The Edge of Night

Magic Offense & Defense—M.O.D., as everyone shortened it—was a required course at Caypol Municipal Magic School from the third year on, once a student could be said to have grasped the basics of magic. A practical class that had to be taken every semester from third year through graduation, it was no exaggeration to call it the single most important subject they faced.

The lessons were held in Björn Arena, the open-roofed, semicircular hall built for nothing but duels. There, student fought student while the instructors in charge watched every exchange and marked it.

Skadi and Hervena, come for the class as usual, had taken seats just behind their instructor, Arhudin. They had chosen the spot because it was a blind angle—unnoticed unless a teacher went out of his way to turn around. Beside Hervena, bent over an assignment, Skadi looked down at the arena with a bored face.

"They've scripted it again. Fire, then water, and if someone flies, they chase."

"All of them?"

"Yeah. Not a scrap of fun in it."

"If you want the points, then... I'm telling you, do the assignment like I do."

"Since when do you do homework during class?"

"Could you keep it down? I've got a mountain of research. What am I supposed to do?"

"You do personal research on top of all that, don't you? Sometimes I look at you and swear you've got about eight bodies."

The mere thought turned Skadi's stomach. She shook her head—and then the lower years caught her eye, cheering from the seats nearest the floor.

"Look at the first- and second-years. Eyes all sparkling."

"That's when even basic magic is a wonder."

"It isn't even their class. Why come watch? They could be lying down asleep."

"You were the same in first year."

"I don't remember that."

Something in it stung. Skadi looked away. She, too, had haunted the duel classes without fail.

"Nothing fresh coming out?"

"Showing off as many spells as you can and leaving an impression is what pays."

"It was more fun back when Blow was here. That guy really would pick just anyone."

"He did."

At his name, the hand working Hervena's assignment stopped.

"Didn't Blow call out Rebecca and Senior Yulia once, back then?"

"Mm. He probably picked Rebecca because she looked like she had no manners."

"How many minutes did he last against Rebecca?"

"Minutes? He was frozen solid in under thirty seconds."

"That girl, honestly... She's incredible when you watch her. Wasn't the reaction explosive? Redfrin even wrote a piece—The Frozen Scoundrel."

"Right. I remember."

"His win rate was pretty good, wasn't it?"

"...Aside from Rebecca and Senior Yulia, I don't think that man lost a duel. Though calling it magic was a stretch."

"Haha, true. It felt like he was just sprinting his guts out."

Hervena, dragged along by Skadi to audit back then, smiled as the memory rose.

"That only works in third year."

"Listen to you. Anyone would think you came up through third year yourself."

"I do wonder if I even needed to. The subjects are almost the same."

"And thanks to that, you're dying right now."

"It doesn't feel like twice as hard. More like three times. Haah, fuck. I should've just gone through third year and come up..."

"You still have to claim the title of youngest graduate. Future archmage."

Hervena's face tightened under the weight of it. Something occurred to Skadi, and she asked, lightly.

"Come to think of it—Hervena, did you finish M.O.D. for this semester?"

"Yeah. First week."

"Ah. So that was the match with Rebecca."

"Rebecca, and that retainer of hers—what was her name? Filthy temper. I hadn't even meant to fight that one."

"You mean Danvers? If we're talking no manners, she's the only one."

"Right. Gray-hair, and Blasse. Those three."

"But seriously, why did that Blasse say he picked you?"

"No idea. Greig probably told him to. Greig treats that bastard like a complete lackey."

The thought alone turned Hervena's stomach, and she shook her head. At that, Skadi shifted her gaze to the right side of the arena. Greig and his pack sat there, sneering as they watched the two of them. Other students glanced at Hervena now and then as well—expectation, aimed at the girl who held the title of top of her year.

"You know they're all quietly waiting on you."

"Waiting for what."

"They want to see you duel."

"If they want their scores to drop, tell them to pick me. Though I'd rather it wasn't today. Pick me today and I really will make sure they can't cast a single spell."

"Isn't that a bit much? Still, having to step up once you're named—that's the charm of M.O.D."

