Silent Song

Blood poured out into a puddle so large it made her wonder how her body

could have housed that much liquid.

She was already numb to the pain and couldn't figure it out. She had

cast an anesthetizing spell but wasn't certain whether it was still in effect.

As everything grew fuzzy, she tipped her head up.

Moonlight illuminated the horrific scene in the castle courtyard. The

garden trees were ripped apart; giant holes dotted the ground. A row of

stone pillars had all toppled. One was half smashed to bits, and Tinasha was

slumped up against the remaining portion.

It was a disastrous sight, like a vicious storm had swept through.

However, the courtyard was entirely silent. That was because a clear victor

had emerged, and now Tinasha had to decide what to do with her final

moments. She looked down at her flank, which was partially gouged away.

"…Karr… Mila…," she said, calling for her mystical spirits. Yet no one

answered. It had been that way for a while. A man had forced all twelve

spirits to surrender. Tinasha hoped they were still alive, at the very least.

She was their master, and if she died, the twelve would be freed. Maybe

they could even escape. That thought was a comfort.

Tinasha took a shuddering breath, smelling blood.

"…Oscar."

Speaking his name out loud brought on a stabbing pain in her heart.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she bit her lip.

Suddenly, someone appeared in front of Tinasha. "Who were you calling

for? Do you still have someone coming to save you?" a man questioned

with a sneer. This was the very person who had defeated Tinasha and her

spirits with his overwhelming power.

His choice to do so had been bereft of motive or reason. Crushing them

beneath his heel had sounded fun, so he had.

He was like death personified.

Tinasha gave a weak laugh. "No one is coming to rescue me… The

person I called for doesn't exist in this time."

Oscar, who had saved her when she was young, didn't exist anywhere.

He had disappeared—the price of his choice to rescue her. In the five years

since, Tinasha had governed her country fastidiously…only to come to this

frightful end now. The woman was hailed as the strongest queen, but

ultimately there was someone even greater than she.

Her lips curled in a self-deprecating smile, and the man gave her a

suspicious look. "Doesn't exist in this time? What does that mean?"

"What good would it do to answer you? I was just reminiscing to

myself," she said, closing her eyes as she took shallow breaths.

A smile spread across the beautiful inhuman man's face to see her in

such a low state. "Tell me. I came here to play with you. We're here

together now, so entertain me a little."

She slept.

She kept sleeping. Very, very deeply and dreamlessly.

She heard grass stirring—and the babbling of a little brook.

These parts of the miniature garden remained unchanged no matter how

much time passed. They just went on existing, like a secret paradise.

No, not a paradise—a fragment of a fantasy.

A box for her to go on dreaming in, locked up tight and unable to be

touched by anyone.

So for now, she was simply in a slumber of nothingness, until the day

came for things to start over.

Waiting for a certain someone.

It was his first visit to this country. The landscape had a sort of polish he

was unfamiliar with.

The white walls of the stores and houses on the streets weren't that

extraordinary on their own, but a closer inspection revealed that magical

sigils and markings were carved into the facades, doorplates, and

signboards. The shop windows facing the street were plated not with glass,

but with thin, filmy water. Curious, he reached out to touch one and stared

as his fingers slipped right through it. "It really is water. How interesting."

"In this country, it's cheaper to use magic implements that can put up

water films than see-through glass," explained the male mage

accompanying him, grimacing as the young man shook his wet fingers dry.

The young man craned his neck to look all around. "Tuldarr, the nation

of magic…"

The people going about the main thoroughfare were wearing clothes that

one could've found on display in any neighboring country. However, for

every ten citizens, there was one sporting a robe made of magical material

characteristic of this land. If all who donned such garments truly were

mages, that meant Tuldarr was home to far more mages than any other

nation.

The young man was full of rapt curiosity. Behind him trudged his

attendant, a childhood friend. Unlike the high-spirited young man, this

fellow appeared downcast and despondent. "I don't feel good about this,

Your Highness…"

"What's wrong? And you know I don't like being called that."

"Don't speak of such trifling things now," grumbled the worn-out

attendant. The young man turned around to give his companion an

exasperated look.

At twenty-one, he was the crown prince of the Great Nation of Farsas.

His well-proportioned, tall physique and gorgeous looks drew attention

naturally; the people passing by on the road had been looking back to sneak

glances for a while now.

Cool and composed, the prince replied, "You insisted that we not travel

to where the witch lives, so we came here instead. Could you try acting a

little less dour?"

"Yes, I did say that! But why did you carry Akashia with you? What will

happen if someone interprets it as a sign of hostility?"

"I just wanted to have it. To be on the safe side," the prince replied

flatly.

His attendant hung his head, dejected, and a mage clapped him on the

shoulder. "Give up, Lazar. We're already here."

"I don't know how this happened…," whined Lazar. Then he looked up

and beheld a royal palace constructed of alabaster stone.

They were in Tuldarr, the country known as the Magic Empire that

boasted to possess superior technology and power.

To disguise his royal status, the prince was dressed simply in a

lightweight outfit. He patted his chest. "It's all right. We've got the letter of

introduction I had my father write."

"You should have said as much sooner! I thought we were barging in

entirely unannounced!" cried Lazar.

