Familiar (2)
The blue-haired girl stole a nervous glance at Luid and asked, "S-So, you'll form the contract with me now, right?"
"Never said I would."
Luid turned his back on her without a trace of mercy.
His annoyance radar had just blared at maximum intensity. Getting tangled up in something like a contract was the last thing he wanted.
"Get out of my fox. I'll trust that you've been properly purified, so this way you won't do me any harm."
"Y-You liar! You said you'd take responsibility for me for the rest of your life!"
"...When exactly did I say that?"
"You took my purity, and now you're saying...!"
"Whoa, whoa—those are fightin' words!"
"Waaah! Please contract with me! I'm begging you!"
The blue-haired girl wailed and clung to Luid's trouser leg like her life depended on it.
"If I let you get away this time, I'll be stuck in that dark, gloomy, dreary little space for another few hundred years, all alone! Doesn't that move your heart at all? You cold, heartless person!"
"The world's a big place. Someone out there can take responsibility for you. Not me."
Luid tried to ignore her whimpering and walk away.
How is a kid this strong...?
But he was trapped in a twelve-year-old's body himself, and he couldn't budge an inch.
"I'm a useful spirit! I can really do it all! I could wipe out half of humanity if I wanted, and I can use healing magic too!"
"...There's something seriously wrong buried in the middle of that."
"I'll work hard at anything! I'm still an active-duty spirit—use me however you like! P-Please, just contract with me!"
Luid spoke with the face of a man who was, quite literally, dying of inconvenience. "Then do it with Hershey. Hershey's right there."
"You, my lord, look delicious!"
Luid stared at the spirit with dead eyes. "I'm reporting you."
Sweat pouring down her face in streams, the spirit scrambled to correct herself. "Mana... I m-mean mana! Mana! M-Ma-na!"
Hershey, who had been lost in quiet thought for some time now, finally spoke up. "What about a Familiar contract?"
"A Familiar?"
"A Familiar bond is a master-servant pact, after all. You can sever it whenever the master wishes, right? I don't know what a spirit contract entails, but... I think it would be better than that."
Luid gave the spirit a skeptical look. "That good enough for you?"
The spirit nodded, eyes brimming with tears. He knew she was a spirit well over five hundred years old, but seeing her like this—as a pure, guileless little girl—stirred something dangerously close to pity in him.
"A Familiar, huh. I wasn't planning on making one."
Luid was, surprisingly, a cautious sort. A Familiar was, in modern terms, basically a pet.
But given his personality—one finely tuned to detect even the faintest whiff of effort—he'd never made one for fear it would turn into a chore.
Should be fine, though. It's a perfect master-servant arrangement.
Luid double-checked anyway. "All you need from me is mana, right?"
A standard Familiar contract went as follows:
One: the master grants the servant a fixed quantity of mana.
Two: in exchange for that mana, the servant pledges absolute obedience.
Three: the servant may never betray the master by any means whatsoever.
A magic circle inscribed with these terms materialized in midair.
The spirit's eyes sparkled at the sight of it, and she declared briskly, "Actually, it's spirit affinity you'll need, not mana!"
"...Is that so."
"But mana is necessary too! Because spirits convert mana into spirit power!"
Luid sighed and added the clause "spirit affinity" to the contract.
"Wait, do I even have spirit affinity?"
"Y-Yes, you do."
What was with that sly little smirk right before you answered??
Luid felt deeply, profoundly uneasy about this. But the circle was already drawn, and she looked like she'd just keep wailing and clinging to him forever. He had no choice but to go through with the Familiar contract.
Besides—worst case, he could always cut it loose.
"Luid Christopher Windsor."
Luid looked up at the spirit. She intoned, grand and resonant, "proposes a contract with the Great Spirit of—"
Her name was lost to his ears. It was a language he had never heard before in his life.
"...I hereby accept."
"The Great Spirit of the Stars accepts the contract proposal of Luid Christopher Windsor!"
As she cried it out with all her might, the Familiar magic circle began to spin, glowing a brilliant blue.
"...Huh."
Luid touched a hand to his chest, dazed.
Just now— in a single instant—about half of his mana had drained away.
Never before had a single spell siphoned that much out of him.
And naturally, the culprit was the self-proclaimed Great Spirit.
Luid confirmed that a thread of soul now ran between him and the spirit, but he couldn't help being shaken. Because just as gravity is proportional to mass—
strength is proportional to mana.
...She was actually the real deal?
This was power on a completely different order from anything he'd imagined.
"Woohoo!"
The Great Spirit thrust her tiny fists skyward—where had all those tears gone?—and cheered at the heavens.
Then brilliant light enveloped her entire body, bright enough to blot out the world, and when she opened her eyes again, she had returned to the form of a fox.
And in that moment, Luid understood exactly why this spirit had hidden her name.
She was a fox.
Except—she had nine tails.
"...A nine-tailed fox?"
At the mention of her name, the spirit froze mid-motion, then began clapping her paws together enthusiastically, fox body and all.
[Aah! Thank you for the lovely name! From this moment on, my name is Miho!]
...Pretty sure I didn't name you anything?
Luid couldn't quite shake the feeling that he'd just been swindled.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Luid wrapped up his business and headed home.
"See you tomorrow!"
"Yeah."
