1

No longer a NEET but a proper working adult, Izumi began her career as a bodyguard eating dinner and lazing on the leather couch in Acquiescas’s study, napping after the poorly spent previous night. Meanwhile, Waramoti diligently made notes on the day’s events in his little journal, as usual, while the professor returned also to his business at his desk, greatly relieved. Even while at home, for practically all his waking hours, the scholar spent preparing for the fulfillment of his life’s work, double-checking the expedition’s travel plans, equipment lists, examining available maps, and conducting such like labor of thought. For a time, only the faint rustling of papers disturbed the peace of the apartment, and there was no sign of unwanted intruders.

At dusk, Acquiescas took a break to light lamps and candles around the study, unwilling to let even the coming of dark interrupt his work yet.

“Oh, I forgot to ask this,” he spoke to the two travelers while about it. “Forgive me if I’m prying, but did you two come to Utenvik only to sightsee, or did you have some particular purpose to your visit?”

“We’re looking for someone, actually,” Izumi replied.

Waramoti would have preferred not to disclose their intentions to anyone, but it was too late to intervene now, and he decided to see how things would pan out.

“Is that so?” the scholar said with a smile. “A friend of yours? May I ask who it is, if I know the name?”

“Faalan, he’s called,” Izumi answered.

“Really?” Acquiescas’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Why, I know Faalan, he’s a good fellow! I’ve met the man a few times at the City Hall. He’s also set to join the expedition, at lord Hiyrland’s personal recommendation. Which is very reassuring! He’s quite the cordial young man, cut from a different cloth than these crude Dharvic mercenaries.”

“Eeh, are you kidding me?” Izumi bounced up from the couch. “He’s going with you?”

“Yes, yes,” the professor nodded. “Why? Did you have prior plans? I can pass on a message for you, if I happen to see him tomorrow. Tell him you’re in town.”

Izumi turned her gaze down, her countenance grim, as she answered,

“His family waits for him to come home.”

At her heavy words, the smile faded from Acquiescas’s face.

“I see,” the man replied. “I was—not aware he had family. I’ll be sure to tell him, when I next see the man. Yes…You have my word.”

Oil lamps warded off the night and the scholar returned to his desk. Izumi laid back down on the couch, arms crossed behind her head. She stared sullenly through the skylight above, seeing small flakes of snow casually drift down from the dark. She found herself quite angry, and frustrated for not knowing the reason why. Thinking quietly about it for some quarter of an hour, she finally thought she had the explanation.

“That guy—he’s got everything I don’t,” she spoke aloud.

“Huh?” Waramoti raised his eyes from his notebook, sitting cross-legged in the armchair a short distance away.

“He’s got a home to call his own,” Izumi continued. “A loving wife, even a kid. And yet, he went and left them all behind. Let his loved ones think he was dead or worse. I can’t understand what goes through such a person’s mind. Why’s he here, doing all these pointless things? What could be more important than those waiting for him, shedding tears for his sake? No, whatever the reason, I’m sure it’s only something stupid and worthless. And I can’t forgive a guy like that.”

Waramoti poked his nose with his pen, remaining silent for a time.

In Izumi’s eyes, family was like a treasure. Something she’d never had, something she could only imagine. Something dazzling and brilliant, perhaps unrealistically glamorous—and ever out of reach, to be only dreamed of from afar.

Faalan had found that treasure, as unlikely as it should have been for a man of such unusual heritage, who was a stranger everywhere, an anomaly. Yet, instead of holding that treasure in appropriate value, cherishing it with the jealous love of a dragon, he had turned his back on it, cast it aside, in favor of playing war.

Or so it seemed.

“Do you hate Faalan?” the bard asked the woman. “Personally, I think the two of you are quite alike.”

“What…?” Izumi frowned at his words.

“Is it the man you hate; or yourself? The part of you that you see in him?” he asked. “If you truly were a stranger to his experiences, you wouldn’t care at all. You only do now, because you’ve lived through the same. You blame him for walking away from his own happiness, the way you did. Is this not so?”

