The Wooden Pocket Watch. (1)
……Ifrin thinks.
The emperor's assassination attempt. The culprit is among the thirty knights invited by His Majesty himself. At least, that's the most likely scenario.
"And they made sure the whole world knew what they'd done."
The imperial family wouldn't dare publicize the emperor's critical condition recklessly. His Majesty is the most important figure on this continent, after all. The basic protocol is to prepare at least dozens of contingency plans before making any announcement.
"It was meticulously planned."
But the Altar seized the moment of chaos in the palace. They leaked news of the emperor's dire state to the press, and it spread like wildfire.
The Altar's scheme had toppled the entire system in one fell swoop.
"That's how they lured the Professor into the palace, too."
If word reached him that the emperor was in peril, the Professor would undoubtedly rush to the palace.
"……So they were targeting the Professor from the start as well."
Delik gritted his teeth in frustration. Ifrin nodded in agreement.
"The Professor probably sensed something was off the moment he arrived at the palace."
Right after the incident, the palace was crawling with outsiders. 'Eyes' were everywhere, and the Altar was surely among them.
"And……."
Ifrin paused, glancing subtly at Sylvia.
Drip—drip— Water droplets fell from her soaked robe, and her eyes were vacant. She hung limp like a doll, barely seeming to register the words.
"……Sylvia."
Ifrin called her name.
"There has to be a way to turn this around."
Sylvia tilted her head slightly. Her dry, brittle golden hair spilled from beneath her robe.
"So help out. Don't just sit there like an idiot."
"……Even if we do, the dead won't come back to life."
Her voice was limp. Her lips were swollen purple.
Ifrin's heart ached, but she nodded vigorously.
"Yeah. They will."
"……."
"These memories will fade like a nightmare. And we'll land a counterpunch on those bastards."
Sylvia's eyes narrowed in disbelief. She shook her head slowly, muttering under her breath.
"Stupid Ifrin."
"……You'll help, right?"
"……."
Sylvia clamped her mouth shut, but for her, silence was as good as yes.
"Sir Delik. Shall we head out now?"
"Yes. I've already sent out five reliable scouts."
Ifrin furrowed her brow at his words. Delik gave a faint smile.
"Don't worry. I'm no fool. I gave all five of them false destinations."
"……Pardon?"
"I don't know the full details of the Altar, but a group bold enough to assault His Majesty must have spies infiltrated even within the palace walls."
Delik said this as he donned his coat.
"If one of the five is a spy, they'll summon the Altar to the wrong spot. Even if not, it'll draw their attention. Either way, it's a fine distraction."
"Ah……."
Ifrin was genuinely impressed. Delik chuckled and pointed at Sylvia.
"Alright, let's go then. You too, her friend."
Sylvia snapped her head up.
"Not friends."
"……Hm? Not friends?"
Ifrin spoke up instead.
"Classmates. University classmates."
"Classmates are friends…… Wait. Didn't you just call her Sylvia?"
"Yes. That's right."
Delik's eyes widened suddenly as he stared at Sylvia. She snorted.
"Sylvia von Yuseffin Illayde. Mistress of the Tri-Color."
* * *
Sylvia conjured an airship with her Tri-Color magic, and the three—Ifrin, Delik, and herself—soared through the skies.
They arrived at the Yukline Manor.
"……Wait here a moment. I'll go in alone."
"If it's dangerous, shout loudly."
"Got it."
A full moon hung in the night sky. The garden felt familiar after so many long stays, yet strangely desolate and cold.
Stepping down from the airship, Ifrin hurried to the back door on quick feet.
Creeeak—
She opened the door slowly and crept up the stairs to Professor Deculein's study. There was originally a security spell, but Ifrin had submitted a drop of her blood for exemption(?).
"……."
The interior was just as always. Immaculately clean and tidy. Even without the Professor, someone must handle the cleaning.
Yeriel, perhaps.
"The drawer……."
As Ifrin approached the desk, a chill wind suddenly brushed the nape of her neck.
Swish—
A cold metallic gleam accompanied by killing intent.
"!"
Whirling around, Ifrin saw a robed assailant. His sword thrust straight for her heart.
The sharp blade pierced her chest…….
"Gah!"
……or would have.
Ifrin's position warped suddenly, shifting three steps away.
"Careful."
Another voice came from behind her.
Ifrin turned and nearly popped her eyes out in shock.
"……A-Al, A-Al, Al-"
"Shh."
Assistant Professor Allen.
He stood behind her, his face deadly serious.
"……."
Ifrin swallowed hard.
The Professor who had lived was dead, and Allen who had died was alive?
What in the world was going on?
"……What the hell?"
"Yeees. No kidding."
Allen replied brightly, extending a hand toward the robed assailant. The man moved toward the window as if to flee, but in that instant, his torso was bisected.
Splatter—
Upper body and lower, cleanly severed at the pelvis.
"……."
Ifrin's jaw dropped. The pristine kill shocked her as much as Allen's resurrection.
Allen, however, asked calmly.
"What brings you here?"
"……Huh?"
Ifrin stared at him, scrutinizing his features to confirm it was really Allen.
It was.
"Huh."
The shock felt similar to her first regression, but Allen explained it offhandedly.
"This guy's the last lookout they left behind. He was watching in case you came here. I was watching him."
"……."
"So, what brings you here, Ifrin?"
"I…… um……."
Ifrin hesitantly pointed at Deculein's drawer, where the bisected corpse lay like a log.
"Ah."
With a casual gesture, Allen made the body and blood vanish completely.
No trace of where it went. Just gone.
"Yeees. What are you looking for?"
Ifrin approached the desk and opened Deculein's drawer.