Normally he would have gone straight to Delin's Lake for a nap, but today there was no such luxury on offer.
Irene was at the house.
As he walked, Luid offered Miho a warning, Irene's image fresh in his mind. "Don't talk in front of my sister. Not if you want to keep existing."
[Yes, sir!]
"...You did understand me, right?"
The fox trotting alongside him looked up at Luid and nodded. [One tail only. When I take human form, only at Delin's Lake. When I'm with anyone besides Hershey, speak as little as possible. Correct?]
Laid out in a row like that, it sounded like he'd been doing a surprising amount of nagging.
Luid stepped onto the lawn of the estate.
Sometimes it still didn't feel real that a mansion out of a TV drama belonged to him—but it was also true that the more he got used to it, the less it moved him.
His thoughts drifted to Irene, unbidden. He went around calling her a lunatic, but he didn't actually dislike her. Her inscrutability did leave him with a strange, unsettled feeling, it was true—but then, there had never been a single person in the Windsor family he disliked in the first place.
Irene especially, for all her ferocity, had always been remarkably gentle with him.
There was one uncomfortable situation, though. It was when Amelia and Irene found themselves face to face.
"Succession, huh... Does Amelia want it?"
Transmigration into a novel. He knew the major events of the future, but novels, by their nature, build their narrative around the protagonist.
Which meant he knew almost nothing about the Windsors. Aside from "the indolent Luid," the family barely appeared in the story at all.
Had something unhappy happened to the Windsor family? It nagged at Luid constantly.
All he knew, vaguely, was this: Amelia had publicly declared she had no interest whatsoever in succession—yet for whatever reason, maybe simply because she threw herself into everything she did, her actions didn't look that way at all.
And that Irene seemed to take issue with it.
Luid stepped inside the mansion.
"Welcome home, young master. ...And what is that?"
"A pet fox."
"...An exceptionally adorable fox, I must say. It seems I should have procured one in advance."
"You really should have."
Luid watched the fox, its eyes shining as it drank in its lavish new surroundings, with a complicated swirl of feelings. "Where are my sisters?"
"In their respective rooms, my lord. No doubt they will emerge once they have finished preparing."
"They're leaving?"
"Yes. Lady Irene says she cannot linger."
No sooner had Sherry finished speaking than Irene appeared, as immaculately dressed in her formal uniform as ever.
It always struck him: Irene's uniform design was remarkably progressive. It looked very much like a modern suit.
A white blouse, long trousers, and a black coat.
Your average noblewoman dressed herself in layers upon layers of ornament. Irene's clothes bore none.
Thanks to that, Luid had been able to play his cheat card—I want to dress like my big sister—and escape ever wearing the gaudy, rustic garb of a medieval aristocrat.
"Lui, you're always out this late at night."
"The sun hasn't even set yet."
Irene descended the staircase, her gaze fixed on him the entire way down. "A troubling little brother."
She bent down and stroked his hair. "The youngest of the family wanders about at this hour, and no one even comes out to greet him. A troubling little brother."
"It's still the afternoon, you know."
Irene smiled warmly. "Don't worry. I've already scolded Lia."
"...Are you even listening to me?"
Irene nodded, her smile perfectly intact. "I am."
"Saying you're listening while only listening isn't the same as actually listening."
Irene's lips parted slightly in quiet admiration. "Luid is so clever."
He had no comeback for that. None at all.
Just then, Amelia came down the stairs in her comfortable clothes. Her expression had stiffened into something distinctly strained—it really did seem Irene had said something to her.
Luid believed it was the youngest's role to prevent discord in the family. "You're doing great, Amelia."
"Hm?"
"If she scolded you because of me, then I'm saying she didn't need to. Honestly, if it were my other big sister visiting, I'd already be back in the North."
If it had been Irene instead of Amelia dealing with the whole Justin affair, by the following day, no one in the world would have been able to find him.
"...Is that so?"
Amelia, who had been staring gloomily at the floor, lifted her head at his words. Her eyes shone with unmistakable gratitude. Irene straightened from her slight crouch and walked over to her.
"It seems I was mistaken."
"...N-No. The fault was still mine."
"If Lui is satisfied, then I won't say anything more. But do remember the advice I gave you last time."
"...Of course, my lady."
"Good."
Irene gave Amelia's head a light pat, then turned and walked back toward Luid. "Are you satisfied?"
"You did well."
Irene said quietly, "Then I must be going."
"Stay a little longer."
"I would love to, seeing you after so long... but I have duties waiting. I'll come again during the holidays."
"Okay."
Luid waved cheerfully. Amelia bowed at the waist beside him. Irene made her unhurried way toward the main doors—then paused.
"Ah. I nearly forgot something."
She drew something from inside her coat. An envelope. She held it out to Luid.
"What's this?"
"An apology letter from Prince Damon."
Luid regarded the letter with cold, salt-tempered eyes. A red imperial seal was stamped upon the black envelope.
Behold: the most useless object in the world.
"I hear that, as a token of apology for ruining your briefing, His Majesty has granted you the fulfillment of a single wish."
Luid's eyes went wide.
Behold: the most valuable object in the world.
"The imperial treasury holds many things that no amount of money can buy, you see..."
And with that parting tip, Irene smiled and was gone.