"Ghost, Sleep On My Chest!" V3 Chapter 2 - Fool's Trap
"You know, Orphen, sometimes I think—"
"Sometimes I think, Cleao—"
They said to each other at the same time.
"You're such a womanizer."
"You're such a selfish girl."
Shh... The carriage fell silent. It seemed like even the horses, with the gentle sound of their footsteps, felt a chill from the invisible sparks coming off of the two on the coachman's stand. Orphen could feel the two mares' agitation through the reins in his hand.
He tried not to look at the petite girl sitting beside him on the platform, and murmured lowly.
"How am I a womanizer?"
"How am I selfish?"
The conversation came to an abrupt stop. The landscape around them drifted backward at the same speed as the carriage. The wind was blowing, rustling the undergrowth and pulling a few specks of dust up from the bare dirt of the road. The sun was about to turn south.
Orphen bitterly recalled the night before, when Majic and Cleao were arguing about something to do with dinner, and he hadn't been sure how to explain it when he'd brought Hirietta back in her blood-soaked leather suit. In the end, he told them the truth. He told him that he didn't know what was going on, but that apparently she'd been sent to take care of him.
The next morning, Hirietta had disappeared. She left a note at Orphen's bedside.
The note said that she had urgent business to attend to, and if he wanted to meet her client, he should go there, too.
But, be that as it may, the note was a bad idea — perhaps Cleao misunderstood her in some strange way. At the very least, she must've misunderstood the reason that he'd been with Hirietta all night. She didn't directly mention it to him, though.
"It's been almost a month since we met—"
Cleao's lip stuck out as if she was pinching it with her fingers, and she continued.
"First you proposed to my sister."
"That was a ruse, and it was that tanuki Vulcan that came up with the idea in the first place."
"At that inn on the side of the road, you also touched the waitress's butt. Quite glamorous.
"That was purely a misunderstanding. No, you see — the more volume, the greater the chance a hand will bump into it."
"Even that last time in Alenhatam—"
"If you're talking about Steph, she's just a friend."
"Yeah right — Then there was that other girl. You rarely eat sweets, but you were buying crepes from her. That was definitely the look of a man trying to hook a woman. She was cute, too."
"Yeah, I bought those for you, because you were in a bad mood. What, you're mad at me for that?"
"No. Before that, you waved to the young girl in the next carriage."
"You think you're quite the judge of character, don't you...? But she waved at me first."
"You should've just ignored her! Besides, nowadays, every time you stay at an inn, you and Majic shut yourselves up in your room and lock me out. That's just a filthy thing to do."
"You know what? It can't be helped if you have nothing to contribute to a sorcery lecture."
"............"
Hearing that, Cleao closed her mouth for a while — before long, her eyes lit up as if she'd suddenly remembered something, and her voice was bright and cheerful, as if she'd forgotten all of her complaints up until that point.
"I want to learn sorcery too!"
"No."
Orphen said immediately.
Cleao leaned forward in disapproval.
"Why not?"
"Because it's pointless. And you can't pay the monthly tuition, anyway, can you? Even then, that sorcerer kid's an actual student of mine, you know? His father pays the monthly fee. It's transferred into a trust bank every month."
That was why he had to stop by a big city once a month. On top of that, since it took a few days to get in touch with the Totokanta bank by carrier pigeon, he had to stay in town for that time.
Unlike sleeping in the open on the side of the road, there were limits when it came to paying for lodging.
Cleao stared thoughtfully into the void for a moment and then asked.
"Aside from the monthly fees... Why is it 'pointless?'"
"A person without the right qualities can't use sorcery. It's hereditary, so there's nothing you can do about it. Aside from being reborn."
"Reborn, huh..."
Cleao made a yearning sound as she heard the words. When he looked at her like this, out in a place like that, she was just a pretty girl. However — Orphen added with a sigh — if you'd ever seen her rampage with a sword, you'd realize you made a terrible mistake.
"If I were to be born again, I'd want to be a sorcerer."
Cleao said comfortably, swaying her body sideways. Orphen threw a sideways glance at her and asked.
"Do you believe in reincarnation? Well, if there were such a thing, I'd like to be born the second daughter of a rich man. I'd live a good life, and I wouldn't go on the road with some lowly moneylender on his way to collect his debts."
"What is that? Is that your way of getting back at me?"
"Well, that aside, you chose to follow me of your own accord, and I don't really care, even if you steal my money to buy clothes and stuff. I don't really mean that you're a selfish girl. It's just, why did you decide to follow me around?"
"Hmm~?"
He could see Cleao frowning from embarrassment. He figured that she would just ignore him and shut up, but she didn't. She simply wasn't sure what to say. She chose her words carefully and then gave an answer that was completely irrelevant.
"I wasn't expecting to hear that question, Orphen."
She scritched her chin with her fingertip before continuing.
"But, you know, I thought you'd have to ask it eventually. That's why I had an answer prepared..."
"What is it?"
"Um. Well, Orphen, you called me your 'partner' a while ago."
"..........."
Orphen didn't answer. He just felt himself getting nervous.
Cleao continued regardless.
"I don't know how to say it, but I was just a lady before, wasn't I? — What's with the doubtful look?"
"No, it's nothing..."
Orphen looked away.
"Well, it was the first time I saw a man like you, Orphen. How would you say that, like a mobster?"
"...Why you—"
"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. Anyway, that's when I thought, I wanted to be an equal to you, Orphen — Yeah, I wanted to be your 'partner.'"
"...Why?"
He managed to utter with a hoarse voice — Undoubtedly, he remembered saying it. He only meant it light heartedly, so perhaps she had misunderstood, he thought.
"Well, I think that you're a great person Orphen, and I want to feel the same way."
"... That's ridiculous, you're already a wonderful person..."
"Yeah?"
Cleao grinned, but Orphen was in no mood to laugh back. He felt as if he was being prodded in a vital point with a needle.
(Okay, she's saying she won't be satisfied until she makes me yell at her.)
