Unnamed Memory - Volume 4 - Chapter 1

1. 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-and-forth, 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 deep-black 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.