#043
"Don't even mention that bastard, miss! I don't want to soil my mouth talking about him. He's got a pretty face, but he'd commit murder without batting an eye if it served his goals. You mustn't even associate with a madman like that. Next time, even if he acts like he knows you, run away."
But she'd already taken his business card. Was it because of Fontpado Madam's explanation? The card in her hand felt unbearably slimy. The thin gold leaf coating only made it worse. And what was this 'invitation' written on it? It just made her feel like she'd been summoned against her will.
"Hmm."
As the saying goes, anything that smells like trouble should be tossed immediately, and any bad situation should be escaped at once. Her past experiences were screaming at Catherine to ditch this sleek business card right now.
Whoosh.
Leaning against the railing, Catherine let go of the card amid a timely gust of wind. The glittering gold fluttered through the air before vanishing behind her. It took less than five seconds to disappear from sight, but for some reason, her unease lingered.
Catherine's body was swimming gracefully through soft water. Her blurry vision sharpened, revealing the dark deep sea. Riding a massive current, her body sank deeper, deeper still. Soon, she arrived before the rainbow-hued coral reef she'd seen yesterday.
As if welcoming her, a massive white moray eel burst out from between the corals.
'A moray eel today?'
'The dolphins from yesterday ran away.'
Ran away? So even deep-sea creatures were smarter than she'd thought. Somehow, she half-expected him to greet her at dawn with, "How are things with Fontpado Madam?" So Catherine struck first.
'Fontpado Madam's fine. It's a bit noisy with the chatter going from two to three people, but not bad.'
Chezare nodded deeply. Describing a moray eel nodding felt odd, but it definitely had.
'That's a good time, then. Fontpado Madam's a renowned mage even among nephilim without contracts. If you have questions while learning magic from me, pry whatever you can out of her.'
'Got it. So, what's the first lesson?'
She'd stayed up late anticipating this moment. Now she could walk around claiming to be Duke Chezare's apprentice without lying. Of course, with her zero skills, she'd have to hide her face to say it.
She must have been wagging her tail excitedly without realizing it. The coral it touched sizzled and blackened.
'Oops.'
'It's an electric moray, so be careful with that tail. Today, let's start by identifying the root of your mana.'
In magic studies, a root was simply an attribute. Roots were the most basic classification dividing magical schools. Every aspiring mage went through determining theirs.
'I was classified as a kid, though?'
Magic nullifiers received national support to study demonology and magic, so they got root-classified whether they wanted to or not.
'That was over ten years ago, right?'
'Yeah.'
'By human standards, that's quite a while. Better to check again.'
The moray—no, Chezare—rolled his transparent eyes as he spoke.
'Since you contracted with me, your body holds a vast amount of mana that won't deplete even in a lifetime. If our roots match, we'd get nice synergy... but even if they're opposing, it won't matter much. I can cover it all with my power.'
Only an archdemon could say something like that with such confidence.
'This coral has no mana. Imagine entering inside it.'
'That's it?'
'That's it.'
Following Chezare's advice, Catherine imagined slipping into the coral. Of course, nothing happened. Feeling a bit embarrassed, she spoke up.
'It's not working.'
'Hmm. No sense at all, then. Try this: remember the kiss from the contract?'
'Uh, yeah.'
'What did it feel like?'
Was he asking what it'd feel like if they kissed now? How her heart raced, the texture and warmth of his lips, her mood? Catherine shook her head hastily. No, that couldn't be it. He probably wanted an objective description. She slowly recounted the vivid memory, as fresh as yesterday.
'It was cold and sharp.'
It had happened so fast it was just a fleeting sensation, yet it was etched into her heart with crystal clarity.
'Like my mouth and veins were freezing? But also burning like fire... Do you get it?'
'That's the feeling of mana flooding your body. Recall it and try again.'
Ah, so that's what he meant. She got it now. That sensation was mana in action. Catherine focused, reliving it as Chezare instructed. Like shoving myself into that seaweed... like that mana entered me then, now I enter it...
Grrrr.
