Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 5 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

The Whereabouts of Secret Recipe Number Three

Once their things had been brought into the mansion and they’d all finished greeting Duke Rehnberg, the group was shown to a comfortable, spacious room. The idea seemed to be that they could relax and have a pleasant chat there.

Glenn Dudley, the son of a butcher, remained standing at the entrance, glancing around restlessly.

This is some mansion…, he thought.

The duke’s estate was decidedly magnificent, both inside and out. The wallpaper and curtains were adorned with all kinds of patterns and decorations; just looking at it all hurt his eyes.

Taking a breather inside the room were Felix, the Silent Witch, and the latter’s attendant, Bartholomew Alexander.

Speaking of the attendant, Glenn found him extremely suspicious. First of all, he acted considerably more important than his supposed master. His robe was also extremely old-fashioned, and his name was obviously fake. The Adventures of Bartholomew Alexander was such a famous novel series that even Glenn had heard of it. Using the main character’s name as his own was very suspicious. Too suspicious.

Now the guy was leaning back on the couch, yawning without a care in the world. He kept acting like he was the most important person here. In contrast, his master was sitting still and quiet, bunched up to one side.

I can’t believe this little kid is the Silent Witch… Glenn gulped, remembering the spirit king summoning he’d just witnessed. Back when his master had assigned him this mission, he’d told Glenn a horrifying tale about her.

After Glenn returned from the winter market where he’d rung the Alteria chimes, his dorm’s housemaster had summoned him and told him Louis was there to see him.

He’d gone straight to the dorm’s meeting room, where his master, the Barrier Mage, had charged him with this mission to protect the second prince.

After hearing the details, Glenn was full of vigor. To think, the very same day he’d rung the Alteria chimes and sworn to work hard at his magecraft training, he’d been assigned to guard a prince! It felt like destiny.

Even better, the prince he was to protect was already an acquaintance who treated him well. Not only did Felix overlook Glenn’s outdoor grill sessions, but he had even provided storage space for the necessary cooking supplies.

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Glenn said. “I’ll give it my all!”

“…I appreciate your enthusiasm,” replied Louis, looking tired. He probably didn’t agree with Glenn taking on this mission. “But keep in mind that your role is to provide support and nothing more. You must follow the Sage’s instructions.”

“Ummm, by ‘the Sage’…you mean…the whatsit witch, right?”

Louis’s cheek twitched in irritation. Behind his monocle, his purple-gray eye glinted. “Glenn… Please tell me you can name all seven of the Sages. You can, right?”

“Urk. Um, well, there’s you, Master…and the Starseer Witch…” Glenn counted these off on his fingers, his gaze wandering—and then stopped. He’d only managed two.

Louis rubbed the spot between his brows and sighed. He looked crestfallen.

“How truly sad. I had thought a pupil of the Seven Sages would at least be able to recall their names. Very well, then. I will explain them so that you don’t embarrass me in front of Duke Rehnberg. You’ve got plenty of room in that head of yours, so make sure to burn this into your memory.”

“Yes, sir!” said Glenn, straightening up like a well-trained dog.

Louis held up one finger. “First is the one you already know—Mary Harvey, the Starseer Witch. She is the foremost prophet in the kingdom, and a master of astrology. Despite her appearance, she’s the eldest of the Sages. She loves beautiful young men, and if she manages to make eye contact with one, she’ll try to take him home with her.”

“I’m not very good-looking, so I guess I’m in the clear.”

Louis held up a second finger. “Next is the Witch of Thorns, Raul Roseburg.”

“Isn’t her name kind of manly?”

“That’s because he’s a man. The title is hereditary.”

In elite magecraft families, the current family head would assume their forebears’ mage title. Raul Roseburg was the fifth Witch of Thorns.

“The fifth Witch of Thorns is a titan in terms of mana capacity. He has more than anyone else in Ridill. That said, he doesn’t often use magecraft, preferring instead to leisurely research flora—a complete waste of his talents. Lock eyes with him and you’ll end up with a basket of homegrown vegetables.”

“He sounds kind of like an old woman who lives down the street.”

