In an age long past, a certain mark was placed upon this magical society. It was carved by the first people who took part in the act of creation, to bear witness to the end of that miracle. Even now, it is said to quietly emit an unceasing light of mystery. The mark lies hidden in a dense fog that separates this world from the arcane.

  Seek the path, then. Find the promised seal that rests beyond the Coiled Cipher. Lay your hand upon the mystery—for it shall bring you great fulfillment.

  Section 1: The Door of Mysteries

  "Yes!"

  The young warlock suppressed the exclamation of joy that had nearly burst from the depths of her throat, darting her eyes about her surroundings. That was close. She stood before the storefront of Arkham, an artifact shop forbidden by law and cloaked in taboo. If a patrol from the Enforcement Corps were to spot her here, it would instantly escalate into a full-blown manhunt. In truth, this was dangerously close to the Academy itself—well within reach of those watchdogs of power, ever eager for their next arrest.

  She had deciphered the so-called Coiled Cipher, an intricate and labyrinthine riddle, and walked the city’s streets in countless patterns to finally arrive at this place. She could not afford a single misstep now. Though breathless, she fought to restrain the pounding thrill surging in her chest. Her trembling hand reached for the door. The knob—crafted from an alchemical metal she had never seen before—was unseasonably cold, a chilling contrast to her mounting excitement.

  Taking a deep breath, she pulled the door open all at once. At that instant, a dry, dusty smell laced with mildew—so different from the outside world—assailed her senses, nearly triggering a cough. Covering her mouth with the sleeve of her uniform, she stepped into the dimly lit shop. There was hardly any illumination; a single dusty path stretched inward from the entrance. Piled haphazardly on both sides were unfamiliar magical tools and arcane instruments. Carefully twisting her body to avoid knocking into anything, she ventured deeper. A faint light shimmered further in, and beyond what seemed to be a counter, she caught a glimpse of a vague silhouette.

  She hesitantly approached it. To be standing in this shop—ranked among the most elite of the back-alley arcane dealers—filled her boundless curiosity to the brim. Who was the shopkeeper? What taboos was she about to uncover? Her mind was overflowing with thoughts of the mysteries that would soon be unveiled. Step by step, the counter drew nearer.

  “Welcome.”

  A voice called out, likely belonging to the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper? A strange sense of incongruity passed through the warlock’s mind. The voice was far too young. This place was known to harbor one of the most wanted criminals on both the Academy’s and the government’s top-priority list. The voice of a child was entirely out of place. She looked toward the counter, but the lighting was too dim to make out the figure clearly. She stepped in further.

  “Welcome.”

  The voice came again, and the shop suddenly brightened. What she saw next would remain etched in her memory for years to come. Standing before her was a girl no older than ten. Her blonde dreadlocks framed a face with translucent emerald eyes, and in a clear voice, she spoke:

  “My name is Akina. Akina Sprinkle. I am the owner of this shop. Now, what brings you here today?”

  Akina? Could this child truly be Akina Sprinkle—the one both the government and the Academy hunted so fervently, their most wanted fugitive? Before she could process the shock, another voice spoke from the back.

  “Akina, you mustn’t startle the customers.”

  A woman stepped into view, her face hidden behind a hood and veil, her voice composed and wise.

  “Well now, welcome. What a remarkably young visitor today. Surprised? But it’s true—this girl is the owner of the shop. Now then, what is it you seek?”

  “Um...”

  The warlock hesitated, then sat up straighter and began to speak.

  “I’ve always wanted to come here. I’d heard this place was home to artifacts and relics of true mystery, unlike anything in the outside world. When I learned of the Coiled Cipher, my heart leapt. I thought, ‘This will take me to Arkham!’ So I followed the paths the cipher pointed me toward, street by street, and then...”

  Her excitement had peaked. The words tumbled from her mouth, faster than she could think.

  “My, my. To solve that cipher at your age... You must be quite talented.”

  The veiled woman smiled with her eyes and gently interrupted.

  “You must be tired. Would you like some tea?”

  After a moment’s pause, the warlock nodded.

  “Akina, would you prepare the tea, please?”

  “Yes, Madame.”

  The girl responded and vanished behind the counter. The scent of the place—perhaps from moldy old tomes—was thick with arcane allure. Surrounded by unknown objects, forbidden artifacts pulsing with silent power, the young warlock scanned the room, unable to settle her mind.

  “There’s no need to rush. We have all the time in the world. Please, sit.”

  The woman—addressed as Madame—offered her a chair, and she sat down slowly.

  “Now, tell me... is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

  “No, it’s just... I had to come. They say every secret art resides in this place. Even now, I can’t quite believe I’m really here.”

  As they exchanged these words, the door behind the counter opened again. The girl returned, carrying a large tray with three cups of tea, her arms full.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Madame. There was only Berandrium tea available—is that all right?”

  The girl’s voice was slightly unsure. Berandrium? The warlock had never heard of it. She wasn’t even sure it was tea. But the deep lapis color and its rich, aromatic blend piqued her curiosity.

  “That’s perfectly fine, Akina. Let’s all enjoy it together.”

  The girl nodded lightly, hopping onto a small barrel next to the warlock’s seat.

  “Please, help yourselves.”

  With a respectful nod in return, the warlock lifted her cup. As she brought it close to her lips, the aroma swelled, enveloping her senses. It was a strange scent—familiar yet not. Perhaps it resembled the dried medicinal herbs from the Far East discussed in magic theory class. She took a sip. The lapis-colored liquid had a sweet-and-sour citrus flavor, accented with a sharp, ginger-like bite.

  “Ahem, ahem.”

  The little girl beside her let out a small cough.

  “Oh dear, was the Berandrium a bit too strong for you, Akina?”

  “No, I’m all right, Madame.”

  “It’s delicious.”

  The warlock spoke softly.

  “What kind of drink is this? I’ve never heard of the name Berandrium before...”

  “Indeed. It’s a long-forgotten tea, no longer known in the outside world. The leaves we have here are likely the last that remain.”

  “Was it really all right for me to have something so rare?”

  “Of course. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a guest. Offering hospitality is our duty.”

  So saying, the woman gently tilted her cup.

  “Since you’ve come all this way, why not take a look around once you’ve finished your tea?”

  “I’d love to!”

  With sparkling eyes, the warlock answered in a voice as light as wind chimes. The woman placed her cup down on its saucer, stood, and beckoned. The warlock, drawn by that gesture, rose and followed her.

  Beyond the counter, the shop continued, expanding into a deeper chamber filled with arcane artifacts the likes of which she had never seen—most of them utterly inscrutable in both form and purpose.

  “Now, this one here…”

  The woman’s voice, rich with intelligence, began to explain the items.

  There was a robe that allowed one to pass through the gates of the underworld while still alive—but use it carelessly, and one might end up as a ghost oneself. A magic sword that could fell enemies on its own in response to great power—but would lock its wielder into eternal sleep. Garments that severed one’s faith in angels, offering instead the power of the Fairy King in exchange for one’s lifespan. A deadly elixir that granted immense magical energy at the cost of one’s health…

  Who could say how much time had passed? Enchanted by the woman’s lyrical explanations, the warlock had completely lost track of time. Every single object in the store seized her young curiosity and refused to let go.

  At one point, she tried to put on a robe said to be woven with invisible threads of Spellbind—only for little Akina to frantically stop her, in a moment so endearing it could not be forgotten. Later, she would learn that donning that robe would erase one’s existence from the world entirely.

  After touring the shop, the three of them returned to the counter. The warlock and the woman took their seats once more, while Akina bustled off toward what seemed to be a kitchen in the back.

  Still immersed in the haze of arcane wonder, the warlock was snapped back to reality by the gentle clink of a cup set down upon a saucer.

  “Here’s your refill.”

  Akina had returned, carrying another round of the Berandrium tea. Steam rose gently from the cups.

  “Thank you, Akina. Why don’t you sit down and have some crackers as well?”

  In response to the woman’s kind voice, there came the rustling of a cracker box… followed by the soft, pleasant crunch of chewing that soon filled the quiet shop.

  “Since you’re here, may I ask a favor of you?”

  The woman turned to the warlock.

  “A favor? I’m not sure I’d be of much help...”

  “You see, this shop was recently burglarized. I know, it sounds absurd—this shop, so hard to find, being targeted by a thief. But it really happened. And the culprit… is a regular customer.”