"Well, we are. I only decided to come here yesterday," admitted the

prince.

Lazar twitched. "We should have at least made an advance

appointment!"

Ignoring the two friends who were caught up in their usual back-andforth, the mage who was traveling with them headed for the castle gate and

addressed a guard there. After a while, they seemed to reach an agreement,

and he turned back. "Your Highness, we've been granted permission. Let's

go in."

"Thanks, Doan," said the prince.

"I do have a bit of influence here…," replied Doan, who had studied

abroad in the Tuldarr royal palace to learn magic. Although that was two

years ago, he still knew many here, which was why he was chosen to come

along.

After bowing to his lord, Doan took his place behind him. His eyes on

the prince, he murmured in a low voice, "I do hope this helps one way or

another…"

Doan recalled the story of the prince's curse he'd heard on the journey

here. A frightful hex had been placed on the prince by a witch.

"Cursed never to sire an heir."

The prince was an only child, and the foul magic ensorcelling him

doomed any woman who became pregnant with his child to die before

giving birth. As if that wasn't bad enough, widespread child abductions had

struck Farsas fifteen years ago, leaving the kingdom with no other direct

heirs in the royal lineage. To leave the curse unbroken was tantamount to

accepting the extinction of the royal line.

In the past fifteen years, no method of breaking the hex had been

discovered. One had to wonder if even Tuldarr was capable of this feat.

It was true enough that Tuldarr excelled above any other country in all

matters magical. However, that was in terms of the country as a whole. On

an individual level, even the king of Tuldarr couldn't compare to any of the

three witches. A fact that spoke to how overwhelmingly mighty the trio

was. They were living calamities. The only way to guard against a disaster

caused by one of them would be to never get involved with them to begin

with.

Still, Doan couldn't help but cling to even the faintest bit of hope, for

dealing with a witch meant despair.

Though their arrival was sudden, King Calste of Tuldarr showed them to

one of the halls immediately.

That was most likely due to the letter of introduction, which came from

the king of the neighboring country.

Calste welcomed the guests with a bright smile. He was around the same

age as the king of Farsas and a good deal younger than the rulers of other

nations. He had a mild demeanor and a gentle countenance that exuded

intelligence.

Upon hearing of the curse, Calste's face darkened as he gazed at the

prince. "I understand the gist of the situation. I should tell you that not

every curse can be broken."

Calste launched into a short explanation of how curses worked. The

takeaway was that it was impossible to undo a curse placed by a spell caster

on the level of a witch.

While Lazar looked white as a sheet, the prince listened with a placid

expression. It was as if he was about to say, In that case, let's swing by the

witch's place, then.

Doan massaged his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

Calste concluded his lesson on hexes solemnly. "…And so it's

theoretically conceivable that if you had a child with a woman in possession

of very strong magical powers, she might be able to withstand the birth."

"I see. I'll take that into consideration," the prince responded easily.

Calste looked more sorrowful about it than the prince did, but then the

king noticed the longsword Lazar was holding. His eyes grew wide. "Is

that…?"

"Yes, I'm very sorry. I always have it with me. This is the blade Akashia,

the one passed down in Farsas," answered the prince.

Lazar shot his friend a glare that clearly said This is why I told you to

leave it at home, but the prince ignored it completely.

After Calste pondered for a bit, he seemed to reach some sort of decision

and got to his feet. "I can't do anything about that curse, but there may be a

solution. Still, the chances are low…"

The three Farsasians exchanged puzzled glances, not sure exactly what

he meant.

The king guided them deeper into the castle, where the group then

descended several flights of stairs.

Finally, they came to a long underground passage. After walking it for a

considerable amount of time, the group arrived at a large stone hall. The

sprawling oval-shaped chamber contained a ring of eleven statues.

Doan looked around at the sculptures, which resembled neither human

nor beast, and then gasped in awe. "It can't be… Are these the mystical

spirits of Tuldarr?"

"Indeed. The spirits who are not under the employ of the king exist here

in statue form. I'm ashamed to admit that for the past hundred years, no

ruler has been able to use the spirits, including myself. Once, the strongest

mage in Tuldarr ruled the country, but now the throne is inherited through

royal bloodlines, and the king's magic is no longer quite that exceptional,"

explained Calste with a self-deprecating smile. He spoke of it so modestly

for a ruler. Perhaps he had an inferiority complex about his own abilities.

Feeling somewhat awkward, Doan nodded as he counted the number of

statues. "…Isn't one missing?" he whispered.

Since Tuldarr's founding, there had always been twelve mystical spirits

for its royalty to call upon. Yet there were only eleven statues in the

chamber. If the king wasn't using any, then where had the twelfth one gone?

Doan puzzled over this silently but thought he really couldn't pry

deeper. Meanwhile, Calste continued farther in. He passed the center of the

room and went over to a door in the far rear.

It was exactly opposite the one they entered from. Small and wrought of

white stone, intricate magical markings were carved onto its face.

The king of Tuldarr turned back to address the trio from Farsas. "This is

as far as I can show you. No one has gone beyond this point in a very long

time now."

"Ah… Why is that?" asked Oscar.

"I'm not sure. I can only say it's because no one has been invited.