Ignoring Glenn’s amicable comment, Louis held up a third finger. “Third is Ray Albright, the Abyss Shaman. He’s a very shady character who, when he locks eyes with a young woman, will abruptly storm up to her and ask her if she loves him.”

“I’m not a girl, so I shouldn’t have to worry about that.”

“Fourth is Bradford Firestone, the Artillery Mage. He’s an old guy who likes saying kaboom a lot and jumps at any opportunity to fight. Lock eyes with him and he’ll challenge you to a mage battle.”

“…It sounds like you’re already tired of this, Master,” said Glenn, narrowing his eyes.

Louis nodded smoothly. “I’m glad you noticed. On to number five: Emanuel Darwin, the Gem Mage. He’s a master of imbuement magecraft and creating magical items. He’s your classic petty villain, skilled at brownnosing greedy nobles.”

Louis’s tone was filled with malice, but as far as Glenn was concerned, number five seemed like the most normal person his master had described so far.

Louis scowled and continued. “He’s also one of the second prince’s supporters, is attached at the hip to Duke Clockford, and views me as an enemy. Lock eyes with him and he’s sure to pick a fight with you, since you’re my pupil.”

The Gem Mage was the most politically involved of the Seven Sages, and he was the mortal enemy of Louis, a supporter of the first prince.

Glenn didn’t understand politics very well, but even he had managed to put together that this second prince was Serendia’s student council president.

Wait, if my master supports the first prince, does that make the prez my enemy?

Glenn owed the student president a lot and didn’t want to be at odds with him. He also wanted to believe that anyone who enjoyed his family’s meat was a decent fellow.

But I’m sure he knows I’m the Barrier Mage’s pupil, so…maybe he already thinks of me as an enemy.

Glenn felt a little sad at that. He liked the student council president—he never made fun of Glenn for being a commoner.

As Glenn folded his arms and hummed in thought, Louis held up a sixth finger.

“The sixth is the youngest, and the one you’ll be working with on this mission—Monica Everett, the Silent Witch.”

“Hey, I’ve got a friend named Monica, too.”

“A simple coincidence and nothing more. The name is very common.”

Louis was right; the name Monica wasn’t exactly rare. Coincidences like that happen sometimes, thought Glenn, easily convinced. And having a friend with the same name would make the Sage’s easier to remember.

“The Silent Witch became a Sage at the same time I did, so you might say we’re in the same ‘class.’ She’s currently the only mage in the world who can use unchanted magecraft.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right! During that magic battle at the Sage qualifiers, she really wiped the floor with yo—”

Louis kicked Glenn in the shin, his beautiful smile never faltering. He’s such a child, thought Glenn. He rubbed his stinging leg, then looked bitterly at his master and asked, “So the Silent Witch is even more terrifying than you?”

“……”

Louis clasped his hands together and nodded, his expression dead serious. “Yes. Just as you say, she’s terrifying. She loathes people, and she’s cruel and merciless. Using unchanted magecraft, she can slay her enemies instantly, making her absurdly powerful and extremely dangerous. Displease her, and before you know it, she’ll… Oh, it’s simply too gruesome to say out loud.”

Glenn audibly gulped as Louis continued in a low voice.

“Be sure never to make the Silent Witch mad… Keep any contact with her to a minimum. Don’t address her unnecessarily, either. Assume that if you meet her gaze, she will kill you.”

“H-holy cow, she sounds pretty intimidating…”

“She is. She’s an inhuman monster, utterly unreasonable.”

For a moment, Glenn wondered why such a dangerous person had been asked to guard a prince. But if someone as morally bankrupt as Louis had been trusted to defend the castle, it probably wasn’t an issue. That was how Glenn understood it anyway.

The morally bankrupt Louis assumed a grave tone and repeated himself for good measure. “I’ll say it again. If you value your life, do not get too close to the Silent Witch or attempt to engage her in conversation… Do you understand?”

Glenn nodded quickly and forcefully. Then he began to mentally organize this new information in his own words.

Barrier Mage: My master. Scary when mad.

Starseer Witch: A prophet. Lock eyes and she’ll take you home (pretty boys only).

