Unnamed Memory

“If there’s a kraken, then that means there’s someone who summoned it,” Als reasoned.
“Most likely. But I don’t understand what their goal is. The attacks seem completely random,” Tinasha answered.
“Can you kill it?” Als asked.
“That might be difficult unless we can get it to stay above water for more than a few moments at a time. I wonder where its weak spot is…”
No sooner had the words left the witch’s lips than the boat began to rock. Everyone lost their balance and almost fell. Tinasha herself was about to slip, and Als grabbed her arm to support her. He looked to the ship’s bow and saw three fat tentacles coiling around it, pulling the boat up vertically—barrier and all.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
As the bow was hoisted higher and higher, everyone started to topple down toward the stern. Als grabbed hold of Tinasha, who shouted, “Pamyra! Renart! To the sky! We’re abandoning ship.”
The two loyal attendants began their chants while Tinasha took hold of Als.
Als lost his footing, but they escaped into the air a split second before the kraken’s tentacles lugged the hull to one side. All they could do was watch from above as it pulled the barrier with the ship inside down into the inky dark.
Tinasha surveyed the violently roiling waves and scratched at her temple. “I’m definitely glad we didn’t take a big ship. I guess Oscar will have to pay off our debt.”
“I think that necessitates a discussion with Marquis Broguia…,” Als remarked. He had a feeling the marquis wouldn’t mind the loss of an entire fleet of ships so long as it meant the death of the kraken.
Perhaps realizing there was no food on the boat it had sunk, its tentacles began wriggling about the surface in search of new prey before finally disappearing back under the water. Watching from above made it clear how unusually large this specimen was. The whole creature, judging by its limbs, was big enough to eclipse an entire town.
“I’m tracking it, so let’s figure out how to combat it. That should probably wait until we get the sailors back to land, though,” Tinasha said.
Pamyra heeded her lady’s order and opened up a transportation portal in midair. Then she pushed the sailors into it.
At the same time, Tinasha crossed her arms and fell into contemplation. She only spoke up once the sailors were gone. “It looks like the creature’s bound to this particular portion of the sea. That said, it doesn’t appear to be taking orders from anyone.”
“You think someone summoned it and left?” Als inquired.
“No, I think the summoner is here,” she answered.
“Here? You mean, among us?” Als said, pointing to himself.
The witch shook her head, however—a faint smile on her face—and pointed downward. “He’s probably dead. I bet it was one of the pirates you defeated, Als.”
“Huh?” Als was frozen in place as Tinasha gazed back at him with her beautiful eyes.
“Do you mean that a pirate summoned the monster but died before giving it any orders, leaving it trapped in these waters?” Renart theorized.
“That seems the most probably explanation. The summoning must have taken a long time, and this is the result. I’m glad it didn’t happen while you were subduing the pirates, Als.”
“Ugh…I can’t believe this,” Als moaned, faintly horrified as he finally understood. Had his fortune been even slightly less favorable, he would’ve wound up in the kraken’s clutches. While he wasn’t sure whether the beast was an octopus or a squid, he knew for certain that dying while battling a creature like that was not how he wanted to go.
Pamyra turned to her lady and asked, “What shall we do? Fire attacks at the monster or destroy the spell pattern the summoner left behind?”
“Either target would be deep underwater. Hmm, what to do?” wondered the witch aloud. She scanned the air. Her dark eyes came to rest on Als. Tinasha seemed to mentally debate her own idea for a moment, but eventually she pressed her palms together and requested, “Please be our bait.”
“…Oh, you really have got to be kidding me,” Als said, echoing what he’d exclaimed earlier. He turned his head skyward in futile supplication.
Still hovering in the air, the group laid out their plan while keeping careful watch on the rolling waves below.
While Als readied his sword, Pamyra and Renart drew up attack spells. Suzuto had managed to avoid being part of the bait, so he stayed aloft with Tinasha and her mages.
Pamyra and Renart cast separate spells, then combined them into one. For her part, Tinasha called up a barrier around Als.
“I’m going to lower you into the water, so draw it toward you. Once it’s hooked, we’ll reel it up.”
“I’d really prefer not to die…,” Als griped.
“I’ll be very careful,” Tinasha reassured him.
The witch checked to make sure her mages had completed their spell, then motioned with her alabaster hands to slowly drop Als down into the ocean. Only his feet sank below the water, but Tinasha’s protection kept Als’s boots dry. The general looked up at his teammates hovering overhead and wondered how long it’d been since he’d felt this helpless and alone. From far away, he could see that the witch’s hands were still moving.
“She really has the perfect personality to be His Majesty’s wife…”
They were definitely alike in how reckless they were. More importantly, Tinasha was powerful and reliable.
Waiting began to make Als anxious, so he swung his sword around as a test. Based on how the water reacted, Tinasha’s barrier seemed to be globe-shaped. Curiously, no water leaked in, even if his sword penetrated it. With his blade, Als idly stirred little pools in the sea.
After a little while, bubbles began to gather close to where the kraken had surfaced earlier.
“…There it is,” Als muttered. His back felt uncomfortably sticky with sweat. He readied his sword and slowed his breathing. No sooner had he done so than a huge sheet of water rushed up. A gigantic tentacle crept from the depths and encircled him.
The tentacle pressed in to wrap itself around him, but just before its tip could touch him, the globe-shaped barrier began to carry Als up and out of the water. The tentacle was hot on his heels, and Als slashed at it. His cuts were repelled by a nauseatingly elastic surface, however. The kraken’s limb retreated slightly but didn’t give up the chase.
“Looks like my sword isn’t gonna help…”
Als continued to soar upward. Ten huge arms stretched far up toward the sky, pawing after him.
Each limb was taller than a tower. The sight of them wriggling after Als was like something out of a nightmare. Tinasha stared at it from her position in the air, then nodded at the two mages next to her. “It’s time. Do it.”
At their lady’s command, Pamyra and Renart fired their magic down at the same time.
Fierce spears of lightning crashed down, colliding powerfully with the ten tentacles of the kraken. Electrical currents ran through them, and a piercing shriek rent the sky.
The sea monster tried to retract its unexpectedly electrocuted arms, but that wasn’t to be. The witch’s lips curled in an evil grin. “You can’t get away. Who do you think you’re up against?”
Using no incantation, Tinasha cast a spell to bind the great sea beast’s arms and hold it in the air. Electricity charred its writhing limbs, and a fragrant aroma began to waft through the air. The shocks diffused at the water’s edge, however, so they didn’t reach the kraken’s trunk and head.
“Hmm… Not enough after all,” Tinasha murmured, grabbing a cylinder that had been at her waist. She poured five crystal balls out of it and flung them carelessly into the sea. As the little spheres sank, they spread out into a neatly formed circle with the kraken in the middle.
“Renart, could you look after Als?” Tinasha requested.
“Yes, my lady,” said Renart who accepted stewardship of Als from the witch.
Now free of distraction, Tinasha began an incantation.
“Let my words sink in. A change of form shall not be a change in quality. The definition will not waver but merely flow and float… Move aside.”
In response to her chant, five white lights started fountaining up from underwater. All at once, a white magic circle linking them together appeared in the air. Once the glowing disk surrounded the kraken, the ocean water within its circumference began to slowly drain.
“…Unbelievable,” Als breathed. Never had the man dared to envision such an astonishing display of magic. Next to him, Pamyra gasped.
In three minutes, a perfect circle had been cleaved all the way to the ocean floor. The kraken’s huge body was stripped of its watery armor, revealing its ugly shape to the open air. Its black eyes, each easily three times the height of an adult human, glared at its opponents with unmistakable ire.
Tinasha scrutinized the sea monster she’d captured. “Is this a squid? Looks like it would be quite tasty.”
“Miss Tinasha, I don’t know why that’s the first thing that comes to mind when you look at that thing…,” Als muttered miserably. In contrast, the witch appeared in slightly brighter spirits as she began another incantation.
“Recognize my will as law, transformer that sleeps in the earth and flies in the sky. I control your thunder and summon you. Know my command to be every concept of your manifestation.”
When Tinasha finished her chant, ten balls of lightning appeared in her hands. They crackled and popped, sending out silvery branches of light every passing moment.
“Go.”
Tinasha glanced at her collected spheres, and they obediently sped off to assail the defenseless kraken. Each one expanded to a tremendous size and affixed itself to one of the kraken’s ten immobilized tentacles. Then, with frightening speed, they moved along the limbs as though they were pathways and made for the monster’s trunk.
An air-rending sound exploded on impact.
The kraken’s arms blackened and crumbled into fragile pieces.
As the lightning attack reached the kraken’s head, a drawn-out scream like nails on a chalkboard shook the sea.
The terrible shriek grew fainter and fainter before fading away entirely. As its last cries echoed off into silence, the kraken drooped feebly, still unable to move. One of its large, beady eyes had gone cloudy.
“Is it dead?” asked Als.
“We’ll see,” Tinasha replied, floating down to inspect. She hovered in close enough to examine the mighty creature’s head and eyes.
Suddenly, the kraken’s one dead eye regained its dark luster.
In a flash, it regenerated its disintegrated arms. One thin tentacle caught hold of Tinasha’s right foot.
“Lady Tinasha!” cried Pamyra, trying to swoop down, but the kraken entwined itself around the witch’s body before she could. It tried to draw the witch toward the rows of tiny teeth inside its beak.
Bearing the pain, the witch placed a hand on the tentacle coiled tight around her.
“Dissolve!”
The kraken’s arm exploded. Tinasha kicked away and teleported over to Pamyra. The two of them rose up to come next to Als. “Miss Tinasha, are you all right?” he asked.
“I broke my ankle,” she answered. Looking down, he saw that her right calf and foot were crisscrossed with red bruises from where it had been snared by the kraken’s tentacle. Proper healing was going to take some time.
The witch took a moment to look down at the sea. Her concentration had broken, so the parted water was thundering back to fill the open space. The kraken’s regenerated ten giant limbs were wriggling about.
“This damn squid… How should I deal with you…?” Tinasha muttered hatefully. Suddenly, the creature stopped moving. A huge distortion formed around it, creaking and groaning for a bit like the low growl of an animal. Then the distortion converged toward a central point.
That was when the kraken inexplicably vanished.
Renart finally let a breath out. “Looks like it went well.”
“It certainly looks that way,” the witch said with a shrug. Not a moment later, a young man about Suzuto’s age appeared nearby from thin air.
He nodded to her with a calm expression. “My Queen, your orders have been carried out.”
“Thanks, Nil. And stop calling me ‘My Queen.’”
“But you are the queen,” the spirit said crossly.
Next to him, Suzuto looked visibly relieved. “The magic pattern for the summoning has been destroyed. I’m sorry it took so long to find it.”
Als listened to his subordinate’s report, then sheathed his sword and grinned. “You succeeded just in the nick of time. Thanks.”
While the three magic users and Als had faced the kraken head-on, Suzuto had gone diving inside a barrier maintained by one of the witch’s spirits. He’d searched the wreckage of the dozen or so ships sunk by the kraken for the pirate vessel, then—following the spirit’s instructions—used his sword to smash the spell pattern seared into the deck by the summoner.
Once the summoning mark was gone, the kraken was released from its bindings and returned to its original home in the northern depths.
With that, Nisrey’s sailing troubles came to an end.
Mission completed, Als glanced over at the witch floating next to him. “I don’t know what we would have done without you here, Miss Tinasha.”
“Hmm. Maybe Oscar would have come,” she replied, not even joking. She broke into a face-splitting grin. A frightening amount of power was packed into her petite frame.