  “What was stolen?”

  “A ring called Akina’s Eye. It’s set with a Stone of Arcana the same color as her eyes—blessed by the angel Gabriel, who governs life’s mystery and spiritual balance. Though as a student of magic at the Academy, I’m sure you know that already.”

  The woman smiled softly, the corners of her eyes relaxing.

  “Apparently, he plans to sell the ring on the black market. But that ring… has certain complications. I’d very much like to recover it. Yet Akina can’t leave the shop, and I cannot publicly associate myself with this place. And of course, we can’t exactly go to the authorities, given the nature of this store.”

  Her eyes narrowed further.

  “That’s why I’d like to ask you. Would you find Akina’s Eye and bring it back?”

  “But… I don’t know the man. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “It’s all right. Since the Stone of Arcana is blessed by Gabriel, it can only be traded at a black market that deals in items related to life and spiritual stability. If we can determine when and where such a market is held, he’ll surely appear. You’ve heard of the recent rumors, haven’t you? About the smuggled uniforms from the nursing department making waves at the Academy? That market—the one handling those—is the same.”

  A flicker of youthful curiosity lit up the warlock’s eyes.

  “Yes! I’m not sure if I can pull it off, but the smuggled uniforms have become a bit of a scandal on campus. If I investigate that, I’m sure I can uncover something. I’ve just moved on to the upper course of the primary division this term, so I can manage some basic self-defense now. I’ll do my best!”

  Her voice brimmed with eagerness, rising with passion.

  “Then I’ll be counting on you. If you run into trouble, don’t hesitate to come back here. I’m not always around, but if you tell Akina, she’ll get word to me.”

  The woman rose and began to walk toward the back.

  “I’m counting on you, dear little witch.”

  With those parting words, she disappeared into the shadows behind the counter.

  “Do you remember the way back?”

  Akina asked.

  “I follow the coil in reverse, right?”

  “That’s right. Please be careful.”

  Akina stepped down from the barrel, scattering crumbs from her crackers as she took the warlock’s hand and guided her to the exit. The doorknob was as cold as before. The warlock slowly pushed open the door and waved to Akina, who waved back with a tiny hand like a maple leaf.

  As she stepped outside, a tremor of excitement welled within her, stirred by the thought of the changes that tomorrow would surely bring.

  “Goodbye, boring Academy life!”

  She declared, then retraced her steps along the cipher’s path in reverse, heading back toward the dormitories.

  The sun had dipped low, casting the cobbled streets of the magical city in crimson light. That red hue seemed to echo the fire of curiosity burning in the warlock’s heart.

  “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

  She whispered to herself as she disappeared beyond the gates of the Academy.

  Section 2: How Much for a Nursing Uniform?

  There are enthusiasts in every world.

  Lying in bed, the necromancer pondered this vaguely as she waited for the night to give way to dawn.

  Lately, something peculiar had become popular in the Academy's Department of Nursing, to which I belong. Female students were reportedly selling their uniforms on the black market.

  For certain types of collectors—or perverts, really—symbolic items representing youthful beauty seemed worth spending a fortune on. I couldn’t relate to that mindset at all. Still, many of my classmates in the nursing department were eagerly making extra pocket money from it.

  It was said that nowadays, the “face-attached” type was especially in vogue—uniforms accompanied by the wearer's magical profile. Apparently, girls were modifying their records with all sorts of spellwork to make themselves appear more beautiful.

  And so it went: uniforms steadily disappeared from classrooms, and requests for replacements citing damage were never-ending. The Academy's administrative office was reportedly at its wits’ end.

  Well, none of that had anything to do with me.

  I was just a necromancer—majoring in Necromancy while also enrolled in the Nursing Department.

  No one in their right mind would want a plain uniform like mine. And honestly, I didn’t even know where that so-called black market was held.

  What mattered far more was figuring out how to keep up with the workload from juggling two departments—no time to be distracted by such nonsense.

  As I turned over in bed, my eyes landed on the uniform hanging on the wall.

  In what kind of society could this thing possibly sell for a ridiculous price?

  I wondered idly whether mine might sell too if I “enhanced” my magical profile like the others.

  While my thoughts wandered, the faint chirping of birds drifted in from the pale light beyond the window.

  Morning already.

  She slowly rose from bed and put the kettle on.

  At a small table, she laid out some bread, ham, and cheese. Coffee too, why not.

  The kettle soon whistled, and after preparing her breakfast, she washed down the dry bread and salty ham with the warm brew. The sun was beginning its slow ascent.

  With everything ready, she locked her dorm room and stepped out.

  Today was the practical session on healing spells in the Department of Nursing.

  Normally, she would have left in the sinister red-and-black necromancer’s uniform. But today, she was dressed in the peach robe—the nursing uniform that had recently gained some niche popularity.

  Reflecting on her earlier musings from dawn, she made her way toward the nursing building.

  The walk from the dorms to the Department of Nursing was a bit of a trek.

  At the top of a small hill lay the cafeteria and some common spaces—usually bustling with students by midday. She passed by that area, descended the slope, and headed toward the main lecture buildings.

  There, the classrooms for the Dark Mage and Wizard departments stood side by side.

  Their students were always flamboyant. The dark mages, a little too carefree and tactless; the wizards, constantly tense and desperate not to fall behind the elite students of the Pureblood Division.

  That kind of overzealous academic drive? Not exactly her style.

  As she was descending the hill, near the entrance to the Dark Mage department, she heard someone call out.

  “Hey! Hey, I know you hear me!”

  She turned to see a fellow student, a girl about her age—clearly a warlock—calling to her.

  She thought about ignoring her, but the girl had clearly noticed she was spotted and came striding over.

  “Come on, if you heard me, answer me already!”

  “Ah—yes, I’m sorry.”

  “You’re the necromancer, right? Fourth-year in Necromancy and double-majoring in Nursing?

  Tell me—where do you buy that uniform?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “The uniform. I want to know where to buy one.”

  “This uniform is issued by the nursing department… I don’t believe it’s something you can purchase.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I mean…”

  “You want this one?”

  “Ugh, no! I have zero interest in your secondhand outfit. What I want to know is where the black market trade for it happens.”

  Ah. Now it made sense.

  Still—why was this warlock asking me?

  “Well… I’ve heard the rumors about the illegal trade of nursing uniforms, but I’ve never actually sold mine. So I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the black market itself.”

  “Huh. I figured a beauty like you would’ve already made a killing off hers.

  Guess I was wrong.”

  What an absurd thing to say—and rude, too.

  Guess I was wrong? Really?

  There was no point engaging further.

  She turned to leave—but the voice called after her again.

  “Wait, please! I need your help. I’m trying to find out when and where that uniform black market is held.”

  This made even less sense.

  And the girl clearly wasn’t taking “no” for an answer.

  “The truth is, I’m looking for something.

  Something said to be blessed by Gabriel.

  And apparently, it’s likely being sold at the same black market that deals in nursing uniforms.

  That’s why I’m investigating it.”

  So that’s what this was about… Still, what did that have to do with me?

  “And that’s why I’ve been searching for you—

  the brilliant and beautiful double-major necromancer everyone talks about.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be of much help.

  You should ask someone else in the nursing department.”

  “No can do. I need someone who can handle themselves.

  Someone capable of basic combat magic.”

  Help?

  How did this turn into me helping her?

  And what did she mean by “combat”?

  “The guy we’re after is a thief.

  And this black market isn’t exactly a safe place.

  I can’t bring someone who only knows healing and recovery spells.

  They’d just slow me down, right?”

  Warlocks were known to be blunt, but this was more than she’d imagined.

  “So, I had to find you.

  There aren’t many students who double-major in Necromancy.

  You’re the only fourth-year, right?

  Please—help me.

  You can use attack spells and summoning spells, can’t you?”

  “Yes… I suppose I can.”

  “Then it’s settled!”

  What exactly is settled!?

  Before she could protest further, the warning bell for class rang in the distance.

  “Oh no! Class is about to start! If I’m late today, I’ll get detention!

  I’ll be waiting by the spring next to the hill at lunch—don’t be late, okay? Promise!”

  With that, the warlock took off like a whirlwind.

  …What on earth just happened?

  There was no point dwelling on it now—

  if she didn’t hurry, she would be late too.

  She quickened her pace toward the nursing building.