Therefore, the solution to your curse may also exist beyond this point,"

Calste stated vaguely, which puzzled the prince from Farsas. He checked to

make sure Akashia was belted at his waist.

Because the king had showed them to this door after seeing Akashia, it

was possible that dangerous magical traps lay ahead.

The bearer of the royal sword, the only weapon in the entire land that

could neutralize all magic, glanced at Calste with some faint misgivings. "I

apologize, but why are you going so far for us? While my curse is serious,

this is a foreign country's affair."

Calste gave a weak smile in response to the prince's very direct

question. Moving a step to the side of the door, he gazed at its intricate

markings. "That's a good question. If you're able to proceed past this point,

our country may reap the benefits, too. In short, what comes next may

benefit us both."

What the king said seemed plausible enough, but there were some holes

in his reasoning. While the prince maintained his suspicions, he nodded and

went right up to the door.

Ultimately, the only way to know if this was worth the trouble was to

try.

Curiosity piqued, the prince pressed on the white door. A light shock ran

through his palm.

But it soon vanished, like snow melting.

The door opened the rest of the way on its own, and he stepped in

without any hesitation. Lazar and Doan hurried to follow after their lord.

However, an invisible wall repelled them.

"What?!"

"Ugh…"

Lazar fell on his behind, while Doan faltered but remained standing.

Their prince turned back to look at them with wide eyes. "What are you two

doing?"

"What are we doing? Didn't you feel anything, Your Highness?" retorted

Lazar.

The prince had passed without incident. Doan reached out cautiously to

touch the barrier between him and his prince. Sure enough, there was an

invisible force there preventing anyone from trespassing.

"I don't see any sort of spell here… It must be a magical barrier," Doan

concluded.

"…I thought so," murmured Calste, his unease showing on his face a

little. He eyed the man on the other side of the door. "I don't know what's

going to happen, but be careful."

"I will bear that in mind," said the prince, before starting down the long

corridor. The farther he got from the door, the darker it became.

After a while, he finally sighted a pinprick of light far in the distance

and arrived at a new door. Just like the other, it was made of an alabaster

material and engraved with markings.

Keeping his hand on Akashia, the prince pushed open the door. Bright

light spilled into the hallway.

Narrowing his eyes against the blinding luminance, he eventually made

out that he was in a space even larger and more cavernous than the chamber

of statues.

The ceiling was very tall, and there was no furniture in the vast square

room.

In the middle of it, a giant red dragon lay curled up asleep on the gray

flagstones.

"What the…?" said the prince, naturally shocked to see a dragon

occupying at least half the room. As if that wasn't incredible enough, a girl

with red hair was sitting on top of the creature, reading a book. The whole

spectacle was far beyond what the prince had anticipated, and the man

stood rooted to the spot in astonishment.

The girl popped her head up, noticing the visitor. Her eyes were the

same shade as her hair. Her beautiful face didn't match her age, and her

expression betrayed no emotion. Something about her was certainly strange,

and the prince wondered what it was.

"Hmm, you're a year early. Still, I guess if you're here, that means it's

time," she declared, closing her book before artlessly slapping the dragon's

head.

"Nark! Wake up! I can't identify him!" she cried. In response to her pats,

the dragon slowly lifted its head. The girl leaped off its back in a way that

suggested she was weightless. The dragon's huge eyelids opened to reveal

eyes like a pair of flames that gazed at the prince.

"…Ah!" cried the prince, drawing Akashia reflexively.

He never expected a dragon to be sleeping underneath the castle. Even

though he possessed the royal sword, his whole body tensed up as he

nervously wondered if he could fight there without an escape route.

After gazing at him for a time, the dragon suddenly contorted itself. In a

flash, it shrank to the size of a hawk and flew to him with a spirited cry.

The prince had thought he would have to cut the dragon down, but it

didn't appear hostile in the least. Hesitantly, the prince held out his left

hand, and the dragon used it to land on his shoulder. It rubbed against his

head just like a cat, and the girl burst out laughing. "Oh, so it really is you?

That's fine, then. Go ahead."

As though in response to her voice, a door appeared in the wall on the

far side of the chamber. The prince gasped to see a third white door.

"What are you?" he asked the strange young woman. "What are you

doing here?"

Her looks and behavior made it clear she was more than a regular

human. That she was present in this sealed-off place was already strange,

and the prince still felt very much on guard.

The girl gave a light shrug. "I'm just a sentry. It doesn't matter who I

am, does it?"

She moved over to the door, then knelt down in a theatrical fashion. "Go

on in. You are, after all, the one and only greatest treasure in the world."

"…Greatest treasure?" the prince repeated.

None of this was adding up. The prince felt as if each twist and turn was

more mystifying than the last.

But like the dragon, the girl didn't seem hostile toward him at all.

Though still suspicious, he continued to the next door as the young woman

had instructed.

The entrance opened all on its own, without so much as a touch.

Beyond it, he could see a lush green garden.

"What…?"

The soft light pouring in looked exactly the same as the light

aboveground.

A carpet of luxuriant grass coated the wide room as far as the eye could

see; it was dotted here and there with trees laden with bright-green leaves.

Unable to believe his eyes, the man stepped forward. A white wall

extended from the doorway, but it quickly disappeared into the verdant

flora.