"If anyone names me this time, I might actually break my own bones."

"So they can't name you?"

"The injured can't be named. That's the rule."

Skadi felt a chill at how dryly she said it. Then the eyes that had been on the arena went wide.

"Oh, perfect timing. The one our Hervena can't stand. And that face... he looks like he's about to pick you..."

"Words become seeds. Stop there."

The one who had climbed onto the floor was none other than Blasse Latour, sixth among the fourth-years, who had been sitting with Greig. The oily smile on his face stopped dead on Hervena.

"Hervena Westriver!"

Her name alone threw the stands into an uproar.

"Whoa, Blasse!"

"Blasse! Blasse!"

On one side, cheers for his recklessness.

"Can Blasse pull it off?"

"Blasse's grades have been good lately!! Hasn't he won seven in a row?"

"Hey, even seven in a row... Hervena's a bit..."

On the other, worried murmurs spilled out.

At the call, Hervena stopped the hand on her work and spat a curse low enough that only Skadi, beside her, could hear.

"Ha. Why does that bastard have to make people's lives miserable."

"I didn't think the seed would sprout on the spot..."

Suddenly sorry, Skadi stole a glance at her face. Named, there was nothing for it but to go. Hervena stood.

"I'm going to make sure no one can call me out again. Anyone."

"Because of the assignment?"

"Yeah."

With that she rose on flight magic and landed lightly in the arena.

"Big sister Hervena!!"

The cheer burst from the commoner girls among the lower years. A girl who did not yield even to nobles was, to them, a perfect idol. She answered them and stepped down onto the floor, and Professor Arhudin began to drone through the rules. There was no restriction on the kind of magic. The duel ended when one side declared defeat, collapsed or otherwise became unable to continue, or when the instructor in charge called a halt. Most of the students had the speech memorized and then some.

When the explanation ended, Hervena sighed and asked Blasse,

"Why are you being such a pain? Did Greig put you up to this?"

"I want to know how much the gap between us has closed since the start of the semester."

The tone was greasy. Hervena's eyes met Greig's where he sat watching her—Greig, wearing a sly smile meant for her alone. She wanted to give him the middle finger, but she thought of her attitude score and swallowed it.

"That you have to fight me to find that out... I find it rather pitiful."

"You only know once you try, don't you?"

"Oh? Then start."

She spoke with her arms folded, in the tone of an order. A vein stood out at Blasse's temple.

"That's too much! This is a duel—show some courtesy, Hervena!"

"If that's what you mean, I'm always doing my very best."

"You..."

A moment later a sparrow-shaped spirit appeared behind him, and in his right hand a navy magic circle bloomed, the same color as his hair.

"Here—take this! What I've been designing for a month!!"

The instant the complex circle formed, wind began to blow from the arena toward the stands, and the spectators started to murmur, interested.

"This? I never saw this even during Blasse's winning streak."

"Was he saving it for now?"

The stir only made him look more triumphant. Hervena showed not a flicker of unease.

In the reverse order of its making, his circle was stained violet and crumbled away.

"Th-this is..."

Faced with a sight he could not believe even as he watched it, Latour despaired and stepped back without meaning to. Every spectator—including Rebecca, who had been top of the year before Hervena skipped ahead—had gone stiff as stone.

There was a reason every kind of magic was permitted in a duel. The instructors in charge could cancel a spell in reverse, just as Hervena had done. Put the other way, canceling magic was possible only when the gap was that wide—and Hervena, only just past sixteen, already stood at a level that could match the teachers.

The instructors watching were still too stunned to hide it when Blasse shouted, his voice thick with rage.

"I'll land one hit on you somehow! Like last time...!"

"Last time?"

Hearing him, Hervena burst out laughing as if the idea were absurd.

"I was going easy on you back then..."

"Don't make me laugh!"

Magic circles rose again in both his hands. He was forcing it; capillaries burst in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his eyes. Hervena did not wait for his magic. Every time a circle formed, it was stained violet and vanished.

"No, this... this is... too much."

"I've got far too much mana left."