“Don’t mess with me.” Izumi grew even more irritated. “What could we have in common, such a person and I? I hate myself, I won’t deny that. I am a curse on other people, and well aware of the fact. That’s the reason why I left them. Because I wanted to spare those I cared about from the grief they didn’t deserve. But that’s not what he did. He made a girl out there happy, for a time, and then pulled the plug on that happiness. All he cared about was his personal fulfillment, passing on his genes like a beast! They call him a hero, but he’s a savage like all the rest.”

“Well.” Waramoti blew at the pages of his journal, to make the ink dry faster. “As an impartial recorder, I can’t say anything to that. But, the lingering echo of a warrior in me insists that you are being unreasonably unfair on our guy. I wouldn’t know his circumstances, but perhaps he didn’t leave his family because he didn’t care for them, but because there was something else he cared about more?”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Izumi argued.

“Not at all,” he answered. “It’s not either one or the other. Whether you want to or not, there are things in life that are simply worth fighting for. And sometimes, to achieve what is better for others, we have to sacrifice things dearest to ourselves. When you pick up your sword, to get what you want—whatever it may be—you always have to give up something else in exchange. You, as you are, should be better than aware of this by now. If you can reach your goal by only paying with the life of your enemy, then all’s well. That’s the ideal ending. But it’s not always enough. You may have to give up more. Everything you are. Everything you have. Each warrior lives in anticipation of that fateful day when such a dire deal is presented to him, when he must expend his all and nothing will be left—such is his life.”

Izumi kept quiet and the bard shortly continued,

“Was it truly your loved ones you wanted to spare from sorrow? Or yourself? You may reason that by having nothing, you will lose nothing. You may think that if you are alone, your life has no value, and it doesn’t matter if you lose it. But that’s not true at all. Be wary of the trap of altruism! It’s not only the present that can be lost, what you’ve found and achieved, but also the things that you may yet have in the future. The total of one’s value isn’t determined solely by what he holds in his hands here and now, but by all the doors he’s opened and closed in his life. When what he has gained is removed from what he gave away, the result shall be the mass of his soul in the end. Then, which one of you two would you say has brought more happiness in the world? Oh, don’t take this the wrong way, Izumi; I’m not particularly blaming you. Whether your choices were correct or mistaken is not for me to judge. Still, I can only call the price you are even now paying as steep indeed. I’m not telling you to become a selfish savage. But, do make sure you don’t leave this life only at a loss.”

Still keeping quiet, Izumi continued to stare at the ceiling, feeling that his reasoning was somewhat skewed, not to mention self-serving. But perhaps he had a point somewhere in there. She might have been too hasty in her judgment of Faalan.

“Be defined not by your failures but by your possibilities!” Waramoti then added in a haughtier tone. “I mean, look at myself! A handful of copper is all I’ve gained so far, but I know I will one day become the greatest bard this world has ever known! That’s why, I will consider myself the world’s greatest already here in the present, though I have naught to show for it, as this glory of mine transcends both time and space!”

“Here we go again,” Izumi sighed. “I thought it was going somewhere at first, but you made all of that up just to set up this punchline, didn’t you? You never know when to stop.”

“It is your suffering that will lift me to fame, so I must thank you for all your sacrifices,” he told her with grace. “Here, accept this clever onomatopoeia I came up with in the afternoon as an advance payment.”

“Don’t need it! Don’t want to hear it! Just go to sleep already!”

It was getting late, and Acquiescas finally retired, bidding his guards goodnight. Sleeping through the night was not an option for the two watchers, considering their occupation, and so they agreed to keep watch in turns. Not too tired after napping in the afternoon, Izumi took the first shift from nightfall to the end of the first local period, or at about three in the morning, while Waramoti would keep watch from there til dawn. Izumi continued to occupy the couch for her bed, while the bard had to content with a mattress on the floor. Not that he required better, claiming soft beds hurt his back.

From there, the night crawled on uneventfully.