On the day before Oscar’s birthday, Prince Reust finally arrived in the castle city of Farsas after a long trip on horseback from Tayiri. While his country now tacitly acknowledged the existence of mages, their castle still used no magic at all, which denied him access to teleportation, something the other Great Nations used in abundance.
Oscar was there to greet Reust, welcoming him with formal remarks of gratitude.
News of Als and his party’s return came soon after the guest’s welcome banquet began. Oscar was given the news while in the grand hall.
He clicked his tongue in disapproval, wishing the journey had been delayed even slightly.
After the magistrate who delivered the missive excused himself, Reust inquired lightly, “What was that?”
“Als and his team have returned from a mission to kill a sea monster. We’ll hear the full story from him later.”
“General Als? I owe my life to him as well. Would it be all right if we sought an audience with him immediately?”
Oscar wanted to scowl but knew it strange to refuse. He ordered that the new arrivals be summoned to the banquet.
Ten minutes later, the Nisrey expedition team entered the grand hall and bowed. Renart and Pamyra lifted their heads only to catch sight of Reust and freeze. Oscar felt bad for them but noticed that their lady wasn’t present. While he wondered at that, he struck up a conversation with Als. “How did it go? I heard you ran into something big.”
“Until further notice, consider squid off the menu for me.”
“I kinda wish I could’ve seen it. I bet it’d be tasty.”
“You really are two peas in a pod…”
“Who are you talking about? Hey, where’s Tinasha?”
Pamyra answered the king. “She has some business to take care of, so she’ll return later.”
“Got it. Good job out there,” Oscar replied.
Pamyra nodded, then she, Renart, and Suzuto bowed and left the hall in haste. Left behind, General Als accepted a glass of wine and offered a formal hello to Reust. The foreign prince looked at him oddly. “Does the witch always go with you on these sorts of expeditions?”
“She does when it’s something we can’t handle ourselves or when she feels like coming along.”
“She’s a temperamental one,” added Oscar with a wry face, before taking a sip of his own drink.
Normally, Oscar’s birthday would be a grand celebration filled with invitees from many nations, but as it was the second birthday celebration that year, Reust was the only guest. That made the event easy to pull together, but a guest was still a guest and had to be attended to. As a result, two hours after the banquet started, Oscar went out to the balcony alone to sober up. He didn’t get drunk easily by any means, but he wanted to be as sober as possible on official diplomatic occasions. He also wanted a break, and he took in the night air while gazing at the scenery outside.
The sun had already set, and faint orange and dark blue streaks intermingled in the sky. The few lingering clouds were dyed golden. The sight so beautiful that Oscar wanted to show it to Tinasha.
As he gazed idly up at the sky, he felt someone behind him and turned around. Reust was standing there with a humble expression, and once their eyes met, he bowed. “I want to deeply apologize for how I behaved.”
Oscar knew exactly what the other man was referring to. He meant when they had ended up crossing swords outside Reust’s chambers.
“I’m sorry, too. If possible, I’d like us to forget all about it,” said Oscar.
“If that’s all right with you, then let’s do just that… Has she been doing well?”
This was probably what Reust had really wanted to ask all along. Oscar smiled and prepared to answer.
Before he could, however, the witch in question teleported right behind him. “Oscar, I’m back,” she said, floating up and throwing her arms around his neck with an innocent smile. She quickly caught sight of the foreign prince in front of her and paled. “P-Prince Reust…”
“It’s been a while,” he replied politely.
She was back, but her timing was supremely unlucky. Suppressing a sigh, Oscar undid her arms from around his neck and moved her to the side. She looked ill at ease as she floated back to the ground. When he looked over, he saw she was wearing a very boyish lightweight outfit.
“What is that getup? Come back after you’ve changed your clothes.”
“I’m sorry,” Tinasha said. She would’ve had her hands full dealing with just Oscar, but there was a guest of honor in their midst, too. The witch looked flustered as she inclined her head to Reust. “I apologize for greeting you like this. I’ll come back later.”
She made to teleport away, but Oscar caught a sense that something was off and grabbed her arm.
“Wh-what?” she asked.
“Is there some magic on your foot? What happened?”
Her eyes wide, she shook her head immediately. “You’re imagining things.”
“There’s no way I am. Show me,” he demanded, reaching out for her bare right calf. Twisting to keep her balance with one leg out, Tinasha floated up and straightened her posture.
“I told you, it’s nothing!” she cried. There was no injury on her slender leg. Oscar frowned at the smooth skin there, but he used his other hand to draw Akashia. She guessed what he meant to do and started to flail, but he held fast to her leg and wouldn’t let her squirm away.
Reust, who had no idea what was going on, wasn’t sure if he should try to defuse the situation. Before he could, Oscar touched the flat of Akashia’s blade to the witch’s leg. Once he did, the magic dispersed.
“I knew it…”
With the glamour dispelled, spirals of red bruises rose to the surface of her skin. The witch turned her head to the side, with Dammit clearly written on her face. She’d successfully healed the bones, muscles, and nerves, but she couldn’t erase the bruises permeating her skin.
The sight of red marks twining around her slender white leg was more titillating than painful looking. Reust turned his face away with the distinct feeling that he’d caught sight of something he shouldn’t have.
On the other hand, Oscar examined the marks with a very unhappy look on his face. “You really let down your guard. How could you be so foolish? If you’re going to get yourself hurt like this, I’m not going to send you out the next time. You have to beat it without the close call.”
“Okay…”
Oscar released Tinasha’s leg, and she clucked under her breath as she teleported away, clearly too proud to admit she was wrong. He watched her go and heaved a sigh, then winced at Reust, who looked incredibly uncomfortable.
“This is how she usually is,” Oscar explained, his voice laced with much more fondness than exasperation.
Thirty minutes later, Tinasha returned to the banquet dressed in full formal mage’s robes. Clad in white, she was wearing light makeup—meaning Sylvia must have caught her. She was so lovely that her mere presence changed the entire tone of the room.
Once again, she greeted Reust. “I’m so sorry I appeared before you looking like that.”
“Not at all. Defeating the monster must have been quite an ordeal,” he replied.
She flashed him a grateful smile. Her aura was entirely different from when they’d met at Tayiri Castle. Gone was the mysterious and forbidding sense of intimidation. In its place was the calm of sunlight filtering down through a forest. To witness such a transformation in her made Reust feel both glad and lonely.
Tinasha—a person, a witch, and a queen with no throne—changed her aspect like the waxing and waning of the moon. All people had various facets to them, but because she was a witch who had lived for such a long time, each of her qualities was truly differentiated.
She sat down next to him, and as his eyes ran over the delicate planes of her face, he broached the topic on his mind. “Thank you for everything you did back then. What you said gave me a lot to think about…and in the end, I realized I’d never thought about anything for myself. Our god Irityrdia is indeed absolute, but I may have been trying to pretend I was that god myself by throwing around my power and hiding behind his name.”
His halting delivery was awkward and full of self-admonition, but his sincerity was evident. Tinasha was serene as she responded, “Please don’t beat yourself up. We’re talking about a history that’s gone on for centuries. It would have been very difficult for you to go up alone against that. That said, I think what you’ve done is incredibly meaningful. Yes… It’s very human.”
“It’s…human?”
“Humans kill people but have the capacity to save them as well,” Tinasha said with a smile. She was as radiant as the moon.
A dull pain prickled at his heart. But on the surface, he asked her with a smile, “Incidentally, when are you planning to be married?”
“What?” Tinasha replied blankly, caught off guard. Oscar, sitting across from Reust, cleared his throat and started to laugh. Tinasha finally remembered the excuse by which she was allowed to remain in Farsas. “Oh! Um, well, that’s—”
“It’s a lie,” Oscar interjected smoothly as Tinasha fumbled for how to reply. Now it was Reust’s turn to gape. “That was a pretext to bring her back here. In reality, she’s only my protector.”
For her part, Oscar’s protector—not fiancée—looked uncomfortable. Lazar, standing on ceremony behind her, was too shocked to move. He’d never dreamed his lord would tell Reust the truth, not when he’d hated the idea of Reust and Tinasha meeting. What kind of turn of events was this? He dreaded what would come next.
Reust looked back and forth between Oscar and Tinasha, unable to parse Oscar’s meaning. After a moment, he dared to ask, “Then what are your plans for marriage?”
“I don’t have any,” Oscar answered.
“You said she’s your protector…?” Reust inquired.
The witch of the tower answered that one herself. “We have a contract. You know that I normally live in the tower, don’t you? He climbed all the way to the top, so as his reward, I signed a contract with him.”
The witch gave a soft smile. Feeling as if he would be drawn in completely by it, Reust couldn’t help but say, “Then what if I could climb the tower? Would you grant me a wish?”
All present, excepting the king and the witch, froze awkwardly. It was completely obvious that Reust was attracted to the witch. But it was also all too certain that the king of Farsas’s mood would darken if anyone pointed that out. If things really went wrong, it could mean conflict between the two countries.
While his attendants and confidantes were worrying away, Oscar merely sipped at his drink with perfect composure. The witch looked a little surprised by Reust’s question; then she put on a somewhat pained smile. “I don’t mind, but I wouldn’t recommend it. His Majesty here climbed it easily, but it normally takes a team of at least ten. It’s so difficult that I only see successful challengers once in a hundred years—if I do at all. I tamper with the memories of those who fail and transport them to random locations on the mainland, so people with royal responsibilities probably shouldn’t attempt it.”
Her warning was unshakable fact. Stories of the tower’s trials were told even in far-off Tayiri. That included the part where the majority of fearless challengers went out to try their luck and never returned.
The barrier was so high that Reust almost hung his head. He still couldn’t quite bring himself to give up, though.
Tinasha was one of a kind.
At that moment, she was within his reach.
It didn’t matter to Reust that she was a witch and he was the heir to the throne of Tayiri, a country tough on mages. Reust took her hand and faced her as her eyes widened.
“I…,” Reust began.
“Tinasha,” Oscar interjected. Tinasha tilted her head to the side, mystified. Oscar used his glass to gesture toward the balcony. Disinterest plain, he offered, “If this is going to be a complicated conversation, could you have it outside?”
“I understand,” she said, frowning as she got to her feet.
Looking abashed, Reust took her hand again. “I’ll be borrowing her for but a moment. So sorry about this.”
Once he’d let the witch out to the balcony, Als hissed in his lord’s ear, “You sure you’re all right with this?”
“Why should I have to mind the affairs of a woman who’s lived twenty times longer than me?”
No one was expecting that reply, and Oscar’s confidantes exchanged glances. Oscar, for his part, was eminently calm as he took another sip from his glass.
Reust and the witch returned quickly. Neither of their expressions betrayed any change.
Tinasha sat down next to Oscar, furrowing her elegant brows at his wineglass. “Don’t drink so much. You’ll die.”
“Where did that come from…? I don’t know what you mean.”
She didn’t bother to explain her reasoning. Oscar found it suspicious, but set down his glass and switched to water.
After that, those seated at the table enjoyed pleasant conversation for a while before Tinasha excused herself and went back to her room. With that, the party started to wind down naturally.

