“Don’t go.”
“……Yes?”
“Why do you keep running away? Are you afraid I’ll kill you or something?”
Actually, it was the opposite. Jeril was afraid of her own fear of Karon’s death. This wasn’t something on the life-plan she’d made.
There was nowhere on the list that said, “Turn the original story on its head and save Duke Lepert.”
Biting her lip, Jeril watched as Karon steadily grew more convinced of his misunderstanding. Now that she thought about it, she had said the Duke Lepert was “scary.”
“Are you still….”
For the first time, the sharp tongue that usually spat ferocious words paused with hesitation.
“Are you still afraid of me?”
“……What did you say?”
What is he saying right now?
“Wait. Hold on, Kal. No, Karon—no, Your Grace the Duke.”
“Call me Kal.”
When the wind had first hit, he’d intended to kill Jeril. After learning she was a blue mage, he’d meant to put some distance between them—blue magic had briefly calmed his madness. He’d thought of himself as beyond being cured, but at least as the last hope left in the world of enemy mages.
‘A presence that would feel oddly unpleasant if I killed it.’
On that strange night, when he noticed the comforting touch, he’d thought maybe it would be okay to build a rapport. But now…
‘……It seems the blue magic really has scrambled his mind.’
He drew that odd conclusion and again spoke soothingly.
“I won’t kill you, so come here.”
“I’m the kind of person who comes when told to, and goes when told to….”
He looked like someone who’d eat you if you resisted any longer.
Jeril sighed and stepped forward. The hand that grabbed her arm was gentle but urgent.
“Don’t run away. Just a little—”
At that moment there was a pop. Jeril flinched reflexively and turned.
What met her eyes was nothing more than fireworks. Colored bursts spread along the path. Jeril took in the dazzling sight.
After the fireworks would be the Emperor’s speech.
‘We’d better hurry if we want to make it on time.’
“Let’s go now.”
“…….”
Karon looked at the hand Jeril had offered him. The faint blue of his eyes reflected the glint of the fireworks. For some reason the scene felt distant.
The Emperor’s speech ended, and before they knew it, midnight was drawing near.
“Hey, where did you go?”
“Just took a walk.”
“A walk for an hour?”
So that’s what happened.
“Father went ahead. The Emperor left too. Wanna head home now?”
Leon had done a magic show earlier and seemed exhausted. Chelsea looked drained too, so Jeril was going to nod when she suddenly remembered something.
“Oh, wait—there’s something I need to tell Viscount Lebelin.”
“Go on then. Hurry. I’ll be at the entrance.”
She intended to find out more about what she’d heard in the garden. Digging into the Crown Prince’s affairs made her uneasy…
‘There definitely was some hint they were preparing something else.’
What if a disaster the prophets didn’t foretell occurred in the capital? Jeril didn’t want to die. She didn’t want others to die either—Bell, Leon, Chelsea, and Kal. Feelings she’d never dared hope for in her past life.
‘I can’t just leave them to die.’
She caught up with Chelsea, who was talking behind the ballroom.
“Chelsea, I need to—huh?”
Members of the Order had gathered in one place. They usually worked separately, so Jeril was puzzled as she approached.
“Why are you all gathered here?”
“Jeril, we were actually just about to come find you.”
Chelsea’s expression was serious.
“What’s going on?”
“……Suspicious activity has been detected.”
A gloomy voice interjected. A man with gray hair who gave off a morose impression. This was Shevi, the man Jeril had saved after he’d been forced into espionage for the Holy Empire when his family was taken hostage. He was non-magical, but skilled in stealth and assassination.
“By the way, where’s Leon?”
The last member was Leon. Shevi slowly pointed toward the ballroom entrance. Chelsea nodded and spoke quickly.
“Since the Emperor’s speech, there’s been a strange smell in parts of the ballroom.”
“Specifically, from some flowerpots.”
Shevi added. They were all mages with unusually sharp senses. Only then did Jeril raise her mana.
‘……What is that smell?’
It was a stench beyond words. At this level, one shouldn’t need to open blue magic senses to notice it.
“At first I didn’t know either. But Chelsea suddenly got a headache and started acting weird, so we checked and it was suspicious.”
“I thought the madness had flared up again.”
Jeril patted her, like calming someone looking for a sedative.
Placebo effect, she thought.
“Others don’t seem to notice.”
“That’s right. Oh, except Duke Lepert.”
When she turned, she saw Karon tossing small flowerpots out the window one by one. A violent way to handle things.
‘Come to think of it, unlike earlier, maybe the number of flowerpots has strangely increased…’
Because of Karon, it wasn’t obvious. Suddenly Jeril remembered the conversation between the Crown Prince and the saint.
[“The other preparations are done, right?”]
[“Yes. The preliminary work has already been finished.”]
No way.
But it was absurd—this was the Imperial Palace, every noble gathered… As Jeril’s thoughts continued, she paused. A line she’d once read in a tactics book came to mind.
The first stage of a massacre is to gather everyone in one place.
“Chelsea! Evacuate the people. I don’t know exactly, but—”
Aaaah!
At that moment a scream came from the front.
“What is this! Somebody get this off me!”
Darting through the crowd, Jeril saw a noble covered in blue splotches. Panic spread instantly. Starting with that noble, soon everyone’s bodies sprouted blue eruptions.
The ballroom erupted into chaos. But Jeril alone remained unharmed.
‘Because I’m a blue mage?’
That was the only plausible guess.
She shook her head clear and cast purification magic over the Order members.
“I’ll stop it from spreading.”
“Jeril, you’re too conspicuous right now.”
“I know, but—”
A soft cloth enveloped Jeril. It was a tablecloth stamped with the Imperial crest. A glove emblazoned with the Lepert family crest brushed past her face.
“Wear it.”
“……Thank you.”
Blue splotches were also appearing on Karon’s body. Jeril grabbed his arm and poured in purifying energy.
“I think it’s the Crown Prince. We have to find them.”
People were running wild as if seized by mania; the atmosphere was overheated to an extreme. Watching them, Karon suddenly said,
“……Madness?”
At his words, the voices Jeril had heard earlier floated back into her head.
[“There’s a rumor—whatever slaughtered that village wasn’t a monster.”]
[“Then who did it?”]
[“It was madness.”]
His eyes moved slowly.
[“It started with blue spots.”]
[“Thirty minutes later, people started killing each other.”]
Jeril was about to shout when a different kind of scream came from the rear of the ballroom.
Someone strangled him.
For Baron Germann, a petty regional noble, tonight’s social event had been a prime opportunity—until the ballroom went bad.
“Gah, let go of me—!”
A noble covered in blue marks suddenly leapt at the Baron.
“……Die!”
As if driven by madness. The Baron barely dodged the grasping hands and hurried to find the guards.
‘Where did they all go?’
No one was there. The ones wearing clothes with the Imperial crest had vanished. A black shadow fell over the Baron’s back as he looked around in panic.
“Die!”
A sharp candlestick plunged into his side.