Izumi got bored enough to find some paper and play tic tac toe at the professor’s work desk to keep awake. Only too late did she realize that the paper had some old map drawn on the other side. Hopefully it was nothing too important.

“My goodness,” she sighed, yawning wide, and put the pen away.

She was starting to hope burglars would barge in already.

“—Did I not tell you to stop ignoring meee!?”

Yubilea’s tiny figure hovered above the desk, buzzing around Izumi’s head like a persistent mosquito.

“That bard’s gonna hear us,” Izumi replied in a whisper. “Well, hear me. I do sometimes talk to myself, but then I don’t wait for an answer.”

“As I said,” the spirit shrugged, “what’s it to me? Rather, why won’t you tell Heaven’s Hand about my survival? We know each other well, after all. To think I can hear his beautiful lyrics again, even in death— you don’t know how lucky that makes me!”

“You have some weird tastes, you know?” the woman sighed.

“I don’t want to hear that from you, you of all people!” Yubilea cried. “Incidentally, could you pass on some requests for me? If I ask nicely! I may even act like a kitten, if you wish? Pwease!”

The spirit held up her fists, elbows close, and imitated a playful kitty while rolling in the air.

“N-no!” Izumi covered her eyes, her heart wavering. “That’s not fair! I must resist this devilish temptation at all costs…!”

“Why!?”

“If you want to hear his recitals so bad, why won’t you go haunt his head instead?” the woman suggested, recovering. “That would be ideal for everybody, I believe.”

“I would, if only I could!” Yubilea lamented. “Alas, I wouldn’t survive outside of you for long enough to reach him. My existence has grown slightly more stable as of late, but there is no way I can ever act independently without a spiritual core. As meager as your soul is, there is no choice but for us to share. Oh, I cannot live without you! Buhuhu!”

The spirit hid her face in her hands, sobbing in sorrow—or convincingly faking it.

“It’s the first time anyone says that to me, and I’m not happy at all,” Izumi sighed. “A spiritual core, is that like a heart for your kind?”

“In a way, but not really,” the spirit answered. “All souls have a spiritual core. Even you do.”

“Really?”

“Of course? While your heart keeps your physical body alive, the spiritual core does the same for the spirit body. If you lose the core, you will cease to exist all the same.”

“You have no core, but you’re alive?” Izumi pointed out.

“Because I bound myself to your core before fading away,” the Divine explained. “Fleshly beings need a body to act and be aware. Your souls cannot function outside the form. We spirits are the opposite of you. We are able to operate with Ego alone, and never need a body to survive. It is only when our souls themselves are attacked that we may die.”

“Sounds unnecessarily complicated,” Izumi commented.

“Because you’re a dummy!” Yubilea yelled.

“Honestly, if I could take a pick, I would’ve rather had the blue one in my head. I’m so not into short-haired tomboys. A lady’s gotta be more...lady-like, you know? Not all rowdy and kicking.”

“I can’t tell if you’re mocking me or yourself now,” Yubilea blankly remarked.

Then, the spirit fell oddly quiet and faced away. She remained that way, without moving, for quite some time. Izumi stared at Yubilea’s narrow back and flaming hair, short enough to bare her pale, thin neck, and she thought the Divine looked tragically frail and lonely.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” she finally asked, surprised by the shift in the mood.

“Gwanlyn or Cinithlea,” the spirit mumbled. “I wouldn’t have minded being the one to perish, if it could have saved either one of the two. I would even have given up on revenge, had it been possible. It was not. I—we did all that we could. But under those conditions, it really was impossible to win.”

“I see.” Izumi lowered her gaze. “So even Divines can have regrets then.”

“—Which is precisely why I won’t forgive you, pawn of the White Death!” Yubilea spun around, scowling, and pointed at the woman. “I will not be able to rest until I’ve avenged my friends! And myself! I refuse to!”

“Yes, yes, I get that.” Izumi sighed, leaning on her palm. “By the way, why do you call Ai-chan like that? ‘The White Death’? What does it mean? She’s the Lord of Light, isn’t she? I know she’s got her issues, but that nickname is fairly disturbing.”