Rose Witch: Actually a man. Lock eyes and he’ll give you vegetables.

Abyss Shaman: Curse guy. Lock eyes and he’ll ask if you love him (girls only).

Artillery Mage: The kaboom man. Lock eyes and he’ll ask you to fight him.

Gem Mage: Doesn’t like my master. Lock eyes and he’ll pick a fight (Glenn only).

Silent Witch: Wiped the floor with my master. Lock eyes and she’ll kill you.

It was then that Glenn realized something important.

“Master, this means I can’t lock eyes with almost half the Sages.” This was particularly true of the last three.

Louis smiled at his troubled pupil, a little proud. “Have you realized how competent and sane I am yet? Don’t you think I deserve a little more respect?”

“Miss Rosalie said it’s not good to put others down in order to make yourself look better.”

Louis remained smiling at this mention of his wife, but veins appeared on his temples, and he kicked Glenn in the shin again, twice.

Watching the boy writhe in pain out of the corner of his eye, the mage cleared his throat and continued. “That concludes my explanation of the Seven Sages. Do you have it down now?”

Glenn, rubbing his shin, gave his honest opinion. “They seem less like the Seven Sages and more like the Seven Weirdos.”

“May I assume you are excluding me, idiot pupil?”

Seeing his master start to ball his hand into a fist, Glenn panicked and began frantically nodding. His master’s punches hurt so much, you’d think he was smacking you with a metal plate. Glenn would rather be blown away by wind magecraft.

Remembering his master’s warning, Glenn covertly watched the Silent Witch as she sat snug on the couch, head down.

Her baggy robe seemed like a sack on her tiny body, and she grasped her staff as if clinging to it for dear life. She looked like a little kid pretending to be a mage. With her hood so far down and a veil covering her mouth, he couldn’t tell what kind of face she was making.

But according to Louis, she was a terrifying witch who despised people and would brutally attack anyone she didn’t like.

Hmm, he thought. She doesn’t seem like someone who could wipe the floor with my master…

Then again, when she’d appeared in the sky over the mansion, she’d summoned a spirit king. That kind of advanced magecraft could only be used by a select few. Maybe she’d been trying to intimidate them, implying she’d kill them all at once with the power of the spirit king if they dared defy her.

As Glenn stood around, groaning in thought and refusing to sit down, Felix called out to him from his spot opposite the Silent Witch.

“Why not take a seat, Dudley?”

“I suppose I will…,” he replied, moving over to the couches. The Silent Witch was sitting next to her attendant on one, so Glenn took the empty spot next to Felix, putting him across from the man who called himself Bartholomew Alexander.

He said that if I wanted to talk to her, I should talk to him instead… Maybe it’s okay to ask him what I want to know.

Bored of staying quiet for so long, Glenn turned to Bartholomew, who was still leaning back arrogantly and yawning. Nervously, he asked, “Ummm, so I heard that the Silent Witch totally destroyed my master during the Seven Sages qualifiers.”

The Silent Witch’s drooping shoulders suddenly jerked up.

I wonder if it’s okay to ask something like this, so long as I ask her attendant. Trembling, Glenn said, “If you can, please tell me how she won!”

The Silent Witch tugged on Bartholomew’s robe. That was probably a demand that he answer for her.

But her attendant simply yawned again and said, “Not sure. I may be great, but I don’t know much about what happened back then. I’m pretty sure my master could’ve killed any opponent instantly, though.”

The Silent Witch shook her head, but her attendant didn’t seem to get the message.

Then Felix, who had been quietly listening, joined in. “That’s an excellent question, Dudley. I deeply regret that I wasn’t able to attend the Seven Sages’ qualifying competition two years ago, but from the records I’ve seen, Lady Everett used several wide-area attack spells in quick succession during the fight, never letting the other candidates get close. Of particular note was a compound spell involving a remote formula and a moderation formula, which she cast without chanting. It was an incredible feat that had the other Sages singing her praises. The moderation formula was the reason she could cast high-power, wide-area spells so quickly, and it’s what allowed her to emerge victorious against the Barrier Mage.”