As Oscar changed his clothes in his bedroom, he wondered if he shouldn’t take a bath to remove the last lingering traces of tipsiness in his system.
He checked the time and saw that it was almost midnight. He took off his shirt and then heard a rapping at his window. He answered, and the witch opened it and entered. Oscar took one look at what she was wearing and was suddenly struck speechless.
“What’s with that outfit…?” he asked.
“It’s easy to move in, and that’s what’s most important to me,” Tinasha answered. She was wearing a black sleeveless dress. It hugged the lines of her torso snugly before flaring out at the waist into a very short skirt. Practically all of her smooth ivory legs were on full display. She was surely wearing underwear beneath it, but such a revealing outfit made Oscar do a double take. The bruises on her legs were all gone; she may have used magic to cover them up again.
Oscar couldn’t tear his eyes away from her creamy, slender thighs. “I don’t know whether to let my eyes drink their fill or avert them…”
“Stop talking nonsense and change into something you can move about easily in, too,” Tinasha insisted. It was only then that Oscar noticed she was carrying several folded bundles of thick cotton fabric. He wondered what their purpose was as he donned a light jacket. Then she called over, “Oh, and tell Nark to come.”
“What the hell…? Do I need Akashia, too?”
“It doesn’t matter too much either way,” Tinasha answered.
Evidently it wasn’t going to be something too dangerous. Nark was sleeping in a corner of Oscar’s room. He roused the dragon and put it on his shoulder. After some deliberation, Oscar ended up bringing Akashia, too.
The witch took his hand and opened up a transportation array right in the middle of the room. The array took them to a spacious, grassy plain. The moon was high and bright in the sky. The witch picked up Nark and bade it grow. From there, they continued their journey on the dragon’s back.
As city lights came into view far in the distance, Oscar asked the witch sitting next to him, “What city are we heading toward?”
“Nisrey,” Tinasha replied.
Oscar was surprised to hear the name of the city where Tinasha had so recently vanquished a sea monster. Looking again, he saw a dark sea spread beyond the dots of light comprising the city. Bluish-white moonlight rippled across the water, glittering silver on cresting whitecaps. The moon’s reflection shuddered ever so slightly as it sparkled luminously.
Oscar could do nothing but gaze out raptly at such overwhelming natural beauty. It was the first time he’d ever seen such a sight. The night sea looked like it could go on forever, tinged with stillness and mystery. Brushing back her black locks, Tinasha grinned. “I really should have taken you during the day, but you were busy.”
“…No, this is great,” Oscar said, still overcome with wonder, and she smiled with satisfaction. Moving up to the dragon’s head, she signaled something to it. The dragon understood and made a slow rotation over the ocean.
“Are you going to show me the kraken or something?” Oscar asked.
“What would you do if I said yes?” Tinasha responded.
“I’d take back what I said to Als.”
The witch could imagine what their conversation entailed, and she burst out laughing. The dragon changed its heading and started to fly along the coast.
Before long, they reached the top of a rocky cliff some distance away from the city and Nark let them down there. It shrank back to its original size and climbed onto Oscar’s shoulder.
They were just outside a southern city, and as such, a languid heat clung to the air despite it being nighttime. The high temperatures were probably what drove Tinasha to put on such a skimpy, almost boyish ensemble. She ran her fingers through her hair, mussed by the salty sea breeze.
“Well, shall we be off?” she said, taking his hand. Silently, they rose up into the air and descended slowly down the cliff face toward the ocean. Oscar stared eagerly down at the water; all this was so fresh and new to him. Then he realized there was a cave opening halfway down the cliff. She led him into it by the hand.
The tiny cave was a hollow that sloped down at an angle, and soon enough they entered a wide space filled with seawater. There was a small crack in the rock making up the cave ceiling, letting in moonlight that shone with a blue light on the water.
It looked like the sea had eroded the interior of the cliff over the years to form this space. It was like being inside an eggshell. The rocky enclosure kept the water still and calm.
The witch let Oscar down on a spot along the wall where there was a foothold the size of a closet.
“Let there be light—”
She opened her hands, and white balls of light flared to life. Some flew up to the ceiling and some dived into the water to illuminate the cave.
Immediately, the place took on a cerulean tint.
“What is all this…?” Oscar murmured, his breath taken away by the transformation.
The water gleamed with a brilliant azure hue. The color only intensified deeper into the water. Those conjured luminous globes that had been submerged underwater shone here and there in electrifying and gorgeous shades of cobalt.
Everything glittered like sapphires. Oscar was thoroughly entranced and found himself unable to hold back a sigh of wonder. The witch’s smile was one of total gratification. “What do you think?” she asked.
“It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”
“The bottom is sandy, so you can swim without worrying about rocks. There’s no fish here, either.”
“You want us to swim?!”
“You can, can’t you?”
The thick cotton cloths Tinasha had brought must have been for wiping themselves dry after swimming. She placed the towels somewhere they wouldn’t get wet, then dived into the water without delay. A spray of water sparkled in the air.
“That’s why she’s dressed like that…,” Oscar realized, nodding to himself as he doffed his shoes and jacket. He likewise removed Akashia and placed a sleepy-looking Nark next to the weapon.
The water was deliciously cold when he waded in, and it sent lighting running up his body. It was so hot outside that the chill was quite comfortable and welcome. Oscar dived down to the bottom and found it blanketed with white sand. He glimpsed an underwater cove deeper in. It probably led out to the open sea, but the jagged opening made it hard to tell.
Oscar’s body felt lighter. He hadn’t gone swimming since he was a child, but that had done little to fade his muscle memory.
He swam up to the surface to breathe and found Tinasha floating just above the surface watching him. Droplets of water fell from her long, black hair. Each one carved tiny ripples in the water as they hit the surface. Her glossy skin and ebony eyes, now backlit by azure moonlight, created a fascinating allure.
Using his fingers to comb back his own wet bangs, Oscar asked her, “Did you make this place?”
“It’s entirely natural. I came here a lot to relax back in the day. This is the first time I’ve brought someone with me, though. Oh, it was missing a foothold, however, so I carved one into the wall earlier today.”
She pointed to the little ledge their belongings were resting on. Nark was curled into a ball, snoozing away on top of Oscar’s jacket.
“So…happy birthday,” Tinasha said, pressing her palms together and offering him a pleased smile.
Finally, Oscar understood why she’d brought him here. He reached out and tugged on her hair until she slowly came down to his level. When he touched her cheek, it was oddly warm.
“Thank you,” Oscar replied.
Tinasha suddenly laughed out loud like a child.
By the time Oscar had gotten his fill of swimming and returned to the foothold, a sense of heaviness had permeated his whole body.
He turned back to see the witch still playing in the water. She really looked just like a kid.
Smiling and shaking his head, Oscar grabbed one of the thick towels and dried his hair off. After he’d toweled off his chest and arms, he looked back to ask Tinasha about a change of clothes. Tinasha didn’t answer. Instead, she sat on the water gazing straight at Oscar.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing, I was just thinking that something looked pretty…”
“What is?”
“You are.”
“What the…?”
Oscar didn’t think pretty was a compliment generally used for men. But the witch didn’t seem to be concerned about that. Her head was cocked to one side as she took in every bit of his beautiful face and well-proportioned body. Beneath the force of her unbridled gaze, Oscar gestured her over.
“What are we doing about our clothes? I didn’t bring anything to change into.”
“I’ll dry them,” Tinasha offered, walking along the water’s surface as easily as she would have done with solid earth. With one press of her hand to his clothes, warmth circulated along the fabric, drying it instantly, though his skin didn’t feel hot at all.
Impressed, Oscar examined his newly dry clothes. Then he remembered something he’d forgotten to ask about. “Oh right, what did Reust say to you?”
“Ah, that? He proposed,” Tinasha recounted.
“Again?”
“I said no.”
“You shot him down fast.”
“I just don’t like him in that way…”
“Did you tell him that when you rejected him? That’s pretty harsh,” Oscar observed, feeling a little bad for Reust.
The witch, still dripping wet, made a disapproving face. “What would you do if I’d said that and relations with Tayiri deteriorated? I turned him down tactfully.”
“I see,” Oscar replied.
Although they were both witches, he was positive that if it was Lucrezia, she would have happily toyed with poor Reust. The prince was lucky it was Tinasha he’d proposed to—everyone was fortunate for that.
Still, Oscar felt there was something slightly off about what Tinasha said. He’d heard her insist that her being a witch was her reason for not getting overly familiar with anyone.
What change of heart must she have gone through to now say that she didn’t like Reust in a romantic way? Oscar found the whole thing strange but had the sense that if he probed too deep, he’d just end up pitying Reust, so he said nothing.
The witch peered at Oscar. “Are you tired? Should we head back?”
“No, I want to keep looking around a little. You brought me all this way and everything,” he replied, and Tinasha broke into a happy grin. Her smile was so lovely he could only stare in fascination. Her gaze was soft with joy, and there were no traces of sadness or loneliness to be found.
Seeing that up close sent Oscar into a trance. He tipped up her chin, moving closer to her entirely naturally.
“Hey, wait—!” she cried, paling as she tried to push him away. He only caught hold of her with his other hand, however.
Then he pressed his lips to hers, even as she flailed beneath him. Nothing about the blue-tinted cave they were in felt real, so he made sure she was. Her long eyelashes tickled his face.
First, it was just a light brush of lips, though a lengthy one. Then Oscar changed his angle and kissed her again—and again, kissing her with yearning and the desire to make her body heat, her breath, belong to him. A slow, lazy passion suffused his body; it felt like their souls were melding.
It was all so sudden, and while Tinasha resisted and tried to pull away, Oscar wouldn’t allow it.
It was all Tinasha could do to remain standing under such a rain of breathtaking kisses. A mysterious heat welled up deep within her soaking wet body, seizing hold of her thoughts.
She felt faint.
She even forgot how to use magic.
The warmth—and the numbness that came along with it—dominated her body.
That was when the lights around them gave a mighty shudder.
Oscar sensed the lights’ flickering and pulled back. With the witch’s mindfulness disrupted, the globes had begun to blink on and off. When she realized what was happening, she used her free hand to cover her reddened cheeks. Until now, her control of such a simple spell had never wavered like this, no matter what kind of pain she was in.
“What do you think you’re doing…?” she whispered.
Oscar released Tinasha’s hand. He’d been clutching it very tightly but fortunately hadn’t left a bruise. The witch was red to the tips of her ears, and he patted her head. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he said, ostensibly calm.
Tinasha glared at him, her eyes big and resentful.
“I’m gonna swim a little more,” Oscar stated unevenly and dived right into the water.