Then...
"Masteeerrr!"
Majic's face popped out from the top of the wagon's bed, which looked like a cylinder split lengthwise and laid flat. He could see Cleao glaring at him with a stern look — perhaps he'd been ordered not to show his face — but it was rather a saving grace for Orphen. The sweaty Majic, who'd apparently been working hard to stay still under the hot hood, opened his mouth as if he was at the end of his rope.
"Are we not there yet? That village called Kinkhall? That's where we're staying, right?"
"Yeah."
Orphen pulled Hirietta's note from his pants pocket. He opened it with one hand and followed it with his eyes.
"She left this message. For now, let's meet at this village."
That wasn't all that was written on the paper, but he crumpled it up and quickly tucked it back into his pocket.
"What's this about Kinkhall?
"I don't know. I've never heard of it. Wait, no... I heard that there was some famous sorcerer who lived there."
"A sorcerer? Was he from the Tower of Fang?"
Majic asked. Orphen nodded.
"Yeah, but he was expelled from the Tower because he was obsessed with some crazy research or something. Or did he mess with the elder's secretary? Anyway, I heard that he continued his research in the village, despite being called an evil heretic"
"...I feel like you're talking in the past tense..."
"Well, yeah. He's probably not alive anymore. I haven't heard any rumors about his death, but it was nearly fifty years ago when he was expelled from the tower, and if he were still alive, he would be over a hundred years old this year. There's a possibility he's still alive, but..."
"I know an old lady who says she'll be 120 next year."
"Yeah, sure."
Orphen patted Cleao on the head and breathed a sigh of relief under his breath. In the end, after they'd gotten this far, Cleao was no longer thinking about all of that 'partner' stuff — that's just the kind of girl she was. Although, he wasn't sure what she was really thinking deep down inside.
In any case, Orphen felt relieved, but then, as if he were touching a sore tooth, he thought about the note in his pocket from Hirietta. He hadn't told Majic or Cleao, but there was another, perhaps more important message left on that cheap piece of paper. It was a very joking sentence.
[I really don't care if I'm following my original sponsor's request or Ostwald's, y'know?]
In other words, she was threatening to kill him if he didn't come to Kinkhall.
The horse-drawn carriage continued along the road until they were nearing Kinkhall. As they turned onto the side road leading to the village they could see a small white church rising from the shade of a distant hill. Majic, who was sitting on the coachmen's bench with Orphen instead of Cleao this time, exclaimed in admiration.
"Woah—"
"? What is it?"
Orphen asked, not sure what they were on about — Aside from the village's horses, there was nothing special, it was just another frontier village. Wheat fields spread across the land, bathed in the sunset like a harvest stained gold. However, it wasn't the atmosphere of a rustic depopulated area, but rather, it felt like the suburbs on the outskirts of cities. Actually, on that note, it wasn't even 100 kilometers from the ancient capital of Alenhatem, one of the four major cities of the continent of Kiesalhima.
As they continued along on their way, they saw an elegant mansion with a magnificent gate, a small school that looked well maintained, a small office for an officer that had been trusted by the central government to maintain security in the small village, and a farm. A child a little younger than Majic was staring over his shoulder at them, his pitchfork stabbed into a haystack. An old shepherd was sitting near the child. It seemed like he'd retired, leaving his original job of chasing sheep to his children. The sounds of dogs chasing the sheep could also be heard on the distant wind.
However, nothing unusual was going on.
"What's wrong, Majic?"
He answered with a twinkle.
"It's such a nice place, isn't it?"
Orphen answered casually.
"Maybe."
"...What do you mean, maybe? Master, have you been here before? Maybe after living some secret life for six months, with a local wife and an illegitimate child?"
"What do you mean by 'before'... No, never mind, this is my first time coming here. When I say maybe, all I mean is don't be fooled by appearances."
—The curtains of the carriage opened right behind him, as if on cue, and Cleao emerged from the curtains. Her hair was a little disheveled from her nap, but her skin was a little damp, as if she'd washed her face to avoid looking sleepy. Orphen pointed at her and continued.
"This here's a good example."
"... I see..."
Cleao threw a glare at Majic, who was nodding in deep contemplation.
"What are you so sure of?"
"Oh, nothing..."
Majic mumbled quickly and turned to look in a completely unrelated direction. Orphen glared back at Cleao.
"Hey, put your sword back in your luggage. You'll be mistaken for a bandit and I don't want to get caught in the crossfire."
"I know, I know. I'm not that stupid."
If that were true, she wouldn't be carrying a sword around in the first place, Orphen thought, but he wasn't reckless enough to say it out loud. If he offended this girl, he'd regret it later in a number of ways.
Cleao looked around the area with a rather uninterested look on her face, and asked in an annoyed tone.
"By the way, why would they bother specifying this village as a meeting point? Hey, Orphen? That person, I mean?"
Orphen bitterly recalled that she'd already been in a bad mood. She was leaning forward out of the canopy, so the ends of her hair were hanging around his shoulders. It was somewhat like having a snake coiled around you. Not a pleasant feeling. He didn't look at Cleao, but replied anyway.
"So... I've probably already told you about my current situation, right?
"You were wooed by a beautiful call girl, and then she ran away the next morning, and you chased her ass all the way to this village, is that it?"
"Oh please! I don't even know her that well!"
Orphen turned to Cleao, answering her in at an almost screaming volume.
"I don't know much about her, but she's a mercenary — she said so herself. And she was hired by someone to escort me.
The reason he'd described Hirietta as a "mercenary" instead of an "assassin" was simply because he didn't want to complicate the story.
Cleao was still skeptical, but she nevertheless softened her hostility a little.
"... Why do you need an escort, Orphen?"
"Someone's targeting me at the moment."
Orphen turned forward again, mumbling. The carriage slowly drove through the village toward a possible inn. Majic joined the conversation — smiling, but in a cold sweat.
"Um, by any chance, does that mean someone's got a hit out on me as well?"
