The Talisman Witch
Is she out of her mind?
I stared in blank disbelief at Tireina, casually smoking a cigarette less than a meter from the prison walls.
A moment later, the situation finally clicked.
Tireina was cloaked in layer upon layer of magical barriers. To any passerby, she would look like nothing more than a rough little girl smoking in an empty lot. The full-body tattoos and opal eyes from her wanted posters were completely concealed.
"Got a light?"
I strolled over to her without a care in the world.
Tireina froze, shot me a sidelong glance—then flung her cigarette aside and bolted.
Thud-thud-thud-thud.
I followed at a leisurely pace. I had already laid magic circles along every escape route. In other words, I had essentially coated the ground with glue—every step she took snared her in another barrier.
After only a few strides, I smirked down at the thrashing Tireina.
"You can run yourself sweaty, but you're still in the palm of my hand. Tireina!"
Only then did she drop the disguise. Mystical opal eyes glared up at me. Pink-tinged brown bob. A rough-textured outer coat that looked like a field jacket—a medieval-style biker through and through. Below her miniskirt, bare feet hung empty where her Achilles tendons had been severed.
Looking at those bloodied feet, I said,
"You couldn't even slap on one of your half-assed talismans?"
"What are you planning to do with me?"
Well… I'll have to figure that out from here. How best to put you to use.
Tireina rolled her opal eyes and curved her lips into a sly smile.
"If you pretend you never saw me, I'll do whatever you say. Please—just don't send me back in there."
I snorted a laugh.
"Tireina, what do you think a villain is?"
"Well… unpredictable sons of bitches, right?"
"Wrong!"
I cut her off short and smiled, cold and thin.
"They're the kind of people who do the exact opposite of whatever you ask. So you're going right back in."
"Fuck—next time I get out, I'm coming for you first."
"Such a pretty young lady, and such a filthy mouth."
I freed her feet from the barrier, bent her arms behind her back, and locked transparent hooks under her armpits. It was gear I used often when capturing witches without killing them—a mana field radiated from the hooks and left them completely powerless.
Tireina trembled, but her mouth kept running.
"Wait. Villain oppa. Word is you're pretty skilled—won't you at least hear my offer?"
Click.
I ignored her and fastened the first lock on the hooks.
"I owe your girlfriend a little something, you know. That's why I came out—to pay it back."
"Shut it."
I secured the second lock and slung the hook's tether over my shoulder. Tireina bobbed along behind me like a balloon on a string.
As I walked along the walls of Buryuhtan toward the entrance, she chattered without pause.
"I'll hand over some really good talismans. I won't touch your girlfriend either. Can't you just let me go…? Hunting a small-fry witch like me won't even get you an artifact. Better to keep me alive and use me as a slave. That place is—it's just too horrible!"
Tireina was babbling so frantically she barely seemed to know what she was saying.
"At first, yeah, I was going to track down that bitch Jeffbery. But not anymore. You know how it is, Crown oppa—witches are fickle. Me, I'm the type to just coolly forget and spend my life getting high. How about showing a little compassion?"
"…"
"What about me? Aren't I cute? The male witches in prison go crazy when they see me. Don't you think it'd be a total waste to just lock me up nicely in there after catching me like this?"
"…"
"Fine. Fine… Just tell me what you want. You came all the way out here for a reason, right?"
Only then did I turn to look at her. I settled onto a roadside bench at my leisure, tugging and slackening the tether like a balloon string, toying with her.
"Hmm? What is it you want?"
"Where's the Cleans?"
"Is that all? How would I know? Even among witches, everyone's desperate to find that thing."
I narrowed my eyes and started to rise.
"Wait! What's the rush? Hold on. Now that I think about it… I might actually be able to track it down."
Tireina rolled her eyes and floated a few talismans into the air.
"There are a few places that seem suspicious. Spots that get passed around by word of mouth among witches. The Cleans is popular with the drug-using crowd, so it trades for ridiculous prices… If we dig through a few of the Ant Caves, it might turn up."
"Find it and bring it."