  ＊　＊　＊

  I had encountered an unexpected storm, but somehow made it in time.

  The classroom was in an uproar. It seemed that once again, the illicit sale of nursing uniforms had been uncovered by Academy administration.

  Standing at the lectern was a visibly irritated staff instructor.

  “Everyone, take your seats!”

  That irritation had taken the form of a bark.

  “Once again, someone has sold an Academy-issued nursing uniform on the black market.

  What do you think these uniforms are, exactly?”

  “Cash cows.”

  —or so I thought I heard someone whisper.

  “From now on, new uniforms will only be issued in exchange for damaged ones!”

  “No way!”

  The room erupted in protest.

  “You heard me! No more replacements unless you turn in a soiled or damaged uniform. Got that?

  And as for those who dare to peddle Academy property, you’ll be attending lectures in your undergarments from now on—understood?

  I’m sure Professor Pantze-Rotti would consider it an excellent opportunity to boost your class score!”

  With that, the instructor stomped out of the room, leaving behind chaos.

  “Ugh, what now? I was planning to pay this month’s dorm rent by selling my uniform…”

  Voices of dismay filtered through the classroom.

  I listened more closely.

  “Don’t worry.

  Uniforms with face profiles sell best, but anything from the nursing department fetches a price!

  Want to check it out together?

  Hats, gloves—everything sells! And there’s a market happening soon.”

  Judging from her tone, the girl speaking was clearly a regular of the black market.

  She had a beautiful face. No doubt her “face-attached” items sold for a premium.

  Come to think of it, hadn’t I heard that she broke the record for the highest sale price?

  The black market was, quite literally, forbidden territory.

  If the Enforcement Corps caught you there, it meant immediate arrest—Academy student or not.

  A sensible person wouldn’t even think of setting foot in such a place.

  But the allure of money… was clearly strong enough to override such caution.

  Until now, I hadn’t spared such things a thought.

  And yet, since this morning, those dark temptations had begun to drift insistently around me.

  Such a world, I thought, was surely doomed—trading in ill-gotten gains in places like that.

  But still… that warlock girl from earlier would probably find this line of talk very interesting.

  Without meaning to, I found myself eavesdropping.

  “Hey, did you hear?

  There’s going to be a synthetic Rhodochrosite at the next market!

  They say it boosts healing spells like nothing else. Might come in handy for the exam!”

  Synthetic Rhodochrosite!?

  I hadn’t meant to hear that… but now I couldn’t un-hear it.

  It was a Stone of Arcana recently synthesized through alchemy and magic—rumored to hold tremendous power in the realms of life and spirit.

  With it, one could dramatically improve control over undead.

  I was currently studying the undead summoning ritual using a medallion.

  If one were to set that stone into the medallion, the resulting undead would be far stronger.

  And if you mounted it in a rod for ghost-summoning, it was said to yield particularly vivid soulforms.

  I… I loved summoning ghosts.

  Their distinct silhouettes were simply adorable. Especially that pert little butt—absolutely irresistible.

  Skeletons, in contrast, were all bone and no charm.

  Watching a ghost’s bouncing backside was, in my view, one of the purest joys a necromancer could know.

  …Well, maybe that’s a bit of an overstatement.

  Still, with a rod embedded with synthetic Rhodochrosite, one could apparently summon ghosts with a form closer to one’s own desire.

  Now I was really interested.

  “…Um.”

  Before I knew it, I was calling out to the girl.

  “This black market… where is it being held?”

  “Whoa, you? Interested in a black market?

  You, of all people? Miss Straight-A Honor Student?”

  She looked genuinely surprised.

  Was it really that strange?

  “Well, I’m just a little curious about where nursing department items end up getting sold…”

  “Huh. All right, I’ll tell you.

  Sure, anything sells at the market, but nothing beats the price of a uniform.

  Well, unless you’re selling underwear.”

  She gave me a mischievous smile.

  Surely she didn’t mean she had actually done that…?

  “But I can’t just give you the info for free.”

  Her lips curled with a sly grin.

  Of course…

  “What do you want in return?”

  “You’ve heard of Arkham, right?

  How about a trade? I’ll tell you if you bring me Tears of Love from there.”

  Arkham…

  The forbidden artifact shop.

  I’d heard of it.

  It was said you could only reach it by solving a secret cipher known only to a select few.

  I remembered seeing a feature on it in a magic magazine last month…

  but finding my way to such a place? Impossible.

  I should never have gotten involved.

  Regret stirred in my chest as I asked:

  “If I bring you that, you’ll tell me about the black market?”

  “Yep. If I had Tears of Love, I could finally get him back from that thieving cat.

  It’s a bit of a rough remedy, but desperate times, right?”

  There was a sharp gleam in her eyes.

  “I see… I’ll try to find it.”

  “Great! That’s our deal.”

  She turned on her heel and rejoined her entourage, their chatter now lively with gossip about what sold best at the market.

  From what I could hear, they really did sell their underwear—talking about which brands fetched the highest bids, and how best to manipulate their magical “face profiles” to increase value.

  Apparently, items from Locotte Afume were particularly popular.

  Admittedly, their designs were quite cute.

  Even someone as plain as me couldn’t help but want them.

  The main bell rang, and the professor for our course entered.

  Class was beginning.

  We had two full periods of lecture until noon—intense and unrelenting.

  ＊　＊　＊

  The bell rang to mark the end of the morning lectures.

  Now… what should I do?

  She had said she would be waiting by the spring beside the hill.

  And now I had, albeit in fragments, some information about the black market.

  More importantly, that market was said to be offering synthetic Rhodochrosite.

  Normally, I would steer clear of such danger and make the safest choice possible.

  But this time…?

  As I turned the thought over in my mind, my feet were already carrying me up the hill, toward the spring.

  “Hey there!”

  It was that same voice from this morning.

  There she was.

  “I knew you’d come!”

  Well—I hadn’t exactly decided anything yet…

  “So? You came because you’ve decided to help me, right?”

  Her innocent eyes sparkled with hope.

  “Um, well… I did learn a little about the black market.”

  “Really!? What is it!?”

  “There’s a girl in my nursing class who seems to be a regular there.”

  “And? And?”

  “When I asked her about it, she offered me a deal…”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “She said she’d tell me the time and location of the next black market…

  in exchange for something called Tears of Love, which is apparently sold at Arkham.

  But as you know, Arkham is a very famous artifact shop—and I have no idea how to get there…”

  “Oh, that’s no problem at all!”

  The warlock’s wide eyes grew even wider.

  What…?

  “Between you and me,” she began, adopting a theatrical tone.

  “I probably shouldn’t be telling anyone this, but since you and I are now partners in fate, I’ll make an exception.”

  Partners in fate? What was she talking about?

  “The thing I’m searching for—it was a request from Arkham.”

  What!?

  This girl had been to Arkham?

  “Just the other day, I finally found the path there.

  I solved the Coiled Cipher.”

  Unbelievable.

  I’d thought she was just an overconfident, pushy girl…

  but if she really solved that cipher, then her magical ability must be the real deal.

  Suddenly, I was genuinely intrigued.

  “So, I visited Arkham.

  And the person I met there asked me to look into a recent theft.

  They wanted me to recover a stolen Stone of Arcana.

  Apparently, there’s a high chance it’ll be sold at the black market that deals in items related to Gabriel—that is, the same place where nursing uniforms are traded.

  That’s why I approached you.”

  So that’s what this was all about…

  “Then… you can go to Arkham again?”

  “Of course! I can go twice, three times—as many times as I want!”

  “Which means… you can get Tears of Love?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She downed the water in her potion flask in a single gulp, then exhaled deeply and said:

  “Then it’s settled. Let’s head to Arkham after classes today, okay?”

  Still entirely inconsiderate of other people’s schedules, I see.

  But then again… synthetic Rhodochrosite.

  It might cost me, but if worse comes to worst, I can probably sell something to scrape together the money.

  Would my underwear even sell…?

  A bizarre thought crossed my mind.

  The idea of approaching such a forbidden place made me hesitate—but the potential reward was no small thing.

  “Then… let’s meet at the main gate after class.”

  Before I knew it, I was the one naming the place.

  I suppose I’d made up my mind.

  “But… isn’t it dangerous to infiltrate a black market?”

  “We’ll be fine!”

  Her face was brimming with confidence.

  “I may not look it, but I’m great with lightning and flash magic.