It looked like a garden one could find on the surface, captured inside a

white box.

The prince could hear a stream babbling from somewhere unseen. A

gentle breeze whooshed past, and he muttered in shock, "What is this

place…?"

He would have taken it for a magic illusion, but the feel of the grass

underfoot was undeniably real. The wind rustled a gauzelike canopy beyond

the trees. That was clearly something fabricated by human hands.

Is that a bed? the prince thought doubtfully, cautiously venturing farther

into the garden.

As he approached it, he could see enough to identify that it really was a

bed.

Akashia in hand, he came up to stand before the white thing. Nervously,

he parted the gauzelike curtains and then gasped.

A young woman slept upon the sheets.

She looked to be about eighteen. Her silky, glossy long black hair

fanned out across the linens.

Long eyelashes cast faint shadows on her porcelain skin.

Her nose was high and elegant, her lips red and dainty. The woman's

features were as delicate as a sculptor's finest masterpiece. She was utterly

beautiful.

It was the prince's first time seeing a woman who left such an

impression on him. He felt disappointed that her eyes were closed; he

wished to know what color they were.

The woman's cheeks were ivory, but they weren't bloodless and pale.

He scrutinized her form, curious to know if she was alive, and noticed that

beneath her white dress, her chest was rising and falling.

Staring at her, the prince sat down on the edge of the bed.

He didn't know if he should rouse her, or if she would wake on her own.

Yet he understood that this place existed solely for her.

In that case, perhaps she held the key to breaking the curse.

She might even be the woman with the power to bear his child who

Calste had mentioned.

The prince reached out a hand and touched her cheek. Warmth from her

skin leaped into his fingertips.

He gave the woman a light pat but withdrew his hand when he noticed

her eyelashes stirring. Very slowly, she opened her eyes.

Over and over, her eyelashes fluttered up and down, revealing deepblack eyes, a color darker than night. The ebony there was like an abyss.

After those orbs darted around, they landed on the prince.

These are the eyes of one with a strong will.

He was a little surprised by that.

The woman stretched out her lithe frame, as absentmindedly as if she

were still dreaming, then used her arms to lever herself upright on the bed.

Her gaze had never left the prince. He didn't know what to say. The

mere sight of the darkness in her eyes had trapped him.

She sat up, then extended her supple alabaster arms out toward him. The

prince hesitated over whether to shake her off, but he was distracted by how

excited the dragon on his shoulder was.

The woman wound her arms around his neck, leaning her slender body

against him.

"Oscar…," she said, her voice as hot as tears.

While stupefied by the sudden warm body in his lap, Oscar was more

stunned that this woman knew his name. He used one hand to peel her away

and glared at her. "Who are you? Why do you know my name?"

Her dark eyes grew wide for a second. A vague light flashed across that

unfathomable abyss.

She looked hurt—like a lost child, someone who was searching for a

distant home.

Yet after she gave a long, slow blink, that glint disappeared entirely.

Oscar frowned at the subtle change but thought that maybe his eyes had

played a trick on him.

The woman pulled back, withdrawing from Oscar's grasp, and gave a

slightly lonely smile. "…You're the one who inherited the royal sword of

Farsas, aren't you?"

"Oh, I see," Oscar said, glancing down at the weapon by his waist.

Ordinarily, the king of Farsas was the only one in the whole land to wear

Akashia. Oscar was an exception because he had inherited the royal sword

prior to becoming king, but he didn't hide that fact. Spotting the blade was

enough to know he was the crown prince.

"It really…is you," the woman said, sighing. Oscar looked at her, and

she stared back, gaze unwavering.

Her eyes were as unpredictable as the night. Emotion had risen to the

top of those inky pools.

Her feelings were as plain as a child's—but incredibly charged. No

woman had ever stared at Oscar like this before. Her gaze was so much

more earnest and overwhelming. Feeling that if he kept looking into her

eyes, the heat there would spread to him, too, Oscar let out a breath he had

instinctively been holding.

Casually, he averted his gaze and asked, "So what are you doing here?

What kind of person lives under a castle?"

"Oh… I fell asleep. I'm a mage, so I used magic…," she answered.

"You need magic to go to sleep? Things sure are weird in the Magic

Empire," he commented.

"It's a type of spell that can control your internal body clock while time

passes. Men can't use it safely, however, so not many people have put it

into practice…"

"I'm not sure I follow, but I understand that you used a spell," Oscar

stated frankly, and the woman blushed happily. The expression made her

look much younger than she was.

Placing her hands on the bed, she crawled over to Oscar and looked up

at him with that beautiful face of hers. "If you're here, does that mean it's

currently the year 527 in Farsas time?"

"No, it's 526," he replied.

"Huh? One year early?" she remarked.

"What's one year early? I think it's 653 by Tuldarr reckoning. Are you

all right?"

"Oh, I-I'm fine," she answered, pressing her hands to her flushed

cheeks. After falling into thought for a while, she asked nervously, "Um, are

you married to someone else…?"

"I'm not married. What do you mean 'to someone else'? How much do

you know?"

Oscar had been permitted this deep into the castle in order to break his

curse, yet if this woman was making inquiries like that, then she must have

already known about his situation. Did she consider herself a suitable bride

for him?