"Sure. I'll bring it, no problem. Now will you take these off?"
I unlocked the hooks—and in their place, branded a mark where her Achilles tendons had been. A tracking device, of sorts. I fashioned a pair of soft boots for her feet, then fully released her restraints.
Tireina swept her bob aside and looked down at the boots from every angle.
"Crown oppa's secretly a tsundere!"
"Don't get cute with me. You've got exactly one month. Put the Cleans in front of me by then—or I stuff you right back in here."
Tireina smiled, sultry.
"And if I bring it?"
"I'll promote you from slave to maid."
"A very villainous offer. But what I want is something else. When I bring the Cleans, I'll tell you then."
With a shrewd little smile, she gave my shoulder a light shove.
Unbelievable.
I shot her a look that said Why are you still standing here?—and only then did Tireina take off running, full of glee.
Emergency Response Committee Temporary Camp.
Inside a tent, Chairman Greighton was delivering a full lecture to his three department heads.
"Nothing changes just because headquarters is gone. Bear this in mind: we will continue to investigate villains without compromise. And to that end—what's the first thing we need to do?"
First Department Head Dren answered.
"Entertain the mages…?"
He was immediately kicked in the shin.
"Have you lost your mind? Entertainment—from an organization as transparent as ours? What era are you living in? Second Department Head, you try."
Second Department Head Michael spoke carefully.
"First… update the villain registry, and—"
"And?"
Michael's lips worked for a moment before he continued.
"Arrest the top-tier threat: Double Crown."
"Is that even possible?"
At Greighton's words, Michael shrank at once and answered in a mosquito-thin voice.
"We… have to make it possible, don't we?"
Greighton clapped Michael's shoulder with clear satisfaction.
"The world's gone to pot—people can't even tell villains from heroes anymore. Double Crown struts around like he's some kind of champion, doing whatever he pleases. How are we supposed to maintain public order like this? There's a reason the mages have all gone into seclusion."
"Your words are absolute truth, sir."
Greighton spoke with grave authority.
"Find any leverage you can and put Double Crown away. Keep it quiet."
"Yes, sir!"
The three department heads answered in crisp, drilled unison.
Greighton walked over to Third Department Head Schlang and yanked his necktie tight.
"Third Department Head, seems like you've been treating company life a little casually lately?"
"What do you mean, sir? I'm running at the absolute peak of intensity."
"Then why do your results look like that?"
Schlang's face crumpled at once as he asked,
"Is there something you'd like me to do?"
"The Jeffbery escort detail…"
"Yes, sir. I've been carrying it out diligently, just as ordered."
Greighton continued.
"Jeffbery is so busy playing house with Double Crown she's forgotten she's a mage and is making a spectacle of herself—and you're just going to sit there and watch? The escort is a cover. You people have your own work to do. Am I wrong?"
"I'll correct it immediately, Chairman."
Schlang's face had gone bone-white as he blurted the words.
"Double Crown seems to think last time's railroad stunt washed all his sins clean. This is our chance. Do it right."
"Understood, Chairman!"
Jeffbery climbed into the carriage waiting in front of the mansion.
Third Department Head Schlang greeted her with a smile.
"Jeffbery. Welcome."
"Have you been waiting long?"
"Waiting? Hardly. It's all for your protection."
"I'm always grateful."
Inside the swaying carriage, Jeffbery rolled a crystal orb between her fingers, texting back and forth with Double Crown.
Schlang snuck a glance at the contents—and nearly choked. First came a parade of adorable emoticons, then a barrage of gushing exclamations, all capped with short, clipped little closings.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Reply after reply stacked up. Schlang craned his lips and peeked—then recoiled in pure shock. Every answer was short, yet each one contained a word that made his eyes bulge.
"Is something wrong?"
Jeffbery looked up from her messages with a bright smile. Schlang jerked his gaze away.
"Ah—no, nothing."
Ding!
Another message arrived. Schlang checked it from the corner of his eye, cleared his throat, and stared hard out the window.
Jeffbery's fingers began flying across the orb once more.
Inside the speech bubble, the following was written: