahead of you if you dillydally, you know.” She chuckled as she spoke.

Chtholly now understood. That was what a broad-minded woman looked like.

She felt like all the things she lacked had been pointed out to her all over again.

As the little ones headed for the field for their basic training course after breakfast, Willem took over the kitchen.

He put an apron over his Guard uniform, wrapped a kerchief around his head, and lined up on the table the big batch of ingredients he bought at the morning market.

And he baked a big butter cake.

Willem believed that the most valuable thing in battle was imagination. What were the exact conditions of the victory one had in mind? What sort of events could one suppose would happen just before and after those conditions were met? And what sort of conditions were necessary for the path leading to that goal? He believed only those who could prepare in their mind for every possibility were the ones who could make that future a reality.

As a veteran, he never let his guard down. He saw everything through this lens, for example: First, there was no questioning that the littlest faeries at the warehouse would want to eat the cake, too. Though he would try to reason with them, saying this was Chtholly’s incentive and reward for coming home alive, it would still be difficult for all of them to accept it. But Chtholly was not the type to hog a whole cake to herself under such circumstances. She would most certainly want to let the other girls have some. And so, in order for Chtholly to have enough butter cake for herself, he had to bake at least some for other people.

So how did that turn out?

Once the day’s basic training was finished and when the exhausted little faeries gathered in the dining hall, they squealed like animals. The hall was filled with a sweet scent, and sitting on the table was a large, freshly baked butter cake, steam faintly rising from it. Its lure was enough to blow all the reason out of excited little girls’ minds.

Their eyes glinted like those of wild animals, and it looked as if puddles of drool would at any moment come dripping out of their slackened jaws. Just as the girls, now transformed into hungry demons, were about to jump on the cake—

“We still keep our manners when we have a snack, remember?” said Nygglatho, the true hungry demon, smiling brightly.

The girls sat down quietly in their chairs, waited patiently until everyone else had received a slice, then after they said their before-meal prayers together, they all grabbed their forks and brought a bit of cake to their mouths at the same time, their eyes sparkling delightfully in unison.

Great, the first round of suppressive fire was a success; now, it was time to go straight into concentrating the bombardment onto Chth— But as he looked around the dining hall that was now filled with great energy, he realized the most important, cerulean-haired faerie was nowhere to be seen.

“Chtholly is probably in her room,” Nephren told him as she munched on her cake, her eyes still glistening.

“Why? I thought I just told you to go get her.”

“Well, y’know, she gets weirdly stubborn about stuff like this.” Ithea, her chin resting in her palm, whirled around to look at him.

He’d heard about this before. Chtholly Nota Seniorious never ordered dessert when she ate in the faerie warehouse dining hall.

He thought she must not like sweet things, but on the contrary, it didn’t seem like that was the case.

“That’s because Miss Chtholly is a grown-up,” Tiat had said proudly, as though she knew what was going on. She meant that it was childish to be excited by dessert, and it was adult women who said calmly, “No, thank you.” That in itself was a pretty childish way of looking at things, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud.

“She’s too proud,” Ithea had said with a playful smile. She was saying that she was putting on the boldest front she could muster as the oldest faerie in the warehouse, so that she may seem and act like the eldest and so that the younger ones might consider her reliable. And he thought that sounded a lot like something she would do.

And so, at any rate, none of the faeries who lived in this warehouse had ever seen Chtholly eat sweets.

“Well, it’s not a big deal. You should hand deliver it to her room yourself, Officer, and spend some sweet, sweet time together.”

“Don’t be crude.”

He poked Ithea’s cheek.

Ten minutes later—Chtholly’s room.

“…So how come you’re the only one who didn’t come to the dining hall? Even though you’re the centerpiece of this whole thing?”

“Um, well, that’s because… I don’t really like the other girls watching me when I eat stuff like this…”

“Yeah, and why?”

“Because it’s, y’know, kinda childish! Especially since I, um, apparently get really expressive when I eat this stuff. I just thought maybe I shouldn’t act like that in front of the kids since I’m the oldest.”

It was the very reasoning he’d gotten a grasp of and the very answer he was expecting.

Siiiiiigh.

“Why are you sighing?”