"...I'm sure you'll be fine. There'd be no point in killing you."
"Oh. Thank goodness.
"What do you mean "Thank goodness"? We're talking about your master's life here! Well, besides. They might want to get rid of you too, just in case you might come along later to avenge your master's death."
"I wouldn't ever think of doing something like that—!"
"... Who are you screaming at?"
"Oh, uhh, no one, I'm just hoping any little birdies fluttering around these mountains might've heard me..."
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about.... But anyway. Whatever's going on, it seems I've got multiple assassins trying to kill me."
"But ...... who would want to kill you, Orphen?"
Cleao asked. Orphen answered casually.
"You know I used to be a small-time money lender. Now I don't have the money to lend, so all I do is collect, which means I have to go after that fucking idiot, Vulcan, to collect on his debts... But, at some point, I took on a couple of clients besides that lucky tanuki, using that guy Bagup back in Totokanta as an intermediary to get a few customers."
"Were you able to collect all the debts from them?"
"Out of the seven, 6 of them tried to run, and I caught 5. At that point, four of them had assets that could be used for money, and three of them were willing to pay the money back. Two of those changed their minds and ran away. One was hospitalized with a herniated disc in a traffic accident, and the other was caught by the police after a dine and dash, but punched the police officer who arrested him, and ended up going to jail."
"...Life countdown..."
Majic mumbled, horrified.
"But — You..."
When Cleao started to say something, he realized how shocked she was to hear him say all that, even if it was something she'd already known. He reached his hand out and placed it on her shoulder for comfort.
"But Orphen, when you say that six out of the first seven people ran away, that means one of them didn't run away, right? Didn't you get your debt back from that person?"
With a heavy heart, Orphen turned his head toward Cleao.
"That guy was that lucky tanuki. In his case, he simply didn't have the wherewithal to run away."
"... That sounds hopeless..."
"Maybe you've run out of lives, Master, so now you're being targeted by assassins."
"Life mirrors a person's character. It's a clear record of what type of person you are."
"Why the hell should I listen to you people...?"
Orphen grumbled deep in his throat and continued.
"Whatever the case, legitimate money lenders have received permission from the government office, but money lenders in general are more like the mob. To registered money lenders, thugs like me are an eye sore. Nevertheless, the less you have to report to the government, the better the conditions for doing business."
Majic and Cleao interrupted each other with the same suspicious look in their eyes.
"Even though you're getting zero return on your investment."
"Shut up! Anyway, the head of the financial business in Totokanta is a guy named Xanadu Ostwald. He's a disgusting bastard in a fancy suit accompanied by an ex-model mistress and other big-ass cronies in tow. You don't ever want to run into him."
"... What the hell..."
"Nevermind that! The point is, that's the type of guy he is! He hired a hit man to kill me. He probably wanted to make an example for all of the other small-time moneylenders operating in Totokanta. Someone found out about it and hired a bodyguard to protect me."
Even as he said it, he knew he was lying — Hirietta had said as much, that Ostwald's request was second fiddle. In other words, that "certain person" who made the initial request took priority for her — and likely made their request before Ostwald's. For Hirietta, Ostwald's request was nothing more than a mere coincidences. It was also conceivable, however, that she'd taken the original request to find a sorcerer, heard rumors of Ostwald wanting to kill a sorcerer, and took advantage of the opportunity.
(But what's her end game? If she just wants to find a sorcerer...)
However, it served no purpose to confuse Cleao and Majic with such questions. After all, he was the one being targeted, not his companions.
"Do you understand?"
Orphen asked, looking back into the two pairs of eyes. However, all he got in return was Cleao's slightly annoyed sigh.
"Uh... huh—"
"Uh-huh? Did I make myself unclear?
"No, I understand what's going on, Orphen, but you've been looking away for a while..."
"So what? The horses aren't going to stray from the road just because I'm not looking—"
"No, it's just, it looks like you just ran over someone. Look."
Shit—
"..........."
The vivid sound that came from under the wheels was so loud that sweat dripped from Orphen's expressionless face.
"Uuuhhmmm..."
Stumped for words, Orphen looked at each of the two passengers in turn. Cleao and Majic smiled slyly and mumbled a few words each.
"I'll be waiting for you when you get out of prison, okay?"
"Rest assured, I'll live a long and happy life."
"You guys..."
Orphen groaned, but pulled the reins and stopped the carriage anyway. Instead of being panicked, the mares looked at him with a rather annoyed look (or so Orphen thought) and stopped. Jumping off of the coachmen's seat in a hurry, the first thing he saw was...
A dwarf boy who was dragging a huge snake skin and a wooden box.
"Ah—"
Orphen recognizes the desperate look from behind the boy's glasses.
"Dortin!"
"Loan shark!"
"They screamed at each other. Orphen glanced down at the carriage.
"Then that—"
Sure enough, under the wheels, struggling with seeming impunity, was a shaggy-headed dwarf in a tattered fur cloak, carrying a sword. Who else would be carrying a sword in a place like this? He didn't seem to notice him yet, but...
"Hey! Hey! I don't know who you are, but really, suddenly stepping on the back of someone's head! If you don't get away from me right now, I'll beat you into a chair and kill you!"
The sun was setting. The sound of crows echoed from beyond the mountains and forests.
Kinkhall Village was about to get noisy with the welcoming of five new travelers, which was unusual.
There was only one inn in Kinkhall. The village, which was only a short distance off the highway, didn't have any specialties, and few travelers considered the village a destination.
Why was hard to say, but from what he could see, the only inn in the village wasn't much different from a private house. It was originally a slightly renovated mansion built by a prominent figure in Alenhatam who'd decided to live in the suburbs on a whim, although it didn't look all that comfortable.
"... But why did the master give up his mansion?"
Orphen asked, letting a child who looked like a servant of the inn carry his luggage. He followed after Majic and Cleao, climbing the stairs. Incidentally, Vulcan and Dortin seemed to be living in the kitchen of the inn as helpers, and they quickly retreated back to it as soon as he'd arrived at the inn.
The reply came in a timely fashion. Apparently, he was always listening to their guests.
"He died a strange death — but he didn't die in this house, so don't worry. He died far outside the village."
The boy, a little younger than Majic, continued with a twinkle in his round eyes.
"He was killed by a sorcerer."
"A sorcerer?"
Cleao asked back. She was following close behind.
The boy seemed to think he would get a tip if he told a good story, so he answered in a loud voice.
"Yeah. On the outskirts of town. He was named Phono-something-or-another."
"Phonogolos."
Orphen made a single correction. The boy looked at him dumbfounded for a moment.
"Yeah. Phonogolos. There's a sorcerer's mansion with that name on the outskirts of the village. It's abandoned now, and everyone says it's haunted."
"A haunted mansion?"
He turned around at the sound and saw Cleao's face light up as she clapped her hands together in front of her chest. The blue twin eyes—as usual—looked strangely animated as she came up with some absurd idea. Her shrill voice echoed throughout the inn.
"That sounds like so much fun!"
"Are you kidding me?"
Majic blurted out, looking back at Cleao with a look of disbelief. However, perhaps overwhelmed by Cleao's spirit, he looked back at Orphen with a hesitant look.
"She's kidding, right?"
"It's Cleao, of course she's serious."
Orphen muttered with a sigh of resignation. He pointed a finger over Majic's head at Cleao and shouted.
"I don't need to remind you now that every time you get involved in something 'interesting', things get real messy real fast."
Cleao looked away with a huff.
"That's not true."
"So she doesn't even realize she's doing it."
But when they got to the room, Cleao seemed to have easily forgotten about the subject. The room, which was apparently a modified bedroom, wasn't very spacious, with two beds lined up on the floor. There was originally only one window in the room, which was a small window for lighting, but one of the closets had been dismantled to make room for a second larger window to be installed. The walls of the sturdy structure were covered with wallpaper sporting an ivy and leaves pattern, which wasn't very tasteful, and it seemed that the innkeeper had put it up while renovating the room.
After placing a (slightly larger) tip in the boy's hand and shooing him away, Cleao began to make her bed in a good mood. She glanced at Majic and Orphen, who threw their luggage into the corner of the room, while examining the layout of the room and the contents of the built-in closet. Orphen suddenly noticed Cleao running around in the dim light of the gas lamp.
"— Hey Cleao, why are you in the same room as us?"
"Huh?"
Cleao stopped with a startled squeak.
"Because this room has three beds."
".........."
Orphen turned a sideways glance at the simple, smaller bed cramped between the other two beds. Then after covering the line of sight, he looked back at Cleao, who returned an affirming smile.
"In that case, the elders should get the best spot."
"That's inappropriate."
Majic suddenly spoke up in a tone that made Orphen and Cleao unsure of who he was talking to.
"Young men and women shouldn't have adjoining beds."
"No one said anything like that..."
Orphen looked at Cleao, scratching his head in annoyance. The girl was looking back at him with a scowl, her shoulders slightly slumped and swathed in a wisp of her blonde hair. Orphen, with a sigh under his breath, had an idea.
"You've got some kind of plan, don't you?"
"You can tell?"
Cleao answered with a sly grin.
"You're going to give Majic a lecture on sorcery now, aren't you? Then I'll have to listen in as well."
"I told you it's pointless to ask..."
Orphen took off his jacket and sat down on the nearest bed. He'd reckoned with it in a short time — but to be blunt, he'd rather die than share a room with this girl. Not for any particular reason, but because if Cleao was nearby, he just knew there was bound to be trouble. It wasn't like lectures on sorcery shouldn't be heard by others. Besides, renting two rooms would be almost impossible considering the amount of pocket change they had left on hand. They usually slept in the carriage, so even if they were almost penniless, it wasn't that much of a problem on the road...
(Well, whatever.)
"The lecture is after dinner."
When Orphen said this, Cleao literally jumped up and down and cheered. Orphen had no idea what she was so happy about, though.
(...she doesn't really think she can become a sorcerer, does she...? Well, there's no harm in thinking so.)
He figured at the time.
"Even though I said today was going to be a lecture, it's more like an exam."
Aside from Cleao whining about whether there'd be a shower after dinner, the time passed peacefully. He was gathered in a room with Cleao and Majic. Cleao's train of thought had drifted back to Orphen's line, which she mumbled as he opened the window.
"An exam?"
"That's right."
Orphen turned his attention to Majic, who was sitting on the bed next to Cleao. He sat down on the open window sill.
"Now, I want you to tell me everything that I've been teaching you over the past while, and since Cleao will be here, I want to explain it in a way that even she can understand."
"And do it right."
Cleao, acting like an overzealous mother on a class trip, said to Majic.
"Right..."
Majic glanced at Cleao. Judging from his expression he wasn't very confident, but he looked up at the sky and began to speak anyway.
"On this continent, there are roughly seven kinds of what we call sorcery."
He tilted his head as if trying to remember.
"Six of them were created by the six dragon races who, in ancient times, stole the power of 'sorcery' from the gods, which at the time was known as 'magic,' and the remaining one was inherited by us humans from one of those dragon races, the celestials, in the form of mixed blood — Um, Master."
Orphen replied to Majic's call with his arms folded and eyes closed.
"What?"
"Can I check my cheat sheet?"
"No."
Majic sighed at the immediate answer. He continued with a look of helplessness.
"The ability we use is called 'Sorcery' — and the omnipotent power that the gods have had since the birth of the world is called 'Magic'. So 'magic' and 'sorcery' have different meanings. Nothing is impossible with the power of the gods, but there are limits to what our "sorcery" can do. There are also individual differences within those limits—"
"We call those individual difference 'talent'."
Following Majic's lead, Orphen sat up from the window sill. He waved his hand at Majic as if he had just noticed.