“Hm?” Yubilea blinked and tilted her head, thrown for a loop. “I call her that because she’s the Lord of Light, of course?”

Izumi answered with equal confusion.

“But Light is good, yes? The opposite of dark, the evil. That’s the classic setup, like in Star W**s. Life good, death bad. Day is nice and safe, night is bad and dangerous. We’re meant to fight the forces of darkness to restore the balance of the world, or however did the setting go? Am I wrong?”

“What are you even talking about?” the little spirit shook her head with a powerless shrug. “Good? Evil? As usual, your foreigner way of thinking is beyond me.”

“Eeh…?” Izumi’s unease wasn’t getting any better.

“Whatever, don’t talk about that boring old ghost now!” Yubilea exclaimed, offering no answers. “Let’s talk about Heaven’s Hand instead! I want to hear more and more of his beautiful words! Speaking of which, he should compose a noble elegy in my honor! Please tell him to do so! I happen to have a few ideas, to get his inspiration going! He may record me as his muse in his grand chronicle, and then all the future generations will remember my name! Aww! Take a pen and write them down! Right now!”

“Give me a break. Why do you even care about such things?”

“What? I have to make the most of my miraculously extended lifespan while I can!”

“I’d prefer if you spent half of that effort in coming up with another power-up for me instead,” Izumi suggested.

“Geh!” The spirit twisted her face.

“Don’t ‘geh’ me! It was our deal! Do you want to keep on haunting or not? I can get your lifespan cut down to size, if you like?”

“Don’t push me, mortal!” Yubilea flared. “You have no idea what kind of favors you’re asking for! Why do I have to get whipped by the servant of my bane? This is sick! The worst! The absolute worst! And I will remember this, human!”

“Izumi.”

“Eeh…?”

“My name is Izumi, Yui-chan,” the woman told the Divine, scolding her like a little child. “That’ll be your payment for this week. No more of this ‘human-human’ thing. You have to call me properly by name from hereon. Understood?”

“Ih...” Yubilea looked dumbstruck, turning rapidly even redder as she juggled the idea. Then, she suddenly shot up and disappeared with a poof, like a firecracker.

“I can’t do that—!” the spirit wailed as she disappeared.

“My, my.”

Izumi was left to sit alone, waiting for the night to pass.

Yubilea’s strange behavior continued to bother her. What was so outlandish about the basic concepts of good and evil, anyway? Was not the relationship of light and dark universal and understood by all? Yet, it was as if those words were altogether meaningless for the spirit.

Perhaps these ageless heavenly entities didn’t have much of a moral compass? Perhaps they were, by nature, the same as wild beasts, and beyond the scope of human ethics? But if Divines bore no notion of right or wrong, then what did this say about their makers? The Old Gods who had created the world and everything in it, and had since departed—departed, where to, and why?

According to Yuliana, the creators had left the mortal realms to prevent their powers from being turned to war and destruction again, to protect what was left of the declining realm. Such was the myth, as recorded by humans. Through the legend was expressed—if not clear morality—then at least some degree of attachment the Gods felt towards what they had made. Clearly, they had valued the world and its inhabitants enough to want to spare them, gifting them the Tower of Destiny and the means to sustain the planet, instead of merely wiping out the flawed creation altogether.

How much of this myth was based on real history, as it happened, or was any of fit?

Or was all of it only human interpretation, straight up fantasy?

The existence of god-like spirits, such as the Divine Lords, appeared to prove that the Gods themselves had once been no less real, but what manner of an existence was a “god”, exactly, in technical terms? In the early days of her journey, Izumi had dismissed mentions of these mythical entities and prophesies as generic flavor text, and entirely unrelated to her. Even if Gods and such did exist, why would it matter to her, a common little mortal among so many others? In all likelihood, they would not be any more relevant to daily life than the religious figures of her past world.

So she had assumed.

