058 Once Buried Deep in Memory, Part 2

In the middle of the night, Theresa sat at her desk, her pen scratching softly across the paper as a web of connections took shape. She began with the abrupt order that sent Peidia and the others back to Cervantes in the midst of their internship, and from there, she traced every key event she knew of up to the present— The sudden interruption of the internship, Amos’s prolonged absence, repeated delays in the rotation of the front lines, Baman crossing the Ashen Forest with a squad of soldiers to deliver an urgent message, the tense atmosphere within the military, the public posting of tasks at the Adventurer’s Guild, the military’s forced conscription… and then the recent exploration of ruins, the incursion of the Void Demons, and the emergence of the Chapter of Forbidden Magic.

Though Betty had said that the matter was already settled in the eyes of the public, Theresa’s intuition told her it was not so simple—at the very least, if things were truly so straightforward, Baman would not have needed to cross the Ashen Forest, and the allure of the Chapter of Forbidden Magic could not possibly be so overwhelming.

“The Chapter of Forbidden Magic, an alchemical device that seals magic, crafted by a wicked, fallen elf.” So described imperial records. Yet, in Theresa’s mind, another explanation lingered—

“The Chapter of Forbidden Magic, the Sealing Tome, a life-saving artifact possessed by every combatant in the ancient Gods’ War!”

This memory was a fragment, shattered and dreamlike—one left to her by the Void Demon remnant she had absorbed. It was the memory of a being once invaded by the Void Demons… and along with it, Theresa received that being’s profound aversion and terror toward the artifact.

The so-called ancient Gods’ War was little more than a legendary tale, and as an alchemist, Theresa did not believe in its divinity. She was only willing to accept that perhaps, long ago, there had been a war of far-reaching consequence, and in that war, the Chapter of Forbidden Magic was a crucial weapon for the victors.

And in that war, the Void Demons had participated—only to suffer utter defeat, for the Chapter of Forbidden Magic was their absolute nemesis.

With this in mind, Theresa could not tell if she ought to sigh or feel relieved. Rubbing her temple, she absently reached for the necklace at her throat—a keepsake from her mother. The pendant was shaped like the tricolor bell her mother loved most, given to her when she was but a child. Her mother had wished for her to live in peace and happiness forever.

Mother… She had two mothers, one loving and nagging, the other gentle and indulgent. Toward the former, she had always behaved willfully—until she died…

She had died once. It was so long ago that she could hardly recall it.

The world after death was fractured and desolate—a realm of perpetual darkness where she wandered endlessly, driven by instinct alone. She remembered only running, fleeing the pursuit of other souls, for in that world, only by devouring others could one grow stronger—strength was the instinct of all beings.

No matter who or what you were, after endless solitude and the gnawing of unchecked greed, all reason would eventually fade, leaving nothing but the urge to devour… to become a Void Demon.

Suddenly, a searing heat in her fingertips brought Theresa out of her reverie. As soon as she returned to herself, she noticed the space ring on her hand radiating with heat, as if warning her of something. A spark of intuition flashed, and Theresa instantly released her spiritual power—a tendril of it unfurled from within her, radiating outward in concentric waves.

A sharp pain lanced between her brows as her spiritual power was repelled. Instinctively, she swept her burning right hand forward. A surge of powerful magic shot forth, traveling about a meter before striking some unseen barrier. The two opposing forces collided in a blinding flash of light.

At that same moment, far away in Cervantes, Mu paused her work deciphering the “Chapter of Forbidden Magic.” She raised her head slightly, gazing northwest with a faint smile…

…

When Betty hastily led people into Theresa’s room, they found a scene of utter chaos: everything overturned, wide cracks splitting the ceiling and walls, and Theresa, wrapped in her nightgown, collapsed before her desk, dust and debris scattered over her but otherwise unscathed.

This outcome did not seem to surprise Betty. She had Theresa carried to another room to rest, and once everyone else had left, she stood alone amid the disorder, closing her eyes in thought. After a long moment, she opened them and sighed deeply. “Void Demons… Peace will not last long in this land…”

***

A group of vibrant, youthful girls had gathered in a small music room at Saint Alberta Academy. They were brightly dressed, their manners refined, and laughter and lively conversation filled the air. Theresa sat alone in a cozy sunlit corner, propping her chin on her hand, her calm gaze tinged with a faint smile as she observed the room. The side effect of spiritual cultivation was heightened sensitivity in hearing and sight, so though she sat apart, she could still hear many of the conversations—discussions of banquets, critiques of someone’s makeup, idle gossip about others. For a moment, Theresa felt a quiet satisfaction welling within her.