"Oops — my bad. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"No... Well, that's what I mean. We haven't yet come to a conclusion as to what causes this difference in abilities. It has nothing to do with physical strength, and it has nothing to do with age... Though it's true that proficiency increases your magical abilities."
As Cleao listened, he saw her put her hand over her lips as if she were thinking a little. She seemed to stiffen in that pose for a moment, then abruptly opened her mouth.
"Why don't we put all the strong sorcerers together and see what they have in common?"
"I had to think about that myself."
Orphen smiled a little bitterly.
"Back in the Childman Class — there were a total of seven sorcerers in the class that I attended at the Tower of Fang, including myself. The teacher, Childman, was a different class all together, but even so, every student there was among the best in the Tower. All seven of them—"
He shrugged.
"They were completely different types of sorcerers. I guess you could say they had nothing in common at all. Well, forget about that, Majic, this is just a general overview, and I'm sure Cleao isn't interested in all that either. Let's move on."
"Ohh... Well, what we're dealing with is something called Voice Magic, which is within the top two most powerful magical arts on the continent."
"One or two is a bit much, isn't it?"
When Orphen interjected, Majic corrected himself.
"Well, it's not a weak category."
"If we were to rank them in a very general way, the most powerful of the seven kinds of sorcery is the Destruction Magic used by the War Dragon race.
"What?"
Cleao asked back in a sharp tone.
"That's right. Literally, it's a type of sorcery that only destroys something — or everything. It's also the origin of the name of the name the "Steel Warhorse" (War Dragon). The next most powerful is the Wyrd Dragons — The Wyrd (Silence Magic) that we often call ancient sorcery. Then comes the Dark Magic used by the black wolves of the abyss (Deep Dragons), and our Voice Magic comes next after that."
Magic shrugged his shoulders and turned to Cleao, as if to pick up after Orphen, who had left the window.
"The most striking feature of our Voice Magic is that we use our voice — in other words, spells — to carry out our sorcery. Therefore, the effects of the sorcery can't reach where the voice casting the spell doesn't reach, and the effects won't last forever. This is because the voice cannot be preserved in its original state. Moreover, there are two types of Voice Magic, with the type that I and my Master deal with being called 'Black Magic.'"
"Black Magic is sorcery that deals with physical energy such as waves and matter — the physical body itself."
Orphen left the window, walked across the room, turned around and went back to the window, and continued in a lecturing tone.
"White Magic, on the contrary, manipulates time and the mind. Well, there's a saying that Black Magic deals with real events and White Magic manipulates things that don't actually exist. In general, White Magic is much more technically advanced in terms of skill and is also more powerful..."
He turned back to the students sitting on the beds.
"Did you get all that, Cleao?"
"... Guh—"
"Oh come on, were you sleeping!?"
As Orphen ran over to the bed and shook her awake, Cleao replied with a mumble. She'd been lying on the bed face down.
"It's sooo boring."
"I mean really. I told you it's pointless. So what the hell did you want to hear then?"
Cleao suddenly sat up with just the front half of her body.
"How to use sorcery starting tomorrow ?"
"There's no way!"
"Then I'm going back to sleep. Zzz—"
"Fucking amateur..."
Orphen groaned as his hands trembled towards Cleao, who'd fallen back on the bed. He took a deep breath.
"Okay, listen — Even if you're pretending to be asleep. If you don't want to waste your time, forget all this nonsense about wanting to be a sorcerer. No matter how hard you try, you can't handle sorcery if you don't have the ability. A person's magical ability is purely genetic. It only exists in the first places because humans bred with dragons."
"Guh—!"
Cleao cried out while holding her pillow.
Crouching over her, Orphen added a follow-up blow.
"You may be good at whining, but if there's no use, there's no use! I don't care how much effort you waste, it's selfish, so don't bug me about this again, it's — a — pain — in — the aaasss!"
"Master...?"
Majic asked as he held his head up.
"Why does your mental age drop when you get into an argument?"
"Don't worry about it. I'm just adjusting to my opponent's level."
When Orphen turned to him, Majic asked curiously.
"I just remembered something. Master, you could tell that I had the makings of a sorcerer just by looking at me, right? How was what?"
"I didn't recognize it just by looking at you. The only types of creatures that can determine a person's qualities at first glance are monsters and gods."
Orphen sat down on Cleao's pillow, who was still stubbornly pretending to be asleep, and put his hand on her head like he was petting a cat on the back.
"That bastard Bagup, when he gets drunk, he speaks pretty fondly of his beloved. His wife — your mother — I don't know where she is now, but her name is Iris Lin. A thief. I heard a story once where she was almost recruited by a sorcerer. And you are ...... well, no matter how you look at it, you don't look anything like your father. So I figured, maybe your mother's genes were stronger."
Orphen said, remembering Majic's father, who looked like a broken-down pirate. And — in his hand, he felt a twitch and winced. Looking down, he saw that the girl had stopped pretending to be asleep and had just fluttered her eyelashes in a gesture that resembled a crane wagging its tail. Fearfully, she opens her mouth.
"I don't have the blood of a sorcerer, is that why I can't use sorcery?"
"Yeah, that's just it."
Orphen awkwardly removed his hand from her blonde hair.
"In the end though, that just means you don't have any talent for sorcery. But instead, you're Cleao Everlasting, and you're a great person that nobody else can hope to imitate, right?"
Cleao turned around and asked.
"Does that mean I have personality?"
"I don't really like the word 'personality' — It's kind of an afterthought."
"Well, that's what I mean. ...... Majic, why are you so pale and backing away?"
"No, it's just..."
With a look of disbelief, Majic replied.
"I can't believe that Master would be so concerned about you Cleao that he'd comfort you...
"Shut up!"
Orphen yelled, blushing a bit, and pulled the pillow out of Cleao's arms to slam it into Majic's face.
Ring... ring... ring...