  Even though I’m just a fourth-year, I can already cast Lightning!”

  Impressive.

  Whatever else she might be, she clearly had magical skill.

  “And you can cast Summon Ghost(s), right?

  If things get dicey, you can send your ghosts after them and we’ll make a run for it!”

  “Yes, well… I can summon ghosts.

  But I can’t exactly summon a whole army at once…”

  “It’s fine. I’ve heard from all sorts of places how talented you are.

  With the two of us together, we’ll be just fine!”

  Wait—was she planning to just barge in without a plan?

  Or did she have someone from Arkham backing her up?

  A tangle of doubts filled my mind.

  Still… it did sound exciting.

  And above all, the chance to obtain synthetic Rhodochrosite was too good to ignore.

  That Stone of Arcana had only just been created—it wasn’t even on the market yet.

  “Understood. Then I’ll see you at the gate after class.

  Please guide me to Arkham.”

  “Great. Looking forward to it!”

  “Likewise.”

  And just like that, the matter was settled.

  I barely remember how I got through the afternoon lectures.

  Had I been seduced by the madness of forbidden things?

  The bell rang to mark the end of the school day.

  Whatever the case—I had to get to the gate.

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  Section 3: Return Visit

  The lectures had ended.

  Sweat trickled down the back of her neck.

  Though evening was already approaching, the summer sun still stood high in the sky. There was more than enough time left to accomplish something before nightfall.

  Leaning against one of the gate’s pillars, the young warlock glanced repeatedly in the direction of the nursing department building.

  Would the promise made at midday be kept?

  She stood there, tinged with a faint unease.

  She thought back on everything that had happened since yesterday.

  It was only last month that she had first noticed what was called the Coiled Cipher—a sort of labyrinth hidden in the layout of the magical city.

  When she had spread out the map and looked at it from a bird’s-eye view, she began to see certain streets flowing in patterns that resembled wound electromagnetic coils.

  The thrill of that discovery had been unlike anything she had ever felt.

  The sequences of intersections that formed those coiled chains followed several distinct patterns, but none revealed their full form easily.

  If she couldn't decipher it outright, then she'd simply have to try them all.

  Trusting in her natural curiosity and determination, the young warlock decided to test every possible pattern one by one.

  At first, she hadn’t even known whether to trace the paths in a clockwise or counterclockwise direction.

  But one day, while following a particular route clockwise, she noticed that the loop failed to close properly near the Creeper Bridge.

  That convinced her the path had to be counterclockwise.

  From that moment on, she wandered the city every day, following potential routes in a counterclockwise direction, one after another.

  Come to think of it, the whole “Coiled Cipher” theory had come from a rather dubious source.

  She had stumbled across it in a whimsical feature article in a weekly magic magazine.

  The piece, written more for entertainment than enlightenment, had mentioned Arkham only in passing—and among its colorful speculations was a single line referencing the “Coiled Cipher.”

  So the idea that walking coiled routes might lead to Arkham had really just been her own wild hunch.

  In truth, the article had treated Arkham as more of a myth than anything else—a playful rumor rather than a serious subject of study.

  And yet yesterday, she had finally found the path.

  Her unlikely intuition had proven correct.

  Arkham could be reached by walking through a precise sequence of specific streets.

  There were five critical points:

  starting at the western split near Creeper Bridge, then Martin Street, Academy Avenue, Rick Street, under the Creeper Bridge, and finally heading south down South Avenue.

  At the end of this route—where normally a different shop should have stood at the intersection of South Avenue and Academy Avenue—Arkham had revealed itself.

  The key was not to cross the Creeper Bridge, but to go under it.

  Following that path, the world around her had gradually begun to blur with mist as she passed beneath the overpass.

  The further she descended South Avenue, the thicker the fog became—until, by the time she reached the intersection with Academy Avenue, she could barely see a few meters ahead.

  And there, in the very heart of that veil of mist, she had found it: Arkham.

  Arkham—legendary even among illegal magic artifact shops, and officially labeled as a top-priority target by both the government and the Academy.

  To think that such a place could be located right at the intersection of Academy Avenue and South Avenue—it defied all logic.

  To hide a tree, place it in a forest, they say.

  In any case, she would never forget the moment she spotted the “Arkham” sign through the mist.

  From the starting point of the path, if you took the initials of each street, you’d get:

  Martin Street, Academy Avenue, Rick Street, under the Creeper Bridge, and South Avenue.

  That spelled M.A.R.C.S.

  And M.A.R.C.S., as anyone in the magical world knew, was an old word from fairy tales—meaning “the Sign of Magic.”

  Whether coincidence or design, Arkham had stood precisely at the place marked by that sign.

  There were other coil-shaped paths throughout the city, but this was the only one whose initials formed a meaningful word.

  ＊　＊　＊

  As those thoughts drifted through her mind, a figure came trotting toward her from the direction of the nursing building.

  It was her.

  The black-haired necromancer had not broken their lunchtime promise.

  And with that, the adventure was about to begin.

  The young warlock’s heart brimmed with excitement and curiosity.

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  “It’s fine. The nursing department building is far from here.

  I haven’t been waiting long.

  But you must’ve run the whole way—are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.

  Our healing spell practical ran long, and then we had another lecture afterward—about the uniform reselling issue…”

  “Ah, I see.

  Still, it’s impressive how much those uniforms fetch.

  I wonder if this black warlock uniform could sell too?

  Then again, I suppose it’s just a matter of… sex appeal.”

  The warlock gave a wry smile before continuing.

  “Well then, shall we?

  Though we’ll be coming right back here in the end.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Arkham is actually quite close from here—if we follow the same path I took yesterday.

  But we’ll have to take a long detour, so we’d better get moving.

  Our first stop is the west end of Creeper Bridge.”

  “All the way over there? But the destination is right nearby?”

  “Exactly.

  That’s the starting point of the cipher path.

  You go all the way west past Creeper Bridge, and from there, it begins with Martin Street.

  Then you follow a specific route and eventually circle back here.

  It’s really quite fun.”

  The warlock laughed, light and cheerful.

  “Let’s go!”

  “Yes!”

  The two set off together.

  As they walked, their conversation bloomed—starting with their names, their chosen departments, why they had picked their fields, and what dreams they held for the future.

  They chatted about favorite magical item brands, and even the kinds of traits they found attractive in a partner.

  The most surprising discovery was the necromancer herself.

  At first, she had seemed reserved and stiff—but it turned out she had a soft spot for cute things like stuffed animals and mascots.

  She confessed to a deep affection for the rounded rear ends of summoned ghosts, and talked passionately about how to conjure the most adorably shaped ones.

  She was completely immersed in this niche of magical research at the Academy.

  To the warlock—who had always found her magical studies dry and uninspiring—this was a breath of fresh air.

  When the necromancer spoke on the subject, she was fluid and animated, a sharp contrast to her earlier shyness that morning.

  The necromancer, too, seemed to be warming to the warlock’s candid and carefree style.

  They had considered taking a break somewhere along the way, but curiosity spurred them on, and they continued straight along the M.A.R.C.S. route.

  As the day before, they passed beneath the overpass of Creeper Bridge and turned down South Avenue.

  There, an uncanny fog began to settle, at odds with the clear weather above.

  By the time they looped back to Academy Avenue, the world around them was swathed in white.

  The sun, which had been beating down just moments ago, now floated as a vague and lazy halo behind the veil of mist.

  The haze seemed to intensify the summer heat, and both girls were sweating.

  Though the intersection at Academy Avenue was normally a clean, stone-paved space, the air now carried an earthy scent, mingled with grass—infusing the place with a sense of another time.

  And then, at last, the sign appeared before them.

  Arkham.

  ＊　＊　＊

  “Here we are.”

  The warlock’s voice bounced with excitement as she turned to the necromancer.

  “I’m amazed,” the necromancer replied.

  “Arkham really is hidden in a place like this.”

  Her beautiful, jet-black eyes gleamed with curiosity.

  “Come on. You’re in for even more surprises.”

  With a mischievous smile, the warlock reached for the same unfamiliar alchemical doorknob she had grasped yesterday.

  That same off-season chill spread across her palm.

  “Huh?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It won’t open.”

  “But the sign says ‘Open for business.’”

  “Exactly. But it’s not opening. Yesterday, it opened so easily...”

