The Bet (1)

This week's conference came to an end like that. Or could I really call it an end with just one word? Was it okay to sum it up that way? Could I compress everything I'd gone through during those two weeks into a single term? Probably not. No, it couldn't be. It shouldn't be. The mental shock from those two weeks hit harder than the sum of everything I'd experienced in the two years before the conference. I couldn't just brush it off with "it's over." Saying it was over would mean accepting it—and up until now, I'd been denying it.

The things I'd gone through in Terria's body had nothing to do with me; they weren't my experiences, I'd told myself. I was just temporarily out of Ariel's body, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠watching from some abstract sky-high vantage point as Terria played the role of Ariel. That sky was too vague a concept for a soul to linger in, so I'd borrowed Terria's body as a vessel, nothing more. The reverse applied too: Terria's soul was just housed in Ariel's body, passively observing whatever her flesh endured. So the things I'd faced at the conference were experiences on her behalf, carrying no deeper meaning for me. It was a form of self-defense, like how trauma patients bury horrific memories deep in their minds, convincing themselves they'd never happened.

But now I had to face it. With no way back, denying it on purpose wouldn't help. Everything that happened in Terria's body, with my soul inside, was my experience—and it directly shaped my thought patterns, my sense of self, my identity. Of course, admitting that meant realizing I was no longer a mage. I was the slave everyone thought "Ariel" to be: beautiful but utterly helpless. It meant acknowledging that I had to obey Terria's commands, that the chasm between us was too vast for all the world to fill, making defiance impossible.

It wouldn't be easy. That's probably why I'd denied it so long. But ignoring the growing gap those experiences created had led to this mess, hadn't it? Weren't all those unnecessary pains my fault? If I'd constantly asked myself, What would Terria do? and acted accordingly, could I have avoided the disgust and agony? Probably. I should have done it sooner. If acceptance was inevitable, it would have been better to submit from the start. This wasn't the ending I'd wanted. I wasn't Ariel anymore; I couldn't live the same life I'd known for twenty-four years. And in this situation, that was the most crucial truth. A proposition. It had to be.

But why?

Terria and I returned to the lab. We barely spoke. Only the bare ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠minimum for daily life—no real conversation. Terria was strangely quiet. I'd expected retaliation after he caught me trying to drug him, but days passed uneventfully. I couldn't help wondering what his game was. Why was he just sitting there? Why were we handling our own meals, him dealing with Blue Tower duties, showering separately, me cleaning my own room since he stopped doing it—days that even felt boring sometimes?

No matter how I puzzled it out—and had I ever truly grasped his intentions?—I couldn't stand the boredom anymore. I spoke up.

"Hey, Terria."

"What?"

His reply was flat, emotionless. I wanted to do research. The magic research I loved, the thing I was best at. Heart pounding, I asked,

"Uh, can I use the lab?"

"Sure."

Terria answered without a second's hesitation. If anything, he seemed to wonder why I'd waited so long or what I'd been doing without using it. My tension deflated into emptiness. Had I really been gauging his mood? Me? Yeah, I had. Well, so what? Wasn't it smart to read his cues? I was the slave now; if he was playing master, it was natural for a slave to watch their owner's face. Was that it? Should I just accept it that way? I didn't know. Right now, I wanted to focus on one thing.

I headed to the lab. It had been ten days since the conference ended. Three years without visiting for ten straight days? Unheard of. My previous record was three. So when I opened the door, I deeply inhaled the familiar scent wafting from potions, dried herbs, yellowed tomes—the smell I'd missed. It was oddly comforting. The essence of Ariel's life, distilled. How to define it? Just "lab smell," and most would get it. That was explanation enough.

I stood there sniffing for a while until Terria gave me a weird look—like an owner watching their dog on a walk, nose buried in roadside weeds, wondering if it'd found shit, pity in their eyes.

"W-what're you staring at...?"

"Nothing. Just... cute."

Terria grinned. Cute, pretty—I'd heard it endlessly at the conference, but it never made me happy. Especially not from him. He was handling the Blue Tower's budget proposal. I shot him a glare, then went to the bookshelf lined with magic tomes. What to research next? I scanned slowly. One issue: the shelves were huge compared to my height. The workbench was too high for free arm movement too. Magic research would be a pain from now on. Annoying. I'd need a step stool later.