Unnamed Memory

“…What?” Tinasha exclaimed, left behind with a heart that wouldn’t stop pounding. As she massaged her chest, she muttered, “But…I just dried your clothes…”

Reust left Farsas the next day. The witch offered to teleport him, but he refused firmly. As his retinue of attendants and guardsmen made their way home on horseback, a commanding officer Reust had known for a long time inquired, “Are you really all right with giving up?”
Reust gave a light chuckle, aware of what the guard was referring to. “I was refused flat out. I have no choice but to.”
“But isn’t she simply bound by her contract to Farsas?”
“No…,” Reust said with a wry grimace. Memories of last night flashed through his mind. He’d asked Tinasha the same thing, and she’d been radiant as she answered…
“He’s special. I couldn’t handle another one like him.”
The witch probably wasn’t even aware of it herself yet.
As she’d smiled ruefully, looking the tiniest bit exasperated, Reust had recognized his defeat with perfect clarity, however.


Unnamed Memory

 9. Nighttime Serenade
“How much of these stories are even real?” muttered the king at his study desk. The witch was up on the ceiling with a thick spell book open before her. She didn’t know what “these stories” referred to, and she floated down while still upside down to look over Oscar’s shoulder.
“What’s that? A book of fairy tales?” she asked. An elaborate and exquisite illustration dominated the left page; this appeared to be a collection of nursery tales for children. The picture of a princess gazing into an oval mirror looked eerie and old-fashioned.
Oscar closed the book and showed her the cover. “I’m having a quick look through a book we acquired to add to the castle reference library. There’s a lot of weird stories. It’s pretty interesting.”
“Oh, it’s a book from the Dark Age,” observed Tinasha. A request from a historical or literature scholar had most likely brought it to the castle. The tales people used to tell one another back then became fairy tales over time and had all been collected in this tome at some point. Tinasha came down and sat on the edge of the desk. Reaching out for the book Oscar had opened back up, she began to leaf through the pages.
“The story of the Mirror of Oblivion, huh? This is from before my time. I couldn’t tell you if it’s true or not.”
The art depicted a princess gazing into a looking glass. It was an illustration of a story from the early days of the Dark Age. The tale spoke of a princess who spent her days in tears and sorrow after losing her parents. One day, she looked into a mirror and forgot all her sadness. The fable itself had little meaning, but if it was based on a true story, the mirror could have been a magic implement.
Tinasha flipped through more pages as she mused on what sort of spells were responsible for each story.
“Oh, this one’s true. The story of a castle that suddenly got covered in ivy.” Tinasha pointed to the one she was describing.
“That one’s relatively new. I think it’s from the very beginning of the Age of Witches,” Oscar commented.
“Yes, it is. It’s about me.”
“………”
Ignoring the pointed look he was throwing her, Tinasha drifted back up to the ceiling. From below, she heard his heavy sigh.
“That makes me want to appear in one of these odd little stories, too…”
“What do you think you’re saying? Have some self-respect,” chided the witch. Oscar, evidently rather bored, paid this no mind. Tinasha quickly resumed her reading. As she turned a page, the thought occurred to her: What kind of king will people say he was?
Without realizing it, Tinasha began to smile.
There were seven lecture halls for the mages of Farsas Castle. All of them were in use during the day, but permission for after hours could be requested. Six mages were gathered in one such reserved auditorium, forming a circle in the center around two women.
“Pamyra, the transition to the sixth sequence is too slow,” said the witch. Pamyra rushed to erase the spell configuration and recast it from scratch. Tinasha silently inspected the intricately woven spiritual magic spell.
No one in the castle but the witch could teach spirit sorcerer magic to Pamyra. She had begged her lady to help her practice, which the witch did often.
Doan, Sylvia, Renart, and Kumu looked on with keen interest. Spiritual magic was a unique form of spell casting that utilized most of its magic in the spell configuration as opposed to spell execution.
“You can’t only look at the sequence you’re assembling now. You have to be focusing on the whole thing constantly and think ahead to what’s next,” Tinasha instructed, holding out her right hand palm up. In an instant, a delicately wrought spell formed there. “The kind of spell a mage can envision and execute is one indicator of magic aptitude, but that’s not all that matters on the battlefield. Your speed and the stability of your spells are both directly linked to how strong you are. No matter how much magic you have, it’s all meaningless if your spells are a jumble.”
Pamyra nodded meekly, and the witch smiled at her. She quickly turned serious again, clapping Pamyra on the shoulder. “The truth is, it’s most ideal not to encounter a situation where you have to fight directly. For mages, our best fighting style is one that involves preparing spells ahead of time and keeping premade sigils and arrays ready for attack. This is because face-to-face combat involves too many uncertain elements.”
“Very illuminating,” said Chief Mage Kumu with a nod. The witch found his reaction quite nostalgic. She had lectured the mages of Farsas on how to fight seventy years ago as well. The country had been at war then, so she had prioritized teaching them survival spells over killing ones.
“Now then, how about a little contest?” Tinasha proposed with a light wave of her hand. Before her, a glass ball the size of a person’s head appeared.
The glass was hollow, with a tiny ring inside. There were no cracks or seams on the glass, though there was a hole the same size as the ring at the very top. The aperture was reinforced with a silver inlay around the rim, making it too narrow for the ring to pass through, however.
Tinasha pointed one ivory finger at the glass sphere. “Cast a spell that will pull out the ring inside without damaging the glass sphere. Teleportation magic is disabled. I’ll be looking at your spell-casting speed and method. You have three minutes to devise a strategy. Feel free to touch the sphere and inspect its composition.”
After she finished, she placed the hollow globe on top of a desk. Doan picked it up and spun it upside down. The ring fell down with a tinkling noise, but the silver rim at the bottom blocked it from coming out. The silver rim must have been forged at the same time as the glass, because it was stuck fast to the inside of the sphere.
The mages, given their task, picked the sphere up one by one and pondered over what to do.
“All right, three minutes are up. Is everyone ready?” the witch asked, and the group nodded. Tinasha surveyed the nervous-looking bunch. “Then we’ll start. Five, four, three, two, one, go!”
At the signal, all the mages began their spells. Kumu, Pamyra, and Doan used no incantation, while Sylvia and Renart uttered short chants. Kumu completed his spell the fastest, then Pamyra. The other three completed theirs at nearly identical times after that.
Tinasha studied each spell design, and her eyes narrowed. “Kumu, Pamyra, and Doan are using a method to remove the silver rim. Kumu, your speed and stability are both strong. That’s to be expected… Pamyra, yours is a little too cautious but quite well-made. Doan, your decisiveness is good. You just need to shave off some excess in the third sequence.”
The three felt relieved to hear such positive criticism. Mages did not normally undergo tests, and they were all quite nervous.
“Renart’s spell will create a hole where there is none, then seal it up again once the ring is out. I guess you think you’re better at transmuting the glass than the silver rim?” Tinasha asked.
“That is what I decided, yes,” Renart answered.
“I see. I like this change in thinking. The spell is well-made, too. Carry on.”
“Thank you.”
Last, the witch carefully examined Sylvia’s spell. Unfortunately, she nearly burst into laughter almost immediately.
Shocked, Sylvia looked nervously from one side to the other. Next to her, Doan sounded stunned as he said, “Sylvia, that will break the ring.”
“What? But…”
“It’s fine. I did say not to break the glass, but I didn’t say anything about not breaking the ring. Not bad. This one is the most interesting,” the witch remarked, still giggling with delight. Within seconds, she had a spell drawn up in her right hand. She poured it into the glass ball, and the ring was sucked out right away.
It had happened so fast it looked like teleportation, but the five mages recognized that she’d shrunk the ring, removed it, then restored it to its original size. The quintet of pupils let out cries of admiration. Shrinking spells were difficult and could not be used on living things or anything larger than a human hand. Such magic was so circumstantially useful that it was often forgotten.
“Spell casting is the forging of your idea with your technique, so you should always be practicing. Okay, I’m giving this to Sylvia. I applaud your imagination,” Tinasha praised, tossing the ring casually to Sylvia. The other woman caught it with both hands.
“Th-thank you!” she cried.
“It absorbs spells to be launched at a later time. It’s a simple magic implement, but you can use it over and over. Feel free to employ it however you see fit.”
Sylvia nodded over and over, looking rapturous with gratitude. With that, the special lecture broke up.
“People are talking about a song that kills anyone who listens to it.”
“Is the song really bad or something?”
Kumu and Renart returned to their research, while the remaining four moved to the lounge. Doan had been the one to broach the subject over tea, and Tinasha was quick to shoot it down. Doan wagged a finger before his face, however.
“That’s the thing. Apparently, the song is very good. The woman singing it is famous as a singer. But everyone who hears it ends up committing suicide.”
“No, no, no,” cried Sylvia, trembling with her hands over her ears.
Tinasha made a face at her. “Is this really that scary? I very much doubt it’s real anyway.”
“Oh, but it is. Suicide is on the rise in the city. Dozens are already dead,” Doan revealed.
“What?! This is happening here?!” cried Sylvia.
“Yes. It’s the talk of the town right now. People have purposely gone and listened to it for themselves, so the numbers have skyrocketed.”
“…What in the world?” muttered Tinasha.
Human curiosity was undoubtedly the most frightening part of the rumor. If this was really happening, it was a serious problem.
After listening in silence, Pamyra turned to her lady and asked, “Can magic really cause something like that?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s impossible, but I would categorize this more as a curse. Still, curses shouldn’t have the power to make people commit suicide… Maybe it is some regular sort of spell. That it’s afflicted so many is unusual, though. It would be difficult to pull the strings on something like that. Hmm, I’m having a hard time conceptualizing it. This would be hard for a normal mage to do.”
“Then what about you, Miss Tinasha?”
“Yes, I could do it. I’d pick someone out of a crowd and kill them while making it look like they committed suicide.”
“………”
Tinasha’s words painted a realistic picture, stunning the group silent. The witch sipped at her tea nonchalantly.
Looking at the clock, Tinasha saw that it was almost three o’clock in the afternoon. She set down her cup and got to her feet. “In any case, could you try and keep Oscar from hearing about this, if you can?”
“Why?”
“He’s been extremely bored lately. I wouldn’t be surprised if he said he wants to go and listen to it for himself.”
“…Understood.”
Ever since Oscar took the throne, things had largely calmed down, but this king was incredibly curious and prone to bouts of exploration. Added to that was the fact that this case was occurring right in the castle city. Such a tempting target right under his nose could prove dangerous.
The witch quietly decided she would have to handle this in secret should it continue to be an issue.
“People are talking about a song that kills anyone who listens to it,” said Oscar with great interest as soon as Tinasha entered his study. She sank to her knees in disappointment.
Oscar half rose to his feet, surprised. “What’s wrong? Low blood sugar?”
“…It’s nothing,” she muttered, collecting herself and standing back up. She started to brew some tea. “Who did you hear that from?”
“Lazar.”
“Why, that little…,” Tinasha muttered, cursing the attendant who was thankfully not present. While Lazar frequently worried that his lord would act recklessly, he still brought him all these tales of shady incidents. It was enough for her to suspect that Lazar was riling him up on purpose.
Unaware of what Tinasha was thinking, Oscar asked her if it was possible that magic was causing this, just like Pamyra had earlier.
“I won’t know details until I hear it for myself,” Tinasha stated flatly.
“Oh yeah? Then let’s go check it out.”
“I meant that I would! Alone!” cried the witch. She handed Oscar a cup of tea with a smile.
Oscar noticed that it was a very shallow sort of grin and rested his chin on his hands with a grimace. “You’re not going.”
“Why not?!”
“There’s two singers causing this. One is a tavern singer, and one…works at a brothel.”
Tinasha was dumbfounded at the revelation. Women weren’t allowed in the brothel, but Tinasha had a feeling it was more dangerous for Oscar to go. “You’re the king. Please do not go to a brothel…”
“Lots of people conceal their identities when they go.”
“So that means I could disguise myself as a prostitute and go,” she reasoned.
“Absolutely not. That’s a hard no,” Oscar said.
“Just let me do it!” Tinasha insisted. She grabbed Oscar’s shoulder and shook it back and forth. It jostled the cup in his hand, making the tea wobble. “Didn’t I tell you that the protective barrier won’t protect you from psychological spells? Have you already forgotten the pain Lucrezia caused you?!”
“I don’t recall much pain being involved.”
“I didn’t mean it literally!” Tinasha scolded, releasing Oscar. She gave him a smile with eyes so icy they would make anyone quake in their boots. Oscar beheld Tinasha, unflappable, even as the woman exuded her full witch’s might. “End of discussion. I’m going to do something about the tavern singer first, so you be good and do your work.”
“Fine, I understand,” Oscar answered, waving his hand lightly. The witch remained unconvinced, however.
Tinasha didn’t doubt her own ability to resolve the case, though, so it was fine. She decided to start looking into things immediately, so as not to give Oscar a chance to act. She left the study and headed back to the lounge, where she grabbed Doan.
With Doan recruited for her investigative mission, she had him go over the details as they made their way to the tavern.
The tavern singer’s name was Delia. She was an attractive woman with a good voice that had earned her quite a bit of popularity.
About a month ago, she began singing a new song. The tavern patrons raved about the melody, which was redolent with melancholy and nostalgia. Before long, however, some of them began committing suicide. Not everyone who heard the song was discovered dead, but as about thirty people had already fallen victim to it, the tavern owner was considering canceling the performances.
Once that rumor got out into town, more and more people came to sample the “killer song.” The owner suddenly found himself with a crowd too large to turn away, and performances continued.
The witch was left aghast after hearing the whole story. She frowned. “That’s terrible. I can’t help them if they want to die of curiosity. Are the people going to the brothel acting the same way?”
“The brothel? What are you talking about?”
“I heard there are two singers causing this.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard of it. I only know about Delia.”
“Huh?” Tinasha spat reflexively.
Had Oscar tried to trick her? Maybe he thought she’d give up once she heard the word brothel.
“He’s got some nerve trying to pull off a cheap trick on me…”
“I don’t really understand, but please be gentle with our king,” Doan pleaded. Consulting the map, he led the way. The route he chose was very like him: sparsely populated back streets so they could save on trouble.
Tinasha snapped her fingers. “If you like, I can go on alone, and you can head back.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going, too. I’m a mage, and I don’t believe in superstitions.”
“Come along, then,” urged Tinasha. She was grateful that Doan was possessed of such a no-nonsense temperament. Soon they arrived at the tavern, where the dim lighting conveniently concealed Tinasha’s beauty. It was dinnertime, so they ordered some light food.
The sound of glasses tinkling and low murmurs filled the space. They could hear a fair number of conversations about the song in question.
Namely, people wondering what exactly was this song that killed its listeners.
Dumbfounded, the witch rested her chin on her hands. Then a light shone down on a small stage at the rear of the tavern. The patrons all turned to glance that way.
Doan looked up from his salted fish. “Almost time.”
“Have a defense spell at the ready, just in case. If it’s not magic, I’ll handle it,” Tinasha instructed.
“Understood.”
A woman with all the charm someone in the prime of adulthood could carry appeared onstage. Her features were not outstandingly beautiful, but her dark sensuality was eye-catching. She looked around the crowd, smiling in gratitude, before drawing her right leg slightly behind her.
She took a deep breath in and stood up straight. With only the strums of a zither to accompany her, she began to sing.