  The warlock tugged desperately at the door, her grip tightening.

  “Maybe it opens if you push instead of pull?”

  “What? But yesterday it opened when I pulled it.”

  “Let me try.”

  The necromancer placed her hand on the knob and gently pushed.

  The door creaked open slowly.

  “See?”

  The warlock stared in disbelief, eyes wide with confusion.

  “Shall we?”

  Urged on by the necromancer, the two stepped inside.

  The interior of the shop appeared the same as it had the day before—narrow aisles lined with all manner of magical and arcane tools, haphazardly stacked and cloaked in dust.

  And yet, something felt… different.

  It was the scent.

  Yesterday, the air inside had been thick with the musty sting of dust and mold, the kind that tickles the throat.

  Today, the room was filled with a rich, herbal fragrance.

  “What a lovely scent.”

  “Yes… it wasn’t like this yesterday.”

  Still hesitating, they pressed on toward the back.

  Past the narrow aisle, the familiar counter came into view—but even that looked different now.

  Yesterday, the lighting had been dim, obscuring whoever stood behind it.

  Now, it was brightly lit, almost like the entrance to a stylish café.

  From the back, a voice called out—half familiar, half strange.

  “Welcome.”

  She had expected to see that same little girl from yesterday—at least, the warlock had.

  She hadn’t even considered that anything else might happen.

  But the one who stepped into view was a boy.

  He had a blonde bob-cut and emerald green eyes.

  At a glance, he wasn’t entirely unlike the girl from yesterday.

  Golden hair, translucent emerald eyes, fair skin—those were the same.

  But everything else was different.

  He stood at about the same height as the girls—maybe taller.

  There was none of the image of a child perched on a barrel, swinging her legs and munching crackers.

  Even his voice seemed deeper.

  He was unmistakably a boy.

  “Ah, it was you. Back again, I see. Welcome.”

  The necromancer leaned in and whispered, noticing the obvious shock on the warlock’s face.

  “Is something wrong? Is he… the shopkeeper?”

  “Y-yes, I mean… I suppose so… maybe…?”

  Words failed her.

  The necromancer stared at the boy, thoughtful.

  “You’re a funny one. We just met yesterday, didn’t we?

  Already forgotten?

  It’s me—Akina. Akina Sprinkle.”

  The warlock’s mind spun in confusion.

  “Akina!? But yesterday, you were…”

  “Haha. You’re quite the character.

  Yesterday, today—it’s still me.

  Welcome back to Arkham, the mystical artifact shop.

  Would you like Berandrium again today?”

  “Y-yes… I suppose so.

  But…”

  Before she could continue, the boy—who had just identified himself as Akina—disappeared into the back, presumably into the kitchen.

  “Are you okay? You look a little… off.”

  The necromancer peered into the warlock’s face, clearly concerned.

  “Akina… is he really the same Akina who’s on the Academy and government’s most-wanted list?

  He looks nothing like the magical profile I’ve seen.”

  He?

  Yes—he was a boy.

  “Y-yes, that’s true.

  But… maybe I’ve lost my mind.

  That wasn’t the Akina I knew.”

  The necromancer furrowed her brow in confusion.

  “Yesterday, I met Akina.

  But she was a young girl—just a child.

  I’m sure of it.”

  The necromancer’s confusion deepened.

  “But the boy just now said you came yesterday, didn’t he?

  Could it be you met someone else?”

  “No, that’s not it.

  I definitely came here yesterday.

  And I definitely met Akina Sprinkle.

  That’s the only thing I’m certain of.”

  “But you say the person you met was a completely different girl?”

  “Yes.

  I feel like I’m dreaming.

  She was sitting on that barrel, eating crackers.

  Look—see those crumbs on the floor?

  Someone was definitely eating there just recently.”

  The warlock pointed to the barrel, where, indeed, cracker crumbs were scattered.

  Her visible dismay—so stark a contrast to her earlier bravado—was apparently too much for the necromancer.

  She burst out laughing.

  “Hey! Don’t laugh at me!”

  “Sorry, sorry.

  It’s just—you were all fired up about catching the thief and retrieving the Stone of Arcana Stone of Arcana, and now a single boy’s thrown you completely off.

  I couldn’t help it.”

  The necromancer struggled to hold back another laugh.

  “W-well, you’d be shocked too if someone you didn’t know insisted they met you yesterday. I mean…”

  Just then, the boy returned—carrying the same tray the girl had struggled with yesterday, only now in one hand with ease.

  On it sat two cups of the distinctive, fragrant Berandrium tea.

  “Here you go.”

  He placed the tea before them, gestured for them to sit, and took a seat himself—this time in a chair, not on a barrel.

  “Please, before it cools.”

  “U-um… is she not here today?”

  The warlock asked, her voice small.

  “Oh, the Madame?

  She’s rarely here.

  You were lucky yesterday.

  Meeting her at all is quite rare.

  Anyway—any word on the Stone of Arcana?”

  The question jolted the warlock back to herself.

  “Yes, of course. That’s why I came.

  But… I’m sorry, maybe it’s me who’s wrong…

  but you’re not the Akina I met yesterday.

  And the Madame isn’t here either.

  I can’t entrust her message to someone I’m not sure I can trust.

  So I have to ask—who are you?”

  The boy gave a thoughtful nod and then spoke.

  “I understand your confusion.

  Indeed, the person you met yesterday wasn’t me as I am now.

  But I assure you, she and I are both Akina Sprinkle.

  I can't explain everything due to certain… complications.

  And no—I can’t just summon the version you saw yesterday. Not right now.

  But I am Akina.

  That girl you met yesterday—was me.

  I’m a boy today.

  If you’d like, I can contact the Madame.

  Would her word be enough for you?”

  The warlock hesitated for a moment.

  “No… that’s all right.

  You’re the only one here.

  And you know about the Stone of Arcana.

  You know about me—and yesterday.

  I don’t think you’re lying.

  So I’ll ask you just one thing:

  Yesterday, you helped me.

  Do you remember what it was?”

  “The invisible robe made of Spellbind threads, right?

  That gave me a real fright—you tried to put it on before I could explain!

  If you’d worn that, you would’ve vanished completely from this world.”

  He spoke with a tone of genuine alarm, as if he were reliving it all over again.

  “Yes. That’s exactly right.

  I still don’t understand what’s going on…

  but I’ll choose to believe in you—and your words.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad.

  Honestly, I know I should probably explain more properly.

  It’s just… complicated.

  Actually, I lied a little earlier.

  I can transform into yesterday’s form right here, right now.

  But if I did that, I think it would really send you over the edge.

  So let’s spare you that, for today.”

  With a sheepish, mischievous smile, Akina continued.

  “So, about the Stone of Arcana —any progress?”

  “I’ve made contact with someone who knows the time and location of the black market.

  But they’ve proposed a trade. You know the item called Tears of Love sold here?

  She wants that in exchange for the information.”

  “I see…”

  The boy’s expression clouded.

  “Do you two know what that item actually is?”

  “It’s a love potion, right?

  Kind of famous among the younger crowd.”

  “You’re talking about the commercial version.

  What we have here… is different.

  And with the Madame absent today… this is tricky.”

  “What are you talking about?

  If it helps us locate the Stone of Arcana, then there’s nothing to hesitate about!”

  “Hmm…”

  The boy’s reply was heavy.

  “It’s not just a love potion.

  The ones out in circulation are fakes—cheap imitations, really.

  But the real Tears of Love here…

  it’s something much more dangerous.

  Once someone drinks it, they become utterly, irrevocably obsessed with the person they see.”

  “So it is a love potion!”

  The warlock didn’t bother to hide her irritation.

  Beside her, the necromancer quietly sipped her Berandrium tea.

  “The problem lies in what ‘obsessed’ means here.

  It’s not poetic. It’s literal.

  The one who drinks it loses all awareness of anyone but themselves and their beloved.”

  “Come again?”

  “Just what I said.

  To them, no one else in the world exists.

  No matter how many people are around them, they’ll never perceive anyone but those two.

  Forever.”

  “…What.”

  Even the necromancer, normally so composed, looked visibly shaken.

  She turned her dark eyes toward the boy, teacup still in hand.

  “We can’t possibly give someone something like that!”

  The warlock’s outrage flared.

  “Exactly.

  But as it stands, we need this… person’s help to find the Stone of Arcana.

