South and North
"To start with the conclusion, the permit came through. The experiment will be split into a first and a second phase, on the condition that Lady Lisleia must take part from the second phase on."
"How are the first and second phases distinguished?"
"Put simply, the second phase is the real experiment—drawing out the Spirit of Space—and the first is the stage that prepares for it."
Blow nodded, cleared his throat, and asked.
"So the part that hurts beyond belief starts with the second phase?"
"If by 'beyond belief' you mean the conditions for extracting the Spirit of Space, then yes."
"Has a schedule been set? I'd rather know ahead of time."
"The first experiment will be held once these exams are over. Judging by the reply from the Imperial Palace, the second is to begin on December third at the earliest, and December seventh at the latest."
"Is there a reason they're putting the second experiment off that far?"
"If I were to guess..."
Mnevoir said it as she picked up a coffee cup that had, at some point, been filled again.
"Most likely because His Highness the Prince, the current student council president, should be able to return to the Imperial Capital once December comes. That's my guess, at any rate."
"True. The sixth-years drop out for practicums and graduation exams."
"It isn't certain. It's only an inference, since the Prince came up at the last meeting as well. Works out nicely enough. It'll take time for my master to arrive anyway."
She drank her coffee, and a short quiet followed. Blow, who had been turning something over, asked on the off chance.
"Professor. What happens if Lady Lisleia doesn't come by then? If she meets with an accident on the way."
"An accident? Master, in an accident... I can't even picture it. She will come. Don't worry about that."
"I'm still curious. There's always a one-in-a-million chance."
Blow considered it basic to assume the worst.
If the worst was the Spirit of Space inside him running wild so that he never came back, then being unable to run the experiment at all sat somewhere just beneath that.
Hearing him, Mnevoir let a beat pass, then answered in a voice that had dropped a little.
"If that happened, you'd probably be sent to the Imperial Magic Bureau."
"Oh. That's a little frightening."
"I'd be going with you."
"Really?"
"Yes. If it came to that, it would mean I had deceived them."
"But then, rather than simply waiting, couldn't the Imperial Magic Bureau contact Lady Lisleia on its own?"
"She wouldn't take it."
"Why not?"
"Because she's allowed not to."
Mnevoir answered as if it were obvious. Blow drew a finger along his chin, let out a short laugh, and said,
"Professor? I think I might be a little nervous."
"You don't look it at all."
"Well. You're not wrong."
"You... you've got quite a lot of nerve, Blow Deblique."
"It's not as if I'm dying tomorrow."
Mnevoir shook her head with the look of someone who had given up on him.
Seeing her face, Blow decided to tell her what he had been thinking ever since Herbena first told him about this.
"Professor, if I had a suggestion about the experiment, would you hear it?"
"By all means."
"I'd rather you didn't test it on your own body first."
A stretch of silence followed, and Mnevoir's gaze, which had been on the report, moved to him.
"Why?"
"The aim of your experiment is to find an approximation of a suspended state, isn't it?"
"Yes. Most likely."
"Put bluntly, you haven't made a contract with the Spirit of Space."
"...That's true."
"I don't think you need to go that far. It's my problem, isn't it? Whether it's the Spirit of Space or the White Sphere, it has to do with me."
"......."
"I'm truly grateful that you considered my position first, but no matter how I turn it over, I'd be more at ease that way."
Every trace of her earlier teasing was gone. Mnevoir studied Blow as he spoke, carefully.
Until now she had thought him simply lucky.
Skadi and Herbena had both been genuinely, deeply worried for him.
That day the two of them had shown a swell of feeling far greater than she had expected, and she had been quite startled by it.
Especially Skadi, who usually wore nothing but that slippery, never-quite-serious face, snarling that she would kill every last one of them.
But talking with Blow now, Mnevoir found she could understand the two of them, if only a little.
Because he was speaking of this experiment as if it were someone else's affair—dry, and utterly unbothered.
Even though carrying something unknown in one's body could, looked at one way, feel unsettling. Even unfortunate.
And she had been the one in charge of the spirit class and the ritual.
Even if he shouted that everything now was her fault, she had thought she would simply have to accept it.
Which meant Mnevoir felt she owed a debt to Blow Deblique.
So last night she had spent a long time arguing it out with her assistant.
The argument had been about how to persuade him if he proved reluctant about the experiment, or refused it outright.
But that had been a truly useless worry.
From the start he had spoken lightly and brightly, as if to put her at ease, and gravely when gravity was called for.
Once her thoughts reached that far, Mnevoir sighed inwardly with relief at the good fortune of it, and was able to answer him in an easy tone.
"It's a question of optimization. More samples are better."
"...Professor."
"Say it like that, and my assistant ends up in a bind, you know?"
"What do you mean...?"
"My assistant means to write a paper on a mage's bodily responses when the counterbalance is switched off. More samples would be better, wouldn't they?"
"Professor!"
The assistant, who had been listening from across the room, shot up from her seat and shouted.
