A New Piercing
A witch's poison is colorless and odorless.
Witches strike with their signature arts—the Charm Witch, the Charcoal Witch, and so on. When they feel their lives truly threatened, they unleash a poison poured full of their own magic. And that poison snatches a human life away with terrifying speed.
Tokamillan must have known, the instant Jeffbery's revolver leveled at him, that the shot would land. Jeffbery was that skilled. So he had reflexively fired a poisoned round and tried to break free.
I sucked the poison from the wound in a frenzy.
It wasn't some grand decision. I simply didn't want to watch Jeffbery die. I was only a reader who'd possessed a character in a novel—someone destined to die by Dwight's hand sooner or later anyway. It was a shame I wouldn't get to see Dwight and Jeffbery end up together. But maybe once I was gone, the two of them would work out just fine.
Thinking those thoughts, I kept drawing the poison out.
Tokamillan's poison had no form, so there was nothing to spit. My tongue grew stiff. My consciousness turned hazy. My throat swelled, and shocks tore through my skull at random.
Is this how I die?
Better than having my limbs hacked off by Dwight, I thought with a hollow little shrug, and closed my eyes.
Tireina examined the brand etched into her Achilles tendon from every angle.
For the past hour, the light that should have been blinking had gone still. That light was linked to Double Crown's eyes—like a black-box recording indicator—and it flickered every time he was watching her. It was set to blink automatically while he slept. But now it wasn't moving at all.
"Did he die some pathetic death somewhere? Whatever. Free win for me!"
Tireina skipped into the Ant Cave's famous hop bar with a light step.
The bartender polishing a glass froze, his pupils going wide at the sight of her.
"Still the same as ever, Uncle."
"Don't call me that."
He hurriedly set the dish down, braced his arms on the counter, and leaned toward her.
"I heard you broke out of prison, kid. Didn't think you'd be free enough to stroll all the way here."
"Free? Are you kidding? I got snagged by Double Crown of all people. He's working me to death."
Tireina perched on a bar stool and pouted.
"The usual!"
"You're full of it."
Bartender Person snorted and set out a non-alcoholic cocktail.
"Aw, what? That's so mean!"
Person grinned and gave her a fond pat.
"Think about your health. Witches fresh out of prison who go on a bender tend to drop dead in one go."
Tireina wrinkled her nose and tipped the glass back, resigned.
"I heard that guy shows witches no mercy. Still let you live, though."
"No mercy?"
"Hasn't spared a single witch so far, far as I know. Five years back he let a few live, but they were all washed-up has-beens. Active witches like you? Zero compassion. So why'd he spare you?"
Person said it like he was fretting over some hidden conspiracy.
Tireina tossed out a joke to ease his worry.
"Well… because I'm pretty?"
The bartender threw his head back and laughed.
"Look at that—the little snot-nosed kid all grown up. Our Tireina is pretty, all right."
Even through her banter, Person stayed earnest.
"Ugh, what? You're no fun."
Her nose stinging, Tireina turned her head as if surveying the room and took a sip of the cocktail.
Three years since she'd gone to prison trying to save Person—the man who'd raised her like a father. Their reunion after three years was no different from usual, and warm.
Tireina adjusted her collar, crossed her legs, and looked down at the brand again. Still no light.
"What the hell… It's bugging me!"
She muttered it without meaning to.
"Anyway, if you broke out, you should've gone to Igna Sunset Town instead of the Ant Cave. I hear the witches took over the whole place and built a massive city. You always said you were sick of it here."
Person needled her with words he didn't mean.
"I've got something to find."
Person waved a hand as if to say, figures.
"Don't tell me you're thinking of getting the Cleans back? The gang bosses are already out for blood over that thing. Give it up. It's too dangerous."
"I don't have a choice. That's the reason Double Crown let me live."
"That bastard."
Tireina downed the cocktail in one shot and sucked on the glass with a satisfied smack.
"Sex… now THIS is the stuff!"
"Listen to that mouth. What the hell did they feed you in prison that you're going crazy over one drink?"
"Just… stuff I hate. The bland crap."
The hardships she glossed over were more than Person could bear to imagine; a heavy feeling settled in his chest.
