“…Is that your real name?”
Snow frowned, apparently displeased with the name.
“I don't know. I just made it up.”
“What?”
Snow twisted his lips in disbelief, seemingly more shocked by that admission than by the name itself.
“Even if she's a slave, isn't that going too far? And of all things, you had to give her such a dreadful name?”
Ah, Captain. You really do hate immunes, don't you?
Muttering under his breath, Snow gave Sarah's still-rigid shoulder a light pat.
“Hang in there.”
Sarah said nothing.
***
The place they called the guild looked, for all its grand title, much like an ordinary city in the mortal world.
The buildings had a certain charm, but they were packed so tightly together that neighbors could practically see into one another's homes.
Carriages could travel no farther than the entrance. Anyone wishing to venture deeper inside had to follow narrow, winding paths barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast.
The residents seemed to have made an effort to introduce some greenery, decorating their homes with little gardens and flowerpots. Unfortunately, the neighborhood still had the overall appearance of a slum.
The buildings stood so close together that sunlight could scarcely reach the ground. The Black Thorns that had fallen to earth had left precious little land suitable for human habitation.
When the guild was first established, there had been plenty of open space. Now, even those who wished to settle here could find nowhere to live.
Damn it. How does he know my name…?
Sarah's thoughts, which she had barely managed to divert, returned once more to Enoch.
She maintained an outward appearance of calm, but ever since Enoch had appeared out of nowhere and called her by name, she had been unable to think of anything else.
“Everyone wants to live under the protection of the Cygnus Guild. Since the thorns fell, you could count the guilds that have grown as large as ours on one hand.”
Oblivious to Sarah's distraction, Snow continued enthusiastically extolling the greatness of the Cygnus Guild.
“And it's all thanks to the captain. Chosen by the Holy Sword, an immortal hero who neither ages nor dies. Doesn't that make you feel safe?”
Sarah nodded absently, pretending to follow his proud explanation.
His words weren't merely going in one ear and out the other. She wasn't listening to him at all.
Even Snow's outrageous remark—“So you should consider yourself lucky to have joined our guild, even as a slave”—passed without the slightest protest or reaction.
Sarah's attention remained entirely fixed on Enoch.
Since their encounter outside the carriage, he hadn't said a word beyond telling Snow her name.
Ordinarily, even someone surrounded by strangers would spare them an occasional glance.
Yet Enoch paid no attention to Snow, who was clearly his companion, or to Sarah, whose shackles clattered noisily with every step.
His indifference only deepened her fixation, leaving her almost frantic with curiosity.
When we first met, he clearly said he didn't know me. So why is he acting as though he does now?
Did he simply think my face resembled someone else's and decide to give me that name?
Or did he recognize me from the beginning and only pretend otherwise?
Noticing that Sarah was lost in thought and giving him no response, Snow glanced back at her with little enthusiasm.
“Oh, right. You said you've lost your memory. Then you probably don't know how impressive Cygnus is, do you?”
Apparently satisfied with his own explanation, he snapped his fingers.
“…You've lost your memory?”
For the first time since they had begun walking, Enoch joined the conversation.
“You didn't know? Sarah says she doesn't remember anything from before she met you, Captain. She doesn't know about the Black Thorns, the Antares Church, or even the name of our guild. She just looks blank whenever I mention them.”
Delighted to possess information Enoch lacked, Snow cheerfully recounted Sarah's fabricated story.
“She… doesn't remember anything…”
Enoch's gaze swept over Sarah, his expression inscrutable.
Unlike Snow, who had accepted her story without question, Enoch didn't appear convinced by her supposed memory loss.
Irritated by his skepticism, Sarah gave a silent snort as she followed Snow.
If someone like Enoch can live for more than three hundred years thanks to the Holy Sword, what's so unbelievable about a woman who looks like Sarah Rosenbaum losing her memory?
“Ah!”
As she grumbled to herself, her world suddenly turned upside down.
“I'm going ahead.”
“Huh? Why? Oh, heading straight to bed?”
“If that were the case, I'd have invited you along.”
Their exchange was so brazen and suggestive that Sarah could hardly imagine ordinary people having such a conversation.
Their casual familiarity made her realize that the two men were closer than she had thought.
“So you're heading toward the Thorns anyway, right? Let's go together.”
“I have somewhere to stop first. Go on ahead.”
Just as he had done before, Enoch had slung Sarah over his shoulder. Without another word, he strode up the stone steps.
“Bye~. See you later, Sarah~.”
Snow waved casually, showing no particular reluctance to part with them.
What's with him all of a sudden?!
This was the second time Enoch had done this. Sarah stared anxiously at his back as he hurried onward, carrying her upside down.
After blinking several times, she found herself in an entirely different place.
Click.
Enoch set her down and switched on the lights.
He had brought her into a small house furnished with quaint, delicate decorations.
A vase of flowers stood on the table, and lace curtains framed the windows. Sarah couldn't imagine such things belonging to Enoch, even as a joke.
Then this must be someone else's house.
The owner, however, appeared to be absent. No one came out to greet them.
“Um, excuse me. Why did you suddenly bring me here—?”