“Here is a forbidden place, a room with no air.
I sing a song that no one listens to.
Night falls in my hometown so far away,
where you are not—you are not anywhere.
You’ll never come home despite all my wishing.
Should night come again tomorrow, I may as well die.
Here is a forbidden place, a dream with no air.”

Her voice crooning out a heartrending melody was so lovely that it sank deep into the hearts of the audience. However, a strange unease arose within them the more they listened. Doan glanced over at the witch next to him, who was listening raptly. She must have felt his gaze, because she turned to look at him.
She inclined her head in thought for a moment before suddenly giving a light wave of her hand. Once she did, the song became inaudible.
Flustered, Doan looked all around the tavern, but the other patrons appeared lost in the song. He felt uneasy and was about to get up when the witch tugged on his sleeve. She leaned over to his seat and whispered, “You’re the only one who can’t hear it. It’s better not to listen.”
“Is it a cursed song? I don’t feel any magic.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll explain outside. Let’s go,” said the witch with an apologetic smile. With urgent haste, she rose from her seat. All except Doan were too enraptured to spare even a single glance at the disturbance.
When they emerged back onto the street, it was completely dark outside. Tinasha spoke once they had put some distance between themselves and the tavern. “So it’s just a song. A genuine song.”
“Just a song?!” he repeated.
“Yes. A normal song with no magic or curse in it. The melody, lyrics, and her voice seem to have a disquieting effect on people. I’ve lived a long while, and I’ve only encountered this a handful of times. It’s exceedingly rare, but there are some songs, paintings, and poems that are like that. Tired and sickly people are particularly weak to this sort of thing. We should pursue the proper channels to get performances of that song canceled.”
“I see…,” Doan said, shoulders slumping. It was a bit anticlimactic. He’d expected to hear some sort of fantastical backstory. Upon finding out it was just a normal song, he felt both relieved and disappointed.
The witch noticed his expression and gave a half smile. “The truly frightening incidences are ones like these, with no magic behind them. There are rules to magic, and we can use those rules to devise a solution. But this probably just stems from the incredible talent of the person who wrote the song and the woman singing it. Encountering a case like this makes you realize how mysterious the human power is.”
Tinasha smiled, her eyes cast down, and asked Doan to file the paperwork to have performances of the song prohibited before returning to the castle. There was a great deal of relief that washed over her as the witch realized that this was the end of the incident.

