Dad, Who Is That Woman?
The sudden commotion ripped screams from every throat in the hall.
The window the bird had shattered was no ordinary pane that opened and closed. It was an ornate stained-glass masterpiece, thick enough to withstand storms. Yet a tiny bird had punched straight through it—something not even an eagle could manage.
Noblewomen, already reeling from the news that the World Tree Sprout had vanished, began collapsing one after another. Their figures sank into the voluminous bell of their skirts like stones dropping into water. Men rushed to support them while others craned their necks toward the ceiling, voices overlapping in a rising tide of confusion. The banquet hall descended into pure chaos.
To the guests, the spirit accompanying the small bird remained invisible.
Marguerite had not seen it either. She had only caught the familiar cry the instant the tiny bird burst into view.
Startled by the sound of breaking glass, a guard slammed her down. Her slender frame staggered, then dropped hard onto her knees.
With her head still bowed, she never saw the spirit’s true form.
The bird seemed to be circling the high ceiling again and again. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, laced with bewilderment.
“Doesn’t it look like it’s searching for something?”
“Could this be some kind of spell?”
“It might be a curse.”
“Protect His Majesty!”
The thunder of running guards and the metallic rasp of drawn weapons filled the air.
Then a voice rang out.
“Wait—there’s something sparkling back there. Behind the bird’s head!”
“Huh…”
“What is that light?”
“No way…”
“…Oh my god… That’s not a curse at all.”
Someone muttered in naked astonishment.
“Could it be… a spirit…?”
“It’s a spirit.”
“A spirit has appeared!”
“Good heavens… I’ve never been able to see them before…”
“To witness a spirit before I die—oh my god.”
Ah, of course. The spirit that came looking for Marguerite was special.
It was visible to every eye. Even those who could never see spirits before now caught the beautiful glow.
Someone shouted, “It’s the Saintess! The Saintess summoned the spirit!”
The words jolted Marguerite back to herself. Images flooded her mind—spirits swarming around Jeong So-hee, drifting close then pulling away as if seduced. The Crown Prince’s bizarre behavior. Even now, countless spirits clustered around the Saintess in exactly the same way.
Perhaps this one had been drawn by the same pull.
Not by Marguerite herself.
I hate it.
She hated that idea. She refused to accept it.
Still sprawled on the floor, Marguerite forced her head up. The guard shoved her down again the moment she moved.
That was when she heard it—pipi.
A tiny sparkle flashed above the bird still circling the ceiling.
“Ah…!”
Whether the cry came from Marguerite or someone else, she couldn’t tell. Perhaps everyone had gasped at once.
The spark that had glittered near the ceiling shot toward them like an arrow of pure light.
From a distance it looked like nothing but radiance, but the figure hurtling forward was the small white spirit Marguerite knew so well.
“Pipipipipipit!”
A sharp cry far different from its usual tone split the air.
The spirit flew straight to Marguerite’s side, clenched both tiny fists, and kicked one leg out sideways.
“Uh…”
Marguerite’s eyes widened in her awkward position. Was it about to attack her? Because of the Saintess?
Before the thought could finish, the spirit slammed into the guard beside her like a living missile.
To Marguerite it looked exactly like a kick.
“Urk!”
The guard shot upward as if struck by a hurricane, then crashed heavily to the floor.
The noisy hall fell deathly silent.
Marguerite stared at the spirit in blank amazement. How could something so small and gentle send a grown man flying like that?
“Pipipipi!”
The spirit was furious. It zipped around the unconscious guard, kicking him again and again. The blows no longer carried the same devastating force; the man didn’t even twitch. The earlier display of power already felt like an illusion.
Still the spirit kept striking him with its delicate feet—angry on her behalf, because the guard had hurt her.
“Spirit,” Marguerite whispered.
The spirit spun mid-air.
“Pii… pi…”
It flew toward her with both arms stretched out, looking for all the world like it was saying, Does it hurt? I’m sorry I was late.
Tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them.
Alone in enemy territory, fighting by herself, she had finally gained an ally. A spirit that would rage and worry for her sake.
When Marguerite reached out, the spirit flew into her palm, crying “pipi” all the while.
“Thank you for helping me, Spirit.”
“Pipipi!”
It clenched both fists as if telling her to stay strong.
Marguerite smiled through her tears.
The hall, quiet only moments before, gradually filled with noise again.
“The spirit…”
“Wasn’t the charge against her mistaken?”
“If she had truly torn off the Sprout, the spirit would never behave like this.”
The wind was shifting. The atmosphere was turning in her favor.
Marguerite rose to her feet. She smoothed her disheveled hair with a light touch, letting it fall gracefully to one side, then turned toward the king.
“Your Majesty, I am innocent. I have never once seen the three men supposedly my subordinates, and I find it highly suspicious that they are even claimed to be servants of nobles.”
With an elegant twist of her body, she continued.
“Please observe their behavior closely. Their actions are far too crude for noble servants, and from what I saw, their tongues appear to have been cut out—they could not speak properly.”
The murmurs swelled. On Marguerite’s hand the spirit tilted its head, gaze locked directly on the Saintess.
…
A cold weight settled in her chest.
No. Surely not even this spirit.