“Just thinking about how you obsessing over little stuff like that makes you sound even more like a kid.”

“Wha—?!”

Just as Chtholly was about to jump up from her chair, Willem placed a plate with a slice of cake before her.

It gave off a soft, sweet aroma.

The anger vanished from her eyes, and she immediately slumped back into her chair.

“Shall I pour some tea for you as well, young miss?” He chuckled as he placed a fork beside the plate.

“…Butter cake?”

“Yep.” He didn’t know why it had to be a question, but he nodded anyway.

“…There are nuts mixed into the batter?”

“Thought it might be a nice change for the flavor and consistency.”

She took a good look at the cake slice from both sides.

“…It looks good.”

“It is good.”

“…I can eat this, right?”

“Of course. Who do you think I baked it for?”

He stared at her.

She lightly poked the fork into the cake.

Like chopping off the side of a mountain, she cut off a bite-size piece.

With a shaking hand, she brought it before her face.

“……”

She readied herself and put it in her mouth.

“All right, all right. Okay. I’ll make you eat so much cake that you’ll get heartburn.”

He recalled the promises they made that night.

Now he was finally able to fulfill his.

And at the same time, this girl was finishing in his stead the things he was once unable to do. She returned from her battle to protect them. She came back to the place she belonged. And—

She came back to a warm “Welcome home” by those waiting for her.

Chtholly’s mouth moved as she chewed. She made a slight sound as she swallowed.

“It tastes like butter cake.”

“That’s because it is butter cake,” replied Willem, shrugging.

A large drop fell to Chtholly’s knee with a plop.

“I know… I know this is late, but… I really…I really did make it home, didn’t I…?”

It had almost been ten full days since Chtholly and the two other faeries returned to the warehouse. It had been over two weeks if he counted the time since the battle itself had ended.

And yet it was only now that this girl had fully grasped that truth.

Willem never saw the battlefield on Island No. 15 with his own eyes.

And so he did not understand how heavily this promise had weighed on Chtholly. He had no idea, meaning all he could do was guess.

“You did well.”

All he could do was toss some trite, sympathetic words her way with a dumb look on his face.

“Yeah… I… I did really well…” The tears spilling from her eyes quickly dampened her sleeves. “I’m sorry… I… I don’t know how it tastes anymore… I think it’s probably good, but…I can’t think of any other words…”

“I see.”

Chtholly’s shoulders quivered. Willem sat beside her, thinking.

What would have happened if he were in her position?

Basically—well, of course it was entirely impossible—had he been able to keep the promise he’d made with Almaria, what would’ve happened? Had he protected what he wanted to, gone home to the place he wanted to, then eaten his fill of her exquisite butter cake as proof of that, then what would he have done?

He probably would have cried his eyes out without a worry for shame.

He probably would have rained a relentless hurricane of hugs and kisses on all the kids in the orphanage. They all probably would have called him annoying or too forceful or gross and tried to push him away, but he still would have never let them go.

“There’s more if you want some. You can stuff your face to your heart’s content, okay?”

“Yeah…I know. I know, but my heart just feels so full.”

She hadn’t had much more than two bites.

Oh well. Willem smiled wryly and lightly patted the top of her head.

She didn’t yell at him for treating her like a child.

“I said it yesterday, and it really is kind of late, but— Welcome home, Chtholly.”

“Oh…”

The fork slipped from her hand.

After a few hiccups, Chtholly slowly raised her head.

Her deep cerulean eyes were overflowing with tears.

“I’m…home…”

Chtholly pushed her forehead onto Willem’s stomach.

He could feel how hot her tears were through the fabric of his Guard uniform.

“I said it…”

“Yeah, you did. And I finally heard it.”

He lightly patted the back of her head.

Chtholly sobbed as she clung to Willem, her body shivering in what must have been more than simple happiness.

4. Warm Days in a Cold Season

He’d heard that the end of the hallway on the second floor was leaking recently.

When he went to go see for himself, he saw how it might need a little handiwork. Since they’d have to call in someone from town later for proper repairs, all he had to do now was just some emergency patching up—

“…Hmm?”

Willem, staring at the ceiling, tilted his head.