The prince suddenly felt on guard, and in response to his questions, the

woman flushed even more intensely. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… That

was rude of me."

"Don't worry about it," Oscar said dismissively. He thought all her

blushing was cute. However, it didn't seem like her query had anything to

do with his curse. Despite his misgivings, he was reluctant to point that out

right to her face.

The woman shuffled down the bed until she was next to him, then put

her feet on the grass. She tried to stand but immediately fell back and

flopped into a sitting position.

Taken aback, Oscar helped her sit up. "What are you doing? Are you

okay?"

"I haven't walked in so long… Still, my muscles haven't atrophied, so I

should be okay," she explained, giving him an awkward smile as she curled

in on herself.

Oscar returned Akashia to its sheath, then reached out and picked her up.

She was so unnaturally light it was as if her body had wings. "Where do

you wish to go? Actually, I never got your name."

The woman's dark eyes widened, and then she flashed him a pleased

smile. "My name is Tinasha. It's nice to meet you."

Her smile was as bright and vivid as a flower—and contagious, as Oscar

broke into a grin, too.

When Oscar emerged from the room with the woman in his arms, the

crimson-haired girl let out an elated shout. "Lady Tinasha! You woke up?

Are you feeling well?"

"Yes, thanks to you. I'm very grateful, Mila," replied Tinasha.

Mila grinned in satisfaction after Tinasha acknowledged her efforts, then

vanished.

It was so sudden that Oscar frowned. "What in the world is she? She's

not human, right?"

"That's one of my spirits. She serves me… But she's more like a friend,"

Tinasha said, stretching out a hand. The small dragon flew over to it. She

picked it up and placed it on Oscar's shoulder. "This little one's name is

Nark, and it'll do what you say. You're its master."

"I am? Really?"

"Yes, really. It likes you, doesn't it?" Tinasha pointed out.

"I've never seen a dragon that's fond of people," Oscar remarked.

Tinasha burst out laughing. The sound was like tinkling bells, ringing in

Oscar's ears pleasantly.

Oscar carried Tinasha down the long corridor, and they approached the

door where he had separated from the others. When he reached the other

side, the three men waiting there were shocked to see Tinasha. Calste in

particular stared at her in disbelief.

Oscar was confused by the king's behavior. "I found a dragon and her

inside… Does this mean I can take her back to Farsas as my bride?"

"What?!" cried not Calste but the woman in Oscar's arms.

She pressed both hands to her pink cheeks and stared up at him. "H-how

did things get to that point all of a sudden?"

"The curse…," he started to explain, but she cut him off.

"Oh!" Tinasha cried in a tone of understanding. Then she muttered in

relief, "It really is a good thing you came…"

While Oscar still didn't understand what she meant, he returned his gaze

to Calste. The king's look of shock finally morphed into a grimace. "I'm

afraid I can't allow that. She is meant to be the next queen of our country."

"WHAT?!" Tinasha yelped in astonishment once more. "Why would it

come to that? After all, I'm…"

"I know who you are, which is precisely why I'm asking. For the past

hundreds of years, we have not had a king or queen who can summon the

mystical spirits. That's how much the royal family's magic has weakened,"

Calste explained.

"A ruler does not need to have magic," Tinasha stated crisply, her voice

cool, resolute, and clearly resonant. Oscar looked at her in surprise to see

that her dark eyes had narrowed a fraction and lit up with a firm, majestic

glint.

The gaze of a leader.

Even among royalty, not many had such eyes—imbued with the power

to conquer others.

Oscar was impressed.

Tinasha nudged him to let her down. He did, while continuing to help

her stay upright. She took two or three stumbling steps before straightening

her posture and fixing her gaze on Calste. "There is no absolute need for a

ruler to be a powerful mage. Even if one person has a great amount of

power, the reach of that might is limited. Isn't there something even more

important for the country?"

"Regardless of what that may be, it doesn't change the fact that it's

necessary for a country to have enough power to protect itself. You are the

one who our nation needs right now," Calste responded.

"Too much strength will give rise to alarm," Tinasha countered.

It didn't look like either side was going to concede.

Tinasha noticed how bewildered the three Farsasians were and looked

up at Oscar apologetically. "I'm sorry. I need to speak to him for a moment,

so could you wait outside?"

"All right, but…"

"I promise I'll do something about your curse," she assured, grinning at

the prince confidently.

Oscar nodded, though still unsure of what was happening.

The three Farsasians returned to the hall where they had first met with

Calste and exchanged confused looks over how things had escalated. Lazar

asked the most obvious question: "Who in the world is that woman, Your

Highness?"

"I don't know, either. She was sleeping in a room beyond the barrier, so

I brought her back," Oscar answered.

"You should have asked her who she was! What do you think you were

doing?!" exclaimed Lazar.

"Didn't Calste say she was the next queen? And I did get her name. It's

Tinasha," Oscar said.

"Then she bears the same name as the Witch Killer Queen," Doan

added.

Oscar recalled what he could of the mainland's history. "From the time

when Tuldarr was at war with Tayiri? So that was her name."

"Yes, I believe so. Evidently, that queen was also very beautiful,"

answered Doan.