Was it just him, or was Felix speaking more quickly than usual? And even though Glenn was studying magecraft, he only understood about half of what the prince had just said.

“I don’t really get it, but she sounds amazing!”

Felix smiled at him and continued without missing a beat. “A moderation formula is a special kind that takes a horribly long time to chant, but it allows you to greatly decrease the amount of mana you consume. Using it with simple, beginner magecraft can take thirty minutes, and working it into more advanced spells takes even longer. Normally, the immense time required makes it unsuited to combat. I’m sure anyone who knows anything about magecraft would understand how incredible it is to use such a technique without chanting. If she wanted to, Lady Everett could use large-scale spells over and over again by halving the mana cost. That was how she overwhelmed the Barrier Mage.”

Once again, Glenn wasn’t really comprehending what Felix was saying. Impressed, he said, “You really know a lot about this stuff, Prez.”

Felix put on a perfect smile and answered, “I am royalty, after all.”

“Man, royals are something else!”

The fact he’s royalty has absolutely nothing to do with it!

Monica’s lips trembled behind her veil as she made herself small on the couch.

It seemed Glenn hadn’t noticed, but ever since they’d been brought to this room, Felix had clearly been desperate to talk to the Silent Witch. His eyes sparkled as he spoke, and he was far more loquacious than usual—and more open, Monica thought. Glenn paid this no mind, of course.

Felix truly idolized the Silent Witch. Only an ardent fan would have read records of magic battles from two years ago so closely. The only one who’d believed Felix’s excuse about being royalty was Glenn.

“Huh,” said the man beside her. “I don’t really get it, but this royalty stuff sounds intense.”

Correction—it had worked on Glenn and Nero.

Oh, I see… Nero doesn’t know what the prince thinks of the Silent Witch… In other words, of those present, only Monica was aware of his feelings about the Sage.

To make matters worse, Glenn seemed terrified of her. Is Glenn, um, scared of me or something? …Wait, what in the world did you tell him about me, Mister Louis?!

Having a normally cheerful and energetic friend look at her like that made her heart ache.

With one boy looking at her with deep respect and the other with abject terror, Monica’s stomach showed no signs of unknotting anytime soon.

The estate’s kitchen was in a state of pandemonium. Not only had the young lady Eliane returned from her studies halfway across the kingdom, but the second prince and one of the Seven Sages were staying as guests.

And that was only the beginning. Envoys from a neighboring country would be visiting the very next day. The kitchen staff would have to prepare luxurious meals nonstop.

Following dinner on the first day, it was as though a battle had taken place in the kitchen. And there were still things to be done, such as cleaning up and preparing for the following day.

Bartholomeus, working another one of his odd jobs, stood in a corner of the kitchen peeling carrots and thinking.

That was the Silent Witch? What’s goin’ on here? She’s not the Silent Witch I know.

From a window, he’d witnessed her summoning a spirit king and descending out of the sky. But the girl he’d seen was not the beautiful blond woman who had so swiftly seized his heart. She was far shorter—and, if he had to say, her chest was like a sheer cliff.

He wanted to get closer to the tiny witch and get a better look at her face. But since he was new here, he wouldn’t be allowed to interact directly with any of the guests unless one specifically asked for him. Seeing to guests was important work reserved for veteran staff. So instead, Bartholomeus had to steal glances through the doors in the brief moments available to him, such as when he brought food or utensils to the waitstaff.

And based on his observations, he had arrived at a single conclusion.

I know what the real Silent Witch is like. She’s a tall, cool, blond-haired beauty… And that means the one out there has got to be a fake.

But who would take a lowly laborer like Bartholomeus at his word? Everyone else believed the short one was the real Silent Witch.

I wish I could somehow catch the fake doing something incriminating… Wonder if there’s a way to do that.

Just as Bartholomeus finished peeling the carrots, Leston, the middle-aged butler, rushed into the kitchen.

“His Royal Highness enjoyed tonight’s dinner,” said Leston. “Keep it up tomorrow.”