“What is it? Did you see something off?”

Chtholly traced his gaze, but she didn’t spot anything particularly odd. The weathered old ceiling boards were darkened, as they always were.

“No, I just felt like something like this happened before.”

“Really?”

He recounted his memories.

“”

He couldn’t pick out any specific one that was like this.

“I think the last thing you repaired was a wall that Collon kicked in.”

“That’s not exactly what I mean, but… Eh, whatever. If I can’t remember, then it means it probably wasn’t important.” Willem tilted his neck to either side, cracking it. “Yup, the boards and nails I used last time are still here… Hey, you know where the hammer is?”

“Didn’t you ask me that before? Did you forget already?”

Now that Chtholly mentioned it, Willem thought she was probably right.

“Oh, sorry ’bout that. You know where they are?”

Chtholly said with a smile, “What are we going to do with you?” She opened her mouth to say something—

“”

“…Huh?”

There was no doubt in her mind that she should know where the hammer was. So then why couldn’t she think of where it might be?

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry, um, uh…I think…I forgot, too?”

“What, you too? We sure got ourselves a slippery hammer.”

“Y-yeah…” Chtholly nodded hesitantly.

She felt a faint chill, but she told herself it wasn’t a big deal.

“Well, we probably don’t need to worry too much about it. Since we both forgot, all we need to do is just ask some unrelated third party, yeah?”

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right.”

Willem was kind. He wasn’t exactly awkward in the way he treated the girls. It was more that sometimes he had no idea what he was supposed to do; yet when he stayed near them, it was always clear he was doing his best to be considerate of them. She could feel it.

And that made her want to stay by him. She wanted to snuggle up close to him. She wanted to fawn on him.

She forced herself to smile.

“Let’s go. It’s probably in one of the supply closets either here or downstairs.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Willem turned around and walked off.

Chtholly stared at his empty left hand. Would he be surprised if she ran up to his side and grasped it? She…didn’t think he would refuse, but would it give him a good impression?

Now that she thought about it, she remembered when Nephren was hugging his arm on Island No. 11, and while he didn’t resist, he did seem a bit troubled by that. She hated the idea that he might make the same face if she held his hand.

She started to walk, half a step behind him, still worrying about it.

“Wooooooow…”

Tiat, peeking only half her face out from the corner of the hallway to watch, grew excited.

“They’re so much like grown-ups…”

Lakhesh, also peeking only half her face out from the same corner, flushed red.

“Well, y’know what it means when she’s a half step behind him. They’re not acting reserved or anything; they just don’t know how to close the distance between them when they’re alone.”

Ithea, doing the same as the other two, was astonished.

“I can hear everything you’re saying!”

Chtholly called out to them in a loud voice, and all three of the stacked faces slipped back behind the wall.

Five days had passed since she woke up.

There didn’t seem to be any visible problems with Chtholly’s physical health for the time being.

Though she hadn’t exactly decided to go with Nygglatho’s suggestion, there was nothing else for her to do now that she could no longer fulfill the role of a faerie soldier. She took the time she used to fill with her own training and all that and went straight into investing it in other things. Namely, instructing the younger faeries in their training, helping Nygglatho, and whatnot.

She scooped some of the soup in the ladle and gave it a taste. She could feel it tingle the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t bad. But when she considered how rich it would get after she added the mutton to it, she thought that maybe a sharper taste would be better.

She chopped some herbs and sprinkled them into the pot.

“…Another meat dish with lots of spices? Sounds like a favorite of someone I know.”

Ithea sniffed the air as she spoke. But Chtholly kicked her out, her reason being, “No one is allowed in the kitchen besides the day’s cook!” Incidentally, this rule applied only to the faeries, so Nygglatho and Willem, and now Chtholly (acting as Nygglatho’s assistant), could use the kitchen as they liked.

The veggies that would go along with the soup should probably be boiled to be a bit sweeter. At the very least, the little faeries would like that better, but she did not quite have enough information to judge if it suited the tastes of the man in question or not.

Well, there wasn’t much she could do about it. She would just make it as an experiment for today, then serve it as is during mealtime and see what his reaction was. Better today than tomorrow. Better tomorrow than the day after. As long as she kept maturing like this, she would one day become the person she wanted to be.

