Section 1: The Duel—Wizard vs. Sorceress

  A full year had passed since then.

  Hannah had made a remarkable recovery. The disturbing behavior she once exhibited was nowhere to be seen, and she had regained a sense of calm. In fact, she now seemed more honest, more self-disciplined, and even capable of showing concern for others. Surprisingly, she had grown close to Liz. Naturally, that bond owed much to Liz’s selfless devotion and boundless compassion, but Hannah, too, was facing her own weaknesses and shortcomings—her loneliness and sense of inferiority—and striving, with quiet determination, toward a better tomorrow. Though she still relied on medication, the day she would come to live life in her own way no longer seemed far off.

  Fortunately, all of them had passed the General Knowledge Examination in Magic and Sorcery, the final test of the elementary division, and had advanced to the intermediate division. Within the Academy, it had been widely expected that the Sorceress would take the top score in the final exam. And yet, it was the Wizard who emerged as valedictorian. Her earnest efforts were slowly—yet surely—bearing fruit. The Necromancer, too, completed both curricula with excellent marks. Only the Warlock, ever disdainful of study, barely scraped through thanks to a retake granted out of professorial mercy. For her honor’s sake, the specifics of that ordeal shall remain undisclosed.

  And now, the day had come: the All-Academy Magic Mock Combat Tournament—the very first for the intermediate division. In the semifinals of the Grade-Level Individual Tournament, Wizard and Sorceress stood face to face at last. Though only in their first year of the intermediate division, they had already taken to the skies for battle. Both of them wore the Void Robe, imbued with anti-gravity magic, and waited poised upon the tournament field for the signal to begin.

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  “Well, well, the day has finally come! Bit early for us to be facing off in the bracket, though.”

  The Wizard grinned fearlessly.

  “Indeed. But this is the perfect chance to settle the score from the exam.”

  “Oh? We’ll see about that. I’m not the same as I was back then!”

  “Is that so? Then perhaps this is the perfect opportunity for me to show everyone what I’ve been saving up.”

  “Save it. I’ve seen that one enough times already.”

  The Wizard stood her ground, brimming with confidence.

  “Big talk. But let’s hear the rest after you beat me.”

  The Sorceress wouldn’t back down.

  A healthy tension sparked between them. In the year that had passed, the two had become true rivals. The Wizard’s growth, in particular, was nothing short of remarkable.

  “Combatants, prepare! Take your positions!”

  The referee’s voice echoed across the field. The moment had arrived.

  “Grade-Level Tournament, Intermediate Division Year One, Individual Semifinal Match! Single round…!”

  “Begin!!!”

  At last, the duel commenced.

  The Wizard darted through the air, adjusting altitude and varying her speed with expert control as she circled the field. The Sorceress remained nearly stationary in midair, spinning gently on her axis as she kept her opponent in view.

  Though the participants in this tournament truly exchanged magical attacks, it remained a mock battle. Under their robes, all competitors wore the Scoring Uniform, a special garment that converted magical impacts into point values rather than physical injury. This enchantment ensured that even direct hits from advanced spellcraft would not inflict actual harm—though it only functioned if both participants wore it. As a result, fighters could unleash their full power without holding back—this was, in every sense, a true mock battle. Victory would go to the first who inflicted 100 points of magical damage upon the other.

  “How’re you gonna play this?”

  The Sorceress readied herself. The Wizard’s power had become something else entirely since last year. She had mastered a wide range of spellcraft—and rumor had it she’d even started dabbling in alchemy. She was murmuring something as she flew, but that didn’t matter. In mock battles, speed and aggression were key. Should she go in first?

  “O wielder of water and ice, hearken to my call! Press your torrents into force—release them now!

  Overpressured Torrent: Hydro Pressure!”

  The Sorceress unleashed a high-pressure water cannon, timed to strike just as the Wizard passed overhead.

  A direct hit! Perfectly aimed!

  Got her! …No—wait! No score?! A shield!?

  The Wizard had not merely been circling idly. She had been expertly manipulating her movement to reduce her target profile and deploying magical barriers all around her.

  She’s gotten good—really good.

  “Heh,” the Wizard grinned.

  The arena erupted in cheers at her deft defense.

  Very well, then!

  “O flames and radiance,

  Join now with water and ice—

  Lend your power to my hand,

  Let blazing orbs fall upon my foe!

  Blazing Shells: Flaming Cannon Balls!”

  With that incantation, the Sorceress followed up with a salvo of massive fireballs, hurling them toward the Wizard in quick succession. Their speed was astounding. The Sorceress, hailed as a prodigy, was drawing out the full potential of even conflicting elemental forces.

  The Wizard swerved sharply in midair, attempting to dodge—but the fireballs’ unpredictable, multi-vector trajectories proved faster and more precise. Several of them struck!

  Now I’ve got you!! …!? What…?! Still no score!?

  Unbelievably, the Wizard had deployed an ice barrier as well—one that shielded her from fire and light. Her aerial maneuvers weren’t just evasive—they had a tactical purpose: to maintain distance while sustaining layered defenses against different elements.

  In this magical world, all magical barriers possess a fundamental property: they repel forces of opposing elements, but allow those of the same element to pass through. The Wizard had calculated in advance that the Sorceress would wield magic of fire and light.

  She predicted me? That girl...? Hah. Well done.

  Even the mighty Sorceress could not unleash such powerful techniques repeatedly—her mana would not last. And should a combatant deplete their mana during the match, their opponent would automatically receive 100 points.

  In other words—instant loss.

  The ever-calm Sorceress watched the Wizard’s aerial maneuvers with keen attention. Then, suddenly, she noticed something.

  ...Strange.

  Each time the Wizard passed near the male students’ spectator stands, her control in flight wavered, as if something had distracted her. It was subtle—but unnatural. What could it be?

  Looking more closely, the Sorceress saw that the Wizard seemed preoccupied with the hem of her skirt at exactly those moments. Ah—of course! That infamous professor, the one with the optical magic recording device, was loitering near that very area. His entourage, too, hovered with similar equipment.

  So that’s it.

  She could have exploited this distraction to launch an attack—but that wouldn’t have been any fun. Instead, she called out.

  “You’ll never beat me if you’re busy worrying about that!”

  The Sorceress taunted her.

  The Wizard grimaced—caught.

  “Shut up! It’s not like that!”

  Even as she zipped through the air, the Wizard clutched her skirt defensively and tried to keep up her bravado.

  “Don’t worry. No one’s exactly thrilled to catch a glimpse of yours. But if you keep that up, I might just finish this right now!”

  The Sorceress had a trump card:

  Squall of Ice-Swords—a high-level spell that conjured an overwhelming downpour of ice blades upon her target. Their sheer number and destructive power were such that no ordinary barrier could withstand them. Both combatants knew this well.

  “Shut it! If you think you can, then go ahead and try!”

  It seemed the Wizard had freed herself from distraction. Good. Now the real battle could begin.

  The Wizard surged upward with a sharp, linear burst—like an arrow launched from below. But the movement was too uniform. Easy to read.

  Now!

  “O keeper of lightning and flash, lend me your strength!

  Stack thick clouds high upon high, and from them, unleash light and thunder to scatter my foe—

  Summon Lightning: Lightning Volts!”

  From above, countless streaks of lightning and radiant flashes came raining down like a net. The Wizard spun into a corkscrew evasive maneuver, but there were simply too many. Several bolts struck her mid-air, and though she shifted into a defensive posture, she faltered.

  A hit!

  The scoreboard lit up in blue—40 points for the Sorceress.

  “Damn... knew you had it in you. But—!”

  Even before she finished her sentence, the Wizard shot forward like a falcon and closed in on the Sorceress from her flank.

  No way! Too fast!

  “Gotcha! Shock Wave!”

  A concussive blast struck the Sorceress in her side. Though she managed to guard herself and stay aloft, her posture wavered.

  The scoreboard now showed 30 in red—for the Wizard.

  A close match.

  “Well done!”

  “Told you. I’m not the same as before.”

  As she spoke, the Wizard continued her dizzying aerial spiral. Where would she strike from next?

  Even the Sorceress showed signs of unease. Just as the Wizard slipped from her field of view—

  —from directly above the male students’ stands, the Wizard unleashed Tornado.

  From that particular angle, it had been a blind spot for the Sorceress.

  What the—!? No—!

  Caught completely off guard, she was unable to react in time. The raging vortex swallowed her whole, battering her with electrically charged winds and turbulent currents.

  Though she eventually broke free and regained her form in the air, the damage was significant.

  To land two surprise attacks—impressive.

  The scoreboard flashed 80 in red.

  A massive cheer erupted from the stands, and the eyes of the optical recording devices blinked in rapid succession, capturing the moment in bursts of light.

  “Heh, not like you to slip up like that. Looks like this next one’ll seal it.”

  The Wizard taunted coolly.

  Still panting, the Sorceress replied:

  “Is that so? Well then... I suppose I should commend you—for forcing me to use this.

  It ends now.”

  “O steward of water and ice,

  I am thy devout protector.

  Grant unto my hand countless blades,

  And let the icy swords circle in the sky.

  Let divine punishment befall those who defy thee.

  Perish now—Squall of Ice-Swords!”

  The moment her chant ended, an uncountable number of glistening blades rained down upon the Wizard.

  She twisted and darted, alternating between bursts of speed and sudden feints in a desperate attempt to evade. But from every angle, those blades came relentless, each fired in rapid succession.

  “Damn it... guess I still can’t match her...”

  Some were blocked by the Wizard’s barriers—but against such overwhelming numbers, even reinforced shields gave way. The barrage broke through, and several blades struck her directly, sending her tumbling from the sky to the field below.

  The scoreboard turned blue—100 points.

  WAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!

  The audience roared, and the magic recording devices pulsed in dazzling waves of brilliance.

  The Sorceress had snatched a dramatic reversal victory.

  “To think... that she actually made me use that spell.”

  With a tone of mild frustration—but also unmistakable satisfaction—the Sorceress murmured to herself.

  The Wizard lay spread-eagle on the field.

  “She really is a genius...”

  Her chest and shoulders rose and fell in heavy gasps.

  “Match complete!

  Final score: 100 to 80!

  Winner: Sorceress, Intermediate Division Year One Representative!”

  Another wave of cheers and sparkling magical flashes swept through the stadium as the announcement echoed across the arena.

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  There was a short break before the final match, as the semifinals and other bouts for the second- and third-year students of the Intermediate Division were scheduled in between. The two girls, having withdrawn from the competition field, found a couple of empty seats near the stands and sat down side by side.

  “You really are amazing,” said the Wizard. “But that move of yours? Total foul play.”

  “Oh? But I did tell you, didn’t I? I’d give you credit. You were plenty strong.”

  “Oh, cut it out.”

  The Wizard rubbed under her nose, clearly embarrassed.

  “That Shock Wave at close range—you really caught me off guard with that.”

  “Right? I figured I was onto something. Basic spells don’t need much chanting, so I knew I had a shot. Still, your Lightning Volts was something else. Not many Sorceresses dabble outside water and ice.”

  “Exactly, right?”

  They both shared a laugh.

  “By the way, I didn’t expect you to care about stuff like that. I figured you were the type to just flash it without a second thought.”

  “Don’t be stupid. I’m still a maiden, you know. Of course I care. Bringing out some stupidly huge magical recording device like that—how’s anyone supposed to keep calm with that pointing at them? What the hell.”

  “A maiden!? Did you just say maiden!? Who, who are you talking about?”

  The Sorceress leaned in playfully.

  “Me, obviously! You won’t find many maidens like this one, I’ll tell you that.”

  “I’ll give you that.”

  The Sorceress burst out laughing.

  “Huh!? What’s that supposed to mean!?”

  “You said it, not me.”

  And so, the two of them chatted and laughed together while watching the upper-year semifinals play out before them, passing the time until the final match began.

  Just a little over a year ago, no one could have imagined seeing a scene like this. That incident had been harsh, even brutal—but in the end, it had served to bring many lives together in unexpected ways.

  The final match, against a girl from the Warlock Division named Yulia, ended with a clean and decisive victory for the Sorceress, securing her the championship for Year One of the Intermediate Division. With one win each from the exam and the tournament, their rivalry now stood evenly matched.

  In the Intermediate Division team battles, Hannah returned to the roster, and the crowd was treated to a series of thrilling performances. However, in the quarterfinals, one of the Sorceress Division team members fell prey to the opponent’s strategy. Overusing intermediate-level spells, they exhausted their mana mid-match, which unfortunately resulted in a loss.

  But after the match, Hannah never once blamed her teammate. Instead, she offered a bright, genuine smile and praised everyone’s efforts.

  When they made their way from the arena back to the spectator stands, Liz was waiting with an antidote in hand—just like before. It was almost as if the events of last year had been nothing but a dream.

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  The Necromancer had been tirelessly active all day as part of the Academy’s nursing division’s medical support team. She ran back and forth treating heatstroke and mana exhaustion cases without pause, proving herself a vital force behind the scenes of the tournament. In truth, it was something of an open secret that she had quietly become more popular than even the ordained clerics or saintly figures specializing in medical studies.

  As an aside, there was an incident back in her fourth year of the Elementary Division that drew quite a bit of speculation. On the day following the black market incident, she attended a medical lecture dressed in her Necromancy Division uniform. Reportedly, she had attempted to request a reissue of her uniform, but the Academy would not relent on their policy: no replacement unless the damaged garment was surrendered in exchange. As a result, she ended up attending all her medical lectures in the Necromancer’s black robes until graduation from the Elementary Division. Thus was born her nickname—the Black-Clad Angel.

  But even that, now, was just a fond memory from days long past.

  Notably absent from the day’s events, however, was the Warlock. Apparently, she had decided to skip the tournament entirely this year. She might very well have been visiting Arkham again. Lately, she had been spending a great deal of her time there.

  On that note, it may be worth shedding some light on her advancement examination.

  Initially, she had shown up with absolutely no preparation whatsoever, and her performance on the knowledge-based portion was abysmal—nearly painful to witness. However, her written responses to the essay questions on magical theory and the ethics of mystery were of such striking depth—far beyond what one would expect of her age—that her professor granted her a chance at a retake.

  That the opportunity was given out of leniency is, in fact, a rhetorical flourish.

  She appeared to have properly prepared for the retake, and the result was nothing short of outstanding. Some even whispered that her score surpassed that of the valedictorian Wizard. At the promotion committee meeting, her unexpectedly stellar performance left several faculty members stunned—and at least one singing her praises.

  Why someone with such innate brilliance would devote her attention to pursuits far removed from academic study remained a mystery.

  What, exactly, had so thoroughly captivated the curiosity of that young mind?

  At that point, no one yet knew.

  The September wind blew gently across the Academy.

  Autumn, little by little, was settling in.

  Section 2: Shadows Stirring in the Dark

  Ever since the incident last year, the four girls had developed a habit of gathering in one another’s rooms on holidays to spend time together in friendly conversation. In other words, what one might call a girls’ night in. Even the Academy-averse Warlock never missed these gatherings, and she enjoyed a warm, easy camaraderie with the other three.

  Tonight, they had gathered in the Wizard’s room, and the atmosphere was something like a pajama party.

  “So hey, listen. What do you all think about panties?”

  The sudden and utterly absurd opening line made the other three exchange bewildered glances—but soon, true to their age, the topic blossomed into a lively conversation.

  “Cute ones are best, obviously,” said the Warlock.

  “I prefer the ones from Locotte Affume,” added the Necromancer.

  “Whaaat? Lavi Moon is way cuter!” the Sorceress chimed in.

  “Their designs are, well, a bit too elegant, you know...”

  “That's exactly what makes them good!”

  The Necromancer and the Sorceress each stuck firmly to her aesthetic tastes.

  When they had first met, the Sorceress had spoken in the refined tones of a noble lady—and she could still command that air of dignity when the situation called for it. But among these four, in this easy, unguarded circle, she had come to show a candidness and charm appropriate to her age.

  “No, no, that’s not what I meant,” the Warlock insisted. “I was asking what you think about Pants.”

  The three others looked puzzled.

  “You know—Pants, right?”

  “Wait... you don’t mean... oh! That professor who wrote those obnoxious new Academy rules?”

  “Exactly!”

  They all exchanged glances of understanding.

  “You mean Professor Panze Rotti?” said the Sorceress.

  “That’s what I’ve been saying from the start!”

  “No, you said Pants Erot-ti. His name is Panze Rotti, not Pants Erot-ti.”

  The Sorceress corrected her gently, with a hint of exasperation.

  “Really?” the Warlock blinked.

  “Honestly,” the Sorceress sighed. “For someone so brilliant, you’re a real airhead sometimes.”

  The Warlock burst into carefree laughter.

  “It was just a slip of the tongue...”

  “In any case,” she went on, “don’t you think that guy’s totally messed up? I mean, how does a textbook pervert like that even get to teach at the Academy? It’s unreal.”

  On that point, the other three nodded with matching expressions of you’re absolutely right.

  Panze Rotti was a professor of magical theory—a well-known, if notorious, figure at the Academy. So infamous, in fact, that he was often referred to not just as a “notable” professor, but as a notorious one. And yet, his position was far loftier than it might appear. Not only was he a High Master of considerable political influence, he also held a senior post within the government itself. Within the Academy, he wielded significant power, and only a select few had the standing to speak against him directly.

  He was the architect of the widely detested Article 6 of Chapter 8 in the school regulations—a decree which stated, “Skirt length must be kept as short as possible.” This absurd mandate had been pushed through in the Uniform Review Committee two sessions ago, thanks to his relentless insistence, and to everyone's disbelief, had actually passed as written. While male students sang its praises, female students were left perpetually troubled, constantly worrying about the hem of their skirts. The article’s demand for shorter—and shorter—lengths was so extreme that many had begun to sarcastically refer to it as “the Erotic Clause.”

  In everyday campus life, the situation was bad enough—but during tournaments involving aerial combat, it became a serious problem. With skirts fluttering in the air, students found themselves exposed to the gazes of curious boys, making it nearly impossible to focus. Just last month, the Wizard had experienced exactly this issue. For young girls at such a sensitive age, it was far from trivial. Those who reveled in attracting attention might tolerate it, but for everyone else, it was a nerve-racking ordeal—and the Wizard was firmly among the latter.

  Worse still, the proliferation of handheld optical magic recorders had led to an epidemic of illicit recording. Such material was frequently sold illegally on platforms like “Mystic Cloud,” adding to the mounting distress of female students. It was that situation the Wizard had been referencing earlier.

  “That damn Panze—whatever-his-name—is. How the hell is a creep like that in charge of magical studies? He’s a full-blown perv, and a danger to the whole school. And during the tournament, no less! He and his little gang of goons showed up with that ridiculously oversized magic recorder like it was totally normal. They’re out of their minds. And the Academy letting this happen? Just as guilty!”

  The Wizard was clearly fuming.

  “Such a maiden,” the Sorceress quipped, teasingly.

  “Shut it!”

  The Wizard huffed and turned away, visibly sulking.

  “Well, I get where you’re coming from,” said the Warlock.

  “To ignore the voices and concerns of so many female students—it’s downright oppressive. Even if it’s written in the rules, our safety, our comfort, and the dignity of all women should be respected.”

  Her tone had grown notably more serious.

  “I’ve heard rumors of those illicit magic recordings being bought and sold. That’s just... unforgivable,” added the Necromancer, nodding solemnly.

  “Hey, everyone!”

  The Wizard raised her voice.

  “Let’s teach that damn Panze bastard a lesson—let’s bring down some divine retribution on him!”

  “And just how do you plan to do that?” asked the Sorceress.

  “Look at all the sketchy recordings floating around! There’s no way he doesn’t have a stash of them hidden away somewhere. So we sneak into his office, nab the evidence, and put him in his place!”

  “Easier said than done,” the Sorceress replied with skepticism. “If we get caught, we’ll be expelled.”

  “I agree—it’s a bit reckless,” said the Necromancer. “Why not try a more diplomatic route? Like gathering signatures for a petition...?”

  But—

  “By the time we finish with that boring crap, our skirts’ll be gone! Shortened into nothing!”

  The Wizard’s indignation was growing by the second.

  “Okay, okay, just calm down,” said the Sorceress, trying to settle her.

  That’s when the Warlock suddenly stood up, eyes blazing.

  “No—we must do this! I’m all in! If we let tyranny like this slide, we’ll only shrink into ourselves. Against injustice, we must stand tall!”

  “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

  The Wizard clapped her hands in delight at having found a comrade-in-arms.

  “But still...”

  The Sorceress and Necromancer exchanged uneasy glances.

  “This is our mission!”

  The Warlock, now fully caught up in her own fiery rhetoric, raised her voice with conviction. The Wizard cheered her on enthusiastically.

  It was a bizarre scene.

  “Still, if we’re going to do this, we need a solid plan. We’ll need someone keeping watch—and with just the four of us, there’s only so much we can manage.”

  The Sorceress, ever cautious, wasn’t letting go of her pragmatism.

  “No problem!”

  The Warlock was now practically on fire, full of righteous energy.

  “You can summon a ghost with your Soul Invocation, right? It can do the watching for us!”

  “You want me to do it?”

  The Necromancer’s dark eyes widened—an unusual reaction.

  “Of course. Who else could?”

  As if it were the most obvious thing in the world, the Warlock answered flatly. The Necromancer was left speechless.

  “Perfect! We already know where the bastard’s office is. Once we have the evidence, he won’t be able to say a word in his defense. Let’s do it! This is about human rights! A battle for justice!”

  The Wizard now spouted lofty rhetoric she’d clearly picked up from somewhere.

  Normally, this would’ve ended with a few dismissive chuckles and a “yeah, right.”

  But tonight, the Warlock was fired up in a way that made brushing it off impossible.

  Before anyone realized it, the plan was underway. They’d even come up with a name: Operation Divine Punishment for Panze Rotti.

  Though the Sorceress and Necromancer looked more than a little exasperated, they eventually gave in and played along. In the end, they agreed to carry out the plan on the coming Wednesday night—timed to coincide with the professor’s scheduled absence for the Academy Conference on Arcane Lithology.

  The objective: to retrieve the stash of obscene magical recordings they were convinced he had hidden.

  From there, the conversation devolved into an ongoing string of speculative tactics and gleeful scheming, almost as if they were enjoying a game. A strange harmony of half-jokes and half-serious plotting stretched late into the night.

  It had been nearly a month since the All-Academy Magic Mock Combat Tournament. Now, the season had turned fully to mid-October, with the songs of autumn insects filling the night air.

  The sky stretched high and wide, constellations specific to the season scattered brilliantly across the heavens. Their shimmer, paired with the melodies from the earth, made for an evening of exquisite beauty.

  Human rights. Dignity. Freedom. Choice.

  They were still young—but old enough to begin wrestling with such ideas.

  What would become of their reckless plan?

  The night wore on, quiet and deep.

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  And so, the night in question—Wednesday—had arrived.

  By the time the hour grew truly late, the Academy was wrapped in utter silence. The only sound that reached the ear was the steady chorus of autumn insects. Beneath the moonlight, a faint group of figures scurried furtively across the grounds.

  “Are we really doing this? It’s not too late to back out, right?”

  The Sorceress couldn’t quite hide the tremble of unease in her voice.

  “Don’t be stupid! The mission’s already underway! Damn noble girls—no guts at all.”

  “Excuse me!?”

  “Shh! Quiet down!”

  The Necromancer sharply hushed them both.

  Professor Panze Rotti’s private office was in a corner room on the third floor of the eastern faculty building. A perfect location for sneaking in from the outside. Roles had already been assigned:

  The Necromancer would serve as lookout, aided by a few unfortunate ghosts she’d summoned. The Sorceress was in charge of communications. The break-in would be executed by the Warlock and the Wizard.

  The hour had long passed midnight.

  The moon shone bright, casting silver light directly upon their target.

  An ideal window of opportunity.

  The Necromancer ordered her ghosts to patrol the perimeter with diligence. The Sorceress clutched a handheld optical magic recorder, visibly nervous.

  “We’re going in!”

  “Just don’t mess it up, okay?”

  “Leave it to me!”

  “Let’s move. We’re counting on you to keep watch.”

  At the Warlock’s signal, she and the Wizard floated upward, cloaked in the same Void Robes they’d worn during the tournament. As expected, every window was tightly locked—but the Warlock didn’t seem the least bit troubled.

  “O keeper of alchemical force, grant me thy finesse.

  Unseal the sealed, and seal what’s been opened—

  Invisible Keys!”

  She cast a rare spell. The Wizard watched, visibly impressed.

  One of the windows gave a soft click as the lock disengaged. When the Warlock touched it, it slid open with barely a sound.

  “We’re in!”

  They exchanged a glance and checked the scene below. Their summoned ghosts could be seen drifting aimlessly across the grounds, fulfilling their watch duties with eerie listlessness.

  Just then, the light on the Sorceress’s magic recorder began to blink.

  “What now?”

  “How’s it going? Did you get in okay?”

  “C’mon, who do you think we are? Nailed it!”

  With that, the Wizard abruptly ended the call.

  “All right, now the real work begins!”

  The two slipped through the window and into the office.

  Though the moonlight streamed in generously, the interior remained dark. Unable to risk turning on a light, they peered into the gloom, letting their eyes slowly adjust.

  The Warlock searched along the wall—bookshelves and wardrobes—while the Wizard made her way toward the professor’s desk.

  “Found it!”

  She called the Warlock over.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. The bastard didn’t even bother hiding it.”

  Their target—the obscene magical recordings—were strewn carelessly across the desk. And far more of them than either had expected. There had to be over a hundred.

  How could he have amassed so many?

  Each one contained illicit footage—undeniably voyeuristic in nature.

  “First, let’s record the scene itself. Then we’ll take about ten of the worst ones.”

  “Right.”

  The Wizard fine-tuned the light sensitivity of her handheld optical magic recorder and captured the state of the desk in vivid magical clarity.

  “That should do it.”

  “Now, for the physical evidence. Make sure to grab the most indecent ones.”

  “Ugh, why do I get stuck with this job...?”

  Grumbling, they carefully selected ten recordings that would serve as solid proof, and tucked them into the inner pockets of their robes.

  “Still... This is his office, right? What the hell was he doing with this junk during work?”

  “Who knows? All sorts of things, probably.”

  The Warlock replied mischievously. Under the moonlight, the Wizard’s face turned bright red.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  They exited through the same window they had entered.

  Now that they had taken the records, it was only a matter of time before the break-in was discovered. But they’d been careful—no mistakes that would leave a trail. No one would be able to trace it back to them.

  With that belief, the Warlock used the same alchemical spell to relock the window.

  They were just beginning their descent when—

  “Hide—quickly!”

  The Necromancer’s whisper reached them.

  “Hurry! Into the bushes!”

  Looking down, they saw a patrol of student enforcers from the Academy Security Division making rounds two streets away. The girls ducked into a nearby thicket without hesitation.

  “That was close,” the Warlock whispered.

  “Too close.”

  But the Warlock’s expression was strange—one the Wizard had never seen on her before. It brimmed with a kind of quiet disgust.

  The Wizard wondered what it meant, but said nothing.

  Tension held them in its grip for several moments, but luckily, the patrol continued past without incident.

  Each of them let out a silent breath of relief.

  “Let’s go—quickly, while we still can.”

  Prompted by the Necromancer, the four young thieves slipped into the shadows, vanishing into the autumn night.

  Above, the moon grew even brighter, casting silver light across the cobbled paths.

  Tonight, they had experienced a small adventure.

  The night still stretched on—and morning was far, far away.

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  Several days had passed since the incident. The four girls were now gathered at Arkham.

  The door was propped open, and—unusually enough—the elegant lady was visiting again. The young Akina was flitting about attentively, seeing to her needs.

  They had come here today because they couldn’t quite agree on what to do next.

  The Wizard had insisted they confront the Academy head-on, evidence in hand, but that would have amounted to announcing, “We’re the thieves,” with furigana printed above for clarity—sheer recklessness that would lead straight to expulsion.

  The Sorceress had suggested posting the story, along with a written account, on the Academy’s central bulletin board—but the contents of the magical recordings were far too ethically compromised to survive public display.

  The Necromancer proposed submitting them to a magical journal, but others argued that if the magazine declined to publish them, they would have thrown away their most vital evidence.

  And to make matters worse, the Warlock was staunchly backing the Wizard’s confrontational approach. Debate spiraled. The meeting devolved into a cacophony. Lacking any clear consensus, they had come here seeking advice—and, as luck would have it, the noble lady was present.

  “It’s been a while, madam,” said the Warlock, initiating the conversation.

  “There’s something we’d like you to see.”

  “Oh? And what might that be?”

  The Warlock, prompted by the lady’s mild curiosity, drew the magical recordings from her chest pocket and laid them out on the counter.

  “My, my! Quite the scandalous set you’ve unearthed. Where on earth did these come from?”

  “We took them… from a professor’s private office at the Academy.”

  “Oh my, how very bold. So, what do you plan to do with them? You know, they’d fetch a fine price if sold here.”

  The lady narrowed her eyes with a playful glint.

  “That’s the problem!”

  The Warlock’s voice rose, her indignation plain.

  “This sort of thing is rampant in the Academy. These are clearly voyeuristic in nature, and a disgraceful insult to the dignity of every female student. Worst of all, it’s the school’s own regulations that are enabling this filth!”

  “I see. I understand how you feel. Forgive me—it was just a jest. Let’s take a breath, shall we?”

  With a graceful motion, the lady picked up one of the recordings.

  “…Yes. This is dreadful. A flagrant violation of human rights.”

  “Exactly!”

  The Warlock’s voice trembled with relief at finding someone who understood.

  “Isn’t there some way we can use this evidence to spark real change?”

  “Let me think… Actually, I have a friend on the Council for Human Rights Advancement in Magical Society.”

  The lady took a sip of her tea, then spoke.

  The Council for Human Rights Advancement in Magical Society was a prominent, influential organization advocating for the rights of women, children, and the socially vulnerable throughout the magical world. If memory served, its chairperson was none other than Kyuralion Evandes, the proprietress of Curios Curiosa Antiquities. Her loathing for Panze Rotti was well known—she was one of the few figures bold enough to publicly condemn him in interviews and magical publications.

  Hope kindled in their hearts.

  “In any case, would you entrust these to me? I’ll see if the committee can take this up as a formal complaint.”

  “Yes, please do!”

  The Warlock’s response was forceful, and none of the other three raised any objection.

  “Then I’ll take custody of them. Akina, please store these carefully.”

  “Yes, Madam.”

  The young girl gathered the recordings with her small hands, tapped them neatly into place, slid them into an envelope, and tucked them into a leather bag behind the counter.

  “Give me a little time. I promise to bring you good news.”

  The lady’s eyes softened with warmth.

  “Thank you so much.”

  Relief finally showed on the faces of the four young conspirators.

  “Now then, let’s have some tea. Akina, would you bring us the Green of Lux?”

  “Yes, Madam.”

  With that, Akina hurried off into the back kitchen, just as she always did.

  “You girls have been through a lot. But sometimes, it is necessary to break a few rules to set things right.”

  The lady turned her eyes to the cup in front of her.

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  Before long, Akina returned, balancing a tray in her arms.

  “Thank you for waiting. Here is the Green of Lux. Madam, I’ll take your cup.”

  She gracefully served the luminous jade-colored tea to each of the girls. She then retrieved the cup the lady had been using and disappeared again into the kitchen.

  “Go ahead, enjoy it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Each of the four lifted her cup and took a sip of the mystical brew.

  “This tea has a magical effect upon the spirit,” the lady explained. “It awakens a sense of adventure and strengthens the call of justice. It sharpens the senses—to distinguish right from wrong. A forgotten tea from another age…”

  After a few more sips, she rose to her feet.

  “Forgive me. I would have liked to enjoy the tea a bit longer, but I have somewhere I must be. Please excuse me.”

  With that, she picked up the leather bag where Akina had stored the recordings and vanished into the shadows at the back of the shop. The girls silently watched her go.

  A little later, as they chatted softly among themselves, Akina returned.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s nearly closing time.”

  “Oh, forgive us.”

  The Warlock turned to her gently.

  “Akina, thank you for everything—as always.”

  The little girl smiled shyly and shook her head.

  “Will you be all right finding your way back?”

  “Reverse the Coil!”

  By now, it was a four-part harmony.

  Retracing the M.A.R.C.S. route in reverse, the girls returned to the edge of the Academy just as the autumn sun had dipped fully below the horizon. A crisp twilight surrounded them.

  “We just have to believe in the lady—and wait!”

  The Warlock’s words rang out. The others nodded deeply in agreement.

  “It’ll work out. I know it will.”

  The Sorceress reached out and held the Wizard’s hand.

  “Well then… until tomorrow, everyone.”

  The Necromancer offered her farewell.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  With those words, the four girls made their way back to their respective dormitories.

  A dry, cooling breeze heralded the deepening of autumn.

  Surely, things would turn out for the better.

  Above, the stars and constellations glittered more beautifully with each passing day.

  And faintly, the presence of winter had begun to show.

  November was drawing near.

  Section 3: Accusation and Defense

  It was now early November, nearly two weeks after the four girls had visited Arkham and entrusted the matter to the noble lady.

  The Academy was in an uproar.

  A formal letter of accusation, denouncing the actions of Professor Panze Rotti, had been delivered directly to the Academy by none other than Kyuralion Evandes, Chairwoman of the Council for Human Rights Advancement in Magical Society. While the faculty and students were not immediately informed of the formal complaint, the entire matter came to light when Weekly Sorcery Springs—one of the most influential publications in magical society—ran the full text of the accusation as its cover story in the first issue of November.

  Not only did it publish the letter in its entirety, it also included a detailed exposé featuring the obscene magical recordings in question. Chaos erupted across the campus.

  “I always thought that professor was shady, but I had no idea it was this bad!”

  “This is unforgivable! Secretly filming magical recordings like that and selling them?!”

  “I’m telling my father—he’s on the High Council. We’ll have him removed!”

  The female students voiced their outrage in chorus.

  Meanwhile...

  “Well, I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation.”

  “I mean, Professor Panze was researching residual mana buildup and its post-ritual dissipation. This must’ve been part of that.”

  “We can’t just take every tabloid article at face value, you know.”

  The male students’ reactions stood in sharp contrast. Many seemed oddly sympathetic to Panze Rotti—almost as if they feared their private amusements were about to be taken from them.

  “What is wrong with you? Are you seriously saying our rights as female students don’t matter!?”

  “Ugh, men! You’re all disgusting. And just where do you think you’re looking!?”

  “N-no, that’s not it at all. Look, I’m just saying... this is still just a report from a weekly magazine. We haven’t confirmed the facts yet. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Of course women’s rights should be respected!”

  “Oh really? And what proof do we have that you weren’t involved?”

  “Wha—come on, that’s a ridiculous leap in logic...!”

  It was a display of the divide—of the unfortunate instincts that often lurk behind gendered perspectives.

  The four girls, while appalled by the male students’ defensiveness, were quietly grateful for how skillfully the noble lady had orchestrated the current turn of events.

  Discussions about the exposé and the scandalous magical recordings spread through every corner of the Academy—from the gates to the entrance halls, across classrooms and even into the faculty lounges.

  The contents of Kyuralion Evandes’s accusation were severe, and the attached magical evidence shockingly explicit. The case made against Panze Rotti was overwhelming in its persuasiveness.

  Seldom had the Academy been so thoroughly shaken.

  That was how powerful this public accusation and its accompanying scoop had proven to be.

  What follows is the full text of the accusation:

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  “Letter of Accusation Against Professor Panze Rotti”

  October 28, 2315 of the Genesis Calendar

  To the Ethics and Disciplinary Committee,

  Department of General Affairs, Magic Academy

  Dear Sirs,

  We, the Council for Human Rights Advancement in Magical Society, have conducted an independent investigation and, as a result, have identified grave concerns regarding the conduct of Professor Panze Rotti, who currently serves as Dean of the Department of Magical Studies at your esteemed Academy. The professor’s actions constitute not only a flagrant violation of your institution’s ethical standards but also a serious breach of the broader moral principles that govern our sacred magical society. We are compelled to assert that these actions warrant immediate and thorough investigation.

  Our concerns are based upon the following evidence:

  Exhibit 1:

  A magical recording depicting the current state of Professor Rotti’s office desk. This record serves as direct evidence of behavior that is both inappropriate and unethical in the context of his professional duties.

  Exhibits 2.1–2.13:

  A selection of magical recordings, believed to have been covertly obtained and produced by Professor Panze Rotti himself. These materials provide clear indication of his direct involvement in acts of obscene voyeurism and strongly imply his complicity in the illicit distribution of such recordings. The content and nature of these materials implicitly highlight the egregious and unethical nature of the professor’s conduct.

  Taken together, this evidence reveals that Professor Panze Rotti engaged in the unauthorized and immoral observation of female students—specifically targeting the lower abdomen and buttocks areas covered by undergarments—and captured such images through magical recordings for improper personal use. These acts stand in direct violation of both Academy regulations and the noble moral sensibilities of magical society at large. Furthermore, it is strongly inferred that the professor illicitly drafted and implemented Article 6 of Chapter 8 of the Academy Code as a means to institutionalize and legitimize these transgressions. Such actions gravely undermine the trust and dignity of the Magic Academy and pose a serious threat to the safety and well-being of both students and faculty.

  Most importantly, this represents a direct and egregious assault upon the fundamental human rights of female students—rights which must be afforded the highest degree of respect and protection.

  Accordingly, we hereby request that your committee, as well as all relevant departments, launch an immediate investigation into Professor Panze Rotti’s actions. We also strongly urge that appropriate disciplinary measures be taken without delay.

  Given that the professor’s behavior is antithetical to the values and standards of the Academy, we trust that you will respond with the swift, fair, and prudent judgment this matter demands.

  Sincerely,

  Kyuralion Evandes

  Chairperson

  Council for Human Rights Advancement in Magical Society

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  News of this nature tends to travel faster than light.

  It took barely any time at all before journalists and correspondents from magical newspapers and broadcast agencies had surrounded the gates of the Academy.

  At the front gate, the Academy’s public relations officer, sweating profusely and flustered beyond measure, was doing his best to manage the situation.

  After all, this was a scandal involving a highly ranked academic—a figure eligible to attend the Academy’s High Council—embroiled in a matter bound to captivate public curiosity.

  Worse still, the professor in question held a dual post bridging the Academy and government, serving as a senior government official. The ones truly caught off guard were the Academy’s senior administrators, especially those at the top of the High Council. They responded swiftly, summoning Professor Panze Rotti and ordering him to submit a formal written defense to the Ethics Committee within two days—no excuses.

  Utterly overwhelmed and barely grasping what was happening, the professor had no choice but to comply.

  The Ethics Committee took an unusually strict stance: no oral defense would be allowed unless preceded by a formal written statement. With no room left for retreat, Professor Panze Rotti hastily drafted the following letter. Here is the full text:

  “Letter of Defense by Professor Panze Rotti”

  November 3, 2315 of the Genesis Calendar

  To the Ethics and Disciplinary Committee,

  Department of General Affairs, Magic Academy

  Most Respectfully,

  Regarding the recent letter of accusation submitted by Madam Kyuralion Evandes, Chairperson of the Council for Human Rights Advancement in Magical Society, which seeks to condemn me for alleged misconduct, I write now with both indignation and sorrow to formally declare that the entirety of said allegations are unfounded and without basis, as I will outline below.

  Madam Kyuralion has alleged that my desk contained obscene magical recordings and has asserted—with rhetoric so venomous it would make even the archangels blush—that such recordings were created for personal gratification. The accusation claims that I observed the undergarment-clad lower abdomen and buttocks of female students for improper purposes, and further, that I created and possessed magical recordings of these for the purpose of monetary gain. Moreover, she asserts that I authored Article 6 of Chapter 8 of the Academy’s Code with illicit intent, to legitimize such actions.

  I hereby categorically deny all such claims as blatant misinterpretations and wholly untrue.

  As several members of the Ethics Committee may already be aware, I have devoted myself to serious research into the dissipation of residual mana following the use of intermediate and advanced spellcraft. It is widely known that, after the use of high-level spells—those involving significant mana expenditure—residual mana accumulates in the body, generating magical heat and energy. To ensure the health and safety of the caster, it is a matter of magical praxis to facilitate the swift release of this residual energy.

  That such residual mana tends to concentrate in the torso—particularly the chest, lower abdomen, and buttocks—is a well-established academic principle in the field of applied magical studies. Thus, while I do not deny the existence of the magical recordings on my desk, as indicated by Madam Kyuralion, I affirm that these were collected solely for academic analysis. Specifically, I sought to determine what modifications to uniforms and robes might best promote the release of residual mana and the resolution of post-casting magical heat.

  The claim that I was "observing female students for improper and indecent personal motives" is entirely unfounded.

  In fact, applying these findings to help maintain the health of female students who regularly cast advanced magic is a sacred duty for us, the faculty. Thus, Article 8-6 of the Academy’s Code was enacted on a foundation of sound magical praxis.

  As for the accusation that I sold such magical recordings for profit, I must say this is utterly beyond the pale. To be candid, I cannot comprehend what the Chairperson even intends by such a charge.

  Let me reiterate: my possession and handling of these magical recordings was purely for scholarly purposes. As further proof of this, I never sought to conceal or hide these materials. They remain openly displayed on my desk, in plain view, as academic reference material.

  I would also like to add that Madam Kyuralion has, since her time at the Academy, held an apparent grudge against me. I suspect several members of this committee are aware of this longstanding animosity. Therefore, I must point out that this accusation appears to be a baseless personal vendetta disguised as concern for justice, and a malicious attempt to undermine my sacred academic work.

  I humbly ask the Committee to weigh these facts and my defense with careful consideration, and to render an appropriate and fair judgment.

  With the utmost respect,

  Panze Rotti

  Dean, Department of Magical Studies

  Non-Permanent Member, High Council of the Academy

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  About ten days later, on a chilly rainy day in mid-November, the four girls suddenly received a formal summons—from none other than Professor Panze Rotti himself!

  The location was that same corner room on the third floor of the eastern wing of the faculty office building.

  “How many times is it now that you’ve come to this room?” the professor asked coolly.

  “This is our first time using the door,” the Warlock replied, dripping with sarcasm.

  It was obvious that the moonlit incident had been exposed. But how had he found out? Could he have planted surveillance-type Arcane Recorders in their dorm rooms? With this professor, the possibility couldn’t be entirely dismissed. Lined up in a row, the girls suddenly felt a chill run down their spines.

  “There’s a certain sparkle of wit in that answer,” Rotti said, continuing, “but students these days are far too rash—and far too quick to forget their place.”

  He went on.

  “Still, I am a man of great wisdom and extraordinary tolerance. Therefore, rather than simply punish you and expel you from this institution, I have devised a far more constructive solution. Fortunately for you, I am, at present, the only one aware of your elegant little escapade as thieves of unparalleled flair. It would be wise—especially for students as brilliant as yourselves, representatives of the finest minds in the Intermediate Division Year One—to understand that accepting my guidance and this opportunity for redemption is your best and only option.”

  How insufferably condescending.

  “And so, I shall assign you a mission.

  Publicly, you four will be placed on a two-week suspension—for entirely unrelated reasons.”

  The girls exchanged puzzled glances.

  “During that time, you will carry out an investigation for me. If you complete the mission to my satisfaction within the two-week period, I shall, out of extraordinary mercy, choose to overlook the exuberant mischief of a certain moonlit night. Furthermore, this so-called suspension shall be officially reclassified as a discreet special assignment issued at my direction—ensuring not only that it does not impede your promotion to the Upper Division, but even counts positively toward it. So then—will you accept my offer, or withdraw from the Academy here and now? Choose.”

  “We understand, Professor,” said the Warlock, stepping forward. “Please, tell us more about this special assignment of yours.”

  “Mm. An excellent and sensible response. No objections from the rest of you, I presume?”

  The other three nodded.

  “I wouldn’t want to disappoint your father, either,” the professor said, casting a side glance at the Sorceress.

  “Now then, let me explain the details.”

  “You’re all no doubt aware of the so-called Back Alley Curio Dealer—a growing concern throughout the magical world. Recently, the issue of contraband, particularly illegal magical substances, being smuggled into the Academy has become increasingly severe. As educators and stewards of virtue, this is no longer a matter we can ignore.”

  “Stewards of virtue,” my ass... the Wizard muttered under her breath.

  “What was that!?”

  “Nothing at all, sir.”

  She straightened up.

  “Good. Your assignment is an undercover investigation. Infiltrate the Back Alley Curio Dealer. Visit frequently. Build rapport. Over the next two weeks, gather as much information as possible. Every detail, no matter how small, must be reported directly to me.”

  “Understood. But how do we get to the Back Alley Curio Dealer?” asked the Sorceress.

  “A wise question. Pay attention and commit this to memory.”

  He spread a map of the city across his desk—which, incidentally, was still cluttered with indecent Arcane Records.

  “Approach Sanfreche Bridge from Martin Street. Walk on the right-hand edge of the bridge until you reach the gargoyle statue. From there, shift to the left edge until you reach the phoenix statue. Then proceed directly down the center until you’ve crossed. Right to the gargoyle, left to the phoenix, center to the end. It’s not exactly a cryptic code. Understood?”

  “Yes,” the girls answered in unison.

  “Good. You will submit written reports every three days. Be warned—each delay in your reporting will result in penalties. Observe, listen, uncover—everything. And remember, this mission is classified as top-tier secrecy. Breach of confidentiality will be treated as grounds for disciplinary action. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Professor.”

  “Very well. That’s all for today. The dorm matrons have already been informed of your temporary suspension. Return to your dorms immediately and prepare yourselves. You must make contact with the shop by tomorrow morning. Therefore, your suspension begins as of this afternoon’s lectures. Dismissed!”

  With that, Professor Panze Rotti all but shooed them out of his office.

  As they walked back toward their dorms, the four spoke in hushed voices.

  “Are we really gonna go through with this? Taking orders from Panze—ugh.”

  “We don’t exactly have a choice. Unless you want to become a freelance street magician,” said the Sorceress.

  The Wizard made a face at that.

  “He wants us to investigate the Back Alley Curio Dealer… I really can’t figure that man out,” the Necromancer murmured.

  “I don’t like his methods,” the Warlock said, “but self-destruction isn’t a choice. We do it his way—for now.”

  “Agreed. We’re in no position to refuse,” the Necromancer nodded.

  “Either way, we need to be prepared,” the Sorceress added.

  “But seriously,” said the Wizard, “what does it mean to ‘make contact’ for two weeks? Just show up every day in a group and act like customers? That’d be suspicious as hell.”

  “Jobs,” said the Warlock flatly.

  “Actually... that could work!” the Sorceress agreed.

  “For now, let’s pretend we’ve been expelled and are struggling to survive as ‘rogue magicians’. We’ll go ask if they’re hiring.”

  “A group of four, though? That might be pushing it,” said the Wizard.

  “Then we’ll have to rely on feminine charm,” said the Sorceress slyly.

  “Don’t drag me into that!” the Wizard shot back.

  “In any case, we don’t have a choice. Let’s give it our best.”

  With those words from the Warlock, their resolve was set.

  “Let’s meet at the Academy gate tomorrow morning—7:00 sharp. Make sure you’re packed. The more luggage, the more ‘rogue magician’ we look.”

  “Right,” the Necromancer said with a nod.

  “Tomorrow morning, then,” said the Sorceress.

  And with that, the four girls returned to their respective dorms.

  Outside, the cold November rain continued to fall.

  By this time of year, the chill had grown sharp.

  It was late autumn now, and the footsteps of winter could already be heard in the quiet of the midday rain.

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  Meanwhile, at Arkham.

  The noble lady sat at the counter, gently tilting a cup of an unfamiliar tea to her lips. The young Akina was attentively seeing to her needs as the two exchanged quiet words.

  “Panze Rotti… He’s proving more formidable than I expected.”

  “Yes,” the lady replied. “He may not look it, but he’s no fool.”

  Had the noble lady and the infamous professor once been acquainted?

  “In truth, he has many commendable qualities. Contrary to appearances, he’s clever—and cunning. But that personality… I’ve never been able to warm to it. Not even in the old days.

  Well, let’s say I lost this round.”

  “Are you all right with that?”

  “Sometimes, that’s how life works, Akina.”

  “Yes, Madam.”

  The lady once again quietly sipped her tea.

  “Still… are you sure it was wise to let them go to that Back Alley Curio Dealer he mentioned?”

  “You’re right—it’s hard to know what he’s really after. But maybe… maybe it’s a good opportunity for the girls to see the truth of what’s happening with their own eyes.”

  As she spoke, the lady gazed off slightly, letting her eyes wander into the mysterious, suspended space that filled Arkham’s shop interior.

  “Is it safe?”

  “With those girls? I believe in them. They’ll make it through—I’m sure of it.”

  “Yes, Madam.”

  “Oh, Akina—wait.”

  The lady gently stopped the young girl as she started to take the dishes back to the kitchen.

  “Yes, Madam?”

  “You didn’t happen to keep that little item you tucked into the cupboard, did you?”

  “I spent it for allowance…”

  “Goodness, what a naughty child. You mustn’t start learning such habits at your age.”

  “…Yes, Madam.”

  Wrapped in a glow of arcane light, the interior of Arkham shimmered with a quiet sense of mystery.

  It was the hour just before dawn.

  For them, morning always begins early.

  Section 4: Struggle! The Back Alley Magic Shop

  Just before 7 a.m. the next morning.

  The rain from the day before had vanished without a trace, giving way to a clear and beautiful autumn sky. Puddles from the early morning rain reflected the boundless blue overhead, and the scent of evaporating water from the stone pavement lingered in the air.

  As planned, the four young magic users, now under their temporary suspension, had gathered at the Academy gate to carry out the secret orders given to them by Panze Rotti. Each carried a modest pack, and the group’s overall appearance was that of a band of rogue magicians cast out of the Academy.

  In the magical world, a “rogue magician” referred to someone who had dropped out of the Academy partway through their education. Many such cases were former Wizards, who had become discouraged by the overwhelming difference in ability when compared to students of other disciplines. Because of this, the term used in society was “rogue magician,” not “rogue mage” or “rogue sorcerer.”

  That said, not all rogues were Wizards. For many, it was personal circumstances that had forced them to leave. Lacking sufficient training, most had limited job prospects, and often ended up doing street magic as part of traveling performances—usually as mere assistants—or working in sideshows. Their income was unstable, and their lives, anything but easy.

  Some, inevitably, sank into the shadows—becoming thieves or clerks at places like the Back Alley Curio Dealer.

  On the other hand, there were a few who had gained real power before leaving the Academy—either by choice or consequence. Many of them had accessed forbidden knowledge illicitly during their time at school and could wield high-level or even ultimate spells far beyond their formal rank. These individuals were no longer called “rogue magicians,” but rather Backdoor Mages—a class all their own.

  In any case, most of those who fell from the Academy’s grace ended up drifting from job to job just to make ends meet.

  And now, the four girls had taken on the guise of such wanderers, heading for the infamous Back Alley Curio Dealer.

  Following Rotti’s instructions, they made their way north along Martin Street, aiming for Sanfreche Bridge.

  “Hey… is this really gonna work?”

  “Oh please. The mission’s already begun. A proper lady doesn’t chicken out so easily.”

  “Shut it.”

  The Wizard and Sorceress reenacted, in reverse roles, their exchange from that moonlit night.

  Eventually, they reached Sanfreche Bridge.

  “Here we go,” the Warlock said, guiding them to the right-hand side along the railing.

  “Stick to the right until the gargoyle statue,” she confirmed.

  The four began walking. The late autumn sun bathed them in warm light. The sounds of the river flowing beneath the bridge echoed faintly in the distance.

  “There it is,” said the Wizard, spotting the gargoyle.

  “From here, we switch to the left side,” the Necromancer recited, recalling the instructions.

  The massive stone bridge, still damp from yesterday’s rain, shimmered in patches. Along both railings, statues of animals, magical beasts, and mythical creatures stood at regular intervals.

  “This is the phoenix,” said the Warlock, brushing her hand against the bird’s stone head.

  “Straight down the center from here,” said the Wizard.

  Just as she spoke, a mist began to rise, wrapping the area in haze. Up until that moment, the day had been clear, but this sudden fog suggested they had correctly followed the arcane path.

  “Let’s go,” urged the Necromancer.

  In response, the others fell into step, walking precisely down the center of the bridge. About halfway remained to the far side. With each step, the fog grew thicker, muting the sounds of the city. Soon, they were surrounded by an eerie white silence.

  And then—just as they reached the end of the bridge—a building appeared, just off the left railing.

  Unlike Arkham or the P.A.C. shop, the Back Alley Curio Dealer resembled a stylish café, nestled quietly in the mist. Out front, a lanky man with a broom was sweeping.

  “Good morning,” the Warlock called out.

  The man looked up.

  “We were hoping—” she began.

  “Oh my, good morning to you, darling girls,” he said with a theatrical smile. “How precious. Might you have business with our humble establishment?”

  “Yes, we’ve come to inquire.”

  “Well, then—welcome to the Starry Flower, the most enchanting curio shop in town.”

  With that, the man introduced himself.

  “My name is Lily Dew, and I am the manager of this little gem. What brings you here this morning?”

  “We’re sorry for the sudden visit. As you can see, we’re drifters—rogue magicians who’ve been cast out of the Academy. We’re looking for work. Might you be willing to hire us, even part-time?”

  “Oh my, how tragic. So young, and already adrift.”

  Lily scanned the four of them slowly, eyes traveling from their toes to the tops of their heads, sizing them up.

  “You all look like you could be quite useful. What’s your current rank?”

  “We’re in Adept Year One.”

  In formal magical society, “Adept” was the official rank for Intermediate Division students. It was customary to refer to one’s rank this way in professional contexts.

  “I see. So you can handle mid-level spells?”

  “Yes. We believe we can be of help in various ways.”

  Negotiations between Lily and the Warlock continued.

  “Well, I can manage the shop by myself, but with you girls around, I wouldn’t have to sweep the stoop at dawn anymore, would I? Not a bad deal.”

  “Please hire us,” said the Wizard, nearly leaning over the counter—only for the Sorceress to hastily pull her back. Better to let the Warlock handle the talking.

  “We can do everything—cleaning, laundry, cooking, stocking, customer service, bookkeeping—you name it.”

  The other three exchanged glances. Can we really do half of that...? they thought.

  “Adorable little things like you might be quite popular with the male clientele. I can’t offer much in the way of pay, though. Would that be all right?”

  “Absolutely. We’re simply grateful for the opportunity.”

  The Warlock bowed slightly.

  “And... well, I know it’s forward of us, but…”

  “You want me to hire all four of you, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well. But wages will be split—four girls, two salaries, paid weekly. You get one hour for lunch, fifteen minutes at three, but if customers are present, break time’s canceled. Hours are 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. No overtime pay. And you’re to address me as Sister Lily. If you call me ‘manager’ or ‘boss’ or any such hideous term, you’re immediately fired. Got it?”

  “Of course. Thank you so much!”

  “I assume you want to start today? I understand—rogue magicians live hand-to-mouth. That’s fine. But listen carefully...”

  Lily’s tone suddenly hardened.

  The four tensed.

  “If anyone calls me ‘manager’ or ‘shopkeeper’ again, I’ll fire you on the spot. Understood?”

  So that’s what the tension was about. The girls let out an internal sigh of relief.

  “Well then, come on inside, girls.”

  With that, Lily beckoned them into the shop—and they stepped through the door.

  The interior of the mysterious magical shop known as the Starry Flower was unlike the mystical solemnity of Arkham or the eerie ambiance of the P.A.C. Store. Instead, it was brightly lit, lively, elegant, and meticulously clean. The space had clearly been magically expanded—inside, it was far more spacious than the exterior suggested.

  At the center of the shop was a large hall—large enough to host a formal ball, and probably able to accommodate around two hundred people. The display shelves were arranged neatly in a smaller room at the front, furnished with a refined and professional touch. Many enchanted items and magical tools were lined up, with a noticeable emphasis on divination goods and lucky charms—exactly the kind of wares that might appeal to younger women.

  Toward the back of the hall was another room marked Jewelry Division, suggesting that the shop also dealt in enchanted gemstones. Its placement implied it was a sort of VIP area.

  Following Lily through the hall, the girls stepped into this VIP room. As expected, rows of glowing arcane stones filled the display cases. Their arrangement was expertly designed to highlight the unique beauty of each stone.

  To the side of the VIP room was a curtained-off section marked “A Maiden’s Se-cret.”

  “What’s that area for?” asked the Sorceress.

  “Oh, that?” Lily replied with a sly grin. “That. And those. Come now, you’re old enough to understand.”

  For some reason, the Necromancer flushed bright red.

  Beyond the VIP room was what appeared to be a staff area, and deeper still, Lily’s private quarters.

  “Have a seat,” Lily said, gesturing to the long bench.

  “Bit of a hassle, but I need you to read and sign these,” he added, handing each girl a form.

  The document included fields for contact information and a brief educational or work history—essentially a basic résumé. Fine print at the bottom outlined working conditions and rules, ending with a signature line to indicate consent.

  The girls retrieved writing tools from their packs and began filling out the forms.

  “These days, even shops like this one—technically illegal—have to keep paperwork in order. What a tiresome world we live in,” Lily sighed, lighting a magical cigarette. The smoke curled around them, a purplish-red mist with an oddly alluring scent.

  Once they had completed their paperwork, the girls handed the forms to Lily, who gave them a once-over before assigning their roles.

  It was immediately clear: Lily knew how to manage a business.

  “Let’s see…”

  He began assigning positions.

  The Warlock was put in charge of stock and restocking.

  The Wizard was assigned to cleaning both inside and outside the shop.

  The Sorceress was tasked with customer service.

  The Necromancer was designated cashier.

  The staff room contained a cabinet with shop uniforms. Lily instructed them to change and then regroup in the front display room. With that, he left to prepare.

  The girls quickly began changing.

  “Well, that went well,” the Wizard remarked as she removed her outerwear.

  “Yes,” said the Necromancer, undoing the clasp of her skirt. “But I’m amazed. That was some impressive negotiating.”

  “Have you done this kind of thing before?” asked the Sorceress as she slipped into the provided uniform.

  “Something like that. Life has… many chapters,” the Warlock replied, tying the strings of her apron behind her back.

  “All right,” she added. “For the next two weeks, we’re official employees of the Starry Flower. Let’s do our best—and don’t forget the real mission.”

  With that call to action, the girls moved back to the front of the store, just as Lily had instructed.

  “Hey… that ‘Maiden’s Se-cret’ section… what do you think they sell there?” the Wizard whispered.

  “I think… you’re better off not knowing,” replied the Necromancer.

  When they reached the storefront, Lily had them line up and began what could loosely be called a morning assembly.

  Rather than standard announcements, it was more of a monologue—a declaration of Lily’s personal philosophy titled “What It Means to Be a Maiden.” Delivered in a soft, feminine tone from a distinctly male voice, the speech carried a strange charisma.

  “Well then,” Lily finished. “Here’s to a safe and beautiful day!”

  The girls nodded in unison.

  “And now—our unity chant! Everyone: Lily-oh! Come on, it’s our little bonding spell!”

  The girls glanced at each other awkwardly before speaking up.

  “Li-Lily-oh!”

  And thus, their first day of work began.

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  A full week had already passed, and two reports had been submitted by this point. The writing was handled by the Warlock, and each time Panze Rotti read through them, he did so with an expression of quiet satisfaction.

  Their strange daily rhythm continued—spending mornings and afternoons at the Starry Flower, then making periodic visits to the professor’s office.

  The four had grown quite accustomed to their work. Their efficiency had noticeably improved compared to the first day, and their relationship with Lily remained good.

  Aside from one minor incident on day three—when the Wizard nearly got herself fired for accidentally calling Lily “manager”—things had been remarkably peaceful.

  Though technically an illegal shop, the Starry Flower was not the kind that dealt in dangerous magical tools like Crystal Skulls or Kelendus’s Poison. Rather, it specialized in enchanted stones and merchandise that would appeal to types like Panze Rotti and his ilk—items with an… indulgent flair. They were the same kind of goods the Necromancer once risked adventure for, in search of artificial rhodochrosite.

