Parting

The melted tanghulu had been beyond saving, so I'd been forced to burn it using Fireball's spell formula.

It couldn't be helped. If I'd left that molten sugar mess sitting on the street, every insect within a mile would have come crawling. Tanghulu was pure sugar — abandoning it in public was a recipe for disaster. Beggars would swarm in to lick the pavement, flies would descend in clouds, and then the guards would show up. And odds were good they'd start asking exactly who it was that dumped tanghulu on the street.

Such were my thoughts as I headed back to the tanghulu stall.

"Haah..."

This was why medieval people were hopeless. Always scheming to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rip somebody off. It was the reason half the forum was perpetually ranting about middleman scams. Honestly, whether it was back on Earth or here in another world, gouging the customer was basically the law of the land.

So I tossed out the charred, crispy remains of my tanghulu, went back to the stall, and bought a fresh batch.

"I'm home..."

Frankly, I wasn't in the mood to study today, but I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couldn't exactly say that. Saying "I got backstabbed again today and I'm mad about it" was a guaranteed way to get scolded, so I kept it to myself, climbed to the third floor, and knocked on the door.

—Come in.

The moment I got permission, I opened the door — and there was Sylvia, looking absolutely exhausted. I had no idea dimensional magic was so difficult that it would wear her down like this. Difficult, sure, that much I understood — but I couldn't even imagine how difficult.

Still thinking about it, I held out the tanghulu I'd been carrying.

"Mm. Tasty."

And there she was, eating it with a blissful expression on her face — until she remembered I was standing right there and hurriedly composed herself.

I'd already seen everything, you know.

She seemed to have a surprisingly clumsy streak in her. When I'd first met her, I never would have guessed she had this careless side to her. The longer I spent around Sylvia, the more I noticed it — and with that thought, I took my seat beside her and started my studies.

And just like that, a month went by.

I hadn't accomplished much in that month. I studied, goofed off on the gallery in between sessions, and whenever Sylvia sent me on errands, I'd head into town and bring back snacks and provisions. That was my life, day in and day out.

Until, one day—

Breaking news hit the gallery. The poster was someone with enormous credibility in the community.

"...Master, what do we do about this?"

A strong sense of we are thoroughly screwed washed over me. The Demon King had come back to life, out of nowhere. From what people said, reviving a Demon King required at least a hundred thousand human sacrifices — minimum. Had they actually managed to gather that many?

Which meant the only person I could put my faith in was Sylvia. One look at her and she screamed overwhelmingly powerful, didn't she?

So as I was staring at her—

"Mm... there is something I have not told you until now. Do you, by any chance, know of someone called Ashil?"

"Of course I do. That absolute nightmare of a person. Why do you ask?"

Ashil was infamous as a complete and utter piece of work. You could say she was famous for the fact that no matter how desperately people begged her for help, she never lifted a finger. I'd heard that the number of people who'd fled from under her ran into the dozens. Her personality was beyond fastidious — picky, exacting, unbearable.

But as I looked at Sylvia with those thoughts in my head, her expression turned... strange. Something like, how exactly shall I kill this person. An uneasy feeling crept over me, so I asked with a smile.

"What about Ashil?"

"That is me."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said, that is me."

The moment those words registered, my mind went completely white. Honestly, it had never once crossed my mind that Sylvia could be Ashil. I sat there dazed for a few seconds, and the instant I came back to my senses, I slammed out an apology.

"I'm so sorry. Truly, deeply sorry."

Apologizing was absolutely the right call here. If Sylvia really was Ashil, she could have burned me to a crisp right there on the spot and I'd have had nothing to say in my defense.

So after my groveling—

"Hmph. I shall let it slide this once. Do not let it happen again."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Thankfully, she'd forgiven my slip of the tongue. I resolved to watch my mouth from now on. Careless mistakes had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a way of causing very strange things to happen around here.

With that resolved, I brought the conversation around to the information on the gallery.

"So... that post that went up on the gallery. It's true. That's why I'm bringing all this up now."

"Ah... I see."

Though I honestly had no idea what she expected me to do about it. It wasn't as if there was anything I could contribute. Enemies on that level were for Archmages and Swordmasters to deal with—

"...Ah."

And in that instant, I understood.

The time had come for Sylvia and me to part ways.

While that realization was still sinking in, Sylvia gave a small chuckle and fastened something around my neck. A necklace. A crescent-moon pendant. I had no idea what it meant, so I looked up at her—

"It is a necklace that will save your life once, should you ever stand at death's door. So wear it at all times."

The reason Sylvia was giving me something like this was simple enough: she believed this Demon King's resurrection posed a real threat to the continent. Chances were good the chaos would find its way to Barukh, where I lived. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thought annoyed me a little — I'd finally landed a good job and had been resting comfortably, and now some Demon King had to up and resurrect and wreck it all.

But I couldn't let that show, so I smiled.

"Ah, don't worry about me. Take care out there — I'll be just fine."

"...Very well. Then I shall be off. Stay alive. That is not a request."

"Oh come on, have you ever once seen me do anything dangerous?"

"I suppose I have not."

And so we exchanged our farewells with smiles.

An Archmage had no choice but to obey the Emperor's command. That was the whole point of the crown patronizing Archmages in the first place — for moments exactly like this one. And refusing meant risking execution for treason. Not that anyone short of the Emperor himself could actually issue orders to an Archmage.

As I turned all this over in my head, Sylvia looked at me steadily for a long moment, then pressed something into my hand. A pouch, about the right size — the kind that could hold a stack of books or so.

"It is a Subspace Pouch. Do not lose it. It is expensive."

"Ah — yes, ma'am."

She didn't need to tell me. I knew exactly how expensive a Subspace Pouch was. Making subspace accessible to someone who wasn't even a mage — do you have any idea what kind of object that required? Well, I was a mage, technically, but my command of magic hadn't risen to the level where I could open subspace myself. That was a privilege reserved for those one step below Archmage and above.

Still — the fact that she was handing over something this precious made it feel real. She was really leaving.

And the moment I thought that, it stopped feeling real at all. Sylvia, actually leaving. After a month together, I'd grown attached, and letting her go stung.

"Then I shall be on my way. Live well."

"...Goodbye, Master."

There was nothing I could do to stop it. An Archmage was a critically important asset on any battlefield. A call-up beyond anyone's power to refuse.

As I stood there thinking it, Sylvia patted my head once — and then vanished before my eyes. Teleportation, most likely. And just like that, the loneliness of being left behind settled over me again.

The scar on my head — the one the guards had given me long ago — seemed to throb all over again. Sitting with that old ache, I pulled myself together.

"It's a shame to just abandon this place."

A few days earlier, Sylvia had told me: if anything seemed about to happen at the estate while she was away, leave the house and go into Barukh District 3. At the time I hadn't understood what she meant — but clearly, she had known something was coming.

"Sigh."

With a long breath, I packed up my things. Around my neck, the crescent-moon pendant. On my finger, a crudely made ring. At my hip, the Subspace Pouch.

The time had come to leave this estate I'd grown so fond of. I ate bread and soup one last time, and then I walked out.