But after living and fighting among those legends and superhuman beings for so long, Izumi had inadvertently begun to take the incredible tales more seriously. How could she not? Those powers had brought her here and also determined for how long she could enjoy her new life in the otherworld.

Evidently, the Gods of Ortho hadn’t been the sort of almighty, all-seeing, ever-present beings as the God presented in Christianity. They could get into arguments and start fights, even wars, make mistakes, and be destroyed. Though vast, their strength was finite, and there were things they couldn’t do, such as restoring the planet back to its former state after nearly breaking it.

In this sense, the local gods appeared to resemble more the deities of ancient Egypt, Greece, Rome, India, and others. In fact, the similarities there were quite striking.

Was it only a coincidence?

“Hm,” Izumi thought aloud. “Maybe I’ve developed something of an interest in archaeology, after all?”

2

Early in the following morning, after a quick breakfast with the landlord downstairs, Acquiescas left to visit the City Hall, as he had previously announced was his daily routine. Waramoti took it upon himself to escort the scholar to the destination, taking the opportunity to look around the city at the same time, while Izumi remained to watch the house. She kept snoozing until noon, fantasizing about the outfits she would buy after getting rich.

A bit before noon, Waramoti returned from his scouting trip.

“Well?” Izumi asked him. “Did you see the target?”

“If that was your attempt at speaking like a professional, and you meant Faalan, then no,” the bard replied. “The professor and I parted ways at the inner wall’s gate. I believe it would still be slightly too daring to stride into Hiyrland’s halls now, while we are still under suspicion.”

“Are we?” Izumi asked. “I haven’t seen anybody suspicious so far.”

“That’s likely because you’ve neglected to poke your nose outdoors even once today, as I can tell. Personally, I couldn’t help but note the looks the guardsmen were giving me at every street corner. There was certain knowingness in those looks. I’d assume our description has been shared to all posts after yesterday. That being said, we should refrain from any high-profile maneuvers, to shake off their doubts.”

“Well, the professor’s friends with them, yes? And being his friends should help improve our reputation.”

“I should hope so,” Waramoti replied. “As ever, your luck is something else. How did you manage to stumble upon the one person in the city personally connected to the Dharvic administration and our man? I fear that were I to put this in song, I would only receive ridicule for pushing the boundaries of realism so.”

“It’s the protagonist’s prerogative,” Izumi replied with a smile. “And, well, it’s a small city. Doubt any outsider could stay here for long without inside connections. I’m sure any fellow foreigner could have helped us out. Speaking of which, the professor has yet to actually help us. Let’s just hope he can get the message to our guy, so that we can wrap things up.”

“And what if Faalan doesn’t want to go home?” Waramoti asked her.

Izumi’s expression clouded.

“You heard Van Hortz,” the young man continued, dropping into the armchair that had become his regular spot. “The Dharves have attached Faalan to the expedition. If all goes according to plan, they’ll leave for Eylia by the end of the week. What will you do then? Should he disregard the recall orders, he will soon be out of our reach. Or do you mean to follow him to the mountains? Good luck with that!”

Annoyed, Izumi stared through the glass table before the couch, leaning on her knees, weighing her options.

By the current state of things, it seemed that Colonel Mervinna had been right. For whatever reason, Faalan had abandoned the Empire and defected to Dharva, rendering him a traitor, with no way around it. In the event that he refused to return to the Empire with them, they could simply return on their own, and inform the appropriate authorities of his decision. The warrior would then be branded a deserter, likely with a major bounty on his head, and that would be the end of this chapter. Sooner or later, an assassin of the Circle would claim the life of the Silver Saber, and by then, Izumi and the bard would both be far, far away, wasting their pay.

But could Izumi accept such an ambivalent conclusion for their quest?

Her clearance rank was certainly not looking good so far.

In Felorn, she had failed to defeat the daemon or obtain true youth. In Bhastifal, she had eventually killed the Emperor, but there had been heavy collateral damage on the side. In Alderia, she had failed to acquire an elven ship and barely escaped with her life, and the losses were again heavy.