The ground rumbled. Like a volcano stirring, the faint vibrations grew stronger. Startled, Catherine backed away cautiously. What? Did I mess up? As she turned a bewildered gaze to Chezare—
The white-glowing coral blackened and evaporated.
Woooong.
An unclean wave enveloped Catherine's body before dissipating. Black, oily sludge—like heavy tar—spread through the seawater. It all happened in an instant.
With a strange feeling, Catherine asked Chezare,
'That felt ominous. What's my root?'
Staring at the now-empty coral hollow, Chezare replied a beat late.
'What was your childhood classification?'
'Couldn't classify.'
His eel body hid expressions, but his tail wag suggested he got the gist.
'It was a method where you'd bloom a flower with a mage's mana... The others did it in ten minutes; I couldn't in a year.'
A secret she'd never utter aloud. The mage overseeing her test had said she wasn't just dull—she was a disaster. Forcing magic would bring calamity, so avoid it forever. Unwilling to believe, she'd tried months more... but not even a sprout.
Her mother never mentioned roots at all. No comfort, no scolding—just acceptance. So this situation felt touching to Catherine. Something had happened, right? At least she wasn't a total disaster.
After a moment's thought, Chezare spoke.
'As you know, mana roots divide into six: fire and sea, thunder and shadow, wind and holy.'
His voice was calm and steady.
'I see why you couldn't bloom the flower. Your root isn't among those six.'
'Is that possible?'
Not among the six meant no root at all. Disappointment crashed over her like waves; Catherine bowed her head. Yeah, a talent absent in childhood won't appear with age.
But Chezare's belated voice lifted it again.
'Your root is Transfer.'
...Transfer?
A classification she'd never heard of. Or had she in advanced studies? No, racking her brain yielded nothing.
'Not surprising. It's a root that manifests only in demons, not humans. Even I've lived thousands of years and never seen it before—quite the spectacle.'
Transfer. A demon-only root, whatever it was. Suddenly, she recalled the duke's mansion, accused of being a demon by the cardinal. The burning heat like fire on the holy seal...
...No way.
'Hey, Chezare. Am I... maybe a demon?'
Tsk. A loud tongue-click echoed.
'Forgot chapter one of demonology already? Demons can't contract demons, nor humans humans. If you were a demon, we couldn't have contracted.'
True. Catherine silently thanked the rule proving her human birth.
'This needs thought. Teaching human-style magic to a different root isn't wise.'
'So no magic today?'
While others reveled, she'd waited eagerly to sleep.
'Better to be cautious. Mishandling it could obliterate everything around you. Know why nephilim deaths are called 'cataclysms'? They lose control and shatter surroundings. Exaggerated, but you could too.'
That serious, huh. Comparing to nephilim cataclysms made the danger real.
Chezare stressed caution again.
'This root is our secret. Got it?'
'Big trouble if others know?'
'Plenty of eccentric mages who'd dissect you alive for your unique constitution's secrets.'
Hmm. Utterly convincing.
'Horrifying just imagining it. Lips sealed.'
The two eels shared this quiet chat before parting to greet the rising sun.
The next day passed smoothly. On this ultra-luxury passenger ship for leisure and extravagance, she enjoyed fitting pastimes.
"Come on, miss. We're going shopping."
It was all possible thanks to Fontpado Madam.
"...Today?"
"I heard you can use the duke's fortune? He's more romantic than he looks. Perfect chance. Madam Fontpado will pick stunning dresses, shoes, and jewels for you. Trust my eye once."
"Yaaawn. Get me a pretty ribbon for my neck. And a diamond food bowl."
For the first time since her mother vanished, she spent the entire day just shopping. Her strongest impression: her legs ached. And buying unneeded things nonstop. Neither was familiar.
That dawn, she didn't visit Chezare's dream. More precisely, he didn't call her. The deep-sea fish sensation had been refreshingly novel; she felt regret on multiple fronts.
And on the brightening fourth day—
"Looks like you've hit the jackpot."
Of all the bad luck, she ran into Percival in the VIP passage.