The door of the music room opened again—class had yet to begin, and students were still trickling in—but this arrival caught Theresa’s eye. She stood up, her smile radiant, and strode forward—

“Nini…” Standing face-to-face with Benita, Theresa spread her arms, intending to give her a long-overdue embrace, but Benita snorted dismissively, turned her head, and ignored Theresa’s enthusiasm.

Their dramatic gestures, played out near the busy walkway, naturally drew the attention of everyone in the music room. For a moment, all eyes were on them.

Theresa paid no mind to the crowd’s curiosity. With a rueful grimace, she acknowledged her own fault, and, thick-skinned, sidled up to Benita.

“Nini, Nini, dear Nini,” Theresa purred, her voice so saccharine it made even her cringe. “My dearest, kindest, most beautiful, lovely, and considerate Nini, I was wrong, terribly wrong. I let you down, I left without a word, I made you worry… Nini, please forgive me this time. I promise I’ll never make the same mistake again.”

Benita snorted again and turned her head away, so Theresa pinched her nose, changed direction, and continued her flattery. All the while, she rummaged through her belt pouch, pulling out all manner of odd, locally inspired trinkets, and a few skincare and fragrance concoctions she’d made in her leisure. She pushed them toward Benita, saying boldly, “Here, Nini, dearest Nini, let me bribe you a little, won’t you? Let’s not be angry anymore, all right? Anger is bad for your health. I swear, next time I’ll tell you everything and never do anything reckless again, truly!”

At last, Benita turned to her, fixing her with a serious look. “You’ll really tell me everything next time?”

“I will, I will,” Theresa nodded eagerly.

Benita’s face immediately broke into a bright smile. She swiftly swept all the trinkets into an empty pouch, hung it at her waist, then slung an arm around Theresa’s shoulders in a friendly embrace, saying with a grin, “So, tell me—was it fun at the front? They say the recent commotion was caused by a magical core in some ruin going unstable, sending the beasts into a frenzy to fight over it. Is that really what happened?”

Staring at that dazzling smile, Theresa instantly knew she’d fallen for Benita’s trap—this wasn’t sulking, this was bait, and she’d walked right in!

Helpless in her defeat, Theresa could only admit her loss—after all, she had never truly grasped just how cunning this girl could be.

For the rest of the lesson, while the others listened attentively, Theresa and Benita hid away in their corner, whispering nonstop.

Theresa talked through the entire class—at first pressed by Benita, but soon she grew animated, gesturing enthusiastically as she recounted her adventures, growing ever more excited. Benita played along perfectly, her expressions mirroring the highs and lows of Theresa’s story—now delighted, now anxious—making quite the lively pair.

…

“So, you think things aren’t so simple?” Benita arched an eyebrow, following Theresa’s line of thought.

Theresa scratched her head in mild frustration. “Yeah, it’s just a feeling—I have no proof… Oh, let’s not worry about it. It’s the military’s problem now. Uncle Amos’s transfer order has already come through; he’ll be back in Cervantes next week. Whatever happens after that, it has nothing to do with us. Why bother thinking about it? Nini, I’ve told you everything—now tell me, what fun things have happened in the past month or so?”

“Fun things…” Benita drawled, as if pondering. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers, her smile turning sly. “Well, there’s one thing you might call interesting—Nance Bitteray has become addicted to horse betting.”

Theresa blinked and offered a mild “Oh,” without much of a reaction.

Seeing this, Benita’s smile grew more mischievous. “Of course, she didn’t dare defy the school’s ban by visiting the public race tracks—she went to the underground ones! Sir Ince’s underground tracks!”

This last detail did elicit a flicker of surprise from Theresa, who raised her brows. “Sir Ince… Nance is really going too far now, isn’t she?”

“Oh?” Benita’s interest was piqued, her tone laden with meaning. “Should I take that to mean the plan is going too smoothly?”

At that, Theresa finally looked Benita in the eye. The two of them shared a knowing smile; then, all of a sudden, Theresa reached out, cupping Benita’s cheeks and giving them a playful rub and pinch. Before Benita could protest, she withdrew her hands with a laugh. “It’s not that the plan is going smoothly, more that Nance is just too weak… It’s only gambling on horses—must she fall apart over something so trivial?”

“Only gambling…” Benita sighed with a laugh. “You give her too much credit. Horse betting has ruined countless people. How can you call it trivial?”

Theresa slipped an arm around Benita’s, resting her head on her shoulder and nuzzling gently. “If—just if—she hadn’t become obsessed, I might have forgiven her. But, alas, she’s the one who let herself sink deeper and deeper.”

At that, Benita stroked her hair but said nothing more.

(To be continued)