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“She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam.”

—The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen—

♢♦♢♦♢

“—phew. That was a close call. If I had laid a finger on Jill or left even the slightest scratch, Regina would have my head. It’s a good thing I moved her to safety in time.”

Wiping away the sweat that wasn’t there, the enigmatic peddler—self-proclaimed ‘Silhouette’—settled on a branch extending horizontally from the giant tree, sighing in relief. Nearby, Chaton, a white cat beastfolk girl, perched on an adjacent branch, raised an eyebrow in observation.

She scrutinized Jill, who, tied up next to her like a bundle of herbs for drying, appeared more bewildered than angry about their predicament. After a thorough inspection of the blonde-pink-haired girl, Chaton cocked her head thoughtfully.

“…not just a finger, you grabbed her by the waist and bosom and shook her up and down on your way here, and forget a small scratch, she has cuts all over her body, even her dress is all torn,” Chaton observed.
“…”

Despite his calm facade, Silhouette’s eyes darted about frantically, betraying his rising panic as cold sweat began to form.

“Ha ha ha. As the old saying goes, crime and cheating don’t count as long as you’re not caught…right?”

Attempting to deflect, he retrieved a bottle of medicine from his rucksack, reminiscent of Bohemian glass, with a flourish.

“Ta-da! The ‘Almighty Revive-and-Mend Drug’.”¹

Without further ado, Silhouette uncapped the bottle and doused Jill with its colorless, transparent contents. Upon contact, the liquid emitted light, and miraculously, the cuts on her body and tears in her dress rapidly healed. In mere minutes, she was restored to her pristine state.

“Eh?! I’ve never encountered an Amrita with such effects! Where did you acquire it?”

“If it’s so handy, why not mass-produce it and go straight, Boss?”

“Well…this is, regrettably, a relic of the past. It’s a lost miracle drug, likely only to be found in the Old World’s ruins or the Superempire’s palace. The recipe is beyond my knowledge.”

“—Tsk, useless,” Chaton remarked, her gaze upon Silhouette icy and critical. Jill, observing their exchange, found it peculiarly interesting.

“Excuse me…Mr. Peddler, are you acquainted with this individual?” Jill inquired, her tone almost too detached, as though discussing a distant relative.

Before Silhouette could respond, Chaton took the initiative to introduce herself.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Chaton, associated with the enigmatic ‘All-Solutions Firm,’ primarily as a monster tamer. At 14, my ideal man is one of wealth; beyond that, my standards are flexible.”

Silhouette hastily corrected her, “For appearances, we’re known as Sonderling Nest.”

Chaton countered, “I was informed the official designation is Arahabaki² though?”

“…no, that’s just Milady’s and her chuuni naming sense, well, never mind. …Forget about that. Just remember the name I give, Sonderling Nest, and you’ll do just fine.”

“Sonderling Nest — Den of Freaks, more like. Or rather, I’d hate to be counted as one of those miserable people, so I’ll keep calling myself an employee of All-Solutions Firm, thank you very much. By the way, our company handles everything from baby cradles to Evil Gods. Our most popular item is the ‘Can’t-Feel-Fatigue-Even-When-Missing-Sleep Drug’.”

Chaton bowed her head once again. Ordinary people would have been confused or angry at being greeted so openly in this absurd situation of being forcibly kidnapped and then suspended in midair on top of a huge tree. Jill, however—

“…Ah, nice to meet you too. I am Julia Fortuna, technically, a noble of the Graviol Empire. I’m 13 years old. The type of man I like… let’s see. If he’s kind and cares about me… ah, no, never mind. If I must, my preference conforms to the person I come to like.”

“Ho-ho, a noble from the empire. Let me guess, you’re rich? …Yeah, I guess you are. By all means, please be my friend. I’ll even present you Boss’ detached head as a symbol of friendship if you’d like.”

With eyes full of ulterior motives—money, of course—Chaton changed sides out of nowhere.

“Hey now!”

The Boss in question retorted, though didn’t seem concerned. Seeing that Chaton was 120 percent serious, Jill shook her head, troubled.

