Majo no Tabitabi - Volume 14 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The Country of Stories

“Do you know about the ‘Country of Stories’?”

It happened while I was eating a meal at a Travelers’ Restaurant in a certain country. A male customer who had been sitting nearby suddenly came over to me and posed that question.

When I answered that I did not know of it, he reacted with surprise.

“Imagine not knowing about such an amazing place! If you like, why don’t I tell you a tale about the Country of Stories?” he suggested.

The story about the Country of Stories the man proceeded to tell me was very strange indeed.

“It’s said that everyone who goes to the Country of Stories finds happiness,” he began. “A while ago, a friend of a friend of mine went to visit, and we never saw him again. Apparently, it’s simply too wonderful, and he immediately fell head over heels for the place… This here is the diary that this friend of a friend sent to me. If you like, how about you give it a read?”

As he spoke, the man handed me a small booklet.

I flipped through it, and sure enough, the diary was full of lengthy passages singing the praises of the Country of Stories. Its pages were filled with lots of abstract words about how beautiful a place it was, how nice the people were, and so on. The diary also recorded testimonials from others, such as “An acquaintance of mine separated from his wife and fell into the depths of despair, but he reclaimed his happy life by going to the Country of Stories.”

“I see,” I said, nodding.

It seems people who go to this country are able to pass the days as if in a dream.

The man nodded back. “As you can see, it’s an amazing place.”

“By the way, where is this country?” I asked.

The man cocked his head to the side suggestively. “Hmm, I wonder…” he said. “It might interest you to know that the booklet you’re holding is only one part of the story. In truth, my friend’s friend sent me many more.”

The man smiled suspiciously and advised that I might determine the country’s location if I read them all.

So I did as he suggested and bought the diaries.

The story about the Country of Stories the man told me was very strange indeed.

I had heard tales about this mysterious place before in various other countries, but…

…no matter where I looked, I had never found any trace of it.

I suppose the first time I ever heard about the Country of Stories was around one month prior.

It happened right after I entered a certain other country. Not far from its gates, I noticed a barker shouting, “Welcome to the Travelers’ Restaurant! All travelers, please come and visit us!”

My, my. “The Travelers’ Restaurant,” hmm? What a wonderful name. I wandered over, drawn to the barker’s voice, and before I knew it, I had entered the restaurant.

Apparently, this place called the Travelers’ Restaurant operated like a buffet. In the center of the dining room, they had set up long tables, and on those tables were rows and rows of every kind of food you could imagine. There were croissants and toast, muffins, omelets and sausages, salad and bacon, even hamburg steaks.

Am I dreaming…?

Feeling euphoric, I practically danced alongside the table. I picked up a plate and filled it with all my favorite things from the many dishes. Then I found a seat, still bouncing with joy.

“Goodness… That’s quite a strange meal you’ve assembled…”

After I had spent a little while sitting and eating, a young woman stopped by my table and stared in wonder at the number of dishes set before me.

“Sorry,” I replied. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m not giving you any.”

“I don’t want any… And anyway, this is a buffet…”

Incidentally, the food piled up before me consisted of croissants, toast, muffins, bagels, and sandwiches—in short, every kind of bread imaginable.

I must be dreaming…, I thought, looking over it again.

Staring at me in disbelief, the young woman continued, “By the way, I wonder if you’re familiar with the rules of this establishment?”

Um…rules?

I felt a shock run through me, like I had been struck by lightning.

“Don’t tell me it’s against the rules to only eat the bread…”

“No, it’s not, but…”

Shaking her head slowly, the woman introduced me, a total beginner, to the concept of the Travelers’ Restaurant. She informed me that these buffet-style restaurants were common to the region and most often found near country gates. As the name suggested, they appealed to travelers, and most of the customers who dined there were nomads of some sort. These restaurants did not assign diners to seats, and customers could move between the tables freely.

It was hardly necessary for me to ask why—obviously, it was so that travelers who had never met could get together and talk over a meal.

“…So basically, you’re saying these restaurants are meant to facilitate information exchange between customers?”

“You catch on quickly,” the woman said, nodding. “By the way, is this seat taken?”

“No. Please sit.”

But I’m not giving you any of my bread, I thought as I offered her the seat across from mine.

The young woman sat down, and we began to exchange small talk. We told each other what kinds of countries were nearby and about interesting places we had been.

The first time I ever heard of the Country of Stories was during that conversation.