The kitchen staff breathed a collective sigh of relief. The estate’s owner, Duke Rehnberg, was a mild-mannered man; Leston was much more critical of the staff’s work. Now that they had his approval, the tension in the kitchen began to wind down.

Then Leston looked at each of them in turn, his expression subdued. “…Lady Eliane tells me she’d like a drink she can bring to His Highness. Prepare a batch of Secret Recipe Number Three at once.”

What’s Secret Recipe Number Three? wondered Bartholomeus, pausing his work and cocking his head curiously.

Peter, who was washing dishes nearby, whispered into his ear, “It’s a cocktail of pleasant fruit water, high-proof liquor, spices, and herbs. Perfect for a nighttime seduction.”

“Ha-ha. I see. Yes, I see…” A light aphrodisiac, in other words. It seemed the lovely young lady wanted to turn up the charm for her gorgeous prince that evening.

The servants with longer service records, such as Leston, all seemed emotional over this development. “She used to be so little, and now…,” said one; “Ah, so she…with the prince…”

As he watched them, Bartholomeus had an idea. Secret Recipe Number Three, eh? I might be able to use that.

At the end of the workstation was a fruitcake they’d made for the Silent Witch. When nobody was looking, he borrowed a little Secret Recipe Number Three and let it seep into the cake. The cocktail had a distinctive sweet scent that came from its herbs and spices, but since the cake used alcohol in its flavoring, he should be able to play it off quite nicely.

Ha-ha! Get ready, you fake witch! Once you eat this cake, you won’t be able to lie to me!

“Uuurgh, it’s finally over… I’m so tired…”

With the first day’s dinner out of the way, Monica returned to her guest quarters, took off the veil hiding her mouth, and collapsed onto the couch. The staff had assigned her a room suitable for a Sage—it contained a bed and a writing desk in the back, with a low table and a couch to relax on closer to the door.

Nero, who had come with her, eyed the big bed in the back, his eyes sparkling. “Man, this mansion is somethin’ else! I just saw my own room, and the bed is huge.”

Imitating Monica, he collapsed onto the bed and rolled around. Despite looking like an adult man, he was carrying on like a child. Nero had a separate room next door for once, and Monica wished he’d roll around in his own bed instead of hers. She glared at him from the sofa.

“Check it out, Monica!” he exclaimed, clearly in high spirits. “My legs don’t hang off the end of the bed!”

In human form, Nero looked like a man in his midtwenties, and even then he was on the tall side. His legs would probably hang off the small bed in Monica’s attic room, at any rate.

Sprawled out on the bed, Nero hummed a tune, then took some cheese out of his robe’s pocket. He must have snatched it from the kitchen.

“Want some?” he asked. “You didn’t eat, did you?”

“…I don’t need any.”

While Monica had, of course, been offered a seat at the dinner table, she’d firmly declined to partake. Eating would mean removing her veil. No matter how low she kept her hood, anyone sitting at the same table would see her face.

Felix and Glenn had politely asked her to join them; Glenn had even offered to eat in shifts. But she’d stubbornly refused, sticking to the wall throughout the meal.

While she was standing through dinner, Nero wandered around the mansion; he’d probably picked up the cheese then. And if he’d stolen one thing, he was bound to have stolen another. Monica stared hard at his robe.

“Heh,” he said, and sat up, still munching on the cheese. “I bet you want it now that you’ve seen me eating it.”

Monica turned over on the couch, facing away from him. “No, I don’t. I have no appetite.”

“It’s only the first day, you know. You’ll never last if you’re already this pooped.”

And whose fault is that? thought Monica. At least half of my exhaustion is due to your behavior. She slowly rose from the couch and fixed Nero with a bitter glare.

“…You never told me you met the prince,” she said with a scowl, remembering his exchange with Felix shortly after their arrival.

But Nero simply tossed the last scrap of cheese into his mouth, unbothered. “It’s really no big deal, y’know? I gave the chilly guy to him, and we chatted for a minute. That’s all.”

“You’re absolutely sure he doesn’t know who I am?”

“Yep. He tried to use some kinda lizard to figure me out, but I caught it right away.”

“A lizard?” What could he have been doing with a lizard? she wondered, just as someone knocked on the door.

