The Wolf Girl (3)
"Dorothy! Try this one on next!"
"Ugh…"
In the library of Baron Manfred's castle, Clara had hauled over an armful of her own clothes and was putting them on Dorothy one after another. Not that I was watching the spectacle firsthand. I simply knew it was happening on the other side of the bookshelves.
The wolf girl refused every garment that wasn't her fur cloak or her armor. She never offered a specific reason. Still, I felt a little sorry for Clara, who came by every day determined to get something pretty onto her. And Dorothy was a girl, after all — trying on a nice dress once in a while couldn't hurt. So, as her master, I had given the order: humor Clara's request.
"See? It looks wonderful on you!"
"Uuuugh…"
Dorothy was broadcasting her displeasure at full volume, but Clara paid it no mind and kept swapping outfits.
"Don't you want to try something on too, Sophie?"
I asked the maid who had been standing nearby, grinning as she listened to the two of them.
"I-I already… before you came home, Young Master… Lady Clara already…"
"Ah."
So she wasn't a first-timer.
I was reading the dark mage's book — the one who had once controlled Dorothy. It was written in the language of the Laviart Empire, so comprehension wasn't a problem. According to whatever this System thing was, I had been granted Laviart fluency equal to my original mother tongue.
The bulk of the volume was, unsurprisingly, devoted to the Curse of the Puppet. It was the dark mage's own handiwork, after all. But since I could already command illusory beings far more powerful than any beast, I doubted I'd have much use for the curse beyond the one already binding Dorothy.
There was nothing else particularly useful in the way of curses, but the book would serve well enough as a primer on the fundamentals of dark magic. I had learned a fair amount from Maria back at the asylum, but I'd never been able to take notes there for fear of discovery, and the lessons had been a rushed crash course right up until my discharge. The method for Altering the curse on my own body was something I had figured out myself. The only dark magic I had properly mastered was the one that let me hide things in my shadow.
In this book, that spell was called Shadow Blade — so named because assassins commonly used it to conceal their weapons. Hiding inside another person's shadow was listed as Shadow Walk. That must have been the magic Maria used when she slipped into mine. Concealing the beastfolk in the forest shade had apparently been yet another spell entirely.
Plenty of other useful dark magics were recorded as well, including Dark Amplification, which the dark mage had used to strengthen his world magic. I couldn't cast world magic myself, so I wasn't sure how much good it would do me — Karl the demon-worshipper from Luke's Biography had never used it either. I had seen all these dark magics in the game, of course, but the names had been different, and the System had simply cast them for you at the press of a button. Now that that world had become reality, there was no understanding the principles without studying them like this.
"M-Master…"
I glanced sideways. Dorothy stood there in a sky-blue dress. It suited her so well she could have passed for a nobleman's daughter. But her face was screwed up tight, tears welling in her eyes. A signal that she had reached her limit, perhaps.
"Clara."
"Just two more outfits, Dorothy—"
"Uuuuuugh…"
"I think you'd better stop."
"Tch. Fine."
The instant Clara agreed, Dorothy tried to fling the dress off then and there.
"W-wait, wait! You'll tear it if you take it off like that! Come here!"
"Don't push her too hard. It's dangerous."
Clara led Dorothy back behind the bookshelves, and I added the warning out of an excess of caution. In Luke's Biography, Clara died by Dorothy's hand. There was no sign of that now — but still.
"I'm sorry, Dorothy. I got a little carried away… How about I read you a fairy tale to make up for it?"
I didn't catch Dorothy's reply, but she must not have refused. Clara's voice soon drifted over, reading a story aloud.
Dorothy couldn't read — same as the original Karl before I possessed him. But like any child, she loved fairy tales.
I had just turned my attention back to the dark mage's book when Dorothy suddenly came bolting to my side.
"What is it?"
Without a word of warning she leaned in to kiss me, so I blocked her approaching mouth with the dark mage's book. Having been on the receiving end of that once already from a certain silver-haired, crimson-eyed woman, I was quick enough to react. Sophie, who had been standing nearby, and Clara, who had followed Dorothy over, both looked stunned.
"…What are you doing?"
"…Want to break it. The curse."
"Clara. Was that in the fairy tale you just read?"
"Uh… yes. The prince breaks the sleeping princess's curse with a kiss."
You've never even read a fairy tale? A kiss is essential for breaking a beauty's curse, you know.
Maria had said something like that too. At the time I'd half-wondered if it might be true. Now I knew better. A kiss was not required to break or transfer a curse. She had clearly just been teasing me.
