“Oh, I’m sorry.”
The first to apologize was a faint, pained voice—even though its owner was the one whose foot had been stepped on.
“…No, I’m the one who stepped—”
Sarah had barely regained her balance when she turned toward the man in bewilderment, only to—
“It was my fault.”
—fall silent at the sight of the dark mist swirling around the back of his neck.
Sarah instinctively took a step back, her gaze sweeping over him.
Why does he seem so… damp?
Her eyebrow twitched at the melancholy that seemed to emanate from him.
His face was so pale it looked as though it had never seen sunlight. His long black hair fell to his waist, his clothes were dark, and deep shadows hung beneath his eyes. Everything about him contributed to an overwhelmingly gloomy appearance.
Is he a walking corpse?
Sarah genuinely wondered whether he was a corpse temporarily brought to life through necromancy.
He looked that dreadful. Not because she had stepped on his foot, but because he already resembled someone dying of a terminal illness, utterly drained of vitality.
“…Um, are you hurt anywhere?”
“Not at all. If anything, I feel sorry for your foot, having to step on someone like me.”
“Is it really that bad…?”
Taken aback by his startlingly self-deprecating remark, Sarah stared at him, wondering whether he was serious. The black mist around the back of his neck swirled as though it were about to gather into a single mass, but otherwise showed no noticeable change.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m well enough to work through the night again today…”
Although he looked as though it would be stranger if he weren’t in pain, the man offered her a faint, reassuring smile.
Oh?
Sarah’s eyes gleamed at his perpetually gloomy, timid manner. Someone who could barely make eye contact and fidgeted nervously seemed like the perfect target for black magic.
Not that she intended to use any, of course.
Sarah licked her lips out of habit, then remembered her damaged magical circuits and grimaced in resignation.
Bzzzzzz!
The black mist swirling around the man’s neck suddenly condensed into a mass the size of a forearm. With a fierce buzzing sound, it took on a solid form, its single round, glaring eye turning directly toward Sarah.
Crack.
At that moment, the Star's Fragment, which had remained silent despite everything she had tried, made a loud cracking sound and split wide open. Through the widened pupil, the man’s tangled fate surged toward her in waves.
“……”
In a dark room, a short-haired man sat at a desk, scribbling furiously.
Time passed.
In another dark room, the same man sat at a desk, his hair now slightly longer, still scribbling away.
More time passed.
In yet another dark room, the man sat at his desk, his hair now much longer, his quill still moving across the paper.
Then, with a frustrated sigh, he dropped his quill and clutched his head.
Something wasn't going well.
The name of this man, who spent his days buried in tedious work at his desk, was…
“Oh, I’m late.”
Just then, the man checked the time and abruptly turned away, leaving without so much as a goodbye.
“Hey, wait!”
Sarah snapped back to reality and reached out to grab him, but it was too late. Despite his frail appearance, he moved astonishingly quickly, and his dark-haired head had already vanished into the distance.
“Hey! Wait! Hey, I said wait!”
As the distance between them grew, the cracks in her vision began to fade until everything returned to normal. Growing desperate, Sarah shoved her way awkwardly through the crowd, shouting at the top of her lungs the name the Star's Fragment had revealed.
“Stop right there, Leniss!”
“…?”
At the sound of his name, the departing man stopped abruptly and slowly turned around.
Got him!
Sarah cheered inwardly, her face lighting up as she waved both hands above her head.
“Yes! Over here! I’m—ah!”
Suddenly, a hand shot out from the crowd, seized Sarah’s wrist, and twisted it. Her arm was wrenched back so mercilessly, as though she were a criminal being apprehended, that she couldn't suppress a cry of pain.
“Ah! What the—who are you?!”
“…Didn't I tell you to stay put?”
The owner of that merciless grip was, of course, none other than Enoch.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was when you suddenly disappeared?”
Even as he twisted her arm as though he meant to break it, Enoch had the audacity to claim he had been worried.
“If you were having trouble, you should have said something. I would have helped you.”
With those deceptively kind words, he hoisted Sarah over his shoulder like a sack of luggage. Apparently, carrying people around like cargo was second nature to him.
No! I have to catch Leniss…!
Panicking, Sarah managed to raise her head, but the spot where the gloomy man had been standing was already empty.
She frantically searched the crowd, but the Star's Fragment had fallen silent and showed no sign of reacting again.
She had lost him completely.
“Nooo…! How could I let such a rare opportunity slip away?!”
Devastated, Sarah clutched her head and wailed. All the fight drained out of her, and for a while she hung limply over Enoch’s shoulder.