"Want me to grab a book?"

"...No. I got it."

"I'll get it."

I struggled to reach a high shelf, grunting, when Terria approached and easily handed me the book. He'd been silent for days—why the sudden kindness? Couldn't he be consistent? Grumbling, I flipped through the tome. Dust from just over three weeks without cleaning made my nose itch. Separately, no research topic jumped out.

Actually, I'd planned to push the Imperial Magic Department for more alchemy funding. As Cain said at the conference, recent results favored alchemy, yet they funneled most to elemental magic. Infuriating. More funding for the Blue Tower would be ideal. But now... did I even care? I wasn't the Blue Tower Lord anymore. Without being Ariel, it all felt meaningless. Shouting I'll return someday didn't change facts. I needed priorities.

Terria had allowed magic research—heck, he acted like I'd been slacking by not doing it sooner. So the top priority was obvious. But could I really say it? After agonizing, I did.

"Um, hey..."

Terria looked at me like, what's up? Was this okay to ask? Would he mock me—"What nonsense is this?"—or rage, "You think that's possible?"? As I hemmed and hawed, he prodded.

"What? Spit it out."

"...Promise you won't get mad if I say it."

"Fine. I promise."

No way to fight back if he did anyway, but even a hollow promise would ease me. He kept his word on these. "For real? You won't get mad?"

"Yes. So what?"

Terria sounded impatient. But when his eyes narrowed, I flinched. Overpowered. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠His presence crushed me in an instant. Realizing I couldn't resist even baseless anger, I gave up. With a gloomy mutter—whatever—I said,

"That... potion. Can I make it again...?"

"That one? Oh. Yeah, go ahead if you want."

He knew exactly what "that" meant. To confirm we meant the same, I asked,

"...For real? You know which one?"

"The body swap potion, right? Doesn't matter to me."

Again, too straightforward. He probably figured even if I made it, he'd never drink it. After over three years together, had I never understood him at all? His expression mirrored mine—bewilderment at my hesitation. Maybe we were incapable of understanding each other. And his permission meant even drawing his blood last—500 milliliters. It reminded me of when he'd handed me the surgical scalpel, telling me to slice my wrist. Imagining that razor-sharp blade—cold as ice, slicing paper on contact—on this slender wrist gave me chills. He'd endured that and was willing to do it again? Was that it?

Maybe my potion was flawed, damaging Terria's soul during the swap. If so, was mine damaged too? Were we different people from a month ago? Could a soul alone define me? Was "Ariel" only whoever acted with Ariel's ego in Ariel's body? Someone with Ariel's ego in Terria's body... a new entity needing redefinition...? Fantasies spiraled. Confused, I twirled my hair around my finger. It calmed me. Women's long hair might exist just for that.

"Ariel."

Terria called from a distance. He smirked at my twirled hair.

"Uh, yeah? What? Something wrong?"

Embarrassed, I played it bold. Twirling hair wasn't weird, right?

"That potion anyway—it'll take a while, yeah?"

"Yeah. Probably six months."

"Handle this first? I don't care, but you'll want to."

He handed me a thin stack of papers, pointing to a section. I read slowly. Line by line, horror grew.

"What the... this can't be real?"

He shrugged. "Beats me."

"Why's our tower's funding cut in half? We were already broke paying that jerk Lucas's compensation..."

And because I'd been dumb enough to get kidnapped... No, drop it. Done deal.

The document listed funding per tower. Blue Tower's slashed nearly in half. Okay, maybe overall cuts. But Red Tower got double—nearly matching our cut exactly. So...

"That bastard Lucas must've pulled strings, right?"

"Not 'must've'—he definitely did. That prick played dirty."

"So what now?"

"Go confront them. Straight to the Minister."

I blurted it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out. Terria looked at me pitifully.

"You alone?"

Alone? Yeah, duh. What confidence made me think I could meet the Magic Minister solo? Without him, I was nothing. I couldn't even approach the government offices. His gaze was odd.

"Uh... obviously with you? Why look at me like that? Let's go. No—please take me. Come with me, please."

"Say it again?"

"Um... please come with me? Master?"

And so we left the lab. Handling him might be easier than I thought.