  Which means we’d be sacrificing her poor love interest in the process.

  That’s… not an easy call.”

  “No, it certainly isn’t…”

  A heavy silence settled over the group.

  “Um…”

  It was the necromancer who broke it.

  “In that case…

  why don’t we give her one of the imitations?

  She won’t know the difference, and no one gets hurt.”

  “But wouldn’t that be… deceiving her?”

  The warlock’s youthful sense of justice peeked through.

  “True.

  But after hearing what Akina just told us, we can’t possibly give her the real thing.

  So perhaps a little deception is justified here.”

  “No.

  I don’t want to lie to anyone.

  There has to be a way to resolve this without deceit.”

  As she said this, the boy clapped his hands.

  “Then let’s do this!”

  Both girls turned their eyes toward him.

  The air around them was gently scented with Berandrium.

  “This tea—Berandrium—it used to be nicknamed The Lovers’ Tea.

  There was a silly old belief that drinking it on a first date would ensure the romance’s success.

  Fortunately, it no longer exists in the outside world.

  So let’s exaggerate that legend a little and present the tea as a ‘magic’ remedy to her.

  That way, it’s technically not a lie.”

  “I like it.”

  “Yes, that’s perfect.”

  The warlock and the necromancer exchanged glances.

  “All right then, it’s settled.

  I’ll go package it up—make it look the part.”

  With that, the boy disappeared once again into the back of the shop.

  As the warlock watched him go, she thought she could almost see a faint shadow of the little girl from the day before in his figure.

  “I’m glad we found a good solution.

  You know, old legends like that often have unexpected power.

  Maybe this really will help her win him back.”

  “Maybe so.

  In any case, we definitely couldn’t give her something so dangerous.

  And lying… that would’ve felt just as wrong.”

  As they talked, the boy returned—munching on a cracker, a small potion vial in hand.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.

  I thought about wrapping it as leaves, but since it won’t spoil, I bottled the tea instead.

  Tell her to add just a few drops of this to whatever drink they share—doesn’t have to be tea.

  I even wrote a signed note explaining the tradition.

  That should complete the illusion.

  Now we can only hope the legend isn’t entirely false.”

  He placed the potion and note into a small box, wrapped it neatly, and handed it to the warlock.

  “I’m counting on you for the Stone of Arcana.”

  “Leave it to me.”

  “You remember the way back?”

  “Reverse the coil path, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  ＊　＊　＊

  And so, the warlock and the necromancer took their leave from Arkham.

  Reversing the M.A.R.C.S. path took roughly an hour.

  By the time they reached the entrance gate of the Academy once more, the western sky was ablaze with red, casting a beautiful light over the school grounds.

  “Here, I’ll entrust this to you. Please… I’m counting on you.”

  “Yes. I’ll give it to her tomorrow and learn what I can about the black market.”

  “Still, I honestly didn’t expect someone as serious and studious as you to go along with a little whim of mine.

  While I was waiting at the gate, I actually felt a bit like I’d been stood up.”

  “I’m sorry for that.

  But since we’re, what was it…? Fated partners, yes?

  I suppose I should be honest.

  There’s something I want too.”

  “Something you want?”

  “Yes.

  They say synthetic Rhodochrosite will be available at the next black market.

  I want to get my hands on it.”

  “Well, aren’t you surprisingly mercenary!”

  “Let’s say… practical.”

  The necromancer smiled as she continued:

  “On the way to Arkham, I told you about ghosts, right?

  With synthetic Rhodochrosite, you can design the appearance of a summoned ghost with much more freedom.

  They’re still spirits, of course—but you could even turn a girl into a boy…”

  “You mean… Akina.”

  “Yes.

  Do you think he can be trusted?”

  “I don’t know… honestly, I’m not sure.

  But that invisible robe—only someone who was there could have known about it.

  And when he spoke of it, I didn’t sense any deception.

  So I’ve decided to believe him.”

  “I see…

  Well then, if I do get that Rhodochrosite, maybe I’ll turn Akina into a girl myself!”

  “Wait, you mean turn him into a ghost!?”

  “Hehe, yes, I suppose I would.

  That was a joke, of course.

  But I’ve found my own purpose now.

  That’s why I decided to help you.”

  “I see.

  Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Then, tomorrow—please take care of it.”

  “Of course.

  Let’s meet again at the same spot at lunchtime.”

  “Yes.”

  And with that, the two of them began walking toward their respective dormitories.

  The sun wavered gently on the western horizon.

  A warm summer breeze swept through the street, as if to clear away the dust of routine life.

  The first stars began to twinkle, and quietly, the curtain of night descended.

  Section 4: The Peach Uniform That Vanished into the Night

  "Sorry to keep you waiting."

  The familiar voice brought a wave of relief.

  It was night—already past 10:15 p.m.　They had successfully met up. Everything was about to begin.

  At exactly 11:00 p.m., in one corner of the Pond Zack district, a black market would be held.　It was said that items related to the Archangel Gabriel would be traded there.　They had obtained that information four days ago, in exchange for the mysterious love elixir acquired from Arkham.

  The black-haired necromancer had successfully coaxed the details out of a girl named Katy, a known regular of the black market.　Katy had been in excellent spirits after receiving the potion, and she generously divulged not only the time and location but also what kinds of items were typically exchanged there.

  They had all the information they needed.　The thick, humid air of midsummer night clung to their skin.

  Seeing the figure in front of her, the warlock raised an eyebrow.

  "Wait… are you really wearing that? Isn’t that the nursing department uniform?"

  "Yes… I didn’t have time to change.　Apparently, the Academy is aware of tonight’s black market.　After our lecture, they gave us a very long warning about it.　I’d intended to return to the dorms and change into my necromancer uniform, but considering the distance… there just wasn’t time."

  "That long of a scolding? That’s intense."

  "Yes.　Nursing lectures on Thursdays are held during the early night period, so they end around 8 p.m.　The lecture ended, then the warning started—and by the time we were finally dismissed, it was already nearing nine.　It takes over an hour to walk here from the Academy, so if I’d gone back to change, I might not have made it in time.　So I just came straight here."

  "I see. But… how about your defenses?"

  The necromancer’s gaze shifted to the warlock’s outfit.　She wore the Academy's traditional battle-uniform for mages: a blouse, corset, and short pleated skirt.　The corset, in particular, had been customized with various defensive spell-seals, enhancing both physical and magical resistance.　Her blouse and skirt, too, were cleverly modified.

  Considering they were about to confront a known thief—someone who had stolen a Stone of Arcana from none other than Arkham—it might have been wiser to at least change into her necromancer uniform.　Regret flickered through the necromancer’s mind, but it was far too late now.

  "You really put a lot of thought into your defenses.　I should have done the same…"

  "Well, we’re not allowed to wear robes yet in our year,　so I thought I’d at least make the uniform count."

  She patted the corset with a wry smile.

  "It’s almost 10:40.　We should head over to the venue."

  The Pond Zack district was normally a lively downtown area, even at night.　Its main street was always bustling with restaurants, hobby shops, and bars.　But the direction they were heading—past a maze of tangled back alleys toward a small bridge spanning the Pond Zack River—was quite the opposite.

  According to Katy, the market would be held near that bridge, in an especially dense cluster of narrow alleys where multiple backstreets twisted together like a web.

  To be honest, the idea of two girls heading into such a place at this hour was chilling.　Curiosity was rapidly giving way to unease—and fear.

  And the person they were seeking…　was the infamous thief who had stolen a Stone of Arcana ring from Arkham itself.　Both girls wore anxious expressions as they moved deeper into the alleys.

  The further they went, the dimmer it became.　Shadows overtook them.　And gradually, the silence gave way to scattered figures, quiet footsteps, and hushed voices.　The black market, it seemed, was beginning to stir.

  They arrived at the place Katy had described—the one she had said was ideal for selling uniforms.

  "10:55.　It’s subtle, but it looks like trades have already started."

  The warlock’s voice trembled with tension.

  "I agree.　There’s more movement now, and I can hear conversations all around us.　It’s definitely begun."

  The necromancer had picked up on the shifting atmosphere as well.

  Their goal now was to find a man in possession of a ring set with a Stone of Arcana—the same color as Akina’s eyes.　But beyond that, they had no leads.

  Standing still would do them no good.　The warlock made a suggestion.