“I don’t think it’s fair you get to hog the kitchen all to yourself just so you can capture some guy’s heart and stomach!”

She heard the yell coming from just outside the kitchen, so she threw the ladle to chase her away.

The girls ran.

They’d heard that they would be able to see some comets in the northern sky.

The weather was nice that day; the air felt crisp. There was no way they could miss even more color in an otherwise already clear, starry sky.

The question was where they should be to watch them. From the big window in the dining hall? From the windows in the children’s rooms? From the bench in front of the main entrance? No, no, watching the sky in such boring spots was of no importance. They had the best front-row seats.

The faerie warehouse sported a roof. Large amounts of laundry fluttered on it during the day, and at night, it could serve as the premier observation deck.

The girls dashed about restlessly. They shoved past one another as they made their way down the hallway, each fighting for the best spot to be enwrapped in the stars. Then—

“Hold! It! Right! Theeere!”

Tiat yelled, running after them with a towel in hand.

“We’re supposed to dry our hair right after getting out of the bath! Otherwise we’re gonna get sick!”

She was right. It was the truth. But kids acted with little regard for what was right or true whenever something caught their interest. That was especially the case for young faeries, who paid no heed to their own well-being.

The girls ran, their wet hair streaming behind them. Beads of water flew everywhere. Tiat followed behind.

“I! Told! You! To! Waaait!”

She grabbed on to one, pulled a bath towel over her, and began to scrub her catch’s head vigorously. But the other girls simply kept on running. Tiat would never be able to catch them all.

They could hear Tiat struggling from the outside of the warehouse.

“She’s really acting like the big girl she needs to be, huh?” Willem expressed his admiration as he sat on the bench, gazing up at the night sky. Tiat was still around ten years old, still on the short side, with limbs to match; plus, her thoughts and actions were still childish. He thought it was a bit unexpected—and Chtholly did, as well—that the little Tiat was acting like one of the older girls.

But it wasn’t enough to surprise him. He saw through the tricks.

“I think she’s copying me.” Chtholly chuckled. “I was chasing those girls around like that not too long ago.”

“I see. Now I get it.”

Still gazing up at the sky, Willem’s eyes drooped gently.

Chtholly also looked up to the same sky and then quickly stole a glance at Willem’s profile. For now, he seemed perfectly relaxed. Chtholly’s heart was pounding rather noisily from sitting beside him on the same bench, but that didn’t seem to be the case for this man. She felt strange—slightly resentful but, at the same time, comfortable as they were.

“Oh yeah, that’s what it was like when I first met you. Man, I know it wasn’t long enough ago to feel nostalgic about it, but you know what I mean?”

“Huh…?”

—End

less gla

ss bea

ds fall

ing down.

“Oh yeah, never got to ask, did I? Why were you on Island No. 28 back then anyway?”

…

“You really need to be invested in Market Medley and stuff like that to visit it for sightseeing. I guess you were fighting a Beast or something nearby and stopped off on your way home, huh?”

……

“The buildings there are all jumbled together this way and that, and it’s not very safe, either, so all sorts of nasty stuff ends up falling from the sky. It’s usually kettles and oil cans, but sometimes it’s a chicken, which is a big help with dinner.”

………What?

“But that was my first time seeing a girl fall from the sky. I was pretty surprised.”

…………What is he talking about?

She didn’t know this story. Though she could imagine it must have been some sort of precious memory, she couldn’t find it within her own memories. She hadn’t forgotten. And it wasn’t missing.

The girl she thought she knew she was, was no longer there.

“…Chtholly? You okay?”

“Ah… Um…”

She didn’t know how to answer.

She wasn’t confident she could accurately describe the odd feeling that was running through her mind if she tried to put it into words. No, she was more afraid of disillusioning Willem if she did. She was terrified that he would realize she was not worth holding dear with the way she was now.

“I, uh…”

What was that?

What had she been thinking about?

Willem was worrying about her. She had to look up at him and say she was okay. She needed him to stop worrying. She couldn’t have him suspect her. She couldn’t have him realize something was off. She couldn’t let him know the truth. What was off? What was the truth? She didn’t know. She didn’t know, but it was important. That was a line she couldn’t cross if she wanted to stay Chtholly Nota Seniorious.