She stepped lightly up to him and whispered in his ear without mercy.

"Keep going, you worthless bastard."

As his face flooded with humiliation, cheers erupted from the lower-year seats.

"Waaa, Big sister Hervena!!"

"Senior!!"

But from the seats where the upper years had gathered—those who felt the gap with her all too sharply—sighs leaked out on their own.

"A real demon. A demon."

"Didn't even summon a spirit. Just stamped him flat."

"And Blasse is still pretty high in the ranks..."

Hearing them, Skadi scratched her head, embarrassed on Hervena's behalf.

"Haha, that girl... she could ease up a little."

After that Blasse heaved rough breaths and cast again and again, but just as Hervena had declared, not one of his circles was ever properly summoned. His spirit hid behind him in terror, and navy light began to trace itself over his white skin as if veins were rising to the surface. His mana was running wild. As ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a mage, he stood at the brink of his limit.

"Enough."

Only then did Arhudin come down, point at Hervena, and declare it.

"Hervena. Victory."

She did not particularly enjoy it. Going down from the arena, she waved once at the lower-year seats reaching toward her, then returned to Skadi's side.

"Good work."

"What work. I didn't even draw all my mana."

"Hey, you could've given him something."

"I hate wasting time."

Then she put her face straight and went back to the assignment. Skadi looked from her to Greig, far off, and asked, casually.

"Well, that aside—have you decided?"

"Decided what?"

"The election, and the house... that, too."

"I don't know. I'm busy enough with assignments. And if you're worried, please just tell your father and bring the contract. I'll sign it on the spot."

"Hmph. If you became my retainer, would you even listen to me?"

At Skadi's listless words, Hervena snorted a laugh.

"I really could do it well."

"I'd sooner not take you as a retainer—no. Anyway, don't put it off. Drag it out, and you turn people who aren't like that into something vicious."

"There's just too much already in front of me. Or, for the time I'm supposed to be thinking, want to do the assignment for me?"

"How am I supposed to do your assignment?"

"Sorry."

"...Don't admit it that easily, all right?"

With that the two looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Some time later the morning class, all four long hours of it, came to an end. One of the lower-year girls approached Hervena and held out a glass jar.

"Big sister! You were amazing!!!"

Candies of every color filled it. Hervena took the jar with ease and, uncharacteristically, wore a gentle smile.

"Thank you."

"I'm always watching from behind! Someday I'll be like you, Senior!"

She said it and fled in a patter of steps. Seeing them, Skadi tapped Hervena's shoulder.

"Must be nice."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"It's not bad."

"Obnoxious girl."

"When have I ever not been?"

"What are you eating for lunch?"

"I didn't go to Blow's last night, so I was thinking of stopping by at lunch."

"Are they even open for lunch?"

"If I show up, they'll have to open."

"Fair. You've already put in how much. Here—eat this first."

Hervena opened the jar, ate one herself, and held another out. Skadi popped a red candy, the color of her own hair, straight into her mouth.

In the midst of that the surroundings suddenly grew noisy, and papers dyed a disagreeable red—ugly things, shaped like fallen leaves—filled the air above their heads and began to fall.

"An extra from Redfrin. Wonder what insane thing she's written today."

Skadi stared at the headline as if she had forgotten how to speak. The hand with which Hervena held one of the sheets began, faintly, to tremble.

"What is this...?"

"I thought the kids were avoiding me a bit yesterday."

Their faces hardened in an instant. Then every gaze still left in the noisy Björn Arena swung toward them at once. Furious, Hervena spat curses, tore the paper in her hands to shreds, and threw it away.

That afternoon, at the restaurant renovation.

The barbarian Ornn whispered to Jane, who was levitating tiles with magic before him, just loud enough to be heard.

"The boss's face seems a little different from usual today."

"...Haha, does it?"

"Actually, yours does too, Miss Jane."

"What? Not at all!"

But dark circles had settled under Jane's eyes, and her cheeks were flushed in a way that did not match them.

"It's not... it's not... haha..."

"You didn't eat something that disagreed with you at lunch, did you?"

"No."