While the witch was having dinner at the tavern, the lights went on in an establishment in a back alley on the western side of town.
Unlike those back alleys on the eastern side, these were safer and the clientele tended to be wealthy. This brothel was no exception, and it wasn’t unusual to see nobles sneaking in and out of its doors.
A recent windfall of profit had left this particular brothel’s owner, Gaske, in a fantastic mood.
This was due entirely to Clara. An unceasing stream of clients came seeking her. Even if most of those clients never visited again, enough new ones poured in that it didn’t matter. They were all seized with curiosity and enough baseless confidence to think they’d be fine. It was impossible to correct their misapprehensions.
Gloating to himself, Gaske opened the doors and retreated to the reception booth. Soon enough, the first client arrived.
The tall man with a hood pulled down low over his eyes to hide his face was dressed well. Judging him to be a nobleman, Gaske welcomed him courteously as a guest of honor. The client took the greeting as a sign to get right to the point. “This is where I can find the woman who sings the song that kills its listeners, right?”
Gaske was surprised to hear how young his voice sounded. A series of kidnappings fifteen years ago had left the city with few young adults of noble heritage.
Prying into the identities of patrons ran contrary to the rules. “You mean Clara. Yes, she’s here. But she has a prior engagement at the moment…,” Gaske answered with a smile.
“I see. But if I don’t see her now, I’ll end up caught by someone pesky. Is there any way you can be flexible?”
“I’m really very sorry, sir, but…”
The man grimaced upon hearing Gaske’s reply. He pulled up his hood to show his face. “Do you know who I am?”
There was no way he wouldn’t have. Stunned, Gaske dropped the papers he was holding.
How wonderful it would be to manipulate people with nothing but your thoughts. It was inarguable that many had thought of such before.
Clara had that power; she was certain of it.
She could bend anyone to her will if she only wished to do so. If she wished them to die, they would. All the clients who came to her knowing that must have been dense or otherwise frivolous about their own fates. As such, she felt that it wasn’t her fault if they died.
“Clara, you have a client.”
“Ah, Simon.”
A man holding a zither knocked on the door of her room before entering.
She had known Simon for three years. Clara had found him collapsed outside the brothel with nothing to his name and brought him in. After learning of his musical talent, Clara made him her dedicated accompanist. As she had saved his life, he would do anything she asked. She didn’t want to take him as a lover, but she felt that there was no one who understood her better than he.
Seated before her vanity, Clara stood up as she fastened a clasp into her hair. “My reservation, right? I’m coming.”
“No, it’s a walk-in.”
“A walk-in?”
The brothel where Clara worked saw very high-profile clientele. It wasn’t possible to force your way in using money or pedigree; appointments were required. Who was it that had forced their way in and cut in line? Clara was wholly intrigued.
“All right. I’m coming,” she said, rushing through the rest of her routine. Leaving Simon there, she headed for the designated room.
A huge bed dominated the room. A single window was located very high up on the wall. It was designed that way to prevent peeping, but it made the room feel stuffy.
The man was standing at the entrance, sipping a drink; he turned around when he felt her presence.
He was exceedingly handsome, with eyes the color of the sky right after twilight.
She’d never met him before but recognized him instantly.
Clara froze in shock. She couldn’t take another step into the room.
“What’s wrong? Come in,” the king of Farsas invited her easily, noticing that she wasn’t moving.
Once Clara finally emerged from her cage of astonishment, she sat down gingerly next to the man and poured him a drink. “Is it all right for Your Majesty to be in a place like this?”
“It’s not, which is why I came in secret.”
“Surely you could have any beautiful maiden you desire.”
“The one I’m in love with is pretty stubborn.”
Oscar drained his glass, then set it aside. He gazed back at the woman. She was undoubtedly lovely, though her features gave an impression of instability. He reached out and caught up a lock of her hair. Upon closer analysis, her glossy, soft black hair was a shade lighter than the witch’s. “…Hers really is the color of night.”
“Your Majesty? Did you say something?”
“No, nothing. More importantly, I heard you can sing a very interesting song. I came to hear it.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t. I fear for my life if I ever got caught here.”
Clara was shocked once more into silence. She was different from the woman at the tavern. If Clara wished people to die as she sang, they would. This young king likely had no idea. “Please don’t joke around. You have no heir.”
“Just so you know, I don’t plan on dying.”
“Then please give up on listening to the song,” Clara said.
He placed her ivory white hand along his cheek. His eyes pierced into hers, laden as they were with the power to compel people to obey him. She gasped, feeling as if his blue eyes would suck her in completely.
This wouldn’t do.
She couldn’t sing. Even if she could, she couldn’t kill him. She couldn’t wish for him to die.
She couldn’t kill him.
“I’m asking you to sing.”
“…I’m unable to. In return, perhaps I can offer you something else. This is, after all, an establishment for slaking all manner of desires.”
“I don’t want a woman. I’ve got what I need.”
“Then it seems all you can do is leave. There is nothing I can provide you with, be it a song or my conversation.”
The king scowled in displeasure at that. Up until now, he had generally received whatever he wanted. He’d had the power and the self-awareness to make that possible.
Now he stood bested by a prostitute wielding bargaining as her weapon. Clara would not yield, even to a king.
Instead of speaking, she wound her arms around his neck. Very slowly, she lowered herself onto him. She pressed her lips to his with a clear passion.
It didn’t feel real. She wished this moment would go on forever.

The day after returning from the tavern, Tinasha headed for the study to report on the events of the last night.
Oscar listened to her while managing a stack of paperwork.
“And I’ve asked Doan to take care of that, so when the application comes in, please approve it,” Tinasha concluded.
“Got it. Sorry to have you go through all that trouble.”
“It’s nothing. Actually, I have a favor to ask. I’d like to borrow some mages for about a week, starting today. I’d only need them in the evenings after they’ve finished their lectures. And I’ll pay their honorarium.”
“I don’t mind. But what are you going to do?”
“I want to organize the Tuldarr treasure vault. The seal is broken, and I can’t have anyone robbing it. So I’d like to sort through everything and move it to the tower…and, if possible, to Farsas.”
“The treasure vault? You’d transport that to Farsas?”
“I won’t use anything even if it’s placed in the tower, so I’ll keep only the dangerous items there. Moving the rest here means that it’ll just end up hoarded away, but I’d still like to.”
“Huh… Okay, got it. Go ahead,” Oscar approved, letting out a little sigh.
With the treasure vault emptied and the spirits brought under the witch’s control, it seemed the entire legacy of the Magic Empire of Tuldarr would soon be entirely lost. Briefly, Oscar wondered if this was really all right. He decided that if this was Tinasha’s decision as the last queen of Tuldarr, then so be it.
The queen with no throne floated up into the air as she always did, flipping upside down and looking Oscar in the eyes. She observed her own reflection in the man’s sky-colored eyes, while Oscar saw his in her ebony ones.
Tinasha looked at him fondly, a softness in her gaze. Released from the delusions of her past, she now gave off an air of innate ease and reliability. Oscar reached out to draw her face closer. He moved to kiss her red lips, but before he could, she noticed something and cried, “Oh!”
“What is it…?” Oscar frowned, put out at the thwarting of his maneuver.
Tinasha did not heed the gripe, however. She was pointing to his collarbone. “You have a bruise there. Did you run into something?”
That damn woman, Oscar cursed in silence. He took care not to let the emotion show on his face. Things would get nasty if Tinasha discovered his little meddling excursion. She’d warned him so sternly not to get involved, after all. If she knew he’d ignored her cautioning, he would absolutely be in for the lecture to end all lectures. Thankfully, the witch hadn’t caught on.
Tinasha rested her chin on her hands, tilting her head thoughtfully. “I can’t erase your bruise. Do you want me to use a glamour to conceal it?”
“Yeah, could you? Speaking of, how are the ones on your foot?”
“You should worry more about yourself,” Tinasha muttered, looking put out. She placed a small illusory effect on Oscar’s collarbone and then kissed his forehead while she was at it.
That evening, Tinasha brought five mages—Kav, Doan, Sylvia, Renart, and Pamyra—to the Tuldarr treasure vault. The sight was so magnificent that they let out cries of wonder.
“It’s a mountain of treasure!”
“It is a treasure vault. Please pick out any items that resonate with faint magical power. We’ll bring those back to Farsas. Anything suspicious needs to be taken to my tower, so set those aside, too. If you find anything that seems like it would be dangerous to touch, let me know. Once it’s all done, I’ll gift you with something here.”
“We’ll do our best!” chorused the group. All six were wearing clothes that were easy to move around in, and they set about classifying the magical objects one by one. It was a lot like packing up for a move. Shouts of admiration rang out everywhere, which the witch found amusing.
Doan waved Tinasha over, and she approached. “I completed the paperwork to have performances of that song canceled,” he said.
“Sounds good. Let me know if there’s any trouble.”
It was enough just to have cut off a potential avenue for Oscar to get into trouble. Humming happily, Tinasha started organizing. Things proceeded without incident.