Reality was not a game, of course, and perhaps these outcomes were the best possible under the given circumstances. But if she failed yet again now, in a task so simple, the career of a sword hero would begin to look pitifully unfeasible for her, even more so than before. Not that she wanted to become a cabbage farmer either.

Am I really just a fool then, for pinning my hope on a random quest?

Following Faalan to the mountains was obviously a joke and made no sense at all. That said, the only remaining options were then to either coerce the man to return by some other means, even against his own will, or else slay him to conclude this branching path—a highly dangerous undertaking on its own.

Unable to decide on what to do, Izumi eventually gave up on thinking altogether.

“Well, let’s just wait and see what happens,” she said and laid back down.

The day passed while the bodyguards lazed around, doing nothing of value. With the money they had left and Acquiescas’s advance payment, they purchased ingredients for a late lunch, and awaited the scholar’s return.

“Maybe one of us should go pick him up?” Izumi pondered, as the sun was starting to set and there was no sign of their employer yet.

“I did offer to,” Waramoti reported. “But the professor claimed it would not be necessary. Since he couldn’t say for how long his business would take him, exactly, and he could have a guard from the City Hall escort him. Certainly, with the amount of patrols in the city during the day, there should be little danger of an ambush.”

“Unless it’s the guards that threaten him,” the woman noted.

The bard shook his head.

“I understand your concerns, and would normally share them,” he said. “But not this once. Dharves are loyal to the extreme. None of their own would think to defy the Steward. If Hiyrland has taken the scholar under his wing, then the clansmen will leave him be. This is likely the main reason why the Steward belittled his concerns. Assigning guards to the man would suggest that Hiyrland doesn’t trust his own people. Which, in turn, would make him look weak and cowardly in their eyes. Unsuited to lead.”

“But isn’t it a fact that someone’s threatening the professor?” Izumi pointed out.

“Are they? That is the question,” the bard retorted. “We only have one person’s side on the matter. Perhaps the death of his assistant was an accident, after all? For the aforementioned reasons, I am also quite skeptical of the idea that he was murdered.”

“Yeah, and pigs fly.”

Izumi stood up and marched to the kitchen area, where she started to rummage through the closets.

“The tea pot’s up above the cupboard,” Waramoti informed her, taking out his pocket book to go through his notes.

“That’s not it,” Izumi replied. “I’m looking for flours and sugar.”

“Hm?” the bard looked up with a frown. “Are you looking to become an alchemist, or what?”

“Gosh, I’m going to bake a pie, wisecracker,” she said. “I’m bored and want something sweet. The landlord’s got a hot oven downstairs and something that looked like apples.”

The bard made a stunned face at her words.

“You—you know how to cook?”

During their travels, Waramoti had typically been the one to prepare their modest meals, as well as procure the necessary ingredients. Izumi hadn’t exhibited much interest towards dinner preparations, only helping a little every once in a while, which had led the bard to assume that she had no skill or knowledge whatsoever in the craft.

“Wipe that look off your face,” Izumi replied with annoyance. “I’ve lived alone for most of my life; of course I know how to cook. At least, the basics of the basics. I just don’t know half of this world’s ingredients, so I didn’t dare to experiment. But we do have a lot in common. Like wheat, butter, sugar, salt, and so on. Even my extra-dimensional know-how should suffice to bake a simple pie.”

“A cook, a warrior, a student, a psychic, an athlete, a dimension-hopping wizard, and a recluse,” Waramoti listed things he had learned about Izumi’s past, with growing confusion. “What were you in your past world, exactly? How did you have the time for all that? It doesn’t seem you’ve been quite truthful with me, to be frank.”

“What are you misunderstanding?” she replied. “I was completely within the parameters of average.”

Izumi concluded her search. They had all the necessary ingredients—except for butter.

“I’m going to have to drop by at the general store. Watch the house for me.”

