Enchanted Correspondence
For the first time using the command, Ariel's incredibly clear answer made me break into a bright smile after a long while.
"Ahaha. Yeah, right. No reason needed to save a life."
It was the epitome of asking a stupid question and getting a perfect answer.
"Ah, one moment."
Ariel, who had been gazing at me with a pleased smile, pulled out an object at those words.
It was a small wooden box that, if mistaken, could pass for a ring case.
"I've answered your question, so now I have a request of my own."
"Hm? A request?"
"Yes."
Click.
Ariel nodded lightly at my words and opened the wooden box.
"Mana cores?"
The substance the Nostra family had prepared when I took on this drug incident commission.
The most crucial component that powered machines made with magitech.
A neat pair of such small mana cores lay inside the box.
"Do you know about the latest typewriter released from the Magic Tower a month ago?"
The typewriter Ariel mentioned was basically like the old-fashioned ones— the kind that went ting with a distinctive sound as the paper carriage shifted and letters were typed.
"Nah, zero interest in that stuff."
"That's surprising. The newspapers made a huge fuss calling it revolutionary."
She said that while looking at me like I was some exotic curiosity.
Under her gaze, I could only muster an awkward grin.
In this world, sure, it was revolutionary—but since it was a machine, not magic, my memories from my past life meant I already knew far more advanced versions. Nothing to say about it.
"This latest model has a special feature: if certain conditions are met, it lets you exchange letters one-on-one with someone far away in real time."
"Hm?"
Here's what Ariel explained:
Install a pair of mana cores engraved with specific magic seals into the new typewriter, and you could send and receive messages in real time, no matter the distance.
"Hoo..."
I let out a small sound of admiration.
It was a unique form of progress only possible in a world where both simple science and magic had advanced together.
"So these are the mana cores with those magic seals engraved on them?"
"Yes."
Ariel affirmed it readily.
I picked up one of the pair of mana cores from the wooden box in her hand and said it with a bit of playful mischief.
Half of it was a joke.
To put it simply, I just wanted to see Ariel flustered—a bit of impish fun.
"Well then, I'll gladly take them. Whoa, the Saintess seducing me? You learn something new every day."
"P-Pardon...?"
And the other half was to gauge her sincerity.
When people hear something deliberately wrong or outlandish, they instinctively correct it and deny it.
A common interrogation tactic, especially with criminals.
It was a technique from my past life, and damn useful.
"What? Isn't it? I was dead sure you were seducing me."
Pair that with a straight-faced delivery, and the effect doubled.
My hunch hit the mark—Ariel's calm facade started crumbling.
"Se-Seduction?"
Did she have no immunity to men? She looked utterly flustered, waving her free hand frantically in denial while clutching the box with the mana cores.
"No! It's not like that!"
"Huh? Then why give me this? Isn't it perfect for fiancés or married couples?"
"No, I just thought... it'd be convenient for commissions or relaying orders... or something."
Even she seemed to realize how lame the excuse was; her words slowed to a crawl.
By the end, her head drooped in defeat.
"Hmmm?"
"Ughhh..."
The confident Saintess from moments ago was long gone. Now, before my eyes, she was blushing like a shy maiden, groaning in embarrassment.
Bingo.
Something felt off.
From her perspective, I was just the duke's illegitimate son—nothing more, nothing less.
Plus, I'd been using casual speech since we met, and she hadn't called me out on it once.
She knew my name from the alliance proposal letter.
And her reaction when I unwittingly took over the meeting at the end.
All these clues screamed that she was hiding something.
But nothing concrete clicks.
Did we have prior contact? No.
Her associates then? Ambiguous, but no.
No matter how high my status in the underworld, I wouldn't rub shoulders with the Saintess.
Eh, whatever.
She couldn't pull much off against me anyway,
and everyone has secrets they can't spill. Nobody lives a lifetime of total honesty.
"You could've just said so."
"...Huh?"
"Getting connected to the Saintess? Hell, I'm the one who should be thrilled. Don't sweat the small stuff."