“Lady Everett, I apologize for visiting you so late. Do you have a few moments?”

Felix’s voice came from the other side of the door. Monica looked at Nero anxiously. He gulped down the cheese and looked back.

“What’s the plan?” he asked. “Should we send him away?”

“We can’t do that. Let him in… And be on your best behavior, okay?”

“Right, right,” said Nero noncommittally.

Once Monica had her hood and veil back on, Nero opened the door. Felix was standing in the hallway, wearing the same brilliant clothing he’d had on at dinner—but now a plain basket hung from his arm, a complete mismatch with his outfit.

When Felix realized it was Nero who had opened the door, he looked a little surprised.

“…You’re here, too?”

“I can go wherever I want, y’know. It’s called privilege. Anyway, what do you want? It’s late.” Nero stuck out his chin intimidatingly.

Felix held up the basket on his arm. It contained a bottle of liquid, a small enameled metal pot, some bread, and a fruitcake.

“Lady Everett didn’t eat anything at dinner, and I didn’t hear of her eating anything after, either. So I brought her a little something.”

Nero’s eyes glinted. “You’re a good guy, you know that? Come on in.”

He wasn’t following Monica’s instructions at all. But she hadn’t planned to send Felix away to begin with, so she nervously gestured for him to sit down on the other couch.

Felix thanked her, then took a seat, placing his basket on the low table. Nero immediately sat down across from him and peered at what he’d brought.

“Hey, what’s in this bottle here?”

“I was told it’s fruit water—”

Before he could finish, Nero had his mouth on the lip of the bottle. With loud gulps, he downed its whole contents.

“Hey, that’s real good. A ton of different spices. A real mature flavor, y’know? And it warms up your stomach real nice.”

“…?” Felix looked confused. “It should just be fruit water. There shouldn’t be any alcohol in it.” As he spoke, he opened the lid of the pot; inside was steaming-hot soup. “Lady Everett, would you like some warm soup?”

Monica, who had stood throughout dinner, wavered for a moment. Then she took a seat next to Nero and tugged on his robe.

Her familiar, as oblivious as always, did not catch on to her unspoken request—to tell Felix that she’d eat later. Instead, he started jovially popping pieces of fruitcake into his mouth.

Monica gave up on having him speak for her and instead used a piece of paper from the desk to write “I’ll have the soup later” and showed it to Felix.

Nero, a piece of cake in one hand, lit up when he saw it. “So I can eat everything but the soup, right? Man, this cake is something else. That boozy flavor is so good.”

“They used fruit pickled in a famous liquor from this region. And if I might ask… What is your relationship to Lady Everett?”

Crumbs of cake still stuck to his mouth, Nero gave a bold, clear answer. “I’m her attendant. Can’t ya tell?”

“You seem quite close to her for a mere attendant. Could you be her pupil? A family member? …Or perhaps a lover?”

Monica nearly squealed; she quickly put a hand up to her veil and covered her mouth.

Finished with the fruitcake for now, Nero let out a hearty cackle. “Not on your life! She ain’t my type anyway.”

Well, of course not. Nero had mentioned his type before—females with good-looking tails.

But Felix didn’t seem convinced. As Monica fretted over how to explain their relationship, Nero folded his arms and said, “I’m one of those, y’know—a familiar… No, that’s not it. Hmm…,” he grumbled, trying to find a word to replace famliar. “Oh, wait! That’s it!” He clapped a fist into his hand. “I’m her manservant!”

Monica shook her head as hard as she could, making sure to hold her hood down.

Felix seemed troubled as well. He glanced between the two of them. “You’re her…manservant?”

“Yep. She saved my life, after all. Had a bird bone caught in my throat. Was about to die when she—”

Frantically, Monica tugged on Nero’s sleeve.

Figuring he was saying too much, Nero stuffed his face full of fruitcake to shut his mouth. He took his time chewing it, then swallowed and set his golden eyes on Felix.

“That was close. You almost caught me off guard with that leading question.”

“I wasn’t trying to trick you,” said Felix. “I honestly just wanted to know.”

