I BECAME AN OLD LADY
THE SCARIEST THING ABOUT THIS STORY…IS IT REALLY HAPPENED TO ME!
Once, I found myself in a museum in the demon lands dedicated to the magical history of demonkind. I’d made my way there at Falfa and Shalsha’s request, and since Laika was just as interested in museums as the girls were, she was all too happy to carry us over to our destination. Beelzebub, on the other hand, was busy with work and couldn’t accompany us, though we’d made plans to meet up with her later.
Falfa and Shalsha took their time reading the explanatory plaques set up beside every exhibit. I had a feeling the two of them could probably read at least a little of the demons’ written language, but since the plaques included a human translation, that wasn’t even necessary here.
Supposedly, Pecora had made it a point of policy that all the major museums and tourist attractions should have signage in multiple languages. We weren’t the only ones who’d been visiting the demon lands a lot lately, after all. All sorts of visitors—like spirits, for instance—had been showing up in greater and greater numbers. The signs were a way to accommodate those visitors. The one slight problem was that their translations seemed to be a little off sometimes, possibly thanks to how quickly they’d been rushed out.
That started out really casual, then shifted to formal—I have no clue what it’s actually supposed to read like! It must be pretty hard to get all the detailed nuances through when you’re translating this stuff…
As a side note, this was a museum of magical history…
…but since most of the items on display were magical tomes and grimoires, from a visual perspective, the whole place was really boring!
Sure, some of those grimoires were probably historically significant, but they just didn’t have the same sort of impact that seeing an actual mummy on display did, for instance. It was just book after book after book. They all had explanations written out about them, of course, but that just led to another problem: Those explanations were so complicated, I could barely even begin to understand them.
I could use magic, sure, but analyzing grimoires was a field of study in its own right, and a very specialized one. Just being able to cast a few spells didn’t prepare you to understand the complicated nuances of grimoire-craft at all. To put it in Japanese terms, it was like how being a fan of Sengoku-era samurai stories didn’t necessarily mean you’d be capable of reading historical documents that were actually written in that era. You needed a different, much more specialized set of knowledge to make that possible.
To make matters worse, this whole exhibit felt more like a mage thing than a witch thing. Witches specialized in brewing medicines from herbs, using crystals for magic, and stuff like that, not leafing through grimoires. In other words, nothing that was on display at the museum inspired any sort of professional interest in me.
Laika, on the other hand, was making a point of reading the explanations for each and every display, which meant it was taking her even longer to walk through the museum than it otherwise would have.
“Hmm, hmm… This is all very complicated, isn’t it…?” Laika muttered.
She can’t even use magic, so she must be even more out of her comfort zone than I am… She sure does take her studies seriously, no matter the circumstances.
I didn’t have it in me to be quite that zealous, so I figured I might as well make the experience a little easier on myself. I decided to look for a shortcut through the museum. As I looked around for one, however, my gaze fell on something entirely different that grabbed my attention: a part of the museum labeled HANDS-ON DISPLAY.
The display turned out to be exactly what it said on the sign: an area where you were allowed to pick up and handle a variety of artifacts and grimoires. That, I figured, was something even I’d be able to appreciate, so I decided to kill some time there.
To start, I took a look at a staff that had one distinctly pointy end. I thought it was a weapon at first, but according to the nearby explanatory plaque, the idea was that the point allowed you jab it into the ground easily. I picked the staff up and thrust it into a mound of dirt that had been piled up nearby for that purpose. Lo and behold, it stuck in place with barely any effort at all.
“Okay, I get it now. That does seem kinda handy, if you needed to free up your hands for whatever reason.”
Next up was a grimoire that, apparently, was about as heavy as they came. It wasn’t that the materials were exceptionally heavy so much as that the book itself was just plain big, making it really hard to carry in a single hand.
“Oh! Two-handing this makes it pretty easy, though,” I said to myself as I lifted the book. That was with my physical strength, which didn’t say much about how the average person would experience it. In fact, an average person might not have been able to lift the tome at all.