“Hey.”

Willem peered down at her dubiously.

Ding.

There came an ominous metallic sound from above them.

She looked up instinctively.

The outside of the warehouse roof was surrounded by a metal rail. But not only was it not a particularly nice-looking rail, it was deteriorating and rickety, and there was the dangerous possibility of it breaking under just the slightest weight. Everyone had been pretty busy recently, and they kept putting off fixing it sooner rather than later.

They spotted a little girl at second-floor height, having just fallen into the air from the roof. She was especially small, even among all the little faeries. Her hair was a messy lemon-yellow.

(Almita?!)

She wasn’t that high up, but on the other hand, it wouldn’t take long until she hit the ground. If they ran from where they were, they would not make it in time.

Willem dashed off.

He didn’t use that speedy something-sweep technique. It was too far of a distance. A skill developed especially for traversing short distances quickly could not be used for anything just a bit farther than its limits. But there was no way he could make it in time on his flesh-and-blood leg strength alone.

Chtholly used her Sight.

She could see the magic beginning to fire up inside Willem.

(Urgh, that idiot—!!)

She kicked off the ground.

Willem’s body was covered in old wounds, to the point where Nygglatho had even commented, “It’s strange how you’re alive.” For him to activate his venenum with a body like that was suicide. And this man was going to commit suicide with a straight face in order to keep his precious girls safe.

So she activated her own magic first.

She spread out her phantasmal wings, a blue-silver phosphorescence scattering around her, gliding through the air at about waist height. She surpassed Willem as he ran, twisted her body around to face the sky, and spread out her arms; she caught the girl’s body in her bosom just as the girl was about to hit the ground and curled around her.

Chtholly crashed to the ground.

Impact.

But a body in motion does not stop so easily. She hit the ground countless times, tumbling as she did so, and finally stopped when she hit the wall of the faerie warehouse.

“…Phew.”

She wasn’t going to say she wasn’t in pain. But her activated venenum had protected her body, and she couldn’t spot any obvious wounds. The girl in her arms looked to be in a daze but seemed fine otherwise.

“Chtholly?!”

Willem rushed over to her, his voice strained.

“Sheesh… You sound like you’re about to cry. Aren’t you an adult?” She stood up and brushed off the dirt that clung to her shoulders and the hem of her clothes. “I’m fine. See? Almi… Um”—she gently rocked the girl in her arms—“the girl is fine. She got a little dirty, though.”

“That’s not the problem here! You overdid it! Are you dizzy?! Can you feel your fingers?! No weird sensations running down your spine?!”

He grabbed her shoulders and pressed closer.

“H-hey, you’re too close! I appreciate it, but this is wrong! Try it again!”

“Listen! Magic is a contradiction to our life force. Activating it is just the same as abandoning the very energy that’s keeping you alive. You can’t call yourself a sorcerer without a mechanism to step in just before you die!”

Of course she knew that.

That was the first step of first steps, most basic of basic logic for anyone who consciously used magic.

“And a leprechaun’s strength to live is scant in the first place. So even without a restriction on your life force, the magic you can create is incredibly strong.”

“Yeah, so—”

“That was different!” he yelled, his voice pained. “What the hell was up with the way you activated it? It was so reckless! Leprechaun or not, you’d normally be dead the moment you did that!”

“Oh…”

Now that he mentioned it, he was right. It was the first time she realized that.

Activating venenum was like kindling a fire. One needed to spend time carefully handling a smaller flame to raise it in order to wield the power of a roaring blaze. It was not meant for responding to spur-of-the-moment situations. At the very least, it shouldn’t be.

It wasn’t enough to be reckless or dangerous.

Logically speaking, there was no way she should have been able to pull that off.

“I… I thought…I was going…to lose you…again…”

“Oh geez.”

Her head had been feeling funny for the past while, and she had a lot to think about, and Willem’s face was too close to hers, and looking at him like this, she realized how long his eyelashes were, and she started noticing other stuff like that, and she was starting to hate it.

“Calm down.”

She lightly smacked his cheek.