A bell? A quiet, but unmistakable sound — coming from afar — He looked up, trying to strain my eyes, but he couldn't quite make out where it was coming from. His surroundings were pitch black, and everything had been covered in a thick fog. Only the sound of the bell continued to echo. His ears were tingling and his brain quivered in response to the sound...
"—!"
Gasp, Orphen woke from his dream, his shirt damp with night sweats. He flung off the sheets and jumped out of the cot. His heart was pounding. An indescribable terror surged through him.
(What—? What's this feeling...?)
He looked around the room, which was faintly lit by the night sky. Cleao and Majic were sleeping peacefully on the two beds that crowded the smaller one. He glanced at Majic, who was sleeping in a more nervous posture compared to Cleao, who was flopped over in a strange position. Orphen grabbed his jacket, which was draped over the back of the chair. He held it tight in his right arm, not putting it on, and closed his eyes, as if to shut out a memory — or try desperately to recall one.
Not only Orphen, but all black-magic sorcerers of the Tower of the Fang were thoroughly trained to control their own memories and mental state, at least to some extent. But—
(I can't ......?)
Orphen fumed in his heart. He was just so stirred up that his sense of normalcy was being drowned out. He couldn't even... breathe.
(Is this...... white magic ...... or ......?)
His knees wobbled and he quickly grabbed the back of his chair to keep his balance. He'd been subjected to white magic several times before. Normally, he'd never be able to confront these white-magic sorcerers, who were completely isolated from the outside world by the royal family, but some of Orphen's old companions had been well-versed in white magic as well.
However, what he was feeling now was something different.
(It's... like... I'm ceasing to be... myself — No, it's more like... my body is being taken over by someone else—)
The presence disappeared.
A chill, followed by a feeling of disgust, ran through his entire body. The next moment, Orphen slammed the chair he was holding down with all his might and screamed.
"Fuck off!"
At the same time, his magic rapidly expanded, exploding from the center of his body — it became a force that blasted through the night. A tsunami of shocwaves erupting indiscriminately around him, smashing the furniture and the room interior. The closet doors caved in, coat hangers shattered as they blew to all corners of the room, and all three of the beds were effortlessly overturned. The window shattered, a jug fell to the floor, and a gas lamp hanging loosely from the ceiling was smashed and laying in a heap.
"Aaahh!"
— It was probably Majic screaming, but Orphen didn't have time to check. The strange feeling he'd just had was gone. He stood still in the middle of the destroyed room and put his arms through his jacket. He pulled the dragon pendant from the pocket and quickly pulled it over his head, placing it around his neck.
"W-what's going on, Master!?"
Majic screamed, his face peeking out from under the overturned bed. Beside him, Cleao hugged her pillow and squinted sleepily.
Orphen lowered his voice and replied
"An enemy..."
He wasn't actually convinced of that — and even snorted to himself, wondering what he was talking about. Was it an enemy? Maybe it was just a nightmare, and he'd just jolted awake and went on a rampage. Where was the enemy, anyway—?
"An Enemy."
Orphen repeated, gently grasping the pendant at his chest with his left hand.
(What just left my body... wasn't only magical power being released.)
Horrified, he tried to recall. Something else, something foreign, had been pushed out of his body by the explosive magic.
(Then— that guy may be scattered all over the room, torn apart by my magic...)
His eyes darted around the room, sweat dripping down his face, and his gaze sharpened. Something like a black mist was drifting out from every corner of the room. A fog which seemed to dissolve into space in the darkness of the night, gradually gathering itself towards the room's center, halfway between him and Majic — where Orphen was staring out the window.
"Hey—!"
A voice cried out. Then — Boom! There was a loud knock at the door.
"Sorcerer! Hey! What's all the racket! If you can't sleep quietly you need to be steamed to death by the light of the moon!"
He listened to the noise — It was apparently Vulcan, who'd heard the commotion and came up. If so, Dortin would be with him.
The fog had already gathered into a spherical shape with a radius of about 50 centimeters and was beginning to take shape. He didn't have the time to open the door and explain the situation to them. Even if he did, Orphen didn't quite understand the situation himself.
And then — The fog, it spoke.
"—You—Resemble—"
Startled, Orphen took half a step back. The mist, which had once gathered into a spherical shape, was gradually stretching upwards, about to take the form of a humanoid.
The mist continued to raise its voice. It was indeed a live 'voice' that vibrated the air.
"You—wretched—"
Bam-bam-bam-bam...
Only the sound of the knocking continued, pointlessly.
"Wh... What?"
Orphen groaned in shock. His gaze traveled through the translucent human figure, to Cleao who was hunched over beside Majic, still trapped under the bed. She finally seemed to have noticed what was going on, and spoke in a flat voice.
"Oh. A ghost—"
(Ghost ... monster ... apparition?)
Orphen was amused, if not confused by the word, which was so abrupt. Certainly, it seemed like the most appropriate term to call the mist, which had already taken the form of a human being, albeit with blurred outlines. Then...
"Don't be silly, there's no such thing as ghosts!"
As if on cue, the mist — no, the 'ghost' — screamed in a horrible screeching voice.
"Y-o-u— Phonogolos! I finally found—"
Although the ghost was still hazy, he could see that it had the appearance of a young man. A thin young man with narrow, gaunt-looking eyes that seemed timid at first, but grew more dangerous if he drifted through the shadows. He looked like a researcher, wearing a cheap but fastidiously clean white lab coat.
"Phonogolos?"
Orphen asked back, just as Vulcan kicked down the door. The broken door was hanging by its hinges, and nearly hit the ghost in back.
"—!"
Orphen jumped to the side, throwing his body out of the way. The ghost surged through the air past him at tremendous speed!
The room was once again filled with the sound of explosions. The impact and the blast erupted outwards, bursting through the wall with the window in it with the same momentum as the ghost flew out from it—
Orphen paused.
"..........?"
But the wall through which the ghost passed was completely unscathed — apart from the damage Orphen had caused to it earlier.
"Wh-What the hell was that?"