Next, I took a look at a very conspicuously old box. If I wanted to describe it in more specific terms, I might have called it a coffer? Its explanatory plaque read THIS BOX’LL DO SOME MAGIC STUFF IF YOU OPEN IT UP! OUR HONORABLE PATRONS ARE SURE TO BE ASTONISHED.
Again, I really can’t tell if these plaques are trying to be casual, or polite, or what. Guess I should open it and see what happens, anyway.
I didn’t think they’d put a unique, irreplaceable treasure in a hands-on exhibit, but the box did also look very old, so I slowly and carefully cracked it open using both hands.
The next thing I knew, a cloud of white smoke began wafting out of the box!
It was almost like it was filled with dry ice or something.
“Oh? I guess it makes a magic smokescreen, then,” I said to myself.
The smoke vanished in no time at all, but it still struck me as a fun little trick. It seemed like something a bored kid in a museum would get a kick out of. Not that I have any right to criticize, since I’m the one who got bored in a museum and got a kick out of it just moments ago…
Anyway, I knew the others would make their way here eventually, but since I’d found something sort of fun, I figured I might as well go tell them about it. I knew museums weren’t a place for people to run around having a blast, but it still seemed like I was the only one who felt out of place here, and I wanted to be at least a little more involved with the others. As I turned away from the hands-on section, however…
…a very strange sensation came over me.
What is this? Why do I feel so stiff all of a sudden…?
That box didn’t put some sort of petrification curse on me, did it? On second thought, maybe I should actually warn everyone not to open it. But then again, there’s no way they’d put something with that dangerous of a magical effect in a hands-on section, would they…?
Thankfully, the stiffness wasn’t bad enough to keep me from moving around. I was relieved to realize it probably hadn’t petrified me after all, though that raised the question of just what it had done to me. If there was a curse that made its target feel vaguely out of shape, I’d certainly never heard of it.
“Hey, Falfa, Shalsha! I found something interesting over there,” I said, only to be surprised by my own voice. It sounded weirdly strained and quiet.
Am I talking quietly on reflex since this is a museum? I’m not sure my voice would change quite that much if that’s all there was to it, though.
Just then, Falfa and Shalsha turned to face me.
“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh!” Falfa screamed at a volume that was most definitely not museum-appropriate. Shalsha didn’t say a word, but she did take an immediate step backward away from me. A distinct shade of unease crept across her expression.
Okay, that’s not the reaction I was expecting!
“Huh? What…? Is there something weird about me?” I asked.
This is starting to really freak me out…
“You mean you can’t tell, Mommy?” asked Falfa.
“Can’t tell what? Did something happen to me? Don’t tell me I grew horns or something…?”
I patted my head, but nothing seemed out of place up there. The worst I could say is my hair felt a little dry…maybe? There wasn’t a good way to get around that when you rode Laika somewhere, though, thanks to all the wind.
Falfa and Shalsha took a moment to confer with each other, then reached some sort of decision and exchanged a nod. Shalsha turned around and went off somewhere, while Falfa took my hand.
“Let’s go out to the museum garden, okay, Mommy?”
Falfa pulled me outside. The garden spanned the circumference of a large lake, and she led me straight toward it.
“What’s going on? Do you think water would help? I’d really rather not take a bath in a lake, honestly…”
I remembered this one comic I’d read in my past life that featured a character who changed sexes when doused in hot or cold water. I didn’t think that was what was going on with me, though, and even if it was, I wouldn’t have wanted to jump in that lake. I hadn’t even brought a change of clothes with me!
“No, that’s not it,” said Falfa. “You’ll understand when we’re a little closer. Just look in the lake, Mommy!”
I did what Falfa asked me to, but it looked like a perfectly ordinary lake to me—no different than the ones you’d see in any other garden. Its most notable feature was a turtle swimming around a ways farther in.
“It looks like a normal lake to me,” I said. “Is there something special about the water in the demon lands, maybe?”
“No, Mommy! Look at the surface!”
Once again, I followed Falfa’s lead, gazing at the surface of the lake.
Is something right beneath the water, maybe? No, that doesn’t make sense—it’d have nothing to do with me. So maybe she wants me to use the water’s surface like a mirror, and look at my own— Ah!
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