“I didn’t realize you were so interested in me…”

But Felix wasn’t interested in Nero; he wanted to learn more about the Silent Witch.

With a wry smile, the prince took a stack of papers out of his basket. “I’m not here to pry into your affairs,” he said. “I wanted to have a personal conversation with Lady Everett. My lady, if you don’t mind, would you take a look at this?”

Monica gingerly held out her hand and took the papers. What was written on them? Did he want to discuss trade with Farfolia? Or was it a plan for guarding him during the negotiations?

But as she nervously flipped through the pages, her eyes went wide beneath her hood.

Is this…a magecraft formula?

The handwriting was neat and easy to read, but small, the words packed onto each page. It described ideas about the effects of water flow and water pressure when deploying wide-area spells underwater. And the deployment method at the heart of it was one she was particularly familiar with—after all, she’d thought of it herself.

Without thinking, Monica looked up.

Felix smiled bashfully. “My friend is actually a huge fan of yours… When he heard I’d be meeting you, he asked me to have you look over his paper…”

C-could…this friend be, um, Ike…? In other words, he was talking about himself.

Felix clasped his hands on his lap and gazed at her, his eyes full of expectation. Unable to refuse, she began to read.

…Oh, wow. This is really well done.

There wasn’t much accompanying material, and a few parts were a bit off the mark, but the essay itself was extremely well put together. He’d chosen a good theme, too. Research was still lacking when it came to casting spells underwater, and Monica was personally very interested in the subject.

You can’t write something like this without a very good understanding of water-aspected magecraft. If the prince thought this up all on his own, his knowledge must be on par with an upperclassman’s at Minerva’s…

But Monica also knew that Felix had been forbidden to study magecraft by his grandfather. Since he wasn’t allowed to have any technical books on the subject, he’d had to secretly collect periodicals published by Minerva’s Mage Training Institution.

And yet even with such limitations, he’d still managed to write this thesis.

He…really, really loves magecraft, doesn’t he?

It tickled her pride as a mage to know he’d put so much earnest effort into coming up with applications for one of her formulae. To be perfectly honest, it made her very happy.

Monica moved to the writing desk, then made some notes in the paper’s margins with a feather pen. As a mage, she wanted to give a response equal to his passion. Despite his position as the second prince, she had no intention of going easy on him, especially when it came to mathematics and magecraft formulae. Fudging her handwriting a little so that it wouldn’t give her away, she pointed out mistakes and ideas she judged underdeveloped. And then, in the remaining blank space, she wrote the following:

“This is a fascinating paper. It will be even better if you revise the issues I marked and supply more data concerning the amount of mana in flux.”

At that point, Monica snapped back to reality.

W-wait, does that sound really rude…? Oh, dear! Wh-what if he says something like, “Who do you think you are?!” I, um, I should probably white out that last part…

But just as she made her decision, she heard someone gasp directly behind her. Turning around, she saw Felix standing right there, peering over her shoulder at the paper.

Nooooo! Will I be e-e-e-e-executed?! Executed for disrespecting the prince…?!

Beneath her hood, Monica was in a state of total panic. Felix, however, showed no sign of displeasure. In fact, he was gripping his clothes at his breast, looking positively moved.

Monica remained seated at the desk as Felix took her hand and gazed at her with such passion, she thought he might propose.

“To receive such an evaluation from you… I am beyond honored, Lady Everett.”

Nero, who was busy eating bread, said in a confused tone, “Wasn’t this about your friend?”

“…Yes. If he were here, I’m sure that is what he would have said,” Felix added smoothly, clutching the marked-up papers to his chest. “Thank you so much, my lady. I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”

“……”

After a few moments of hesitation, she pulled one of the pieces of paper from his hands and wrote on the back in small letters.

“I’d like to see another of your papers one day.”

And oh, the absolute joy that appeared on Felix’s face! His sapphire eyes glittered like stars, and the edges of his lips trembled.

Monica probably shouldn’t have done such a thing—not if she wanted to keep protecting him while maintaining her secret identity. But as a mage, Monica Everett meant every word of what she’d just written.