“…This country is more frightening than interesting, but…do you know about a place known as the Country of Stories? I hear it’s not all that far from here.”

She lowered her voice and stealthily told me the tale of the Country of Stories. “As a matter of fact, a little while ago, a friend of a friend of mine apparently went to the Country of Stories. But the place was so terrifying, the experience drove them insane.”

“Oh no.” That’s just terrible, I thought as I chewed.

“We still don’t know exactly what happened, but—please take a look at this.”

As she spoke, the woman handed me a little booklet. When I looked at it, I saw it contained a detailed description of the author’s terrifying experience in the Country of Stories.

The place was so terrifying, my stay ended after only two days. I cannot express in words exactly what I experienced there. I once heard of a case of someone who stayed longer than I did. They told their family about their experiences, and all of them immediately went missing.

The booklet continued along this vein. It went on endlessly about how, at any rate, the writer had had an extremely dreadful experience.

“There are many things we don’t know about the Country of Stories, but I suggest you take care.” The woman looked at me with a stern expression and continued, “By the way, that booklet is just one of many. I have quite a few others concerning the Country of Stories. If you like, why not buy them?”

“…………”

As I flipped through the booklet, I listened to what she had to say.

“You might inadvertently wind up in the Country of Stories, you see. So what do you say? You’ll buy them, won’t you?”

“Hmm…” After flipping through the booklet for a little while longer, I nodded. “Well, all right then.”

Certainly, if what she says about the Country of Stories is true, I had better do my best to avoid going there.

“Oh-hoh-hoh-hoh. Thank you for your business.”

The young woman handed me the booklets with apparent delight. “By the way, what is your name?”

“Elaina,” I answered.

“Elaina, is it? I’ll remember that.”

She never stopped grinning as I handed her the money in exchange for the booklets.

I noticed quite a few branches of the Travelers’ Restaurant in nearby countries. In fact, I’m not sure I ever passed through a country’s gates without seeing one. It seemed like the restaurant in question was truly beloved by the nomads of this region.

“I don’t see much point in concentrating their business so heavily in such a small area, though…”

Won’t news just keep circling around and around the same places? Will any new information ever enter the mix? It made me wonder.

That said, as a traveler, it also seemed to me that there was no better place to gather information. So in the end, each time I crossed from one country to another, I found my way to the Travelers’ Restaurant.

“Oh, young lady? Do you know about a place called the Country of Stories?”

“You’re a traveler, aren’t you? Where did you come from? By the way, have you heard of the Country of Stories?”

“Good afternoon. Lovely weather, isn’t it? What a lucky man I am, to meet a girl as lovely as you on such a fine day! By the way, have you heard of the Country of Stories?”

“Hey, you! What’re you lookin’ at? You wanna piece of me? Huh? Oh, right—you know about the Country of Stories?”

I soon noticed a mysterious phenomenon. The more I visited the Travelers’ Restaurant, the more I heard about the Country of Stories.

One person introduced it to me as “A country where you spend your days as if in a dream, a truly incredible place.”

Another explained that it was “A country where every person, without exception, gets treated like royalty.”

Someone else called it “An awful place where you fall into the depths of despair the moment you enter.”

And another person told me it was “A horrible country where every person, without exception, is driven insane.”

The positive opinions were extremely positive, and the negative opinions were extremely negative. The only thing every account had in common was each person’s astonishment and insistence that they had “never visited such a country before in their life.”

Was the place heaven on earth or a living hell? I wasn’t sure which stories to believe. But either way, it seemed to be a unique place.

So then, just where exactly is this country?

Every time I heard someone talk about it, I asked that question.

And whenever I did, the speaker would smile suspiciously, almost as if they had been waiting for those very words. Then they would give me a vague answer like “Hmm, I wonder” and follow right up with “By the way, the booklet I just showed you is one of many. I have lots more of them. Do you want them? They might provide you with more detailed information.” Then they would flash me a whole bunch of little booklets.

“Oh really?” I would say, narrowing my eyes. And every time, without fail, they would tell me about yet another story from yet another source, without ever going into any actual details.

“Really! As a matter of fact, a friend of a friend of mine used what they learned from these booklets and went to the Country of Stories—”

And then, after flipping through the first booklet a little more, I would answer, “Well, all right then,” and buy the rest.

For the past month, I had been buying these booklets each time I went to a new place.