Lazar looked between the other two, unable to follow the flow of

conversation. "Wait, what? What witch? What queen?"

"You need to study your history," Oscar chided.

"I did… Hey! Ow, ow, ow!" Lazar cried as Oscar ground his fists into

Lazar's temples.

Sighing, Doan launched into an explanation. "Four hundred years ago,

Tuldarr and Tayiri went to war, right? Because Tuldarr was accepting

persecuted mage refugees from Tayiri."

"I kind of vaguely recall that…," Lazar muttered doubtfully.

Oscar shoved him. "Any way you look at it, that was a turning point in

history, wasn't it? That was when Tuldarr started opening up to other

nations."

"Urgh… I'm sorry," Lazar moaned, hanging his head.

Doan ignored him and went on. "Then Tayiri backed out of the conflict

before it was clear which side would win. That was because an assassin was

sent after the queen of Tuldarr—a witch, at that. The queen managed to turn

the tables and slew the witch instead, but during their struggle, the witch let

it slip that she was the lover of King Gaweid of Tayiri. To this day, we don't

know how much of that is true, but if King Gaweid truly ordered the witch

after Tuldarr's queen…"

"…Then that would be a huge scandal for him," finished Lazar.

"Yes. Under internal pressure, King Gaweid was compelled to withdraw

his forces and abdicate. After that, Tayiri gave its tacit consent of mage

refugees emigrating to Tuldarr. Tinasha was the name of Tuldarr's queen at

the time, if I remember correctly," Doan concluded.

"So that's why she was called the Witch Killer Queen. It's certainly

quite the story," remarked Lazar.

"It is. Curiously, that Tinasha also abdicated the throne soon after.

Things were getting problematic for her in Tuldarr. Folks were saying that if

she had enough strength to kill a witch, then she might very well be one

herself. She was responsible for many progressive reforms, like opening up

the country to diplomatic relations, which made her a target of the

Traditionalists. And there was what had transpired with Tayiri as well. Thus,

her relinquishing her queenship made both sides even, in a way," said Doan.

"That's so unreasonable that she would be forced to abdicate after

everything she did…," Lazar mused in wonder.

Oscar grimaced. "She was ahead of her time. It happens a lot."

"That Tinasha is a famous ruler among mages. It's not hard to conceive

that the woman you found was named after her," Doan reasoned, shrugging

to indicate that the story was over.

Seeming appeased, Lazar looked at the ceiling and murmured, "Still,

that woman truly is quite beautiful."

"I thought Calste would let me have her. Rude," Oscar muttered.

"Don't steal the next queen of Tuldarr! It would be a diplomatic

nightmare!" cried Lazar.

"Regardless, it seems I won't be leaving empty-handed," Oscar

commented, glancing up at his shoulder. The dragon sitting there gave a

little chirp. His attendants stared at the small creature questioningly.

"I did want to ask you what that is. It's a dragon, right—? And a live

one," said Doan.

"Yep. Tinasha told me I'm its master. It was a lot bigger when we first

met, so I guess it can change its size," Oscar explained.

Lazar just sighed.

"It does sound like she's going to do something about the curse, so our

mission looks to be complete," remarked Doan, internally quite relieved

that they didn't have to go see a witch now.

Heedless of Doan's alleviation, his lord gave an offhand answer. "I

wonder how she'll solve it. Maybe she'll marry me."

"I just told you not to steal her!" wailed Lazar.

"There's no need to shriek…," Oscar grumbled.

Just then, the door opened, and Calste and Tinasha walked in.

Calste wore a prim, unruffled expression. It cut a sharp contrast to Tinasha,

who was sourly glowering.

When she saw Oscar, she looked uncomfortable as she admitted, "I'm

now going to be coronated in half a year."

"And until then, you may do as you like. You might enjoy wandering

around outside after so long. I'll have rooms prepared for you here in the

palace," Calste asserted, his tone amiable and warm.

Tinasha turned a cold gaze on him. "First, I'm going to break his curse.

If I don't, there was no point in him coming here."

"You're free to do so. However, please do keep your position in mind. If

possible, I'd like for you to wed my son, after all," Calste said.

"That's outside my realm of responsibility," she declared succinctly.

Noticing the tension between the two of them, Doan and Lazar

exchanged glances.

Tinasha's irritation was written all over her beautiful face, but her gaze

softened when it fell upon Oscar. He saw that her conversation looked to be

over for the moment, and he got up to beckon her over. "So what should I

do?"

"I have quite a few things to get ready, and I need catalysts for the

analysis… It would help me so much if you could stay nearby," she

answered.

"How long will it take?"

"I-I'm going to do my best, but…to make absolutely sure, I think it'll

take half a year. If I were starting the analysis from scratch, I wouldn't be

able to give such an estimate, but I have at least glimpsed the answer."

"What answer?" Oscar asked.

Instead of telling him, Tinasha flashed a vague smile. There were parts

Oscar hadn't understood, but he gleaned that she could likely break the

curse in six months' time. Compared to the fifteen years others had spent at

the task, it was a trifle. Oscar broke into a grin at this woman who had

appeared before him. "Then you should come to Farsas until you're

coronated. Mages can use teleportation to go between Tuldarr and Farsas,

right?"