She thought back to what Felix had said when they were looking at the stars after the festival ball—that he didn’t have much freedom left.

Even so, I…don’t want you to give up.

If Felix had some personal fantasy about what kind of person the Silent Witch was, she swore to herself that she’d do her best not to shatter it. Felix had said that his feelings for the Sage were like first love, but Monica was convinced he was wrong.

What Felix felt for the Silent Witch wasn’t anything romantic. It was pure adoration and respect for her as one of the Seven Sages.

And in that case, she simply needed to continue filling her seat there—as the Silent Witch he looked up to.

And she would, so she wanted him to do the same—to keep pursuing this thing he so sincerely loved.

Eliane Hyatt fumed as she stood in the shadows and watched Felix enter the Silent Witch’s room.

Oh? What’s this? What could this be? What could be going on here?

After dinner, she’d ordered a servant to prepare a batch of Secret Recipe Number Three, a drink passed down through generations of Hyatt women. But just as she was about to fetch it, Felix mistook it for fruit water and carried it away.

Eliane had then changed tack, deciding to visit the prince’s room on a different pretext. “I’m still too wound up from the journey and can’t get to sleep,” she’d say. “Could we talk for a bit?” Then, once he’d finished his Secret Recipe Number Three, they’d have a splendid, unforgettable night… So why was he carrying that very drink into the Silent Witch’s room? Eliane gnashed her teeth in frustration.

“Oh, hey, Elly. What are you doing here?”

Glenn again. Why was it always this oaf who spoke to her, and not Felix?

“Why, hello there, Lord Dudley. I should ask you the same,” she said, masking her irritation.

Glenn’s affable smile drew back into a tight, serious grimace. “Actually, I really need to ask you for something.”

Oh? Oh my, my, my! Could this be a love confession? I only have eyes for Felix, of course. So if this boor asks for my heart, then I shall have to refu—

“I need to go to the bathroom. But it’s dark and scary. Could you please come with me?!”

“……”

And so Eliane Hyatt’s wonderful night came to a close as she escorted Glenn Dudley to the bathroom.

Bartholomeus, who had staked out the Silent Witch’s room, was almost at his wit’s end.

He knew that tiny girl was a fake, so he’d spiked the fruitcake with Secret Recipe Number Three and waited for one of the servants to fetch it for her. Later, when the Silent Witch was intoxicated, he’d demand to know her real identity. “Who are you?” he’d say. “And what did you do with the real Silent Witch, that golden-haired beauty?”

But instead of a servant, the one to fetch the fruitcake had been—of all people—the second prince, Felix Arc Ridill. He’d even brought the bottle with the rest of the Secret Recipe Number Three—the stuff Eliane was meant to give to him.

Oh, man, he thought, standing outside her door. The second prince and the fake witch are gonna have one hell of a night…

Bartholomeus didn’t realize that Nero had gulped down the whole bottle of Secret Recipe Number Three and gobbled up the fruitcake.

Just as Bartholomeus crept over to try and sneak a glance into the room, Felix emerged. His clothes were in perfect form, without a single rumple. But the beautiful prince wore a look of pure ecstasy. His cheeks were red, and his sapphire eyes were wet and glistening. It was the face of a man fulfilled.

The tiny witch had seen him to the door, and he whispered ever so softly to her, “Good night, Lady Everett…and sweet dreams.”

Bartholomeus could come to only one conclusion.

Are the second prince and the fake witch lovers?! …Sheesh, I stumbled onto one hell of a secret!

He clenched a fist. This was his chance to put the fake witch on the back foot. He’d use this info to threaten her, then have her bring him to the real Silent Witch—that blond beauty.

But as he was rallying his resolve, Peter—seemingly by coincidence—happened to walk by.

“Bartholomeus?” he said, sounding confused. “What are you doing? Leston has been looking for you. He says he wants to discuss the carriage inspection.”

“Oh? Hey, Peter. I wasn’t doing much. Nothin’ at all, in fact. Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! I’ll get right on it.”

The problem would be finding a good opportunity to threaten the fake. He’d have to come up with some reason for them to be alone together.