  "The market runs until 1 a.m., right?　It’s inefficient for us to stay together the whole time.　Let’s split up and search separately for now.　We’ll meet back here at midnight and share what we’ve found."

  It was a logical plan.　And more importantly, it bought time for the necromancer to quietly pursue her own objective.　She was inwardly thrilled.

  "That’s a good idea.　If anything goes wrong, let’s retreat toward the Pond Zack Bridge and regroup there."

  "Got it. Then I’ll see you back here at midnight."

  "Yes."

  With that, they parted ways.

  After 11:00, the black market’s hidden stage began to buzz in full.

  Small crowds gathered at certain corners where what appeared to be auctions were underway.　People made no sounds.　They held their hands aloft, folding or bending fingers in unfamiliar gestures that seemed to indicate prices.　From time to time, quiet cheers would rise—presumably deals being closed.

  The warlock wandered through narrow alleys, doubling back, peering into shadowy corners.　But she couldn’t spot anyone who seemed to fit the profile.　And frankly, everyone seemed suspicious in one way or another.

  A drunken old man staggered down the street, reeking of alcohol.　Another figure crept deeper into the alley, glancing over his shoulder.　A merchant sat in a dead-end corner, silently waiting for customers.

  Any one of them could have been the thief—or none.

  Before long, midnight approached.

  In this city, just before midnight, the neighborhood watch would begin their rounds, ringing bells to call out for fire safety—gentle, but unmistakable.

  From far away, that bell could now be heard.

  Time to head back.

  The warlock retraced her steps to the spot Katy had said was best for selling nursing uniforms.

  A familiar figure appeared.

  "Any luck?"

  "No. Too many people.　I couldn’t find anyone who stood out."

  "Same here."

  "What do we do now?"

  "Well… I think we’ve confirmed that wandering aimlessly isn’t going to get us anywhere.　And honestly, I’d feel safer if we stuck together from now on."

  "I feel the same."

  And just as they were discussing their next move—

  “Excuse me.”

  An unfamiliar voice came from behind them.

  “That uniform… the one the young lady is wearing—　that’s from the Academy’s Department of Nursing, isn’t it?”

  The overly polite tone coiled in the ears like a snake.　The necromancer flinched, her body tensing instinctively.

  “And what if it is?”　The warlock answered boldly.

  The speaker appeared to be a middle-aged gentleman—at first glance.　But there was something lewd about his smirk.　His expression, oily and indulgent, reeked of the worst kind of collector.

  “Well now…　I’ll confess, my humble purpose tonight is… that very outfit the young lady is wearing.”

  It was chilling.　This man—a stranger—was asking to take the very uniform the girl was currently wearing.

  Both of them felt a deep, instinctive revulsion down their spines.　Their shared thought: We need to get away from this man—now.

  “Do you even hear yourself?　You’re suggesting stripping her right here? You’ve lost your mind.”

  The warlock flared with anger, while behind her, the necromancer clutched her chest tightly with one hand, curling in on herself—visibly trembling.

  “Ah, such harsh words!　I’m not asking for it for free, am I?　This is Gabriel’s black market, after all.　And now that I’ve seen her lovely face in person...　Heh. For something with a face profile, I’d say the offer is about this much.”

  He raised two fingers on his left hand.

  “But for a live face profile...　how about this?”

  He raised a third.

  Both girls inhaled sharply.

  There it was.

  On the man’s third, gnarled finger—the ring on his withered ring finger gleamed.　There was no doubt.　It was Akina’s Eye—the Stone of Arcana they had come for.

  They couldn’t let him slip away now.　But they could no longer afford to provoke him, either.

  “W-well… I suppose that’s not such a bad offer.”

  She had no idea what that number meant, but she played along, feigning interest.

  “Right? And that’s without the full face profile.　This, on top of the bid—that’s quite a deal, wouldn’t you say?”

  He chuckled as he switched his fingers between two and three, leering at them.　Suppressing her disgust, the warlock pressed on.

  “Honestly, that’s still too low.　Do you even know who this girl is?”

  “No, I can’t say I do.　But I can say she’s quite the beauty.”

  Everything about him was unbearable.

  “She’s not just beautiful—　she’s the only fourth-year student double-majoring in Necromancy and Nursing.　If you’re asking to strip her in public, you’d better be offering something worthy of her.”

  Behind her, the necromancer—on the verge of tears—clung to the hem of the warlock’s skirt.

  “Well, well, that is impressive.　So then, what is it that you lovely young ladies want from this old man?”

  He bit.

  “Let’s see…　That rather extravagant ring of yours—it doesn’t suit you at all.　How about a trade?”

  She struck at the heart of the matter.

  “Ah, sharp eyes you have.　But surely you know—this ring is an exquisite treasure.　An item from the mystical artifact shop Arkham, no less.　I couldn’t part with it so easily.”

  As expected.

  “Oh, please.　You didn’t obtain it from Arkham—you stole it.　We know everything.　Now hand it over.”

  “My, what an accusation!　If anyone’s the thief, it’s Arkham itself!　This ring is mine by right, I assure you.”

  What was that supposed to mean?　But there was no time to dig into it.

  “Whatever. The fact remains—　you want her uniform, and we want that ring.　Supply and demand match perfectly, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Heh heh… well said!　Such a clever young lady.　Very well.　Let’s consider it a deal.”

  His greasy words grated against their ears—but the negotiation had succeeded.

  The problem now was the necromancer.　Hiding behind the warlock, she shook her head softly, her black eyes brimming.

  “Come on, get it together.　This settles everything.　It’s just a uniform.　If it comes to it, wear your necromancer one to nursing class.”

  The warlock spoke in a whisper.　But the necromancer’s eyes were already filling with tears.

  “What is it?”

  “I-it’s just… I…”

  She was on the verge of crying.

  “Ah, yes. That’s right.”

  The warlock suddenly seemed to remember something—and turned back to the man.

  “One more thing.　There’s something else I want.”

  “Well now, aren’t you greedy.　And what would that be?”

  “Your filthy old coat.　Surely you don’t expect her to be left half-naked out here.”

  “Heh. Quite right.　I do apologize. Didn’t even think of that.　Very well—　I’ll give you the ring and the coat.　In return, I ask for the young lady’s—shall we say—freshly worn warmth.”

  The disgust was almost unbearable.　But there was no turning back now.

  “The ring first.　She’ll need a place to change, after all.　Hand it over.”

  “As you wish.”

  The old man began to remove the ring quietly.

  And then—it happened.

  A distorted voice rang out, like a broken phonograph.

  “You there.　Hand over that ring!”

  ＊　＊　＊

  “Once more,” he said coldly.　“Hand over the ring.”

  “What, you’re trying to steal it now?　Too bad. We’re not giving it to you.　Now get lost.”

  It happened in the next instant.

  Flames erupted from the figure’s outstretched hand—　Fire Ball!

  “Watch out!”

  The fireball grazed the warlock’s forehead.　The acrid stench of burning hair filled her nostrils.

  “So it’s no time for words, huh?”

  The man showed no sign of stopping.

  “Ladies, we must flee. Somewhere less… populated.”

  The old gentleman’s voice was urgent.

  “You’re right. Come on!”

  The warlock pulled the trembling necromancer close.

  “Which way?”

  “Well now… this area’s too crowded.　Yes, let’s make for the Pond Zack Bridge.　At this hour, it should be all but deserted.”

  “Got it!”

  The three took off at once.

  The man in black didn’t so much run as roll forward in pursuit, his limbs flailing like a broken puppet.

  “Ugh, what is that thing!? Why is it so creepy!?”

  Though he staggered and lurched, the man continued to follow them.　Not so fast as to catch them immediately—but his fireballs were a threat.　The chaos was beginning to attract attention. A crowd would make everything worse.

  “We have to hurry!”

  The necromancer found new strength in her legs.

  Dodging fireballs, they fled through shadowed alleys, steering toward darker paths with fewer eyes.　Finally, they emerged onto a narrow lane from which they could see the Pond Zack Bridge ahead.　The streets here were empty. Good.

  Now, they had to deal with him.

  “Hey…”

  “What is it—now!?”

  “What about your Lightning spell!?”

  “Tch!”

  “We’re far enough now that using magic won’t draw attention.　He’s alone—we can take him out with Lightning!　Why haven’t you cast it yet!?”

  “You can use Lightning at your age, miss?”　The gentleman raised an eyebrow—he knew his magic.