  In short, this shop was an unusual kind of Back Alley Curio Dealer. Certainly suspicious. Ethically questionable, perhaps. But far removed from the horror and darkness of forbidden magic relics.

  There was, after all, a market for such “niche” tastes.

  There was, however, one exception.

  At the very center of the Jewelry Division stood a large display case containing a particularly radiant arcane stone—a gem that shimmered with a mysterious light far beyond the others. The Wizard, whose duties included cleaning, had been explicitly instructed never to touch that area. Lily personally oversaw the maintenance of that display with exceptional care.

  The Sorceress, in her role as customer service, quickly became a favorite among patrons. Her refined manners and noble grace captivated visitors, who almost always left the shop thoroughly pleased.

  That Lily had correctly identified her suitability for the role during that brief interview showed a surprisingly sharp managerial instinct.

  In terms of sheer work performance, the Warlock stood out. She managed stock replenishment and unpacking with practiced ease. She too had been instructed not to interfere with the display area surrounding the special arcane stone.

  The Necromancer had somehow become the store’s poster girl. Her gentle demeanor drew customers in, and many struck up long conversations with her at the register. Lily had even received complaints that checkout lines were too slow because customers wouldn’t stop chatting with her.

  But the Necromancer remained steady and sincere in her work, and Lily seemed to trust her completely.

  The Wizard, for her part, performed her tasks with diligence and care. Driven by a natural sense of responsibility, she cleaned every corner of the vast shop—except for the forbidden display—without complaint.

  Occasionally, she came across certain more indecent items, and though they made her grimace, she still cleaned them thoroughly.

  The only place she truly couldn’t bear was inside “A Maiden’s Se-cret.” Whenever she emerged from behind that curtain, her face was visibly drained. It had become a routine sight.

  It was a busy life—but one that offered a different kind of fulfillment than the repetitive lectures and magic drills at the Academy.

  The secret mission, too, was going smoothly.

  It was during one such evening—when they were preparing to write their third report—that the next turning point began.

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  It was a day of torrential rain, the kind that carries a subtle sense of dread. The cold of late autumn had grown particularly sharp. The four girls, warmed by the heat of their work, were going about their usual tasks when, just after the shop had opened, the front door creaked open.

  The sound of the rain surged in, followed by a chill wind that swept through the interior. The Sorceress stepped forward to greet the customer—only to find something... difficult to define. It stood in the doorway, and though it might loosely be described as a “person,” it radiated an eerie presence.

  At first glance, it looked like a young woman—perhaps a magic user—but its joints, the bends of its limbs, were unmistakably not human. They resembled the sockets of a ball-jointed doll. Its unnatural form was concealed beneath an array of magical accessories and ritual seals, making it impossible to discern the truth of its body.

  “Is the shopkeeper here?”

  Its voice was dry and rasping, trembling with unnatural stillness as it addressed the Sorceress.

  “Yes, they are.”

  “Fetch them.”

  “Right away.”

  The Sorceress bowed slightly and went to summon Lily from the office.

  The others had noticed the strange visitor as well and kept a wary eye on the entrance.

  The being did not glance around, did not move. It simply stood—silent and motionless. When the Necromancer quietly shut the door, muffling the rain and blocking the wind, the visitor showed no acknowledgment whatsoever.

  “Miss Lily?” the Sorceress’s voice called distantly from the back.

  A moment later, she returned with Lily in tow, crossing the far side of the hall.

  “Welcome, darling. Is there something I can help you with?”

  At the sound of Lily’s voice, the visitor turned its head and replied.

  That dry, rustling voice wove together its next words.

  “Bring me Galadriel’s Grace.”

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. That item isn’t for sale, I’m afraid. Do forgive me.”

  No sooner had Lily finished speaking than the visitor stepped forward and seized Lily roughly by the collar.

  “Excuse me—what do you think you’re—?”

  “I’ll say it again. Bring me Galadriel’s Grace.”

  “You’re not listening, sweetheart. I told you—it’s not for sale. Now kindly get lost!”

  But before Lily could finish her sentence, the being raised its other hand—revealing a short dagger and turning it toward him.

  “Watch out!”

  The Wizard, cleaning nearby, leapt forward and knocked Lily free from the being’s grasp. The Necromancer rushed to the scene.

  “Miss Lily, are you all right!?”

  “Well… not quite, but thanks to you I’m still breathing.”

  Lily coughed, clearly shaken.

  “You bastard! You think you can just waltz in and pull this kind of crap?!”

  The thing turned toward the three who had gathered near the entrance. Its movement was strange—no, familiar.

  The Necromancer’s mind flashed back to an older memory. She’d seen this kind of motion before…

  Just then, a bolt of lightning slammed into its back.

  The Warlock!

  The electric shock struck the creature squarely in the back, sending it lurching forward. Yet with a jerky, unnatural twist of limbs, it righted itself and locked its gaze on the Warlock, who now stood near the front display.

  “Bring me… Galadriel’s Grace…”

  Like a broken record, it repeated the phrase with horrific cadence.

  “If you won’t listen to reason,” the Warlock said, “then we won’t show mercy either!”

  She took a defensive stance.

  The others quickly moved Lily behind the register for cover and joined her. They had no choice. The four of them braced for battle.

  Lily peeked out from behind the counter, only her eyes visible, trembling.

  “O spirits of fire and light, join with those of water and ice—lend me your strength. Forge spheres of blazing flame to strike my foe!

  Flaming Cannon Balls!”

  As she finished the chant, a barrage of fireballs launched from the Wizard’s hands toward the intruder.

  It didn’t even attempt to dodge.

  Direct hits. Every single one.

  “Gotcha!” the Wizard exclaimed.

  The creature arched backward from the force, then stumbled forward—its body jerking like a broken marionette—before returning to an upright position.

  “What…? That didn’t work?!”

  The fireballs had all landed. The thing hadn’t raised any magical shields. And yet, it remained—barely scorched, almost unharmed.

  “Tch… Fine then! Let’s see how you handle this!”

  “O keeper of the winds, ally of water and ice, summon clouds to my command. Stir the air and raise a mighty gale—consume all around you!

  Tornado!”

  A towering tornado erupted within the shop, lifting both the intruder and shelves of merchandise high into the air. With a violent slam, the thing was hurled into the center display, which shattered with a resounding crash. The tornadic vortex flung dozens of items against the stone floor in a storm of magical chaos.

  “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

  My beautiful store!!!”

  Lily’s scream rang out from behind the counter—just before he fainted.

  Surely, that must have done it.

  Or so they thought.

  Glass from the shattered display cracked further. The screech of bending metal followed.

  And from the wreckage… the creature stood again.

  “G-G-Ga…ra…la…driel’s… Grace… Bring… it…”

  Even the fearless Wizard faltered.

  The Warlock stepped forward and without hesitation unleashed a high-powered spell:

  “Shock Wave!”

  A concussive blast slammed into the creature, sending it hurtling across the hall.

  “This won’t do,” the Warlock called out. “We’ll wreck the whole place! Move to the main hall!”

  The others followed her lead, rushing into the larger space. The thing staggered to its feet again, limbs twitching unnaturally.

  The four regrouped—preparing for another clash.

  How do we deal with this?

  The Sorceress’s Squall of Ice-Swords had to be saved for last. If she exhausted her mana now, it would spell doom for all of them.

  And then—it happened.

  A dark aura surged around the creature.

  Glowing circles of various shapes and sizes appeared beneath its feet—magic circles, sprawling and layered across the floor.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me…” the Wizard muttered, her voice shaking with fear.

  “Ye who are cursed—gather unto me. Use your defiled power to destroy my enemies!

  Summon of Enhanced P.A.C. Type-Blue!”

  With that incantation, dozens of magic circles across the floor lit up, glowing pale blue. From within them emerged a swarm of humanoid aberrations—glowing with a ghostly radiance. There were nearly forty of them.

  “We can barely handle one of those things!” the Warlock cried out, panic beginning to creep into her voice.

  And then—

  “O you who govern water and ice, I am your devoted vessel. Form countless blades within my hands—circle the skies, and bring divine retribution upon those who oppose us!

  Squall of Ice-Swords!”

  The Sorceress unleashed her most powerful high-tier spell—Squall of Ice-Swords. An overwhelming barrage of ice blades swirled through the air, tearing into the host of summoned blue-lit humanoids.

  But something was wrong.

  Though each blade struck true and caused the enemies to flinch, there was no real effect. The swarm of figures did not fall. As the chaotic flurry died down, they began to move again—slowly, but with unwavering purpose.

  Residual mana spilled from the Sorceress’s body like faint steam.

  Mana depletion!

  Having poured everything into that single maximum-output spell, she collapsed to her knees—completely drained. The Wizard rushed to catch her, steadying her trembling form. Even the golden eyes of that prodigy were now filled with shock and fear.

  What could they possibly do?

  The swarm, and the original aberration among them, crept forward steadily. There was no escape.

  And then—

  “O merciful guardian, heed my prayer. Grant thy wisdom and strength unto your chosen vessel.

  Open the gates of the underworld above me, and summon forth the dark spirits into this realm!

  Open!

  Summon Darkness!”

  It was a high-tier necromantic spell.

  Naturally, it came from the Necromancer. She, too, had mastered advanced summoning magic. Over her head, a ghostly gate to the underworld opened, releasing a mass of dark spirits into the hall.

  Though kneeling on one leg, she gave the command in a clear, forceful voice.

  “By our contract—destroy my enemies!”

  Her second knee hit the floor as well, and her shoulders heaved. She too had exhausted her mana.

  But the spell had worked.

  The summoned army of the dead clashed with the humanoid swarm. The wide hall became a battlefield, filled with the shrieks of spirits and the grind of magical constructs.

  Each time the spirits screamed, another figure was torn apart—ripped limb from limb and left in ruins.

  Eventually, even the aberrant magic-user—the original threat—was surrounded.

  But then a blinding flash erupted from within the ring. The undead army was vaporized in an instant.

  Anti-undead countermeasures. It could handle those too.

  This one was different. A tier above anything they’d faced before.

  Two of them were already out of mana. The Wizard didn’t have much left either.