"Wait, would that be all right? Really?" Tinasha asked, sounding

excited.

"We're the ones asking you to break the curse," Oscar said.

Tinasha gave him a thrilled smile. It was so innocent it made her look

like a young girl; she was adorable.

When Oscar glanced at Calste, the king of Tuldarr pasted on a smile.

"Please take good care of her."

Sensing something strained in his voice, Oscar winced as he bowed.

Evidently detecting the same thing, Tinasha eyed the king distastefully.

Although the details were a bit complicated, the prince had found what

he'd sought in coming to Tuldarr.

None yet knew that this was the beginning of a story that would affect

the fate Oscar himself remained unaware of.

"Is this all you brought?" Oscar blurted out when he came to the rooms

allotted to Tinasha once they returned to Farsas.

The young woman's belongings totaled a dozen ancient spell books and

a bundle of magic implements, all packed into one wooden trunk. She

possessed almost no attire or jewelry.

Oscar stared at this person Calste had designated the future queen of

Tuldarr. "If there's anything you need, just say so. We can have clothes

made for you."

"Thank you… Hmm? Clothes?" Tinasha said, blinking her long

eyelashes several times. The closest thing she had to an attendant was the

mystical spirit girl. Tinasha evidently decided Oscar must be joking and

grinned at him. "I don't have that many things, so I'm fine."

That came as a disappointment to the prince; he had been thinking about

what dresses might look good on her. Still, he intended to respect her

wishes. He walked over to the trunk and helped her remove a large stone

slab from it. "I can't believe you're going to be queen. If you're royalty,

then I need to change how I've been treating you."

"What? It's fine. That'd just set me on edge, so act as you have been,"

Tinasha replied.

"Even so, you're the next queen, so those around you are going to act

respectfully in your presence."

"I'm used to people treating me that way, but you're different, Your

Highness."

"…I see," Oscar responded after a lengthy pause. By nature, he didn't

like getting called Your Highness. For him, someone who would be king

someday, it was an unwelcome reminder of the fact that he was still

considered green and inexperienced.

He raked back his dark-brown, almost black hair. "In that case, call me

by my name, too. That's easier."

In terms of status, they were equals, so there should have been no issue

with that.

When Oscar made his somewhat childish request, Tinasha looked up at

him. Her dark eyes grew wide, like a surprised kitten. "Do you say that…

because there's a chance that you'd marry me?!"

"How could there be? Why did you make it about that?"

That possibility might have existed for a moment in the underground

room where they had met, but it vanished into thin air once Tinasha had

been named the next queen of Tuldarr.

The woman slumped down dejectedly, cut down by Oscar's immediate

reply. "I thought maybe there was some small chance, but I guess it's

hopeless…"

"That's jumping way too far ahead from just asking you to call me by

name… I'm getting scared, so knock it off," Oscar said.

Hearing her guess his name on their first encounter had already left him

startled. To have a woman of such unreal beauty speak his name gave the

prince the sensation of ripples moving through his body, even now. While

he was recalling that sensation, Tinasha broke out in a bittersweet grin. She

gazed at Oscar with eyes that looked like windows at night, and her lips

moved.

"Oscar."

Her voice was clear and resonant. The word, though only a whisper, was

imbued with an irrepressible heat. It spoke of multitudes that he knew

nothing of. His name in Tinasha's mouth was dizzying, but Oscar focused

on maintaining his calm as he nodded. "That's fine. Do whatever's easiest.

And we're not getting married."

"Don't emphasize that! You only had to say it once. I understand!"

Tinasha cried.

"Incidentally, are you related by blood to the Tuldarr royal family?"

inquired Oscar, abruptly changing the subject.

Tinasha looked to the prince with reproach. "Oh, honestly… No, I'm

not. I was never married, after all. I feel strange about being called a

princess, but I think Calste wanted to fetter me somewhat, so I

compromised on that point. It's much better than getting named the crown

prince's fiancée outright or something."

Judging by Tinasha's tone, she was sincere. The way Oscar had seen it,

Calste wanted to have her marry his son, but he didn't want to offend her by

insisting too much on that. Instead, he assigned her a royal status to keep

her in check, but at the moment, she didn't seem bothered by that

development. As might be expected from someone who agreed to become

queen, Tinasha was quite resolute.

As Oscar set the stone slab on a shelf, he said, "I requested you to break

my curse, but you can just think of it as having some fun before your

coronation and spend your time as you like."

"Thank you. Although, to be honest, I wasn't planning on taking the

throne," she answered.

"What even are you anyway? Why were you in that room?" Oscar

asked. The order of his questions was a bit backward, but he couldn't help it

—he really couldn't get a handle on who Tinasha was based on what she

had told him so far.

Tinasha looked a bit bemused to hear that, but then she floated up into

the air and flew over to him. Oscar was very surprised, and she smiled. "I

was there because of my own selfishness."

"Selfishness? You were under the castle," he retorted.

"Yes, which is how accommodating they were of me," she responded

with a lovely smile. Oscar was unable to tell if Tinasha was being sincere.

Suddenly, the woman's brows creased as if she were resisting some pain.

She stared at Oscar through narrowed eyes. "…Can I touch you?"