He came around the bar, crouched down, and took hold of Tireina's ankle. Looking at the brand carved into her Achilles tendon, he spoke in a trembling voice.
"What the hell… is this?"
"What do you think? My new piercing!"
Tireina said it casually and stood up.
"Ugh, this is boring. You keep dragging the mood down, Uncle. Forget it—I'm out."
"Tireina."
Still on both knees, eyes locked on her brand, Person said:
"But this bastard looks like he's dead!"
Tireina looked down at the brand.
It had gone beyond losing its light—it had turned black.
Jeffbery slowly opened her eyes.
The light from the high ceiling was dazzling; she closed them again, then opened them, and the room gradually came into focus.
"Nngh."
With a soft groan, she tried to sit up. A heavy pressure was pinning her down. She looked.
There was Double Crown, face deathly pale, collapsed with his face against her stomach.
"Double Crown!"
Jeffbery's eyes darted between her torn blouse, the wound on her shoulder, and Double Crown's lips—blue and rigid.
Bang!
Only then did the memory hit her—she'd been shot by Tokamillan's round.
"No!"
Grasping the situation, Jeffbery's lips trembled. She shook Double Crown in a frantic panic, then the tears began to fall.
"How… Double Crown…! Hic… hic."
After a moment to collect herself, Jeffbery placed a call through her crystal orb.
Brrrt…
"What seems to be the matter?"
"Can you come here right away?"
"Where are you?"
"I'll send the coordinates. The patient is dying."
Jeffbery was half out of her mind. She'd dragged him into Tokamillan's mess because of her. The thought that he'd sucked that deadly poison out with his bare mouth to save her was unbearable.
"Double Crown… Double Crown!"
She slapped his face, pressed her cheek to his, but he gave no response at all. Jeffbery lifted him with telekinesis and laid him on the sofa.
A short while later, Doctor Breton arrived.
"What happened?"
"I got hit by a witch's round. There must have been poison in it. He sucked it out with his bare mouth… hic… hic."
Breton took Double Crown's pulse and pressed various pressure points.
"It's already too late. More than half his body is undergoing necrosis."
"You're lying…"
Tears fell endlessly from Jeffbery's eyes.
"No… no."
"There's only one method left."
"What is it?"
Jeffbery looked up at Breton as if she would do anything.
"We freeze him in his current state so it doesn't progress any further."
"Th-that's…"
It was the same method used when Dwight had been carried in, near death, after defeating the Four Seasons Witch. Jeffbery's lips trembled. Could she endure going through that again? What if Double Crown woke up and resented her, hated her, the way Dwight had? Thoughts whirled through her mind.
But…
She absolutely could not let Double Crown go like this.
Jeffbery squeezed her eyes shut and said:
"Do it."
"Are you certain?"
Breton confirmed again with a grave expression.
With a stricken face, Jeffbery answered:
"Yes."
"Then… we begin."
Breton began chanting a spell.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
In an instant, layer upon layer of ice began wrapping Double Crown's body. Like bandages winding tight, a membrane of frost spread over him, growing harder and harder until it became a transparent coffin.
Leaving the hop bar, Tireina walked the night streets, still staring down at the extinguished brand.
She hadn't entirely hated that blinking light. The first time she'd seen him, that self-assured expression and presence had been pretty charming. She'd really thought he was going to kill her—being spared had been surprising enough. On top of that, he'd known she was the original owner of the Cleans.
As a child, her parents had died in the power struggle between the Ant Cave's two major gangs, and the Cleans had been torn from her. After that, the Cleans became an artifact the gang-boss witches scrambled over, stoking the fights among them. A witch born with the mystery they all so desperately wanted—that was her. Not many people knew that fact.
But Double Crown knowing it was strange, and telling her to come find him was unexpected too. It was as good as saying he believed she could recover it. Something even she herself had given up on.
From that moment on, Double Crown had claimed a fairly large share of her heart. The thought that he was always watching her made her unconsciously mindful of her every move, too. Not that she'd ever let it show—she was a claimed woman now, after all.
But… he was dead? For real?
The feeling was strange.
Could it be… a witch got him?
If so, there was only one cause of death.
Witch's poison.
Tireina's steps quickened.
By the time she cleared the alley, she was already running.