3

Across the street and a few hundred yards westward from the house, next to a barber and what looked like a pawn shop, was the general goods store, which Izumi and the bard had already once visited earlier in the day. One could find virtually anything for sale inside from basic tools like hammers, nails, and shovels, to simple clothing, shirts, work trousers, gloves, and on to culinary ingredients, flours, salt, spices, and more. Butter was also in the selection. It didn’t come in ready plastic packages, preserved under controlled temperatures. Instead, there was a hatch on the floor, behind the counter, where the more sensitive products were kept in a pit about five feet deep. All the butter was in one wooden barrel, half a foot wide, whence the customer could purchase the precise amount they required. Stored in the same cavity were also the likes of raw sausages, cured pork, goat cheese, and milk, all happily side by side and without much protection. If modern healthcare professionals were there to see it, the shop’s tale would’ve ended short, Izumi thought. Not that such authorities existed anywhere on Ortho.

“About eight ounces or so should do, I suppose.”

Using a quite advanced mechanical scale, the store clerk weighed Izumi’s purchase, before wrapping it up in brown paper. Trusting the hot oven to take care of any unwanted germs, Izumi also bought a cup of honey, and a bag of powdered spice that smelled and tasted vaguely like cinnamon, before heading back.

“Hm. I could get used to this,” she mused aloud, walking unhurriedly down the street.

In spite of the cool climate, or perhaps thanks to it, Utenvik appeared a peaceful and orderly city, all in all. There were no beggars in view, no homeless people, or eager peddlers of worthless souvenirs. No dangerous-looking mercenaries or rogues either. None of the pedestrians gave Izumi a second look, as they went each their own way, and she felt right at home. As the evening began to darken, warm lights lit up behind the numerous windows. Loud laughter carried from one of the houses, perhaps old friends meeting over a game of cards.

“Oops—!”

Then, the drowsy peace was interrupted.

As Izumi was about to leave the sidewalk to cross the street, someone bumped into her from behind. Seeing how she stood on the very edge of the sidewalk, aside from anyone’s path, this collision didn’t seem very accidental. She hadn’t sensed the other person’s approach at all. To have concealed their presence so aptly and sneaked within the striking distance, it couldn’t have been an average layman. Then again, the collision hadn’t been very heavy either, just a quick shoulder bump with no murderous impulse behind it, and Izumi was able to regain her balance after a corrective side step, turning back unhurt.

Although it had been nothing on the level of an attempted homicide, a word of apology or two would have been in order, Izumi thought. With no apparent intention to part with any, the stranger passed her and walked on. It was a tall figure in a hooded, gray-blue wool cloak, which effectively veiled the stranger’s figure. Weaving smoothly past the other pedestrians, the rude character headed straight for the nearby corner, before disappearing into the alleyway behind.

Urged by an unpleasant sense of foreboding, Izumi chased after the person, but yet another surprise awaited her between the buildings.

“Eh…?”

The narrow gap between the houses went on for about a hundred feet, before being cut off by a solid brick wall, sixteen feet tall. There were no doors or other gaps along the way, the house walls were bare, with only a few windows at roughly eighteen feet above the street level. They were all firmly shut, to keep the cold air out.

This was all Izumi could see.

Though she was certain the stranger had come this way, there was no sign of him now. He couldn’t have reached the other end of the alleyway in the few seconds he was out of Izumi’s view, and there were no other escape routes either. Wind had cleared the paved ground of loose snow, and what little ice remained showed no footprints. There were no ropes hanging from the roofs, and it didn’t seem likely that there were any secret doors either.

“Geez, they have Batman,” Izumi remarked, scratching her head.

Out of a sudden whim, she shoved her free hand into her coat pocket, on the side the stranger had bumped into and felt around. For no real reason, just to be sure.

To her astonishment, Izumi heard rustling.

The pocket should have been empty, yet Izumi’s fingers met something tangible inside. Something small, thin, light, with sharp edges. Glancing around, feeling unusually paranoid, she pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. Likely not an old receipt.

Opening it with her thumb, she looked down at a line of simple pencil letters.

FINAL WARNING: LEAVE DHARVA AND NEVER COME BACK.