Ornn was tilting his head at the unusual reaction when she hesitated, then added,

"He probably had something unpleasant happen yesterday. That must be why."

"Ah. I see."

Where their eyes slid, Blow stood examining the kitchen of the restaurant-to-be with care.

Moving faster than I thought.

Jane's magic was helping more than he had expected, and the work was going quickly.

At this pace it might finish even earlier than the date we set. I need the restaurant menu, a trip to the monastery, and the potion shop can't look empty, so the stock has to be filled out...

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Whenever his thoughts tried to deepen, yesterday's talk with Greig surfaced, and he could not seem to focus.

The bastard sure knows how to get under my skin.

"Boss."

He turned. Ornn was holding out a tiny cup that did not suit that enormous body at all.

"Ah, Ornn. What's this?"

"Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"Hm... Did I look that pressed?"

"No. The morning's work was quite heavy, and Mr. Hans gave out."

Just as he said, Hans lay on the floor, eyes unfocused, staring into empty air. Seeing that, Blow nodded.

"All right."

He took the cup and felt its warmth. Ornn asked, in a soft voice,

"Did something happen yesterday?"

Blow was still wondering whether he ought to answer when the barbarians beside them began thumping their chests and shouting.

"I heard!!"

"Me too—I heard it from Hans!!"

"If I run into that fat man, I'll slam him into the floor!"

"Breaking his spine the barbarian way!!"

"That works too!!"

The fierce cries of the other two. At the absurdity of it, Blow burst out laughing.

"Haha, honestly..."

"Let's skin him and make a drum!!"

"Tormenting a kind boss who pays well—he is a bad man!!"

"Bahama! Rihendel! Will you be quiet!"

Ornn tried to stop them in a rush, but Blow waved them off as if it were fine.

"No, it's all right. It's a comfort, if anything."

"So something did happen."

"There was, yesterday."

Blow's expression was hard. Ornn, who had been studying him, thought a moment, then spoke.

"What would you say to delaying the opening a little?"

"Hm?"

"You were planning to open the restaurant right away, weren't you?"

"I was. I meant to fix the date within a few days and open inside a week."

"What if you pushed the date back a little and opened it together with the potion shop?"

Grasping what he meant, Blow gave a bitter smile.

"I must have looked short on room to breathe."

"Haha. Not at all. We're slow-handed, and there's leftover work on the kitchen side."

Knowing Ornn's nature, he had surely turned the words over hundreds of times before speaking them. Blow decided to take the advice.

"That would be better. The truth is, I've been carrying a weight."

"If the load is too heavy, even a donkey that walks well will come to a stop."

"I know what you mean. As you say, I'll hold the opening until that weight is cleared."

"Yes. With more days, we'll look everything over once more, carefully. And I'll have a look at the room upstairs where you'll sleep."

"I don't believe I ever mentioned that to you."

"It's a courtesy."

Said with a broad smile, the words left Blow genuinely grateful.

"This elderflower... the taste really is something."

"A flavor that truly suits winter, doesn't it?"

"In more ways than one."

And so they drank their tea in silence. While the winter wind circled outside and passed on, Jane, who had taken a cup along with them, was remembering what had passed between her and him the night before.

On a night with moonlight settled over it, Jane sat alone on the first floor, looking at the notebook Blow had left with her.

Only two sentences on the first page. Looking at them, she hesitated one last time. Sometimes not knowing is a mercy. But she remembered the road from Splas to Blanya, and the night sky she had seen in Blow's eyes—stars that seemed about to pour down—and at last she found the courage to turn the page.

A long while passed, and the gray of dawn began to rise. Eyes red and bloodshot, Jane climbed the stairs and stood before Blow's door. It was open, as if he had been waiting for her, and he was gazing quietly outward.

"Finished? It's dull stuff."

Jane went to him slowly and held him tight enough to burst. She had already sobbed her way through the book, and still the tears were falling from her eyes again.

"Jane..."

"You've been through so much."

"......"

"You've been through so much, Young Master."

Blow drew a breath and closed his eyes. And before he knew it, his night was coming to an end.