Slide—
"……This."
As he had said, a soft veil cradled a pitch-black bracelet.
Allen asked.
"Is that all?"
"……Yes. No, wait—more importantly, Assistant Professor Allen! How are you alive? Are you a ghost?!"
"No…… I just…… But what's that matter right now?"
Allen shook his head impassively and leaned against the study wall.
"……The Professor is dead."
His tone carried a note of resignation.
"The emperor, too."
Ifrin stared blankly at him. Allen gave a small, wry smile and lowered his eyes.
"Yeees…… No answers left now. This world's done for."
"No!"
Ifrin shot back quickly.
"It's not over yet."
Allen blinked at her.
"We can still turn it around."
A strangely resolute determination. Confidence from some unknown source.
Allen studied Ifrin's firm expression, lost in thought for a moment.
"……Ah."
Finally, he pulled a small letter from his pocket.
"Here. Take it, Ifrin."
"What's…… this?"
"I was the first to find the Professor's body."
"Whaaat?!"
"He was strong, as expected. The Altar barely escaped. If he'd held on just a bit longer until I arrived……."
Allen's face darkened briefly, but he smiled brightly again.
"Before passing, the Professor left letters. Mine said to deliver them to others and stay in this study."
"……."
"He knew you'd come here. And that the Altar would be watching."
Ifrin took the letter. Her name—[Ifrin]—was written in the corner.
"How many moves ahead was the Professor? One? Two? Three? ……But the key player himself is gone."
"No."
Ifrin tucked the letter into her robe.
"He's not dead. We can bring him back. So come with me."
"……."
Allen gazed at her silently. Honestly, he looked at her like she was insane.
Ifrin clenched her teeth and said.
"I cried so hard when you died, Assistant Professor. Like, until the very end."
"Yeees."
"Not 'yeees'!"
She yelled.
Allen made an appropriately apologetic face. An imitation of emotion.
"Oops, sorry…… I have my reasons……."
"……If you're sorry."
Ifrin placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Come with me."
Clink— The sound of the study doorknob turning.
Ifrin flinched, and Allen pulled her behind the bookshelf with him.
—……Anyone there?
The voice echoing inside was familiar.
Yeriel.
—……Of course not.
Ifrin's expression grew heavy as Yeriel came into view through the shelves.
—I'm here. But my brother's gone.
She laughed hollowly and sank into the Professor's chair. Slumping over the desk, she caressed its surface, letting out soft breaths.
Tears fell.
For quite a while.
* * *
A late night in March, in the northern continent.
Knight Dayah's office in Recor Dak.
"……."
Julie gazed out the window at Recor Dak. Stars and the moon illuminated the vast white plains, but the scenery didn't register.
The emperor's assassination attempt. The situation had escalated wildly, teetering on the brink of war.
His Majesty's condition remained unknown, while news of 'Deculein's death' rang all too clearly across the continent.
It muddled her heart.
Knock—knock—
A knock at the office door. Julie turned.
"Who is it?"
—It's Ifrin.
"Hm?"
A name that shouldn't be here, one tied to the capital.
Deculein's disciple, Ifrin.
Julie opened the door in surprise.
"Ifrin……?"
But the guest wasn't alone. At first, she hadn't even recognized Ifrin.
They were all bundled in thick robes.
"Yes. It's me, Ifrin."
Ifrin pulled back her hood, and the two behind her followed suit.
Sylvia and Delik.
Julie's face grew more puzzled.
"Sir Delik?"
"Shh. My presence here is a secret. We'll stand guard outside, so talk with Ifrin."
The sudden visit puzzled her, but Julie nodded.
"Understood."
……Five minutes later.
"I still find it hard to believe fully."
Sitting across from each other, Julie spoke. Ifrin looked like she understood.
"So, in summary, you're saying you've regressed from the future."
"Yes."
"……That's hard to accept."
Regression from future to past. Not easy to believe. In fact, it would be strange to.
Even a mage needed something magical for that.
"However, I agree one of the thirty is a suspect. I've thought the same. There must be some vast shadow behind one of them."
The thirty guardian knight candidates summoned personally by His Majesty.
All top knights on the continent, more than capable of assaulting the emperor and killing Deculein.
"……Yes. That's why the Professor said before dying to seek your help, Lady Julie."
"My help……?"
Julie frowned and asked again. That was even harder to believe.
Perhaps more than the regression.
Ifrin smiled brightly.
"Yes. The Professor said you're the most truthful person on this continent."
"……."
The most truthful person.
……The most truthful person.
She hadn't lived this life falsely, but for Deculein to say that…….
"And."
As Julie pondered with a bewildered expression, Ifrin added.
"The Professor doesn't hate you."
That confused her even more. Her temple throbbed.
But understanding came quickly.
A lie.
"It's fine. I won't refuse to help you just because of ill feelings toward the Professor—"
"No. That's not it."
Interrupting, Ifrin rummaged in her bosom.
"Really, the Professor doesn't hate you."
"……!"
Julie's eyes widened. Something tumbled out from Ifrin's inner robe pocket.
"Th-this is……."
The bracelet.
The gift her father had given her, the first and last.
Horror filled Julie's eyes, and Ifrin smiled bitterly, murmuring.
"The Professor kept this the whole time. Maybe waiting for the right moment to give it back. Like at the wedding."
"……."
"If he truly hated you, why keep something like this?"
Ifrin placed the bracelet on the desk. Julie instinctively scooped it up.
She stared blankly at her palm.
"On the contrary, the Professor might still……."
Julie looked back at Ifrin.
The coal-black, crumbling bracelet softened her heart just a little.
Ifrin smiled.
"……love you."