Clara hadn’t expected him to ever return.
Her heart was in a flutter at the unexpected visit. As soon as he saw her, he snapped, “Don’t mark me. I told you this was a matter of life and death, didn’t I?”
He was clearly very grumpy, but even that made her happy. She let out a laugh like tinkling bells. “Do you have someone very jealous in your life?”
“I wouldn’t say jealous, but… She’s not attached to me at all,” he admitted with a grimace. A light in his eyes told Clara that he was thinking of his beloved, and it chilled her to the core. That was an emotion a prostitute should never show on the surface, however. She gave an awkward smile. “Then there’s no need for you to be so faithful.”
“Not attached to me and unwilling to act are two different things. If she finds out I went rogue, she’ll destroy me and the country.”
Naturally, Clara took that remark as a joke. The man sat in a chair and took the liberty of leaning against her.
“I’m quite envious that you have someone that concerned about you. What is she like?” Clara asked.
This made him pause and think for a bit. His witch was truly an enigma. It was difficult to put her nature into words to explain to someone who didn’t know her. “Hmm… If I could compare her to anything, it would be purest white and darkest black. She’s like a leopard who enjoys human company.”
“Oh my. She must be a well-brought-up lady who hasn’t suffered a day in her life.”
“She has. Very much, in fact. But that’s not her at all…”
It was true that Tinasha was well brought up, but it was equally true that she’d suffered far beyond the scope of what most were capable of envisioning.
Besides, she wasn’t merely a lady; she was a queen. Oscar had witnessed that firsthand during the Cuscull conflict. That was why she understood better than anyone else the weight borne by royalty.
“Well anyway, about that song. I didn’t come here to bargain with you,” Oscar started.
“I refuse,” Clara stated.
“Don’t be so hasty. Most things can’t kill me.”
“No man has listened to my song and lived to tell of it.”
“Then I suppose that will make me the first.”
Clara was left bewildered that he wouldn’t back down.
She couldn’t sing, for she had no reason to kill him. If she refused outright, however, she feared he would stop visiting. That was no good, either. The woman needed a way to ensure his return. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to steep herself in the heat burning deep in his body, in his skin. That was why she had to barter.
Clara got to her feet and caught hold of his jaw from behind, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hmm… If you became my regular, I’d think about it. You’d have to come at least five times.”
Oscar made a plainly sour expression upon hearing Clara’s terms. “I don’t have the time for that. Sing today.”
“I refuse. This is a place where women sell their bodies, not where songs are peddled. If you would like to hear a tune, you must pay the appropriate price.”
The demand caused Oscar to grimace. He wondered if simply giving up was the better choice.
On the other hand, more could die if he turned back now. It would also mean the past two nights of sneaking out had been a waste, something Oscar was loath to admit. He’d considered sending out one of his retainers instead, but if the retainer got killed, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. The witch had reminded him insistently that she couldn’t protect him from psychological spells, but the first sign of magical interference would expose Clara outright. At the very least, Oscar felt confident that he could handle whatever might happen better than most people.
“Five times, huh. And you promise?”
“Yes, I promise,” Clara replied, feeling as if she were walking on air after hearing his acceptance.
An hour later, Oscar left the brothel. He walked for a short while before stopping and suddenly turning around. He called out to someone in the alley. “Als, I see you.”
“Huh?” came an astonished voice from the shadows.
Oscar couldn’t help bursting out laughing. “I lied. I didn’t actually see you.”
“…Your Majesty,” said Als, emerging with an awkward bow. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, so as not to stand out in the back streets. Mystified, the general asked his king, “When did you notice me?”
“As soon as I came out. We’ve known each other forever, so I picked you out right away.”
“I saw you’d snuck out of the castle, so I couldn’t help but follow after.”
“I don’t mind. This is perfect,” Oscar said, falling into step with Als and catching him up on the song that heralded death.
Als’s eyes widened with shock. “This is different from the one Miss Tinasha went to see?”
“Yeah. This one is very hush-hush, only spoken of in whispers by noblemen and merchants. When you consider the kind of place it originates from, it makes sense that they don’t want it becoming public knowledge. This song’s also more powerful than the tavern one—just about everyone who’s heard it has perished.”
“That’s horrifying. And so odd that two singers would appear at the same time,” Als observed.
“True… That part is troubling,” Oscar agreed.
According to Tinasha’s report, the tavern woman was just a singer, but perhaps there was a deeper connection between the two than first believed. Oscar thought it a good idea for him to go listen to the other song once.
“Als, I hate to ask, but I’d like for you to dig up all the details on the people who died at the brothel. Find out their causes of death and any underlying circumstances.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. But are you sure you don’t want to ask Lazar?”
“No. He’s no good at lying to Tinasha.”
Als blanched once he heard the witch’s name. “Don’t tell me you haven’t told her about this…”
“If I had, you can bet I wouldn’t be here right now.”
Als suddenly realized he’d been drawn into a nasty secret and immediately felt a bitter sense of regret.
That witch absolutely hated it when Oscar acted rashly on his own. To make matters worse, this was a song that could herald death. If this put the king’s life on the line, Tinasha would be so incensed she might end up risking her own life, too.
Realizing this, Als cocked his head, puzzled. “I wonder if she’d feel jealous if she found out about all this.”
“I don’t think so. She told me herself that I have to start searching for a queen now that my curse was broken.”
“True.”
“Don’t just agree; you’re going to put me in a sour mood. Anyway, that’s why I think she’ll only get upset over the sneaking out and acting reckless parts,” Oscar reasoned.
“Only, huh…? That might be the most frightening thing of all… She’ll have the whole castle disappear.”
Als was filled with trepidation, but Oscar just said lightly, “Well, if I do get busted, we’ll face her together. Collective liability.”
“Spare me…”
“She doesn’t let off people who keep quiet about what they know. Lazar got the screws put to him before.”
The illicit temptation to betray his king and spill everything to Tinasha flitted through Als’s mind. Oscar must have seen right through that, though, because he clapped Als on the shoulder. “And I won’t let you off if you bust me voluntarily. I’ll be waiting on that investigation.”
“…Yes, Your Majesty,” Als complied, accepting his orders with slumped shoulders.
Clara returned to her room and started picking out her outfit for Oscar’s next visit. She couldn’t recall how long it’d been since her heart thrilled with such exhilaration; it actually surprised her that she was still capable of feeling this way. Singing a happy tune, she laid out a bunch of gathered clothes on the bed.
“Clara, what are you doing?” came a sudden voice, and she jumped.
“Oh, Simon. I’m choosing an outfit,” Clara answered brightly.
Simon slanted a look at her. “Do you really like him that much?”
“We’re talking about the king! …No, it’s not that. I like him. There’s no one but him.”
“He’s way above your station.”
“I know that! I don’t want to be his wife or anything. I’m aware of our social statuses.”
“So long as you understand,” Simon replied flippantly, sinking into a rattan chair. He sighed as Clara put together an ensemble, acting as spirited as a teenage girl.
Clara’s ear caught the dispirited sound, and she did an about-face. “What? Do you have something to say?”
“He wants you to sing, doesn’t he? You should just sing for him.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to kill him…”
“Just sing while wishing he’d fall in love with you.”
Clara’s eyes grew wide. That hadn’t occurred to her. She thought all her powers could do was kill. “Do you really think I can do that?”
“I bet you can. You’ve got the power.”
“Really?” she asked nervously, and Simon laughed.
“I know you can,” he insisted.
Simon always knew how to fill Clara with confidence.
The king didn’t come the next day. When he did visit on the following day, he brought a little red dragon with him. Clara’s eyes sparkled with childish joy upon seeing a dragon for the first time. Oscar made sure to warn her immediately, however.
“Don’t touch it. It’s not all that tame.”
“It’s lovely,” she breathed.
He gave a strained smile before tossing the dragon a fruit from the plate piled high on the table. Nimbly, the dragon snapped it from the air and swallowed it down.
“I was busy yesterday, and I’ll be busy tomorrow, too.”
“I don’t mind. Naturally your work must come first.”
“If that’s how you feel, then sing for me today.”
“No,” Clara declared, jerking her head aside. Thinking of when she’d sing a new song made her heart pound out of her chest. She fought to keep a smile off her face. Oscar paid her no attention and kept tossing fruit to the dragon. Before long, the plate was empty. Oscar’s dragon was rather small, and Clara was unsure where the tiny thing was putting it all.
“Should I have a new plate brought up?” she asked.
“Don’t bother. It actually doesn’t need to eat.”
Oscar made no attempt to hide his desire to leave. Clara hated to see it, but it also stirred her desire to change his tune.
Right now, he was hers.
That thought was especially sweet, and it seared itself into her heart. So she wound her alabaster arms around him. Atop the table, the dragon curled up and went to sleep.

After four days of organizing the treasure vault, all the magic implements had finally been cleared out. With so much empty space, the repository now looked over twice its size. While the majority of stored items had been small, there’d been a staggering number of them. Sorting through all the trinkets would’ve been a far greater task than six people could’ve handled.
Since they were handling magic implements, only mages could help with the task. What’s more, it was the Tuldarr treasure vault, so Tinasha could only allow in people she trusted. The team she’d appointed sifted through the remaining objects efficiently.
As Tinasha categorized a shelf of objects in the back, she noticed a small box made of white stone that had been all but hidden deep in the recesses of the shelf. Pushing aside some other unremarkable things, she reached out and grabbed it.
Opening the lid, she found a blue crystal sphere inside. It was slightly bigger than her palm. Magical sigils she’d never seen before were engraved on the surface. “Hmm? I feel like I’ve seen this before…”
Tinasha tilted her head to one side and then the other as she pondered but couldn’t recall where she’d seen it. The carved symbols were alien to her, and she couldn’t so much as manage a guess as to what they did.
After considering it for a while, Tinasha decided it should go to her tower. Placing it with a heap of other magic implements, she returned to the others just in time for Sylvia to run up to her excitedly.
“Miss Tinasha! We found this!”
“What is it?” asked the witch. Sylvia presented her with some lace folded into layer upon layer. Tinasha detected a trace of magic; evidently the stuff was charmed not to deteriorate. She spread it out, taking care not to dirty it, and saw that it was a long wedding veil. “What in the world…?”
“Here, look at this!” Sylvia cried, pointing to the edge of the underside of the veil. There was some tiny silver stitching there.
Suspicious, Tinasha got a closer look. In the script of Tuldarr was written, “To my beloved daughter Tinasha. May you grow up healthy.”
“Oh my…,” Tinasha said, gaping in shock at seeing her own name there.
This veil was a present sent to the palace from parents whose names and faces Tinasha had never known. They’d sent it as a gift for the child that’d been taken from them.
Tinasha didn’t know what to say. Some unknown emotion was burning hot inside her.
Frozen, Tinasha stood there staring at the silver embroidery.

On the night of his fifth visit, Oscar again brought the dragon and appeared to be in unusually high spirits. Sprawled on the bed, Clara watched his back as he dressed. “Why are you in such a good mood today?”
“Am I?”
“You’re acting like you are.”
He chuckled, buckling on his sword belt. “My girl found something interesting. She’s so cute when she’s happy. And what she found will look really good on her when she’s a bride.”
“…When she’s a bride?” Clara repeated, feeling rage boil low in her belly. While this was a brothel, it was still considered insensitive to discuss other women in the bedroom. Oscar was probably doing it on purpose. He was implying he didn’t consider her an option.
Clara understood as much. She meant to keep her feelings to herself, but hearing Oscar speak that way of someone else proved too much to bear. She dug her nails into the pillow. Her obsession with him ran too deep; it tilted dangerously toward hatred.
“I want to kill him…” The unbidden whisper startled even Clara.
“You’ll keep your promise tomorrow?” Oscar asked, his tone lighthearted.
“…Yes.”
“Don’t expect to get off easy if you break your word.”
“I am aware.”
Oscar left the room without looking back once.
As Clara watched the door close behind him, she weighed her own emotions with lifeless eyes. Should she love him or kill him?
Morning arrived quickly.
Clara had spent the entire time worrying. She didn’t sleep a wink, though she might have had flashes of dreams.
Beneath her love for Oscar was a desire to kill him. She herself didn’t know what she wanted to do. This was the first time in her life she’d agonized over anything to such an extent.
Unfortunately, the appointed final meeting arrived all too soon.
With makeup covering the dark circles under her eyes, Clara welcomed Oscar with Simon at her side. They did not go to the usual room but to a hall used for banquets.
Oscar was sitting cross-legged directly on the floor, the dragon in his lap. Calm in the face of potential death, he annoyed Clara deeply. “All right, time to let me hear it.”
“Are you prepared?” Clara asked.
“I don’t plan to die,” Oscar assured her. That was enough to settle Clara’s mind for her.
His strength was merely arrogance. Why wouldn’t he look at her? Was he trying to cast her aside? The more she yearned for him, the more she hated how unshakable he was.
A bitter smile came to her lips. She turned back to Simon and gave a signal.
He strummed the zither, the note trembling in the air and casting a gloomy pall over the room.
Clara took a breath of air and then began to sing. In song, she sobbed out the passions she could no longer hold back.

“Here is a forbidden place, a room with no air.
I sing a song that no one listens to.
A flower falls into my hand, leaving not a single petal behind.
You are not here—you are not anywhere.
My hands grab onto nothing at all.
Should night come again tomorrow, I may as well die.
Here is a forbidden place, a dream with no air.”