I’ve been reading these things for a month, and I still have no idea where this place is…

No matter how many I bought or how many times I read them, none of the booklets ever revealed a single specific detail. They just said, Anyway, it was an amazing experience! or Anyway, it was a horrible experience! I’d never be able to determine the country’s location from just that.

“Ha-ha-ha, but, Madam Witch, the Country of Stories truly does exist. This friend of my friend is the ultimate proof.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I nodded along as I munched on some bread. I had been eating a lot of it in the past month. By now, I must have had my fill at nearly all of the Travelers’ Restaurant’s many locations. But no matter where I ate it, the bread tasted just the same.

“I’ve had enough. I’m even getting sick of the taste of this bread…”

I suppose even a peerless bread lover can get tired of the stuff if she visits the same buffet over and over for a whole month.

I sighed, and the man sitting across from me said, “Oh, if you’re bored, I know of a good restaurant,” and clapped his hands together. “The country to the south of here also has a Travelers’ Restaurant, but—it’s the original establishment, and the food is especially tasty there.”

“Oh really?”

Well, well.

“Yes, and the bread is top-notch, too.”

“Oh?!”

Goodness me. That’s the most useful bit of information I’ve heard in a while.

“Thank you kindly,” I said, then skipped out of the restaurant, a song in my heart.

“Heh-heh-heh…”

As he watched the ashen-haired witch leaving the restaurant, the man chuckled coldly.

“The Country of Stories, eh? As if such a thing actually exists!”

Travelers often visit the Travelers’ Restaurant. It’s a place for people from faraway places to gather and exchange valuable information. But at the same time, it’s also fertile ground for swindlers looking to palm off rubbish to easy marks for a high price.

They approach travelers moving from country to country with stories about “a place of great interest” or “a dangerous destination.” Travelers who show interest in this land—the mysterious Country of Stories, its whereabouts unknown—buy the booklets. Unable to find it, they wind up going to another Travelers’ Restaurant in another country and buying more booklets. Sooner or later, they realize it’s nothing but a scam. However, by that time, they’ve shelled out a fair amount of money on a bunch of booklets full of vague nonsense.

A certain ring of fraudsters operating through the Travelers’ Restaurants was using this method to rake in the dough.

“But wow, that witch really was an easy mark, just like the rumors said.”

Information passed quickly among this circle of ne’er-do-wells. Once they found an easy mark, they shared their intel with the others so that the unsuspecting victim could be targeted for fraud in other locations as well.

Among their targets, a certain ashen-haired witch who had arrived in the area about a month before was particularly famous within their group.

She was known to be a foolish traveler who would buy their booklets no matter how much they inflated the price, so long as they had a tale ready about the Country of Stories.

“Apparently, that witch has been spreading rumors about the Country of Stories everywhere she goes, and now even more foolish travelers are coming to the Travelers’ Restaurants specifically to hear about it.”

The witch was truly one of their best customers—she even brought in more easy marks for them to prey on.

The man sipped his drink with a smile, thinking it would be nice if the witch continued to hang around the area for a long while.

A woman took a seat across from him. She was a fellow fraudster. “…But I wonder if she isn’t almost done with the Travelers’ Restaurants?” she said.

After organizing all the information she had gathered from their other colleagues, the woman had worked out that, with the exception of the location in the country directly to the south, the witch had visited all the other Travelers’ Restaurants and had been met with the same scam in every one of them. The woman could hardly endure the idea of someone so utterly dense.

“Seems like the next scam will be the last,” she concluded.

“In that case, we should take her for all she’s worth!” The man laughed loudly. “Our leader is there, after all! I’m sure he’ll snatch away all her money and leave that witch’s wallet as empty as her brain. Ha-ha-ha!”

Annoyed by her companion’s loudness, the woman looked out the window and spied the ashen-haired witch walking toward the city gates.

She pitied the witch. If she hadn’t made herself a target, she might have a little more money to spare.

The woman stared after the figure, feeling sorry for her. Maybe the witch felt her gaze, because just once, as she was leaving the gates, she turned back toward them.

“…………?”

The woman cocked her head.

The witch was smiling suspiciously—a smile just like their own.

Exactly as the man had said, when I flew my broom a short distance southward, I found a country there.

It was very small.

Once I entered the gates, I headed straight for the Travelers’ Restaurant. It was just what I expected from the original location. If I was being positive, I might say the interior had an old-fashioned charm. If I wanted to be a little meaner, I’d say the place was falling apart.