And she smacked her own while she was at it. She, too, needed to calm down.

“First, I need to say the same thing to you. If I hadn’t done it, you would’ve done it first. That thing where you force your magic to activate and run really fast. I was watching, okay? I could see it.”

Willem’s breath caught in his throat.

“And I’m fine. I’m not dizzy, and my spine feels okay. My fingers feel a bit tingly, but it’s not like I can’t move them at all. It’ll get better pretty quickly.”

“You’re not putting up a front, are you?”

“Don’t you believe me? Sheesh.”

She grinned and removed herself from Willem’s grip on her shoulders.

She looked up to the roof. Just as she suspected, the railing was completely broken. Tiat was on her hands and knees beside it, looking down at them, her eyes brimming with tears.

“It’s okay—I caught her!” Chtholly waved up to her, and Tiat beamed. “But it’s still dangerous up there, so no one is allowed on the roof for now! Take all the children there back downstairs!”

“O-okay!”

Tiat scrambled to her feet and corralled the group of children still on the roof. Chtholly figured she probably didn’t need any help with that.

“Well then, I’m going to draw this girl a bath. You go help Tiat.”

“Oh… Okay…” Willem nodded, perplexed.

Luckily, there was still plenty of warm water left in the washtub. There was no need to gather more from the river or use venenum to boil it again.

And so, just as Chtholly said she would, she put the girl into the bath.

She massaged the foamy liquid soap into her frizzy, lemon-yellow hair.

Her thin, fluffy locks had gotten mangled with quite a bit of dirt from rolling on the ground. Chtholly had to wash it thoroughly.

“Uh, um…” The girl, her eyes squeezed shut, hesitantly began to speak. “I’m…sorry.”

“…You should be apologizing to Tiat, not to me. If you’d have listened to what she said, this wouldn’t have ended up so serious.”

“O-okay… I’m sorry.”

Is she even listening to me?

That was what she was thinking, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. It was typical for girls Almita’s age to lose track of what they did once they shrank away from the reality that they’d done something worth reprimanding. And since the girl felt no fear for having almost lost her life in the first place, she probably had no idea why everyone else was so angry with her like this.

Every living being had a natural instinct to survive. Yet leprechauns lacked that and were still alive. Chtholly thought again how odd it was.

She suddenly looked up.

There was a large mirror in the bathroom at the faerie warehouse. When Nygglatho first came to the warehouse, it was one of the things she installed, insisting, “Whether weapons or not, young girls should always look their best!” There were plenty of other things that were added when she came, but those were for another time.

“…Hmm?”

Something was strange about her reflection in the mirror.

Red.

Something was red. It was her hair. It was just yesterday…no, just a few hours ago that only a small section of her hair was red, but at some point, it had spread to almost a third of her head.

What was going on?

Nygglatho mentioned that some semifer races changed color as the seasons changed or as they matured, but Chtholly felt like this situation was a bit different. Their hair would fall out and grow back a different color, not change color while it was still attached to their bodies like this. So really, whatever was happening to her was something completely diffe—

The girl with

the red

eyes

is looking this

way.

This feeling…

Images, both absurd and unknown, flashed before her eyes.

That’s right. She remembered now. She looked like someone who wasn’t her. She felt a baseless hatred and a sense of loss, and—

“…Elq…?”

She remembered the name.

She remembered nothing but the name.

“Wha…? What…is…?”

Her body shook. Her eyes spun.

“Chtholly?” The little girl, her head still covered in bubbles, turned back dubiously and looked up at her. What was this girl’s name again? She didn’t know. Was she supposed to know? She was one of the thirty-some residents here in the faerie warehouse; she was supposed to be a precious member of her family. Why? How?

“Are you cold?”

No. She wasn’t cold. Something else entirely was freezing her heart from the inside. But she didn’t know what it was. She couldn’t put it into words.

She wanted to hear her warm welcome home.

She wanted to announce her return.

She wanted to eat butter cake.

All her wishes came true.

She came home to the place she was meant to be. She saw the man she wanted to see so dearly. She had done everything she wanted to do. And so—

She was out of promises.

The end that had been shadowing her silently placed its hand on her shoulder.