Clara’s hands trembled.
She didn’t know if she was standing upright. She looked at Oscar and saw that he was listening intently, no change in expression.
She wanted him so badly she thought she’d go crazy.
She was afraid of the song coming to an end. Not even she could guess what would happen when it finally did. Clara’s voice clung to the melody Simon plucked on his instrument, but then she realized he had stopped playing and whirled around.
Simon’s eyes were wide in shock. For the first time, Clara became aware that there was a second voice singing the song. It trilled the same words and hit the same notes in perfect synchronization. Careful listening revealed that the second singer had to be someone other than Clara, however.
Immediately, Clara silenced herself.
A beat later, the other voice stopped, too.
She glanced at Oscar and saw him grinning with amusement. She flew into a rage and shrieked, “Why?! What did you do?!”
“What did I do…? Come to think of it, you wanted to know about my girl. Allow me to introduce Tinasha.”
His final word was addressed to the dragon on his lap. With a glimmer of magic, the creature became an attractive woman.
Her skin was white as porcelain, and her hair was black as night. She was breathtakingly beautiful.
In her dark eyes was a glint of displeasure. From her position on Oscar’s lap, she threw Clara and Simon a cold glance. Oscar kissed the witch’s cheek, then whispered into her ear, “Which one’s the leader?”
“He is,” she replied without hesitation.
“I thought so. I completely wasted my time.”
“Wasted?!” Clara exploded. An insuppressible sense of defeat welled up inside her.
…She never thought it would be her.
Fury clouded the courtesan’s mind. She wanted to rip Oscar away from Tinasha.
While Clara seethed, Simon stood up behind her. He reached out a hand to the two guests, but the witch commanded, “Don’t move. If you do, I will judge you to be in opposition and kill you.”
Simon’s lips curled into a sneer. A spell configuration manifested in his open hand.
Then he was sent flying. He collided hard with the far wall and fell limply to the floor. Clara stared at the sight, unable to believe her eyes. She staggered over to Simon, who wasn’t moving. His wrist was bent at a sickening angle. He looked like a broken doll, and Clara saw red.
“What did you do to him?!”
“I warned him,” the witch said, swiftly rising to her feet. Her threatening aura filled and dominated the room.
It was the same pressure that had proven frightening to tens of thousands of soldiers. Clara was undaunted, however.
“How dare you! He was the only thing I had in this world! What do you know?!”
“I won’t know anything unless you tell me. Or was he so important to you that you wish to meet him in death?”
“Die! Both of you!”
Nothing mattered anymore.
After a moment of hesitation in the face of Clara’s mad frenzy, the witch drew up a spell to fire intangible power at her.
From behind, Oscar got to his feet and stayed her hand, however. “Wait—don’t kill her,” he insisted.
Tinasha threw him a sour look. “She might not have been the instigator, but dozens of people are dead.”
“Everyone’s wished they could kill someone.”
“She’s thinking of killing you. A tiny splinter could be made a sword with time. It’s best to nip it off now.”
“Don’t bother with her. Stop.”
Tinasha sighed heavily at getting told over and over to hold back. She dismissed her spell and faced Oscar. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling attached.”
“I’ll take her statement through the proper channels. It’ll teach the noblemen a lesson, too.”
“I wish there was something that would teach you a lesson.”
Tinasha waved her hand, and Clara collapsed.

With the main offender dead, his accomplice—Clara—was banished from Farsas. As Als looked between Clara’s written testimony and the investigation report, he let out a whistle of admiration. “That Simon guy made it look like suicide, but he was the one actually killing them. What a letdown.”
“That was the easiest way to do it,” replied Tinasha as she sipped her tea in the king’s study. The matter was all resolved now. “The woman had a bit of magic, too. She hadn’t undergone any training, but she could layer it on top of her song to give her a degree of control over the mood of her listener. The audience would get depressed and think they were about to commit suicide. That’s when Simon would strike.”
Oscar voiced a doubt after her succinct summary. “That woman believed herself to possess some other sort of power.”
“Everyone she wished dead went ahead and died one after another. It’s only natural she’d think something like that after a while. The man egged her on repeatedly, too,” Tinasha explained.
“What an incredible tale…” Als sighed, looking up at the ceiling. All the secrets had been revealed, but the case itself remained so peculiar that he had a hard time believing it all. “But what was his aim in the first place?”
Chin resting in her hands and a sullen look on her face, Tinasha answered, “My guess is that Simon just wanted to give Clara what she wanted. Evidently, this all started when a patron cruelly insulted her. Then he created the song for her. Their signal was that she would sing the song to someone she wanted dead. She was the one who selected their victims.”
“And the tavern singer happened to hear the song and decided to make a name for herself by singing it, too?” asked Als.
“The tavern singer was the superior performer. The tune was designed to manipulate emotions. An exceptional voice meant that no magic was needed. To sum it all up, everything stemmed from the man who composed the song. Truthfully, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen such a talent. If he’d been part of the royal court, a skill like that might’ve changed history.”
After Tinasha brought the topic to a close, she returned her empty cup to the tray. Directing a frigid look at Oscar, she asked, “So how much of a lecture do you want to hear?”
Oscar grimaced. “You’ve already blown up the study; isn’t that enough?”
“Of course it’s not,” she retorted.
Als looked around the room. They weren’t in Oscar’s normal workplace. The witch had completely destroyed that room. That had been the perfect opportunity to move Oscar to a room more suitable for a king. At present, Als, Oscar, and Tinasha were standing in the new study. Oscar grumbled as he processed paperwork. “I swore Als to secrecy and everything… I never thought Doan would uncover the composer.”
“How blessed you are to have such talented subjects. If you haven’t learned your lesson, I’ll hang you from the tower.”
After taking care of the tavern situation, Doan had conducted further investigation to prevent any more trouble. In the course of his work, he’d determined that the song originated from a brothel. As soon as Tinasha heard that, she grilled Lazar and confirmed that requests had come in from noblemen.
Then she visited the brothel herself.
On the night before, Oscar had returned from a meeting with Clara and was hard at work with Als. Suddenly, the door to the room blew apart, startling the two men.
The witch strolled in through the wreckage of the door. Her eyes came to rest on Oscar, and she smiled widely. It was the expression of a monarch—bereft of innocence. She opened both arms wide and called up a gigantic spell. Adorably tilting her head to one side, Tinasha asked, “You can die when you hear the song or die now by my hand. Which do you choose?”
“………”
Immediately, Oscar and Als realized their secret was out. Als squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of death.
Magic rolled off the witch in unrestrained waves. One by one, the vases and jars decorating the room exploded. Oscar considered how to react for a moment. He decided to start by asking, “Where did you hear about it?”
“I interrogated the brothel owner.”
“Is he still alive?”
“I didn’t hurt him, although I don’t think he’ll sleep easy for a while.”
A windowpane groaned a terrible sound before shattering. A calm night breeze blew in from outside.
As that breeze swept past her, Tinasha flashed a wickedly beautiful grin.
It was her witch’s smile, capable of entrancing all who saw it and driving them to death. Her voice sounded like clear ice breaking to pieces as she said, “No matter how many times I tell you, it seems you never quite understand. It’s getting quite irritating. Giving in to curiosity and overestimating your own abilities… Since it sounds like you want to die in a terribly boring way, I can just kill you now. Go on, stretch out your neck.”
She sounded dead serious.
A table and shelves burst to splinters. Als gasped at the frightening level of destruction. He wasn’t sure if he should get between Oscar and Tinasha or not, but he also didn’t think he could do anything to improve the situation.
Oscar stood up and met the witch’s gaze head-on. “Just wait a moment, Tinasha.”
“Shut up.”
The well-constructed desk Oscar regularly used split in two as easily as paper. The walls began to bend at a convex angle with a stomach-churning sound. Powerful winds stirred piles of documents into a vortex.
Oscar strode over the broken desk and approached the floating witch. With a hand, he reached out to her.
“Don’t touch me,” Tinasha snapped, trying to use magic to repel him. However, her own protective barrier canceled it out, and she was unable to.
Oscar pulled her into his arms, center of the storm as she was. “I’m sorry,” he admitted.
“Do you think this is something an apology can solve?”
“I don’t, but I’m apologizing anyway.”
Tinasha bit her lip. She looked down at Oscar with utter detestation.
The witch stared into the king’s eyes. They appeared calm but also slightly anxious.
Despite Tinasha being a witch, Oscar never showed any sign of being afraid of her. She liked that but also hated it.
“I want to bite you to pieces.”
“If that will make you feel better.”
“It won’t.”
“So I’d get bit for nothing.”
Tinasha raked Oscar’s hair up into disarray. She cradled his head and stared at him. “I owe you a lot, so I’m going to let this go. But if you do this again, I’m going back to my tower.”
“I understand. I’ll bear that in mind.”
For quite a while, Tinasha stayed gripping Oscar’s head. After venting all her frustration, she released him with a deep sigh. Slipping out of his grasp, she floated into the air.
His life spared, Oscar surveyed the room and blithely declared, “It’s totaled.”
When the witch heard that, she clicked her tongue in annoyance.
On the day after the old study’s destruction, Als was sipping tea in the new study as he muttered, “I really thought I was gonna die. Stop getting me involved in your schemes.”
“Lazar said the same thing to me earlier,” Oscar noted.
“It’s what you deserve,” Tinasha spat coldly, though she still refilled Oscar’s cup. That done, she sat herself down on the armrest of Oscar’s chair. “If you want to go around womanizing, just take an official consort or royal mistress or something. Are you an idiot, wandering around outside like that? Are you an idiot king?”
“It wasn’t like I meant to get up to any debauchery…”
“Shut up.”
“………”
Evidently, the witch was still angry. Like a child, she kicked Oscar in the shin with her heel. “In four hundred years, I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad, and you’re not even an enemy.”
“Well then, I’m glad.”
“You shouldn’t be!”
Using a kick to push herself forward, Tinasha slid off the armrest. Hands on her hips, she faced Oscar and stared him down. “…Well… Even if I get mad, it has no effect on you… So whatever. I feel like I’m just wasting my power by getting upset.”
Tinasha gave a little shrug, accompanied by the same sort of cute smile she usually wore. She reached out and patted Oscar’s head. The motion was so gentle that his eyes narrowed happily.
Oscar caught the witch’s hand and pressed a kiss to the top of it. “Once I have you, I won’t need anything else,” he said.
“That isn’t possible, so you need to choose someone properly,” Tinasha replied firmly. Then she let out a loud, high laugh. It was like the sound of a flower bursting into bloom.