Sarah glanced warily around the room as she began to question him.
“…?!”
Without warning, Enoch drew his sword and pointed it at her.
Sarah instinctively recoiled.
“Stay still.”
Enoch gave the command with a kindly smile.
Would you stay still if someone pointed a sword at you?!
Sarah swallowed the protest on the tip of her tongue and glared at him indignantly.
The cold steel pressed against her neck sent a deeper chill through her.
Her damp body was already trembling so badly that her teeth chattered. The sight of the blade gleaming in the moonlight brought back memories she would rather have forgotten.
“Calm down… Let's talk about this!”
Sarah raised both hands, gesturing desperately for him to calm down.
Enoch regarded her with an expression of regret.
“Words won't solve anything.”
Sarah couldn't understand why he had suddenly resorted to violence.
Then again, she hadn't understood him from the beginning. Why had he saved her? Why had he brought her here? And why was he behaving like this now?
“There's plenty we can solve by talking! I don't know why you're doing this, but if you tell me the reason, I'll try to…”
Overwhelmed by the danger, Sarah blurted out whatever came to mind in a desperate attempt to hold his attention. She kept talking without pause, her eyes darting about as she frantically searched for a way out.
But Enoch showed no concern for her desperation.
His answer was infuriatingly simple.
“I don't want to.”
With those words, the sword hovering near her neck rose high into the air.
Then it came down.
***
I'm going to die.
Sarah froze, seized by the certainty of her impending death.
As the sword descended toward her, time seemed to slow to a crawl. A torrent of anxious thoughts surged through her mind, each concerning what would happen after she died.
If I die here, will I go back to hell?
I haven't accomplished anything yet. Will the god send me back to the mortal world?
The questions came one after another.
She had no way of knowing the answers, but one thing was certain.
Nothing good could come of dying now.
Enoch…!
Perhaps it was her instinctive refusal to die like this. Before she could think, her “voice” burst forth reflexively.
The magical circuits lying dormant within her responded to the threat to her life.
But that was all.
The magic that had seemed on the verge of awakening dispersed like smoke through a hole in her soul.
Sarah's final hope vanished.
I'm really going to die.
With the sword bearing down on her, Sarah couldn't bring herself to watch. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Almost the instant her eyelids closed, a sharp, clean slicing sound cut through the air.
And then…
“What kind of slave dares call her master by name?”
Enoch spoke as though he found the very idea absurd.
Clang.
Something heavy and metallic struck the floor near her feet.
Thankfully, it didn't seem to be her severed head.
Bewildered, Sarah opened her eyes and looked down at her strangely light wrist.
She had instinctively raised her hand to shield herself from the sword. Now, the heavy shackle that had plagued her ever since she awoke in the cage had been neatly severed at its joint.
The cut had been as effortless as slicing through paper.
Who would have thought that sound came from cutting through steel?
Clatter. Clink.
As Sarah stared blankly at the shackle, it began falling apart piece by piece, even though Enoch had cut only the joint.
Still stunned, she watched the fragments fall and asked in a dazed voice.
“Just now… What did you do?”
“A test.”
Enoch answered her bewildered question without the slightest concern.
Then, with his free arm, he encircled Sarah's waist and drew her against him.
Sarah gasped at the sudden closeness.
Holding her with one arm, Enoch lowered his head until his lips almost brushed her pale neck. He lingered there, drawing a long, deep breath.
“I really was going to cut your head off, but you didn't even use your ‘voice.’”
Murmuring to himself, Enoch buried his nose against Sarah's neck and inhaled deeply.
Sarah's shoulders tensed in surprise.
It wasn't that he had touched a particularly sensitive spot. The sensation itself was simply strange.
The warmth of another person's body against her skin stirred a tension entirely different from the mortal terror she had experienced moments earlier.
Her back stiffened, and she stood frozen in place.
She had never been so physically close to anyone in her life. The unfamiliar intimacy left her so flustered that she didn't even realize she was holding her breath.
Just as she reached the limit of what she could endure, Enoch finally lifted his face from her neck.
“There's a faint scent of black magic…”
He studied her closely, his gaze searching, and tilted his head as though he genuinely couldn't make sense of her.
“Hmm… It's faint.”
Tsk.
Enoch clicked his tongue.
Only then did Sarah remember to breathe.
As she exhaled, her frozen thoughts gradually began to move again, belatedly processing what had just happened.
She looked up at Enoch, her expression caught between confusion and disbelief.
“So… that was you testing me?”
“Yeah.”
“To see whether I'd use black magic?”
“Yeah.”
Enoch answered her stunned questions without a moment's hesitation.
Although he hadn't shown it openly, Enoch had evidently suspected Sarah all along. In that respect, his uncompromising nature hadn't changed.
Well, I suppose it was an effective method.
After all, no mage would sit quietly while their life was at stake. Faced with a sword at their throat, they would inevitably try to do something.
Even Sarah had instinctively attempted to summon her magic.
Of course, she had failed…
Then a thought suddenly occurred to her.
What would have happened if my magic had actually worked?
“…And what if I had used it?”