We will meet again. Without fail.
Useless words floated up unbidden. I shook my head to clear Maria from my thoughts and looked Dorothy in the eye.
"Dorothy. That's just a fairy tale. You can't break a curse with a kiss."
"…Can break it."
Here we go again. Arguing with a child lost in a fairy tale felt pointless — but I didn't want this girl becoming a monster consumed by delusions. Not the Dorothy from Luke's Biography, the star-chasing murderer.
I drew out the catalyst for the Curse of the Puppet: a fang threaded with a lock of Dorothy's hair.
"We don't love each other, Dorothy. I'm using you, and you're following me because I hold the catalyst. That fairy tale assumes the two people love each other."
"…"
"Do you want to break the Curse of the Lycanthrope? Is it that you don't want to live as a werewolf anymore?"
"No."
"Then why…"
"Master's curse. Want to break it. Not mine."
"…"
"Master. Suffers every night."
She had been such a pure child. How had she become what she was in Luke's Biography?
"Brother? Last time you said you were all right…"
Hearing Dorothy, Clara looked at me with worry written across her face.
"It… is better than before. I don't collapse from exhaustion before I can sleep anymore."
I had almost said "better than Karl," but with Sophie and Dorothy present that phrasing wouldn't do. So I said "before," and Clara understood.
"Even so…"
"Even so, I can't ask you to do the same thing you did before…"
"…"
To calm Karl, Clara had held his hand every night. I wasn't her real brother. I couldn't ask that of her — and she wouldn't want to do it for a man whose true identity she barely knew.
An awkward silence settled over us. I could feel Sophie fretting, unsure what to do with herself — and then:
"Karl! Karl! Are you in here?!"
Someone burst into the library calling my name. It was Baroness Manfred. Her face was deathly pale, the look of someone terrified of what she already knew.
"Mother?"
"Karl! Clara, you're here too! Quickly — to your father's study!"
"What's going on?"
"You'll see when we get there!"
"Ah… Sophie, I'm sorry, but could you take care of my clothes…?"
"Leave it to me, my lady."
Clara and I followed the Baroness to the baron's study. Dorothy trailed after me as a matter of course.
"That… damn… bald—!!"
"Father! Let me handle this!"
"My lord, please calm yourself! Brenden — restrain the young master!"
"Yeah! You noble gentlemen just sit tight! I'll do the punching — I'm just a grunt anyway!"
"Brenden!"
The study was anything but peaceful. The baron, Cain, and Brenden were all trying to throw punches at Priest Thomas, while Paulo alone struggled to hold them back.
"Ah… Father? What's going on?"
"Daughter! Look at this! This bastard summoned a Heresy Inquisitor to our territory!"
The baron thrust a letter at Clara. It bore the dove emblem of the Lumenic Church.
A Heresy Inquisitor — the Lumenic Church's strongest arm. The ones who burned every dark mage who opposed the Church to ash.
"A Heresy… Inquisitor…?"
Clara's expression hardened. Her hair lifted faintly into the air — she was drawing up her mana. Surely she wasn't about to attack Thomas with magic right here.
"Please, everyone, just settle down and hear me out to the end!"
"Settle down, my ass! My brother is about to get burned at the stake!"
"I beg your pardon? Why would I be burned at the stake?"
"Father Thomas! How could you do this to Brother Karl?!"
"Clara. Calm down."
"Heresy Inquisitors burn everything connected to dark magic! They're clearly coming because of Brother's curse!"
"I said calm down."
For all the Inquisitors' infamous reputation, they did not burn people alive simply for being connected to dark magic. The Lumenic Church itself ran asylums and at least pretended to help the cursed. There was no reason for its subordinate Heresy Inquisition to come after me just because I bore a curse. And no matter how vast a religion it was, it could not simply interfere at will in territory belonging to the Laviart Empire — even if a dark mage hostile to the Church truly were here.
They had to be coming for some other reason. Or so I thought.
"Son! The Heresy Inquisitor is coming specifically to meet you! It's written right here!"
At the baron's words, even I couldn't help but be rattled. If they were naming me personally, the only image that came to mind was the stake. The Manfred family turned even more murderous eyes on Thomas. I fixed him with a hard stare of my own.
Thomas waved his hands frantically and shouted for all he was worth.
"It's not like that! Please just listen! The ones coming here are the Inquisition's Special Task Force! They're different from ordinary Inquisitors! It's a unit made up entirely of people who bear curses!"