“Pipi…”
The spirit tilted its head several times as if puzzled, then fluttered slowly toward Jeong So-hee.
Eyes around the room widened.
“So the Saintess really did summon it.”
“But… then why didn’t it fly straight to her?”
Marguerite heard none of it. She watched only the spirit.
As it drew near the Saintess, the other light spirits began to withdraw. At first glance it looked like flight, but Marguerite understood it was something else entirely. The light spirits retreated with courteous, measured grace—like loyal subjects making way for their sovereign.
This spirit truly was special.
“Pipi…?”
Close now, the spirit tilted its head again. It circled Jeong So-hee, sniffing as though trying to catch a scent.
“Pi? Pi?”
Something was clearly wrong. The spirit kept cocking its head, sniffing over and over.
It seemed Jeong So-hee could see the spirit too—perhaps not merely as light but in clear, solid form. Her eyes rounded.
“Popcorn?”
“Pit?”
The spirit flapped its wings in shock.
So that was its name. The Saintess knew this spirit.
I hate this.
Marguerite’s fist tightened.
The spirit that had cried “pipi” whirled and flew straight back to her. It looked flustered.
“Pipi! Pipipipipipipi! Pipi!”
Arms outstretched, it appealed to her desperately. Every so often it pointed at the Saintess, clearly trying to tell her something about the woman. Its feelings were anything but friendly.
To others it might appear as nothing but light, but to Marguerite it looked as though the spirit was utterly confused about why that woman carried such a familiar scent.
“Spirit,” she said gently, cupping the small being in her hands.
The gesture seemed to ease its panic. The spirit—Popcorn, apparently—clutched her finger while crying “pipi.” It shook a tiny fist at Jeong So-hee in open resentment, then lifted Marguerite’s finger high as if declaring, Our child is prettier and better.
The Saintess clearly disliked how all attention had shifted to Marguerite and the spirit. In a petulant voice she snapped, “Hey, that’s Popcorn, right? Why is Popcorn a spirit? Do all the spirits here look like that? It seems kind of pathetic. Is that really a spirit?”
She added under her breath, “It looks worthless, it’s tiny, and it seems the only thing it can do is knock one person over. I don’t understand why everyone’s losing their minds.”
People’s jaws dropped.
She must have been taught what spirits are. How can she speak like that?
Whatever else one might say, spirits were indispensable to this world. Thanks to them rain fell and soil grew rich. Without spirits the continent would remain the barren wasteland it once was; only their presence had made it livable. The same was true of magic. The light they shed soaked into air and earth, allowing spells to be cast. Without them, magic would be impossible. The Spirit Stones born from their existence would vanish, rendering both weapons and everyday tools useless.
Spirits were precious beyond measure.
Above all, the Saintess herself had been summoned because of them.
How could someone like her become the Saintess…?
No one voiced it, but the thought was plain on every face. Perhaps the spirit felt the same.
Popcorn bounced on Marguerite’s palm, kicking the air toward the Saintess, then suddenly zipped right up to her nose.
“Pipi… pipipipit!”
The cry sounded unmistakably angry. It waved both arms vigorously, then darted outside in a frantic rush as though some urgent matter had suddenly arisen.
It left without so much as a proper goodbye—most unlike its usual self.
The moment the spirit vanished from sight, the High Priest’s voice rang through the hall as if he had been waiting for exactly this chance.
The Saintess is known to enrich spirits merely by her presence in this world. Ancient texts contain no record of the precise nature of her relationship with them. Her summoning was permitted by divine will; therefore all of you must refrain from disrespectful speech. The temple stands in complete support of the Saintess.
The High Priest turned toward Marguerite.
“Spirits are merciful beings. To my eyes, it appeared the spirit was even willing to forgive the one who stole the Sprout. Otherwise, how could a spirit visit an ordinary human?”
He regarded her quietly.
“Perhaps the spirit that came to the Saintess unintentionally recognized the sinner. Truly a merciful spirit indeed.”
The High Priest bowed respectfully to the king.
“Your Majesty, I can only marvel at the depth of the spirit’s mercy. Yet the laws of the spirit world and the laws of humankind are entirely separate. The temple regards the desecration of the World Tree Sprout with utmost gravity. Should this incident be brushed aside, more insolent criminals will surely follow. The temple therefore requests Your Majesty’s wise and severe judgment.”
He had clearly decided it was unwise to prolong the scene any further.
The king silenced the crowd, then spoke with solemn gravity.
“The crime of damaging the World Tree merits beheading. However, to execute one who has received a spirit’s mercy would defy the will of heaven. I therefore decree that the sinner Marguerite shall be sent to the Frontier.”
Having delivered his verdict, the king left the hall in haste.
Jeong So-hee looked as though she wanted to speak, but the attendants hurried her along. She had no choice but to withdraw with the Crown Prince.
The once-silent banquet hall erupted into fresh uproar.
Above the noise, a bird’s cry—many times louder than human voices—echoed from the ceiling. For some reason the small bird continued circling overhead.
I have no idea what just happened. This is something I have to ask Dad about right now!
Popcorn can't understand any of this! Popcorn has to ask Dad immediately!
“Pipipi! Pipi!”
Dad! Who is that woman? Why does she smell like Dad?
Of course Dad isn't visible yet. The house is still so far away.