“I appreciate the feelings, but betraying a trusting relationship is a bad thing. Besides, killing and beheading and such sounds dangerous… First of all, I don’t think Mr. Peddler is that bad a person.”

“No, he’s evil. With a capital E.”

Jill was still saying things that would invite a lot of retorts even in her current situation, and Chaton immediately cut short.

“He is specifically the number one bad guy in the whole world. Everlasting World Peace is some grandiose pipe dream, but if you kill this thing, it wouldn’t be as ridiculous a dream to achieve.”

Even without expression on her face, her sincere tone of voice made Chaton sound so convincing.

The Duality of Poetic Justice — it was hard to believe that the source of all evil truly existed in this world, let alone the thought that its downfall would purge the world of evil, but…mumbled Jill as she directed a glance towards Silhouette.

The man, being the odd one out, looked at his cat-eared subordinate with a pitiful look as his finger made a circling gesture next to his temple. “Forgive her, she’s a bit lacking upstairs.”

“…haha. It must be tough for you.”

Jill responded with a look of deep sympathy.

♢♦♢♦♢

Despite being touted as a ‘prodigy,’ truth be told, Cestlavie considered himself a good-for-nothing. He believed his only advantages were a slightly better memory than others, his aptitude with both Lightning and Earth magic, and a slight knack for healing magic.

This was without mentioning that merely possessing the aptitude for a single element of ordinary magic —though the church preferred to use the term theocraft³ to fit their image— was enough to grant you the status of the blessed, let alone two. Then again, even a single element was enough and could be used in any number of ways if applied creatively.

For example, not only could a Wind magician use the common Wind blade, they could create a blast of wind resembling an explosion, or even a shockwave.

In other words, magic was never about the number of elements, but the flexibility of its practitioner. Above all else, so long as you had the basic amount of mana, the ability to shape it, and a swift mind to use it, then you’d be good to go.

Perhaps, if his skills as a magician were far more outstanding than others, Cestlavie might be able to aim to be in the upper echelon of the Church on his merit alone, or if his Healing Art were above the rest, he might be able to make a name for himself as the Person of the Age, much like the Shrine Maiden Princess, Cattleya.

However, reality was a cruel mistress.

Both the amount of his mana and the speed of his spell activation were above average at most. Of course, that was exceptional for a 13-year-old boy, but on an overall level, he was probably just a bit better than a second-rate magician.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Cestlavie was perceptive and had the discretion to look at his own abilities objectively. That was the reason why he was quick to give up.

It was doubtful that he could stay standing at the top forever, as the significance of his current talents depended on his efforts for the future. In addition, he was only capable of using beginner-level Healing Art, and there was no room for growth whatsoever — this was a fact revealed to him by a priest who could use Appraisal.

Of course, any form of measurement by Magic Art was only a guide and not absolute. However, Cestlavie was painfully aware of his lack of growth. When he saw a shrine maiden younger than he was using intermediate-level Healing Art without difficulty, the reality that he had hit the ceiling of his Healing Art crashed down on him.

Cestlavie had been trying to improve his skills with magic as well, but Priests from his generation were gradually catching up to him despite being nowhere near his level a few years ago. When he heard what they say about Child Prodigies becoming nobodies once reaching 20 years old, he couldn’t help but reevaluate his entire worth.

—He was neither a genius nor a child prodigy but merely a precocious jack-of-all-trades who matured before his age.

1. Mab: Never shows up again and, you know it, never showed up before this either.
2. Mab:Trying to explain this will take at least 3 long sentences. It concerns a place and a god.

   Transliteration is Flawed Silky Supreme Demons.

3. Mab: 法術

   which is a ******* DIFFERENT TERM ALTOGETHER AUTHOR!!!

   So instead of ma 魔 they use 法 from pope 法王

   I’m taking it from Theocracy + craft = Theocraft (it means creating God, but why should I care)

   alternatives:
   1. Papacy + Craft = Papacraft
   2. Divine + Craft = Divinacraft
   3. Faith + Craft = Faithcraft
   4. Sanctuary + Craft = Sanctucraft
   5. Sacer (latin for sacred/holy) + Craft = Sacercraft