I'd Sooner Have a Woman for a Master
The place where my master, Pale Dragonheart, was staying looked like a building that couldn't decide whether it was a residence or an office. Two structures joined by a passage — one side living quarters with the usual amenities, the other a working office. Strange architecture, and sizable enough, yet the only ones living in it were my master and me. Office and bedrooms alike stood empty, and reams of documents lay in filthy drifts across the floors. I was curious what the building was even for, and what sort of man my master was, to be rattling around a place like this alone — but he cared about nothing except tormenting me, and he had no intention of explaining a thing.
Then, for the first time since I had become a magical puppet, I met people other than my master.
The visitors were one woman and several men. The men wore their hair cropped very short, dark sunglasses, and black suits; solid builds, movements sharp with discipline. Bodyguards, by the look of them. The woman they escorted with such deference wore a classical black dress — the sort of thing an ordinary person might never wear once in a lifetime, might never even get the chance to look at. Celebrity formalwear, the kind you put on for a year-end awards gala, and she had come in it to someone else's office building on an ordinary weekday afternoon. The sight was badly out of place.
She looked young enough to be in her early twenties, and tall for a woman. Whether she truly was, or whether I only thought so because becoming a magical puppet had made me shorter, I couldn't tell. One thing was certain: she stood taller than I did now.
She was beautiful the way a princess in a fairy tale is beautiful. Skin without a single blemish, great bright eyes, a fine mouth, a straight nose, all set neatly upon her face. Pink hair fell to her waist and glittered like starlight, and whoever had tended it had done so obsessively — not one split end.
And if I may speak as Irok Dehaja, as a man: her chest was considerable. Even through a fairly thick dress it asserted its presence with perfect clarity, and I liked that very much.
My master seemed to know her. They traded a light greeting; he took a moment to prepare, then showed her into one of the empty reception rooms. Of the vacant rooms, this one was relatively tidy, but like the rest of the building it had odds and ends rolling across the floor, and it was hardly in a state to receive a guest. Even so, neither my master nor the young woman who appeared to be his acquaintance said a word about it. They simply sat facing each other on the sofa. The men in black suits and sunglasses took their places behind her. I wondered where I was supposed to be, then settled for standing behind my master.
A brief silence. The young woman, the guest, was the first to speak.
"It's been a while... and the Dragonheart Office's hospitality has truly gone to seed, hasn't it? That tousled hair, a sweater nothing but wrinkles, jeans — in what country's etiquette does one receive a guest dressed like that? And you won't even bring out a cup of tea?"
She twisted a lock of that soft-looking pink hair around her finger as she spoke. There were thorns in it. She was in a thoroughly foul mood. Well, not unreasonable. The room, and my master, were both rude enough as a welcome. The room was filthy, and he was filthy to about the same degree. Just as she had said, he wore a rumpled gray sweater and baggy jeans; his hair had gone unwashed so long it had clumped, and his beard had grown long enough that he might have been mistaken for a vagrant.
My master was not the least bit cowed by the barbs. He struck back.
"Theora. You're hardly the picture of manners yourself. I didn't expect you to come barging in with no word at all."
"I contacted you. More than once. In writing... by phone... by mail... You're the one who ignored all of it."
"...... I've been busy lately."
"Of course you have. Busy amusing yourself with the doll at your back."
"State your business."
At her rebuke he let his displeasure show. I, singled out out of nowhere, felt a chill run down my spine. At his words, the pink-haired woman he had called Theora took a sheet of paper from one of her guards, set it on the table, and spoke.
"As a shareholder in the Dragonheart Office... Elphelit Bank intends to acquire it. I've come to inform you."
"Nonsense. The majority shareholder was my father, Karith Dragonheart, director of the office. And now that he is gone, that majority is mine."
"The succession of those shares hasn't been formally completed, has it? Elphelit Bank intends to claim them."
"Huh? By what means?"
"What means? Have you already forgotten? The Dragonheart Office owes our bank an enormous debt."
"......"
"Those righteous, unprofitable achievements of the Dragonheart Office were only possible because Elphelit Bank, as a friendly institution, was funding you."
At Theora's point, my master scowled and fired back at once.
"You talk as if our office were some beggar rattling a cup. Even with the debt, our finances aren't that dire. We have enough in assets to settle it."
"That is only half true. Because right now you have no authority to use the office's tangible assets."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"You never formally received the magic crest from the family head, did you? In a modern financial system that runs on magical authentication, a man without a magic crest has no right to spend the office's assets."
"True enough. My father fell in the battle against Irok Dehaja, so there was no time for a formal transfer. But through legal process the crest can be restored, or replaced with a new one."
"Yes. And it will take forever. You'd have to begin with a lawsuit over ownership, and that alone would run a year at the least. The debt comes due in less than a month."
"......"
This time the trap seemed to have closed for good. My master offered no rebuttal at all, and only glared at the woman before him — at Theora — with a savage look. She flinched under that gaze, then cleared her throat and gathered herself.
"In any case, we'll be sending an official notice soon. I'd appreciate your cooperation."
"I don't understand this at all... What possible profit is there, that you'd force an acquisition of our office? An empty tin can with no one in it but me."
"......"