Blow burst out laughing at the sight of her, brows pinched tight, and gave her a shrug.
"You haven't come to an agreement yet?"
"Haven't we? I thought we settled it around yesterday."
Mnevoir drained the coffee in front of her, nodded to him, and said,
"I understand what you're saying. I've heard you well enough, so I'll think a little more about the method."
"Yes."
"I'd like us to meet regularly. When is convenient for you?"
"I run the shop mornings and evenings. After the morning service, or in the evening, would be best."
"All right. Let's say Monday afternoon for now, and discuss what comes after that later."
"Yes."
"The first experiment won't amount to much, so don't worry too much."
"Understood."
A little later Blow rose, and as he pulled on his coat he spoke as if something had just occurred to him.
"Professor."
"What?"
"We're opening our restaurant. Come by once? I'll treat you properly."
"...I will. Will you treat my assistant as well?"
"Two is fine."
"Fortunately, there's only one."
Blow gave her a short bow and stepped outside.
Watching his back, Mnevoir went over to the assistant, who was sulking over what had just been said at her expense.
The next morning, behind the Arts and Culture Hall of Capall Central Academy.
Cunsai, assigned a booth there, was looking over his spot and Blow's.
Arts students bustled past, preparing the exhibition. The place sat a fair distance from the main field, which could fairly be called the heart of the festival.
On top of that, because the booths stood behind the building, everyone had tried to avoid them, so the row was not full—gaps where teeth had fallen out.
When his thoughts reached that far, Cunsai clapped both palms against his cheeks hard enough to make a sound.
It'll be fine... it has to be...!
Then he called back the booth meeting that had been held at the inn the day before.
After class, a meeting about the festival booths had been held at the Nyx Inn.
Cunsai, Blow, Jane, and Melo were taking part, while Megan sat to one side peeling potatoes for the evening service.
Before they began, Cunsai spread a booth layout of the alley behind the Arts and Culture Hall across a conference table made of several tables pushed together, their positions marked on it.
In the middle of the long alley, circles had been drawn around two spots facing each other. Blow looked them over and nodded, satisfied.
"Oh, the booths are bigger than I thought. A little smaller than the first floor here."
"Haha. Right? The location isn't good, so they give you a large booth instead."
Deciding that wasn't bad, Blow nodded and looked at Cunsai.
And then he saw the sand clinging to the man's clothes.
Remembering the shirt and trousers that had been crisply pressed and nothing but neat, Blow's face went hard as stone.
This was not the moment to ask. He swallowed a sigh.
"You'll be selling donuts?"
"Yes. I think so."
"They were good. The sugar—you'll use brown sugar, of course?"
"Yes. Even so, I'd like to show our region's specialty at least this once."
While the two of them talked, Melo, who had been quietly listening, caught hold of Blow's clothes and asked.
"Young Master, what are weee going to dooo?"
"That's actually what I've been stuck on. I thought of just doing potatoes, and promoting the opening while we're at it."
"Wouldn't that be the safest?"
Then the inn door flew open, and every eye flicked that way for a moment.
Hans came in rubbing his hands, carrying the vegetables needed for the evening service.
"Ah, Young Master, you were in a meeting. I should have come in the back."
"It's fine. Cold out?"
"Yes, freezing. It feels colder than usual this year."
"Megan, get Hans a cup of tea at least."
"Yes. Understood. I'll pour one for everyone while I'm at it."
After that Hans stood beside Jane with both hands tucked into his armpits.
Blow watched him, the tip of his nose gone red, and quietly called up the winters of his days as Han Ji-hoo.
In winter, nothing beats oden—those steaming fish-cake skewers that warm you all the way through.
But oden was oden, and there was neither the broth nor the soy sauce that was its other half. At a loss, Blow quickly scattered the thought.
What rose in its place was tangerines.
Peeling tangerines under a warm blanket... that had been properly sweet and sour.
Then the feel of those cold tangerines flashed through his mind, and without meaning to he murmured to Melo and Jane, who had been debating for some time what food to sell.
"Then how about we sell something cold?"
"What?"
"When it's cold, you're supposed to eat cold things. The way you eat hot things in summer."
"What on earth does that...?"
Jane's face said she did not understand him at all. By then Blow had his thoughts in order, and he began to explain, calmly.
"The booths face each other."
"Yes."
"One side sells something that warms the body. Like vin chaud, or coffee."
"Oh, vin chaud sounds good. It ought to pair well with donuts, too."
Cunsai nodded. Blow pointed at the booth opposite and added,
"The other side, we set the booth up properly, make the inside blazing warm, and then sell something cold."
"Whaaat?"
"Can't you see it? People outside shivering in the cold, and inside, nice and warm, you knock back one perfectly cold drink. Wouldn't that be incredible?"
"Oooh..."
"The so-called South and North concept."
Cunsai's eyes lit, and he said,
"That's a ferocious idea, sir! The contrast ought to be fun as well."