I said that and extended my hand halfway toward her.
If she were your typical airheaded protagonist type with flowers for brains, I wouldn't go near her.
Events always brewed around protagonists—that was law.
But she was different.
A capable client deserved proper handling.
And I liked her mindset and convictions, so I was happy to build this connection.
"Looking forward to it."
***
Ariel stared blankly at Abel, who had clasped her hand.
What the hell was this guy?
He'd been teasing her slyly just moments ago, and now this sudden shift.
"Alright, we'll head out then. Oh, and that latest typewriter—I'll buy one right after this incident wraps, so it'll take a bit."
"Ah, yes..."
Abel left those words behind and walked out of the building, chatting with the woman who seemed to be his maid.
"Ah, Mist. Come talk with me."
"You mean a conversation, sir?"
"Yeah."
Once the two vanished while talking, Ariel finally exhaled the breath she'd been holding.
"Fuu..."
It wasn't her first time talking to a man.
Thanks to regressing via the holy relic, she'd naturally awakened holy power and chatted with plenty of people on her path to becoming the Saintess.
But no one had toyed with her like Abel did.
She'd just wanted to maintain ties with this apparent irregular, but things turned out like this.
Se-Seduction...
Whoosh.
Recalling Abel's words again, heat rushed to her face, and she fanned her burning cheeks.
She kept it up until the priest sent to escort her arrived.
***
Back home, I immediately mixed some liquor and ice I'd bought on the way into a light cocktail.
Clink clink.
The crisp sound of ice colliding, matched by my rhythmic shaking.
It came from the shaker I'd brought from my past life.
Once it reached my preferred chill, I strained out the crushed ice while shaking and poured the cocktail into a glass.
"Here, you said you like it bitter, so try this."
A vivid golden cocktail.
"You're actually making a cocktail, sir?"
"Ha. Not skilled enough to call it 'making' one."
As I prepared the cocktail I planned to drink, I eyed Mist, who had started sipping hers.
She savored a mouthful, slowly opening her eyes to speak.
"Might I ask the name of this cocktail?"
"Name? Nah, doesn't have one. Just me throwing stuff together on a whim."
I'd mix based on mood, adding non-liquor ingredients—pure amateur hour.
No way it had a name.
Mist let out a small sigh at my words.
"I see... Such a shame. It's quite good."
"Hmmm..."
Glug glug.
I poured my cocktail into a glass and took a sip.
If bitter meant just plain bitter, it'd be torture.
But this nameless mix—heavy on the bitters, with orange zest and a touch of herbs—was pretty damn good.
I set the glass down on the table, sat, and watched Mist enjoying hers.
"Mist, that's an order."
At my words, she carefully set down her glass, stood, and bowed.
"Please speak."
One of the conditions she set to drag me into the Nebla Duke family.
The loyalty contract.
But I'd never used it.
I could handle things myself, and she supported me wholeheartedly—no need.
"For this raid, you're going to support the Nostra family."
Frankly, compared to the other forces—the Church of Light and Nebla execution unit [White Shadow]—the Nostra family was the weak link.
Relatively speaking, of course.
Even Nostra's core was handling information, not frontline combat.
Weak in all-out war? Expected.
"And there, unleash your full power."
Mist hadn't hidden her strength to secure her position in the duke's household.
She kept her cool under my pressure in our meetings, showing her exceptional nature;
insisted on cleaning up during the airship hijacking;
and even Lena from the duke's execution unit [White Shadow] treated her warily.
Yet she'd never shown her full power before me.
Not even come close to overexposing her presence.
As if under orders from someone.
Probably just a simple directive from the duke's side.
My guess: don't go all out in front of me, something like that.
I wouldn't complain. She wasn't my subordinate anyway.
But idle power bugged me.
"I won't be there. Out of detection range, so go wild."
I said that, lifting my dew-kissed glass to savor the cocktail.
Mist watched me quietly, then grasped her skirt hems, curtsying deeply like nobility at a ball.
"Yes, my master."