  The warlock looked sheepish.

  “I can cast it… but…”　Panting, she added,　“My Lightning spell is top-tier in power…　but my accuracy is third-rate at best!”

  “What!?”　The necromancer’s voice cracked.　“We only get one shot, don’t we? What’s the plan, then?　I was counting on you!”

  “I know! That’s why—”

  A fireball seared overhead again.

  “I’ve been trying to lure him somewhere narrow.　I only get one shot—if I miss, I’ll be out of mana!”

  “That makes you sound like you’re the liability here!”

  “I know!”

  The warlock’s own words stung—she had once said that nursing students unable to defend themselves were dead weight.　Now the roles had reversed.

  Her lips began to form the first words of a chant, but hesitation gripped her.　She had only one chance.　If she wasted it here, her magic would be depleted.

  She’d be toast—literally. Served flambé, garnished with perversion.　Not. Happening.

  “Then allow me…”　The old gentleman cut in.　Despite his age, he kept pace with the two girls effortlessly, even guiding them, as if leading them through the winding streets with practiced ease.

  The moon had vanished behind thick clouds, plunging everything into darkness.　The cobblestones beneath their feet were the only comfort—at least they weren’t tripping.

  The bridge loomed closer.　It was an old, narrow stone structure with low railings—just wide enough for two to pass.　Short in length, but perfect for a trap.

  “Let’s drive him to the center of that bridge!”

  Yes. On the bridge, she wouldn’t miss.

  “But we’ll have to flank him—how!?”

  “Leave it to me.”

  The necromancer spoke with sudden clarity.

  “I’ve been watching him.　He’s not chasing us.　He reacts to movement.　So if we do this—!”

  "O wandering remnants of this world, spirits forlorn—　Forge a contract with me.　Answer my call, and I shall grant your soul a fleeting form!　Summon of Ghost(s)!"

  From her uniform pocket, she drew a short wand and chanted.

  In an instant, she summoned three ghosts—each bearing the same build and silhouette as them.　At fourth-year level, to summon three simultaneously, and to give them such precise form—　Incredible.

  The warlock gasped. Even the old gentleman was impressed.

  Just as planned, the man in black turned, drawn by the ghostly shapes.　Still flailing like a broken marionette, he pursued the decoys instead.

  “Now’s our chance.”

  The gentleman pushed the girls into the shadows beside an old fire well.

  The dark figure didn’t notice.　He followed the ghosts, oblivious.

  Got him.　Now the three of them had his back.

  Once the ghosts reached the bridge’s midpoint, they could trap him there.

  When he passed the fire well, they waited—　then began to follow him quietly.

  The man-creature, still twitching unnaturally, chased the ghosts with single-minded intensity.　Only the glow from his fireballs lit the path.

  The ghosts reached the bridge.　He followed.　In the middle of the bridge, the ghosts stopped.

  “Caught… you…”

  A cracked, metallic voice rang out.　He raised another fireball, inching closer.

  “The ring… Give me… the ring…”

  His voice deteriorated further—inhuman now.

  “Now!”

  The necromancer’s cry rang out.

  The chant followed:

  “O one who governs the skies,　Bring lightning to my hand.　Gather the stormclouds.　With flashing light, strike down my foe!　Lightning!”

  For a heartbeat, daylight exploded in the darkness—　the bridge, the figures, the twisted face—lit in perfect clarity.

  A bolt of lightning burst from the warlock’s hand,　piercing the man in black dead center.

  The sound was like a tree splitting under divine wrath.　His body erupted in flames.

  It flailed—not like a man, but like a broken wind-up toy.　He staggered to the railing… and toppled into the river below, still burning.

  Oddly, the flames weren’t normal—　a sickly mix of pale pink and violet flickered in his robes.　Perhaps it was the fabric, or perhaps something worse.

  He burned as he fell,　vanishing into the dark below—　like a peach-colored robe consumed by the night.

  ＊　＊　＊

  "Bravo, ladies. You’re more formidable than you appear."

  The old gentleman offered them a generous compliment.

  "Heh, well… I suppose. But really—you were incredible!　How did you summon like that? Three ghosts, all at once, and all shaped just like us? That was amazing!"

  "I used this!"　The necromancer held up a wand for the two to see.

  "Wait… is that what I think it is?"

  "Yes. I managed to obtain it—Synthetic Rhodochrosite.　This was my first time using it, so I wasn’t sure it would work…　but just like the rumors say, it’s a Stone of Arcana.　And it helped us."

  "Wow… that must’ve cost a fortune. How’d you get it?"

  "Secret."

  She stuck out her tongue with a tiny smile.

  "Huh… I didn’t know you were rich."

  She can make that kind of face too?　The warlock found herself oddly delighted to see this new side of the girl she’d only just met a few days ago.　She didn’t understand why the necromancer was blushing so furiously… but it warmed her heart all the same.

  "Now then…"　The old gentleman interjected.

  "Shall we resume our transaction, if it pleases the ladies?"

  "Yes.　There's a little gate over there—we can use that as a screen while she changes.　First, though, hand over the ring and the coat."

  "As you wish."

  With that, the gentleman removed Akina’s Eye from his finger and handed it to the warlock.

  "Don’t forget my part of the bargain.　I’ve been looking forward to it."

  His smile twisted, lecherous.

  "Yeah, yeah. Come on."

  When the warlock prompted her, the necromancer shook her head.

  "It’s all right.　I can do it myself."

  She took the coat from the man and slipped behind the gate.　The dry rustling sound of clothes being removed followed.　The man leaned forward, relishing every note of it.　It was deeply, viscerally unpleasant.

  At that moment, the warlock glanced down at the ring in her hand.　She thought she saw something inside it—an image, perhaps.

  Just for a second, a vision appeared:　a figure resembling herself, clad in angelic garments—　and beside her, a being with long, platinum-blonde hair and sapphire-blue eyes.

  But the image flickered and vanished before she could make sense of it.　She didn’t give it much thought.

  Soon, the necromancer emerged, bundled in the oversized coat and holding her folded nursing uniform in both hands.

  "Here you go."

  She offered it to the man.

  With a shudder-inducing expression of bliss, the old gentleman received the uniform with both hands, reverently.　His breathing was unmistakably heavy.

  "Much obliged, ladies.　A most excellent trade indeed.　And with such a delightful show to top it off—I am well satisfied."

  He turned on his heel and walked across the narrow bridge, fading into the velvet curtain of night.　As he passed the place where the black-clad stranger had fallen into the river, his step seemed to slow—just a little.　But no one cared anymore.

  The Lady’s request had been fulfilled.　And the warlock’s heart brimmed with triumph and satisfaction.

  The necromancer, too, smiled within the oversized coat that dwarfed her small frame.

  "Come on. Let’s go home."

  "Yes."

  "It’s late—we should stay alert."

  "Agreed."

  With quiet words, the two disappeared into the darkness.

  The summer night sky was ablaze with stars.　Without the moon, the constellations shone even more brilliantly.　They danced across the black velvet sky, radiant and vast.　From the river below came the scent of flowing water.

  It felt as if the stars themselves were celebrating their first true battle together.　And so the midsummer night wore on.

  ＊　＊　＊

  Later, the two girls visited Arkham to return Akina’s Eye.　By chance, the lady from before was present.　She welcomed them warmly, alongside the young Akina, and sent them home with a trove of ancient magical sweets.

  After they left, a sudden stillness fell over Arkham.

  The young girl rustled about in a cabinet at the back.

  "So, they came after it after all."

  "Yes.　Anyone who hears the name Gabriel loses all sense."

  "This could turn into trouble..."

  Letting out a quiet sigh, the lady whispered:

  "In any case… well done, Akina."

  "Not at all," the girl said, shaking her small head.

  "But do me a favor—only wear that when you’re a girl."

  "Yes, ma’am."

  With that, Akina gently closed the cabinet with her tiny hand.

  The mystic stillness of Arkham returned once more.

  Some time later, under another moonless sky,　a pair of brilliant ruby eyes lay buried beneath a blanket of silver sand—　awaiting the day they would again meet those golden eyes they so dearly longed for…

  in the light of dawn.

  Author Note:

  Chapter 2—will be released this Tuesday at 10:00 PM (JST) / 6:00 AM (PDT).

  Thank you for reading, and I hope you’ll enjoy what comes next!