Her voice was faint, and her dark gaze appeared to be watching

something distant, not unlike when the pair had first met. She looked so sad

that Oscar nodded after a pause.

Tinasha lowered herself a little and wound her arms around his neck and

leaned against him as she had back on the bed in the forest room. She

seemed so forlorn, and Oscar gently accepted her weight in his arms.

"When I was young, someone did a lot of things for me that I…can't

ever repay. Yet I wished to do something in return, even if only a little.

Although that person isn't here anymore…I still wanted to see them again,"

she said, her voice wavering emotionally.

Oscar gave up on listening to any more and just nodded.

After abdicating the throne of Tuldarr, Tinasha had thought she was done

with everything she needed to do.

Even though she wouldn't be around, there were those who carried on

her ideals. They would lead. Those five years when she focused solely on

being queen, cutting all ties with the past, had passed by in a flash.

And once they were over, she thought back on the man. He who gave

her his life and his love.

The few weeks they spent together was the most vivid period of time in

Tinasha's life up until then…and it was also the happiest she had ever been.

Merely recalling it moved her to tears.

Tinasha thought she would live out the rest of her life with that memory

locked away in her heart, but one day a man appeared before her. He said

"I'm curious about the woman who killed a witch" and soundly defeated her

as though it were effortless. Even though she had the twelve mystical

spirits, Tinasha lost the fight.

For that person, forcing Tinasha to yield was just one way of staving off

boredom. He had healed her when she was at death's door, then his fickle

interest shifted to asking her about her past.

Reluctantly, she told him everything.

"Then you should go after him," the one who bested her stated.

Tinasha couldn't deny that she wished to see Oscar again.

Hadn't he said they were married in the future?

If it was true they would meet in four hundred years, then there was still

a chance.

She still had time.

Even if Tinasha didn't remember, and he didn't, either, even if there was

no longer any evidence in the world that they ever lived together, even if

there was no guarantee she could live by his side the same as before, she

wanted to at least do something to repay him.

Seeing Oscar one final time would be enough.

And so after a long sleep, she was born into the world again.

Along with fearsome power that could rival a witch's.

"Four centuries truly is a long time. Magic research has progressed

considerably. It's enough to make me feel like a relic," Tinasha admitted.

"The fundamental laws remain unaltered, so there's not much difference

even if the spells have changed," Mila pointed out.

Tinasha and Mila were sitting at a table in Tinasha's quarters in Farsas

Castle, having tea.

Tinasha made a wry face at that. "But I have to study up a little,

although, I suppose I'll pick it up fast."

"You're so dedicated, Lady Tinasha."

"I like studying," she said, setting her teacup to the side and flipping

through a spell book. The heavy tome was not one she had brought, but a

volume borrowed from the Farsas library. Tinasha narrowed her eyes as she

scanned the pages. The text outlined theories only a handful of people had

known during her reign as queen.

The spirit girl grinned at Tinasha as she asked, "Do you want to get

married to the swordsman of Akashia, Lady Tinasha? If the king of Tuldarr

is getting in your way, I can go kill him."

"You can't just go slaying people. You're still a spirit of Tuldarr. As for

Oscar… Putting aside wedding him, I'm just happy I was able to see him,"

replied Tinasha.

"You're too indifferent!" scolded Mila.

"Really?" Tinasha asked. Despite the spirit's words, she was satisfied

with how things were. She was purely content to be of use to Oscar.

Tinasha picked up some old papers on the table. These were the notes

she had taken as a girl when she extracted Oscar's blood to look at the curse

and blessing spells placed on him. "I guess I really was the one who broke

the curse once…"

"I don't understand it, either, and that story about him returning to the

past still sounds super-fishy to me. Is the Akashia swordsman really the

same person?" questioned Mila suspiciously.

"I only half believed it, too… But there can be no mistaking it, even

though he doesn't have his memories. When he saved me, he told me he

had altered the past, so that must have affected the course of history,"

Tinasha explained.

When Oscar had saved the young Tinasha, he knew she was going to be

used as a catalyst in a forbidden ritual that night. Originally, she would have

had to face the violence inflicted on her alone. Oscar's interference

undoubtedly changed many things from that point on. At the very least,

there were no signs that Tinasha could marry him at present, and if she

became queen of Tuldarr, then it would be impossible for her to become the

bride of another country's king. History had certainly changed when it came

to her circumstances.

Feeling dejected, though she wasn't fully aware of it, Tinasha put her

elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. "I'm still suspicious of

that magical orb… Travis seemed to know something about it."

"Don't invoke his name. He's dangerous," warned Mila, making a face.

"Sorry," Tinasha apologized meekly.

In any case, it was true you could go back in time.

Tinasha had sealed away that magical orb deep in the Tuldarr treasure

vault, and if what past Oscar had said was correct, there may be another one

in the Farsas treasure vault.

Tinasha eyed the mass of intricate, delicate—almost beautiful—spell

configurations drawn in the book.

If her previous self worked through this from scratch, that meant her

magical skills were far more exceptional than Tinasha's now.

Why had the other Tinasha encountered Oscar after four hundred years?

How did she come to possess skills that were beyond human

understanding?

That story, the tale of the king and the fifth witch, was one that no one

knew anymore—it no longer existed.