"Right? Go to one side, and you immediately want to try the other."
Cunsai nodded hard, but Jane still looked uncertain. She tilted her head and asked,
"...But how are you going to make a booth warm? It's not as if you'll keep casting magic."
Blow looked outside, then smiled.
"Those people will probably explain it."
And into their sight came the Barbarian trio.
The three were staring at Cunsai, an Ain, as if he were something curious.
The South and North concept is good, and he said not to worry about the promotion. I just have to do my part.
They had agreed that the second meeting, to discuss the setup, would be held tomorrow at this very booth, so his job was to check with his own eyes for any variables the layout did not show.
As he was diligently inspecting the spot, several shadows suddenly fell across him.
"Hey, shorty. What are you doing?"
Hah.
At the familiar voice he always heard, Cunsai barely swallowed a sigh and turned.
There stood Delter's crew, classmates of his, looking down at him with open displeasure.
That evening, Blow was delivering food to the student council building with Jane and Linne.
The menu was the Cheese Corn Cheese Yulia loved, the event dish Oolled, and the sandwiches that had gone over well that morning.
The weather outside was so cold the Cheese Corn Cheese would set in no time, so they had only prepped the corn and would cook it on site.
They were in the middle of discussing how best to bring up the brown sugar with Yulia.
When a gap opened in the talk, Jane spoke in a careful voice.
"Young Master. You went to see Professor Mnevoir yesterday."
"I did."
"Did the professor say anything in particular?"
The corners of Jane's eyes trembled as she looked at him, worried. Blow thought a moment, then lifted the corner of his mouth as if everything were fine.
"Nah. We just talked a bit, and I came back."
"About what?"
"She said there's something she wants to research about the Spirit of Space. That she'll call me in now and then and ask what she needs to ask."
"I see."
"Nothing much happened."
Blow meant to tell Jane only this much about the experiment.
He did not want to worry her on top of everything else.
So his first goal, before the second experiment began, was to get both the potion shop and the restaurant running well enough to manage even if he stepped away.
That way, even if the experiment pulled him off for a while, nothing would go wrong.
Of course he would have to produce a plausible reason when the time came, but he decided to think about that later.
"Did you contact the monastery?"
"Yeah, yesterday. They said they'll bring everything next Monday. Aubio's coming himself."
"And the wine?"
"Mentioned that too. When I said we're doing vin chaud, they offered to share the recipe."
"That's good."
Jane smiled with an effort. The monastery reminded Blow of something. He opened his notebook and held out an autumn leaf.
"Here. You said to give it to you once we got back to Caipol."
"Ah, right. Thank you for keeping it safe, Young Master."
"Wah! Wh-what is that?"
Linne, following behind them with a frying pan, asked with sparkling eyes.
"This? A fallen leaf from a tree no one can name."
"R-really? Th-the color is... really pretty."
"Jane says she's going to use it as a bookmark."
"R-really? S-Senior Jane is so r-romantic! But earlier there was another big leaf in the notebook."
"Oh, this? This is a grape leaf, turned red."
"Wow. I've never seen one. C-could I look, just once?"
"You'll see plenty next week. Here."
Linne took the leaf Blow held out and turned it this way and that, curiosity all over her face.
Jane, meanwhile, was watching her young master's mood.
She was afraid he might give that one to Linne.
"I-it's pretty! Prettier than I thought!"
"Give it back. Now."
When Blow held his hand out again, Linne quickly returned the leaf.
"Wh-what are you going to use that for?"
"This? A bookmark."
"Huh? I-isn't it too big for that?"
"A bookmark is something you use to mark a place."
Jane let out a sigh of relief before she knew it, then looked at him sharply at the familiar words.
...Those were my words. I'm sure of it.
Blow was already smiling at her. Jane, face gone red, had no choice but to snap her head forward.
"What? Something on you?"
"No."
"Cold? Your face looks a little red. I told you to wear a scarf."
"I'm fine. Young Master, we're almost at the hall."
The student council building, arrived before they knew it. The moment Blow stepped into the public relations office, Yulia greeted him as if she had been waiting.
"Young Master Blow! You really came? It's terribly cold out, isn't it?"
"I promised. It's a bit late for dinner. Is that all right?"
"If it's corn cheese, I can eat it even after dinner!"
"Good. I packed plenty so the others can have some too."
At that, a flush of pleasure passed over the faces of the PR staff, who had been hoping, just a little.
"Senior, shall I get it ready right away? The corn cheese needs a bit of cooking."
Yulia heard him, hesitated a moment, then shook her head.
"Ah, Young Master. Before that... I believe you said you had something to tell me separately?"
"That's right. I was actually going to tell you slowly, after you'd eaten."
"No. I want to hear that first. So I can enjoy the corn cheese with an easy heart!"
"Ah. Then let's do that."
Recalling the cold bite of a beer after the work was done, Blow tilted his head at Jane—whose face was still red—and moved them into the meeting room.