Vulcan and Dortin stepped through the broken door, dragging their human-sized pajamas behind them. From under the bed, Majic answered in a muffled voice.
"... A ghoft"
"A ghost?"
Dortin asked doubtfully. He was still sleepy, and adjusted the position of his glasses.
"Don't talk like that, my older brother takes those things seriously, and he'll try to make some ridiculous business out of it again—"
"Hey—"
Orphen muttered in a restrained voice, listening to the conversation that was going on in the background.
"Keep quiet, you guys..."
He stared out the window. Everyone else turned their sights in the same direction, following his line of sight. Through the broken window panes — beyond the shattered window frame, they could see the quiet night of Kinkhall village and the faraway Aiden mountains. The shadows of the deep woods echoed with the sounds of animals. In the night sky, in front of the stars — in the midst of this landscape, one shadow stood out.
Standing just outside the window — on the second floor, as if to peer in — was a strangely shaped shadow. It had a flat oval head and long horizontal eyes that stood perfectly still, reflecting the moonlight off of its slimy, scaly skin—
"... Is that... a snake?"
Orphen didn't have time to nod at Majic's question. It was indeed a snake. But it wasn't a snake. Below the snake's head — below the elongated neck, there were broad human shoulders.
"Snake man!"
Vulcan screamed, giving it the name he'd made up himself. He was still in his sleep wear and yet was pulling out his sword. Then there was a thud. When Orphen glanced back, he saw that Cleao had fainted.
"I release—"
Orphen braced himself as he was about to release his magic. However, before he could, the snake figure disappeared into the darkness. Without warning, it simply disappeared.
"What?"
Then, something came bursting through the darkness of the night, where the snake man had disappeared!
"Woah!"
Orphen swayed away to avoid it.
But—
"Aaahh!"
Majic screamed from behind him. He looked back and saw a longbow arrow sticking out of the mattress of the bed on top of him.
"Yesss!"
Orphen suddenly felt invigorated — If it was an arrow, that meant it was a human weapon. Unlike with ghosts and mutant snake men, Orphen knew how to take care of a human threat.
He jumped up, and in a single bound he leapt through the open space where the window had been — For the few seconds it took him to reach the ground, he felt like he was taking an unnecessary risk, but even if he was being targeted by a bow and arrow, it was unlikely he'd be hit in the dark of night.
Bam! Orphen landed on the ground, parrying the impact from his feet with his knees. He heard the high pitched chirping of insects. As he listened, he looked around.
(What if it's the assassin targeting me right now?—)
Orphen spun around and stuck his right hand out into the clearing at the entrance of the inn.
(He'd ambush me near the entrance, and target me as I ran out!)
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
The photothermal wave that surged out into the darkness set the plants surrounding the inn's porch ablaze. At the same time, however, a thick, earthy voice cried out—
"Get lost!"
The heat and the flames that had glimmered and flared up were drowned out in a puff of smoke.
(Sorcery — Is there a sorcerer among the assassins?)
Orphen mumbled as he quickly braced himself, but judging by the current wave of magic and its composition, he wasn't a very skilled sorcerer. Most likely, he was someone who'd flunked out in the middle of his training.—
A figure quickly jumped out from the shadows and fled.
"I won't let you escape!"
He shouted after them, but didn't follow. He glimpsed several figures that had also jumped out. If that were the case, there was a high possibility that he'd be ambushed by another assassin while chasing after one of them.
Nevertheless, he had no intention of letting them escape, either. If they were Ostwald's hired thugs, he'd have to find out what their relationship was with the ghost and snake man from earlier.
Orphen took a quick breath, crossed his arms over his head, and shouted.
"I call, upon the sisters of destruction!"
At the same time, he brought his arms down with whoosh, as if he was about to slam them into the ground.
The air shrieked as a shockwave exploded randomly in all directions.
"Oof!"
"Ahh!"
The sounds came from a nearby tree — a few meters away from the top of a leafy tree. A moment later, two men with bows and arrows dropped headlong from the branches to the ground.
(It only took one try to get them.)
Orphen thought with smug satisfaction as he approached the men, keeping a firm, watchful eye on them.
First, he kicked the man in front of him rather mercilessly in the gut with the heel of his boot, causing him to writhe in agony, and then he walked over to the other man. Kneeling beside him, Orphen grabbed the chest of his shirt, pulling him up while he was still groaning from the contusions of the fall.
"It's Ostwald who hired you guys — Xanadu Ostwald of Totokanta."
Orphen tried to sound fierce, but the assassin, who held only a bow in his right hand, had visible sweat in his long hair. He looked back at him with fear in his eyes, refusing to open his mouth.
Orphen sighed in dismay.
"Well, I guess that's it. A professional assassin wouldn't give up the name of his employer when he's going to die. Even if he fails to escape, his companions abandon him, and even if he's only like the third rank."
There were differences between an assassin and a thug, and that difference was absolute.
"Then how about this question—? What the hell's the deal with that ghost and snake bastard?"
"G-ghos—?"
The killer spoke in a raspy voice, as if taken by surprise. Orphen wondered, but continued.
"Yeah, a ghost. It appeared in my room a few minutes before you showed up."
"What are you talking about? We were—"
The assassin, who'd apparently broken his left shoulder, indicated with a glance to the bow he was holding. Then he continued.
"We were going to raid your room in the night after you went to sleep, or snipe you when you came near the window. That's why I shot an arrow when you finally showed your face, but damn it, they hadn't made their raid yet!"
The assassin bit his lip regretfully. There were no signs of deception on his face.
"Oh there was a night raid, all right."
Orphen said bitterly.
"But not by your friends who were hiding behind the porch, but by some mysterious ghost. Damn it, if you don't know, then who the hell—"
"AAAAHHHHH!"