"The Dragonheart Office belongs to the hero who succeeded in bringing down the worst mage in history, Irok Dehaja. Seize a place like that by force, and you'll only damage Elphelit Bank's reputation."
Hearing my real name come up again was a deeply awkward thing.
The man called Irok Dehaja — that is, me — had been a man of no presence whatsoever. From childhood, ask a classmate my name and the answer came back, Huh? Was there a kid like that in our class? That was the sort of man I had been. And now there wasn't a person in the world who didn't know that name. The strongest mage in history, and the worst. The individual who had personally killed more human beings than anyone who had ever lived. A stain upon the history of magic. Every poisonous, grandiose epithet in existence trailed after my name. To the man himself, it was simply absurd.
Who in the world are they even talking about?
I couldn't use magic at all. I'd even been officially classed as disabled for it. And that made me the worst mage in history? It felt as if the entire world were running a con against me. In any case, the me of now — executed, and then having my brain shoved by my master into the body of a magical puppet — could say nothing. If the truth got out, I would be in danger, and so would he. I was bound so that I could not speak it.
"I, too, mourn their noble sacrifice."
At my master's rebuke, Theora laid a hand upon her chest and sighed, her face full of sorrow. A face pitiful enough that it would have melted the heart of any ordinary man in an instant.
"It was only because the mages of the Dragonheart Office gave their lives that Irok Dehaja's ambition to destroy the world could be stopped."
Hm. Had I been trying to destroy the world? Fresh facts, unknown even to the person involved, kept tumbling out. Fascinating.
"Which is why, had things been otherwise, I meant to wait quietly even if you were too crushed by despair to work. I understand what it means to lose one's colleagues."
"Your words and your actions are opposites, aren't they?"
"But, you see — even so, if you go and buy the likes of a magical puppet with company assets... as a shareholder, wouldn't I have no choice but to intervene?"
Theora said it with a gentle smile, and inside that gentle smile was a fury too terrible to name. In short, she was deeply displeased that my master had acquired me — a magical puppet. Which was fair enough. The world's opinion of magical puppets is very bad indeed.
A magical puppet is defined, officially, as a magical life-form made to help a person with miscellaneous chores. Almost no one believes that at face value. Anyone with a sharp eye can grasp the real purpose from a single fact: as a rule, they are shaped like beautiful women. Yes. Magical puppets are ordinarily made for purposes too sordid and obscene to say aloud. Makers and users alike insist, on the surface, that it is nothing of the sort — that they were made only to help with housework and the like. A lie fit for a child. Because a magical puppet is an obscenely expensive luxury. The money that goes into making a single one would hire a housekeeper for life and still leave change. Who would believe it was made to do ordinary work?
"If you'd gone to the gambling dens, or drowned yourself in drink, I would have tried to understand! But a magical puppet? Aren't you ashamed before your colleagues — and your wife!?"
Emotion seemed to surge up in her, and she shouted, lashing at my master. Once she had shown her true feelings and snapped at him, he looked flustered and made his excuse.
"That one... wasn't made for that sort of use. Calm down."
Well. The purpose for which my master had made me was, strictly speaking, to take revenge on the enemy of his colleagues, so it wasn't entirely a lie. The words did him no good at all.
"Do you think I came here without looking into a thing? I already know exactly how thoroughly you've been at it with that doll!"
Fair enough. Under the name of revenge, my master was in fact doing filthy things to me, so in the eyes of anyone around him he looked like nothing but a pervert who had bought a magical puppet — and that was, in fact, what he was. Of course, if he told her that the contents of the doll were none other than Irok Dehaja, he might earn a very little understanding. But turning a person into a magical puppet is a grave crime on par with killing someone by magic, the sort of act for which execution would not be strange. There was no world in which he could say it.
"Even now, far from repenting, you make excuses? I don't want to hear any more! As your old friend, and as a patron of the Dragonheart Office, I will seize that disgusting doll made with the office's assets!"
Oh? Was my master about to change? If my dreary male master were replaced by a beautiful woman like her, that was something I would welcome with both arms in the air. My master, who apparently could not bear to see me pleased, cut in.
"I will never hand that doll over."
"Ha!? Why? Have you already knocked her up?"
She must have been thoroughly furious; vulgar language spilled from the mouth of an otherwise refined young lady.
"It isn't that... There's a great reason I made that one."
"What reason?"
"I don't think the two of us are close enough for me to tell you."
He cut her off in a single stroke, and Theora's face twisted with rage.
"If you like that doll so much, I'll take it from you by whatever means it takes, and have it disposed of."
"Disposed of?"
Mortal danger had come crashing in out of nowhere, and I was struck dumb. Whether I was or not, my master spoke in a calm tone.
"There were about two weeks left until the debt came due, weren't there? I'll raise the money within that time."
"Ha. Do try. I'll be going. You know what happens if you're short by even a single coin in two weeks, don't you?"
Theora was furious enough that she left without waiting for an answer, and her bodyguards hurried after her. I grumbled.
"Well. Because you had to go and say something you didn't need to, Master, it looks like my head is about to come off."
"That was the point. I could see exactly how much you were enjoying yourself, without even looking."
Truly, a master vicious beyond all compare.