According to the information I’d picked up at the last Travelers’ Restaurant, however, the bread here was supposed to be exquisite.

“Hmm. As promised.”

I immediately snatched up several glossy croissants shaped like beautiful crescent moons and found a seat. When I bit into one, there was a crunch, and the aroma of butter spread through my mouth.

Well, these are pretty tasty, aren’t they?

Then, as I was blissfully crunching and munching on the croissants, a man sat down in the seat across from me.

“I haven’t seen your face around these parts. Are you a rookie traveler?”

In Travelers’ Restaurants, it was common for people to share tables with strangers and exchange information. But recently, someone had immediately come over to talk to me every single time.

“I’m not a rookie, but—did you need something?” I asked with feigned ignorance.

The man said, “Do you know the rules of the Travelers’ Restaurant?”

The man wore a proud expression on his face, and despite the fact that I hadn’t asked, he went on at length about the rules I already knew quite well. He told me this was a place where travelers exchanged information and that people were free to sit wherever they liked, and so on.

Then, after the man had explained everything to me, he said, “By the way, there’s a place I’d really love to tell you about—” and pulled out a little booklet.

Over the past month, I’d seen more than my fair share of these things.

“The Country of Stories, right?”

I set out all the booklets I had bought so far on the table. In total, there were about twenty. I had gone to the Travelers’ Restaurant in every city I had visited and purchased several booklets at each one, so I had accumulated quite a few by then.

“…Oh-hoh, so you already know about the Country of Stories. That’s exactly the one I mean. That country is a very mysterious place, you know—”

“Ah, sorry, but if you’re trying to sell me more booklets, I’m not interested.”

Yeah, no thanks. I’m not listening to any more of that.

I plugged up my ears and shook my head.

In fact…

“I came to this restaurant today in order to talk with you. I didn’t come to hear about the Country of Stories.”

“Huh? With me…?”

The man seemed a little confused. I put on the biggest smile I could muster and looked him right in the eye.

“Yes. You’re the leader of the group of fraudsters operating within the Travelers’ Restaurants, right?”

“…!” The man looked surprised for a moment, then immediately averted his eyes. “F-fraud…? Whatever do you mean…?”

“Spare me your excuses. By continuing to visit the Travelers’ Restaurants, I’ve pretty much figured out that your group is making money pushing sales of these booklets about the fictional Country of Stories.”

The Country of Stories was a made-up land that existed only to draw the listener’s interest with tales of a place more amazing than anywhere else, or more awful than anywhere else. In other words, it was a fictional country that could exist only in stories.

In the end, the only thing that really existed was a Country of Lies, huh?

The group attracted interest using vague stories with no real substance and then used that interest to sell their wares. They demanded more money from people who sought more information and extorted them until they reached the point of no return. This was a common trick among fraudsters.

“…Humph. So, you finally figured it out.” The man’s attitude suddenly changed. “By the way, I’ll go ahead and tell you now—if you came to ask me to give back the money you’ve paid out so far, I won’t be doing that. I don’t even know exactly how much you’ve paid, and anyway, it’s your own fault for letting yourself get tricked.”

I nodded. “That’s right. It’s my fault for being deceived by your lies and my fault for giving you the opening, so I’m not even considering trying to get my money back.”

“Then what is it? What do you think you’re going to discuss with me?”

“About that…” I put my index finger to my lips. It smelled of croissants. Then, still wearing a smile, I said, “This place, it’s a Travelers’ Restaurant, right? I wonder what might happen if I went around spreading information about your group’s activities? In fact, I’ve drawn pictures of all your colleagues’ faces, and I wonder what might happen if I were to distribute those to other patrons? If your supply of gullible, foolish travelers were to dry up, you would stop making money, wouldn’t you? You’d be in quite a bind, huh?”

To get right down to it—

The man’s expression grew even more grim. “…You’re after hush money, is that it?” he asked.

“I’m glad you’re so quick to catch on.”

“Ugh…” The man made a very, very bitter face. If he left me to do as I had threatened, he would no longer be able to make money ripping off foolish travelers. For the man and his colleagues, that would be a very serious loss.

After thinking for a little while, the man glared at me and said, “…And I suppose I can trust you’ll keep quiet?”

“Rest assured, I’m very good at keeping secrets. If you give me the money, I promise you my silence.”

“Hmm… So then, how much to keep you quiet?”

“About this much, I guess.”