Then—
“Go play with all those women who adore you! Why do you have to chase after me and ruin everything?!”
Unable to contain her fury any longer, she cursed at Enoch and thrashed her arms and legs in protest.
But before she could accomplish much, a sharp smack landed on her backside.
“……?!”
“Cursing at your master? You really have no manners.”
Enoch scolded her sternly, as though reprimanding a disobedient puppy, muttering that he still had a great deal to teach her.
The admirers who had surrounded him earlier had all disappeared, and this time no one approached to speak to him.
“…Ugh.”
The sting in her backside was so fierce that Sarah immediately fell quiet. To anyone watching, she would have looked as though she had completely abandoned any thought of escape.
Just wait until you fall asleep…
But that was only how things appeared.
Inwardly, she was sharpening an imaginary knife. Grinding her teeth, she vowed to kick Enoch in the backside dozens of times the moment he fell asleep.
After that, she would slip away without a backward glance and resume her search for Leniss.
No matter how great a hero Enoch might be, he was still human. He would have to sleep eventually, wouldn't he?
As she plotted, Sarah rubbed her still-stinging backside.
Damn it, it feels like I'm bleeding. Who would have thought a hero could hit that hard?
She continued grumbling inwardly about the pain, though her pride wouldn't allow her to complain aloud…
***
Wooden. Plain. Old.
Those three words summed up Sarah's impression of Enoch's house.
The two-story wooden house stood a little way outside the city and looked, from the outside, like nothing more than an abandoned building.
Considering the endless praise heaped upon the famous guild captain, she had expected him to live in a palace or something of the sort.
This was certainly unexpected.
“……”
The interior was even more surprising.
Sarah surveyed the spacious living room with curiosity—not because there was anything particularly interesting to see, but because there was astonishingly little there at all.
The first floor consisted of a large living room and a separate kitchen, neither of which showed much sign of habitation. Although the weather had not yet grown terribly cold, the large fireplace in the corner of the living room was coated in dust, as though it had never once been used.
The windows, through which sunlight should have streamed, had been boarded up with wooden planks, preventing anyone inside from looking out. For some reason, however, the upper portions that offered a view of the sky had been left uncovered.
An old wooden chair, just large enough for one person, stood in front of the window.
The wall behind it was covered in frames.
At first, Sarah mistook them for paintings, but a closer look revealed that they were all clocks. They came in various shapes and sizes, yet not a single second hand was moving.
Of all the peculiar things in the living room, the dining table was the strangest.
Positioned far from the kitchen, right in the middle of the room, it was long enough to seat a dozen people comfortably.
And yet the only chair in the entire house was the one by the window, as though everyone else was expected to eat standing up.
The house was so barren that it felt enormous despite its modest size.
Even the house where she had been given the black dress had seemed full of life by comparison.
Could that house have belonged to someone other than Enoch?
…It's freezing in here.
That was the final thought in her long succession of observations.
Outside, at least the sunlight had offered some relief from the chill. Inside, with the windows boarded up, the already brisk weather felt twice as cold.
It was cold enough for her to see her own breath.
No matter how tightly she wrapped Enoch's cloak around herself, she couldn't keep the cold from seeping into her bones.
Whatever else happened, she desperately wanted a fire.
Shivering uncontrollably, Sarah finally reached the limit of her endurance and spoke to Enoch.
“Aren't you cold, Master? Shall we light a fire?”
Her question was couched in exaggerated politeness, but beneath it lay a desperate desire to get warm.
“…?”
Enoch, seated in the room's only chair, turned toward her with an utterly bewildered expression.
Despite wearing clothes far too thin for the weather, he apparently didn't share her discomfort in the slightest.
“Go ahead.”
Nevertheless, he gave her permission to light a fire.
How very generous of him.
Unfortunately, the only thing in the entire house that looked suitable for firewood was the chair Enoch was sitting on.
“What about firewood?”
“Oh.”
Only when Sarah pointed this out did Enoch make a rather foolish sound and glance around his own house as though seeing it for the first time.
Eventually, he spotted a nearby stack of documents and nudged it with his foot.
“Use those.”
“Yes, Master.”
Sarah eagerly gathered up the documents and dragged the knee-high stack toward the fireplace.
Fortunately, the tools needed to start a fire were close at hand, so she managed to get one going without much difficulty.
“Ahh—”
The crackling flames brought a welcome rush of warmth.
Sarah settled down in front of the fireplace and diligently fed the documents into the flames, adding more whenever the fire threatened to die down.
Then, as she tossed another sheet into the fire, her eyes happened to catch a phrase concerning the embezzlement of Cygnus Guild funds.
“…?”