  The Warlock stepped forward, shielding the others, and faced the creature head-on.

  The Wizard watched her, worry painted across her face.

  “Don’t blame me if I screw this up,” the Warlock said with a grin.

  “Well then. I’ll be your opponent.”

  She raised her arms—and began a chant the Wizard had never heard before.

  “O keepers of lightning and light—open your hearts and grant me secret rites that channel the divine.

  I am your devoted vessel.

  Reveal the will of the heavens unto me.

  Let lightning and light become blades of judgment!”

  What spell was this!?

  The Wizard had never seen anything like it.

  A swirl of blazing magic enveloped the Warlock, glowing with electric light like holy fire.

  Impossible. At her age… that spell couldn’t be real. Could it?

  “Now, by my hand, I shall enact judgment from the heavens.

  Secret Rite (Restricted):

  Lighting Laser of Divine Judgement!”

  A massive magic circle formed around her hands. Within it, a cluster of clouds gathered—then suddenly unleashed a barrage of lightning and blinding rays of light.

  The storm shot forward in radiant swords, each bolt striking the aberration like divine retribution.

  The explosion of light was so intense that no one could keep their eyes open.

  Thunder roared. The beams of light pierced the creature’s body from every angle, slicing and tearing through its defenses.

  Where all their other magic had failed, the light tore it apart.

  From the sundered wounds burst red-hot flames, which engulfed the aberration entirely.

  Its body burned—until there was nothing left but blackened ash.

  And from the Warlock’s body, too, mana drained in waves. She slumped forward and collapsed, motionless.

  “What… what the hell did I just see?”

  The Wizard stood frozen. Even more than when she’d first witnessed the Sorceress’s Squall of Ice-Swords, this shook her to her core.

  She could not look away.

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  From behind them, Lily—who must have regained consciousness—entered the hall, rubbing the side of his head where he had clearly taken a blow.

  “Well now, you certainly made a mess of things,” he said dryly.

  “Sorry…” the Wizard mumbled, head bowed.

  “It’s fine. If it weren’t for you girls, I’d be halfway to the next life by now. I owe you.”

  Saying that, Lily helped the Wizard carry the three mana-depleted girls over to the guest seating in the hall, where they carefully settled them down.

  “Are they going to be okay?” Lily asked with clear concern.

  “Yeah, they’re fine. It’s just mana depletion,” the Wizard answered.

  “So they weren’t injured by that thing, then?”

  Lily stood up and began rummaging through the debris of the shattered display.

  “Here. Give this to them,” he said, holding out a bottle.

  “Wait, is it safe…?”

  “No need to worry. Not every illegal magic shop peddles curses and poisons, you know. Some of us offer dreams—something a little more… girlish. And to think one of my employees couldn’t figure that out after more than a week on the job… honestly, what have you been doing?”

  Lily had seen straight through the Wizard’s hesitation. In his hand was a bottle of concentrated mana-recovery elixir. The kind that didn’t come cheap.

  “You sure about this?”

  “I haven’t fallen so far that I’d charge the person who saved my life.”

  He all but shoved the bottle into her hands.

  The Wizard knelt and gave the elixir to the others one by one. Soon, a gentle glow returned to each of their bodies, signaling the restoration of their mana.

  “You alright?” she asked.

  “Yes… I let my guard down. I didn’t expect it to have resistance to water and ice.”

  “Well… I’m just glad we managed to defeat it,” said the Necromancer, lifting herself up with effort.

  Finally, the Warlock opened her eyes from within the Wizard’s arms.

  “Hey…” the Wizard began, clearly about to ask something.

  “That’s a secret,” the Warlock whispered. “Not a word of it in the report. If this gets out, I will be expelled.”

  “So it really was—”

  “I said, ‘secret.’ Got it? Let’s just say you finished it off with your magic of fire and light. Please?”

  She winked playfully.

  “O-okay… got it.”

  The Wizard helped her into a chair, steadying her gently.

  As the four of them were catching their breath, Lily returned—having disappeared at some point.

  “You saved my life. Thank you. As a token of my gratitude, I’d like you to have this. I’m sure you girls will make better use of it than I ever could.”

  It was the very arcane stone that had stood in the Jewelry Division’s central display—the one no one had ever been permitted to touch.

  “That’s…?” the Warlock asked.

  “That’s Galadriel’s Grace. A true stone, rich in the mystical power of life and spirit.”

  A true stone—a natural arcane crystal formed by the condensation of raw magical essence. Incredibly rare, incredibly valuable.

  Unlike the synthetic rhodochrosite the Necromancer once risked so much to obtain—a product of alchemy and magical fusion, reproducible in limited quantities—this was the real thing. A treasure one might never see again in a lifetime.

  “I can’t accept something so valuable,” said the Warlock, shaking her head.

  “Oh please. I may not look it, but I do know how to read people. And I see a tremendous fate in you. So let’s frame it this way—this isn’t a gift. It’s an investment. My investment in your future. That should shut you up, right?”

  With that, Lily placed the stone in her hands, then covered them with his own in a firm handshake.

  “I really am grateful. To the little witch who saved my life.”

  There were tears welling in his eyes.

  “Then I’ll hold onto it for now,” the Warlock replied. “And do my best to make sure your investment pays off.”

  “I’ll be cheering for you—and for all of you.”

  The Wizard looked toward the display room and scratched her head.

  “So… uh… what do we do about this?”

  “Sorry about that… uh… Miss Lily.”

  “Oh, it’s fine. Most of the stuff out there is junk anyway—plenty of flash, no real value. The important part is that the Jewelry Division and A Maiden’s Se-cret were left untouched. As long as those are intact, I can restart the shop anywhere, anytime.”

  The tension finally lifted from the girls’ shoulders.

  “Well, that said, I’ll have to shut down for a while. Which means…” He clapped his hands together lightly. “Your employment ends right here and now. You’re all fired. Congratulations.”

  The five of them burst into laughter. It was genuine, light-hearted—and deeply refreshing.

  “Lily-oh!” they chorused.

  And with that, the girls left the Starry Flower.

  The time they had spent here had been short, but they had grown deeply fond of the shop—and of its eccentric shopkeeper, their dear Miss Lily.

  By the time they parted ways and stepped out of the store, it was already past noon. The earlier downpour had lightened to a drizzle, but the cold of late autumn still clung to the air.

  They pulled out their robes and threw them over their heads like makeshift cloaks, starting the walk back to the Academy.

  Just thinking about it made their shoulders heavy. Upon returning, they’d have to report to that place, a full day early—with an unscheduled verbal report instead of the planned third written one.

  Unavoidable or not, it would still be a report of mission failure. They had no doubt Professor Panze Rotti’s wrath awaited them.

  The four ran on through the cold rain.

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  And now, the four of them stood once again in that familiar place—lined up before Professor Panze Rotti.

  After hearing a full report from the Warlock, the professor’s voice exploded across the room.

  “Who told you to do something so dangerous?! You could have been killed!”

  “However,” the Warlock replied firmly, “to have done otherwise in that moment would have been folly.”

  She met his fury with composure, clearly prepared to shoulder the consequences.

  “I see… So what you’re saying is, it was not a reckless act born of shortsighted impulse, but a courageous decision made after due consideration. Is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes were fixed directly upon him, unwavering.

  “Very well. In light of your safe return, I shall overlook it this time. It is a blessing that nothing more severe occurred. At any rate, prepare a final report detailing today’s incident above all else. Submit it within three days. Understood?”

  “We understand.”

  All four answered in unison.

  “Upon receipt of that final report, this special assignment shall be deemed complete. Well done.”

  Scattered across the professor’s desk were, as always, his disgraceful magical recordings. In fact, their number seemed to have increased. The man was, without question, incorrigible.

  After leaving the professor’s office, the girls returned briefly to their respective rooms, unloaded their burdens, and changed clothes. They then gathered in the Sorceress’s dorm room to begin work on the report.

  It was, in effect, another pajama party. Youthful and lively laughter spilled from the room into the corridor beyond.

  Since only the Wizard had remained fully conscious until the end of the incident, it fell to her to draft the final report. As for Galadriel’s Grace, the sacred arcane stone given to them by Lily, they decided to conceal the truth by writing only that “damage to other areas of the store was minor.”

  Gathered around the dinner lovingly prepared by the Sorceress and the Necromancer, the Wizard’s pen moved steadily. With three days to complete it, the report would be more than ready in time.

  “A promise is a promise,” the Warlock said, once again sending the Wizard an adorably exaggerated wink.

  To which the Wizard responded with an awkward, uncoordinated attempt at a wink of her own—one eye blinking stiffly, then the other.

  The cold deepened.

  Winter was nearly upon them. By next week, it would likely be time to take out the heating stones.

  As they reminisced about the short but eventful journey they had just shared, the gentle rhythm of the girls’ laughter rose into the dry air, breathing warmth and melody into the crisp, quiet night of late autumn.

  The night wore on, quietly and peacefully.

  ＊ ＊ ＊

  “It seems you failed to retrieve Galadriel’s Eye.”

  “…My apologies.”

  “I have taken considerable risks in supporting your research—for the sake of my beloved daughter. But the Ministry of Welfare and the Academy’s Department of Sanitary Magic are not so lax that they will continue to cover things up indefinitely. You would do well to remember your purpose and accelerate your results. You talked a big game about your enhanced variant—but this is where it’s led.

  Tell me, can you truly deliver?”

  “The strengthening and control protocols for P.A.C. are nearly complete. However, it will require—”

  “Must it take so long? Are you going soft?

  And this recent incident—why were there four magic-users present? You told me it was only Lily!”

  “That is… it appears the Academy’s High Council may have moved in secret…”

  A long sigh escaped the speaker’s lips.

  “You seem to possess only one talent in abundance—disappointing me. Listen carefully: were it not for my daughter’s sake, I would have cast you aside long ago. Do not ever forget that.”

  “…Understood.”

  The man bowed low as he replied, but his hands—clenched at his sides—were white with tension, nails biting into flesh until blood welled up from beneath.

  Author Note:

  Chapter 4—will be released next Tuesday at 10:00 PM (JST) / 6:00 AM (PDT).

  Lore and Legends of Chapters One to Three:

  You can now read it on the "note" page.