I quickly wrote down an amount on a piece of paper and held it out to him. It was about twice as much money as I had paid out so far.

“Wha…?! H-hey! There’s no way we took that much from you!”

“I believe I said earlier that I didn’t come to you to discuss getting my money back.”

I intend to squeeze much, much more out of you.

“Uuuugh… You devil…!”

“I’m not a devil, I’m a witch. So how about it? Will you pay or not?” I pressed the man for a decision.

After all, it was his fault for leaving himself vulnerable.

Eventually, the man said, “Ah, jeez, I’ll pay! I just have to fork over the dough, and you’ll shut up, right?!”

Desperate, he paid me the money.

“Oh, and while we’re here, there’s one more thing,” I added.

“Oh, come on, there’s more?! Now what do you want?!”

“If you don’t mind, can I have your booklets on the Country of Stories?”

I had realized while making the rounds of the Travelers’ Restaurants that the booklets were numbered, and I was trying to complete a full set by adding the ones from this location. While overpriced, as reading material, they were surprisingly enjoyable. They’d sparked something like a collector’s hunger in me, and if possible, I’d have liked to get a hold of the last ones.

“Here ya go! Take ’em, you cheat!” the man cried out in desperation, handing me the booklets.

“I’m of the opinion that you and your group are the cheats,” I insisted.

Regardless, now my collection is complete.

“By the way, who wrote all of these?” I asked.

“No idea,” the man answered. “Some amateur probably wrote them a long time ago. My parents bought them on clearance at a bazaar.”

“Then you used them in your scheme without your folks’ permission, did you?”

“How rude. I’ll have you know I did get permission.”

“What kind of parent would allow their child to use something they bought for fraud…?”

“They were the original fraudsters.”

“So like parent, like child, huh…?”

According to the man, his parents had also visited the Travelers’ Restaurants, spreading dubious information to other patrons and charging them for the service. Apparently, they’d made their living that way. I realized that while these restaurants had been around for some time, the conversations taking place there must not have changed much over the decades.

Time doesn’t always make things better, it seems. Well, nevertheless—

“Since I’ve gotten my money as well, I believe I’ll go ahead and take my leave.” I collected my booklets and stashed them in my bag, then stood up from my seat.

I walked out with an easygoing stride.

The leader of the fraudsters, on the other hand, seemed to be feeling some lingering indignation. He stood up, pointed at me, and raised his voice.

“We’ve got an agreement now, you hear?! Don’t you go telling a soul! If you interfere with our business going forward, I’ll make you pay!”

Just as I’d said earlier, as long as I got my money, I wasn’t going to spread any more rumors.

So I turned around and answered with a nod. “Of course. I will keep my promise.”

Starting now.

“Damn…she got me.”

After the ashen-haired witch left, the man gulped down the rest of his drink. He had heard she was an easy mark, but she’d turned into an unexpected liability.

However—

“But, well… So long as she stays quiet, we shouldn’t have any more problems…”

The witch had been spreading rumors about the Country of Stories all over the place for a while now. Their customer count had been increasing in leaps and bounds. It probably wouldn’t even take them a whole day to recover the money their leader had just given away.

Considering all that, there was no need to worry about the fee he’d paid for the witch’s silence.

“Tch… She could have ripped us off for way more.”

In fact, they had gotten off so easy that he pitied the witch, who had only demanded as much money as they could make in a single day.

“Stupid woman,” the man mumbled to himself. He sat back and elegantly lifted a cup of the restaurant’s black tea to his lips, when suddenly—

“Leader! Leader! There’s trouble!”

—one of the junior members of their group, with a wild look on his face, crashed through the door of the Travelers’ Restaurant. The underling spotted his leader, and in a terrible panic, he rushed over to his table.

“What is it?” the leader demanded. “You’re making a racket.”

When he looked up, the underling continued, his breath ragged, “Sh-she got us! That witch did us in!”

“Did us in…?”

“She spilled the beans on everything we’ve been doing!”

A certain witch with ash-colored hair had become the topic of much gossip within their group. She was known as an easy mark who would always buy booklets about the Country of Stories. She was also famous for being a particularly good customer who spread rumors about the Country of Stories everywhere she went, bringing them plenty of new targets to rip off.

And these rumors she had been spreading here and there—what on earth had they been about?

“It can’t be…,” said the leader.

The underling nodded. “She really got us! Recently, every single one of our new customers has demanded hush money!”