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-toface 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.