A scream—
With a start, Orphen looked over his shoulder toward the man he'd just made faint in agony. The other member of the assassin duo was lying on his back on the ground, in a prone position, his mouth open wide as he screamed — and only his gaping mouth was visible from Orphen's position. The upper half of the assassin's face was firmly grasped by a hand protruding from the ground — the hand of a man with pale skin, as white as a rice cake, and kitchen knife-like blades attached to each of his fingers by thin steel wires. It was almost like a child blindfolding someone from behind in a playful manner, right before asking "Guess who?" The difference here, however, was that every time the hand exerted a little pressure, the knives that were attached to it would dig into the assassin's cheeks, eyes, and face.
The assassin's body writhed in pain, blood gushing from between the fingers of this 'hand'—
"AA—GYAAAAAAA"
After a short pause, the assassin screamed again. Then, after a sound like the cracking of a vase, the assassin's skull cracked open, white bone protruding from his skin, and for a brief moment, a fountain of fluid, the color of which he didn't care to know, splashed all around him.
Then the 'Hand' passed trough the crushed skull of the assassin and withdrew into the ground, leaving not a trace.
"Aa—AAAAHH!"
And this time it was Orphen, not the assassin's partner, now murdered by The Hand, who screamed and retreated. Hot gastric juices raced up from the middle of his trachea and esophagus — he felt himself about to be crushed by a wave of hysteria even as he tried doggedly to restrain himself from vomiting. He'd seen people die before — several times — but this was too much, to bizarre.
He staggered back, and within a few steps, he felt a thud against his back. It was lukewarm but as hard as the bark of a tree.
"............?"
He sat down on the ground and looked up fearfully to see a tall figure behind him. A jet-black figure, which was looking up toward the night sky, and was holding a large, thick knife in their right hand, like another kitchen knife.
"You—!"
In a state of panic, Orphen leapt to his feet and threw a knife right for the figure's throat. However, the figure caught the back of the knife — but Orphen didn't care, he brought his left shoulder towards the figure so that they were almost in contact with one another, then turned his left arm around the back of the enemy's head to strike. He was aiming for his opponent's left eye with his thumb!
But — the finger stopped moving just as it grazed the target's eyelid.
(............?)
Orphen blinked his eyes, unsure of what was going on — a human face filled his field of vision — and his crazy instincts told him that he should close his eyes. However — he had to ask himself, why would he close his eyes during a competition between assassins?
(Are we actually trying to kill each other?)
From somewhere in the dark abyss of his mind came the answer.
Orphen closed his eyes.
The hand holding him — Yes, it was a woman's hand — caressed his back, then patted him on the hip and let go. Orphen opened his eyes again. Before he knew it, his mind, having been on the verge of hysteria, was suddenly clear. If you were to ask how he felt, it'd be like he'd been doused with cold water, but it wasn't necessarily an unpleasant feeling.
Whatever it was, his calm mind recognized that she was kissing him.
"Hirietta...?"
Orphen mumbled, his voice sounding as if it was coming from his own mind. She licked her lip across her red lips as if to experience the sensation once more, then smiled a truly funny smile.
"You've got some crazy martial arts skills, did you... learn this at the Tower of Fang?"
"Taijutsu?"
Orphen stared blankly, then spoke up.
"Oh, no, that's... No, this wasn't... martial arts..."
He blushed as he realized that his voice was getting quieter and quieter — he was less upset about how hard his heart was palpitating than he was about having been seen in such a panicked state.
"It was — A uhh, a killing move... I still don't know if I can do it..."
"Huh?"
Hirietta scratched her temple with the handle of her knife.
"Have you killed someone with that technique?"
"No way."
Orphen wiped his sweat-soaked forehead as he denied it.
"I was just forced to learn it. I don't usually use it. It's not that effective as a means of self-defense. Self defense uses hand-to...hand—"
Then — He remembered.
"Hand! A hand — it just came out of the ground and that assassin—"
"He was killed, right? On that note, isn't it bad if the other one gets away?"
Hirietta answered, throwing her long black hair over her shoulder. Orphen looked back at the long-haired assassin with a start.
But he had already run away. There was no sign of him.
"Damn!"
Orphen said with a sense of shame. He waved his arm in a gesture like striking an imaginary wall.
"Well, under these circumstances, it can't be helped—"
He heard Hirietta murmuring, as if she were talking about something else.
Then, suddenly, the door of the inn opened and the porch was filled with racket.
"Orphen!"
"Master!"
Cleao and Majic came running out together. Majic rushed straight through the door, but Cleao stopped in her tracks, seeming a little miffed the moment she noticed Hirietta standing there.
"What the hell was that—"
Majic asked, but Orphen stopped him with his hand. Whatever it was, he didn't think he had a good answer. Not about anything that'd just happened.
He glanced over to see that, perhaps out of consideration, Hirietta was casually covering the assassin's body with a black sheet of some kind, which she had brought from somewhere. Relieved, he looked at Cleao. The girl combed her bedraggled blonde hair aside with her hand.
"What's the matter with you, jumping out the window and all that! Fighting an assassin without backup is suicide!"
Orphen responded with a weak hand wave and put his hand on Cleao's shoulder, trying to place himself in front of the blood spattered ground in hopes that it wouldn't be seen. He pushed her into the inn.
"Where are those lucky tanukis?"
He asked Majic, who shrugged lightly.
"They were wandering around the room, calculating how much it'd cost to repair the damage and how much they'd have to pay in compensation."
"............!"
As Orphen sighed, Hirietta walked up behind him.
"What are you going to do about the village officials?"
"You can't report it, right? And somehow... I doubt I can, either."
He glared at her.
"It seems like you know a lot more about this than I do."
She didn't look offended, just dropped the knife into the sheath attached directly to her body suit. She even dared to speak up again.
"By the way, Orphen."
"What—"
Orphen asked back, gloomily pushing back Cleao, who was persistently preaching. Hirietta whispered softly into his ear.
"Shouldn't you wipe that off before you go back into a lit room?"
"What do you mean?"
"You have lipstick on your face."
Kyahaha, Hirietta laughed, as Orphen hurriedly wiped his lips with the back of his hand, his face flushing hopelessly.
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