[V15C17] The Witch and the Librarian

A long time ago, a woman known as the Librarian visited a mansion located deep in the forest. A terrifying witch lived there.

The Librarian was a cold woman who cared little about other people.

The witch was often said to be cold too, but in a different way. She was like a biting flame with no heat.

On the other hand, the Librarian was like a statue of ice given life, rigid and unyielding. The two contrasted each other in every way.

The witch noticed that the black ring worn by the Librarian was no longer on her hand, and commented, “Your fingers look a bit lonely today.”

“That ring gets noisy in the presence of attractive women like you,” replied the Librarian.

“I see. Well? To what do I owe this visit?”

Practically everyone feared the wicked witch, but the Librarian approached with determined steps and spoke directly to her face.

“I’ve come to collect the overdue book,” said the Librarian. “Didn’t you see all the notices I sent?”

“What a waste of paper. You should’ve just come and taken it yourself in the first place.”

“That would reduce the time I have for reading.”

The claim of the Librarian was doubtful, as she had likely read a book in the carriage on the way here. After all, she was the type of woman to read even while walking.

“I don’t have the time to argue with you,” the Librarian continued, extending a hand toward the witch. “Return the book you borrowed immediately.”

“It should be somewhere around here. You are free to look for it yourself.”

The witch replied in an uninterested tone as she sat down on a pile of books stacked on the floor, crossing her legs.

The next instant, the Librarian was glaring at her. Her icy coldness transformed into a burning fury.

“You dare to sit on books like some makeshift chair!? What is the meaning of this outrage!?”

＊　＊　＊

Cyril Ashley opened his eyes to find himself in an unfamiliar forest. He got up and held his aching head.

Where was he? Wasn’t he in the middle of cleaning the Forbidden Archives?

Sophocles was missing from the middle finger of his right hand, and Monica and Raul were nowhere to be seen. The cleaning tools were gone as well.

For some reason, the triangular bandanna he wore on his head was now tucked into his apron pocket.

(What happened…?)

Still holding his pounding head, Cyril staggered forward and did his best to remember.

Perhaps this forest was merely an illusion, like the one the Lorelei showed to him a while ago.

Right as the thought crossed his mind, he saw a figure among the trees. A man with red curls, so it had to be Raul.

But something was wrong. There was a rose vine wrapped around his neck, and his face was twisted into a smile of dark delight.

Cyril recognized that face. This was how Raul looked when using the power of the First Thorn Witch.

Raul dropped a few rose seeds, which instantly sprouted into thorny vines. These were no ordinary roses; they were the Man-Eating Rose Fortress.

Those vines started creeping in the direction of a girl sitting on the ground… Monica.

Cyril’s blue eyes suddenly snapped wide open.

Raul had lost himself to his power and was about to hurt Monica with it. In that case, there was only one thing for Cyril to do.

He ran as fast as he could, clenched his right fist, and slammed it into Raul’s face.

He wanted to fulfill his promise with a friend. To protect someone precious to him. And, last but not least…

“You’re scattering roses everywhere in the middle of my cleaning!? What is the meaning of this outrage!?”

In Cyril’s head, they were still in the middle of cleaning the Forbidden Archives.

＊　＊　＊

The collapsed Monica stared at the scene before her in shock.

Unlike Sophocles, the man in front of her stood with his spine straight. His silver hair sparkled, his blue eyes blazed with anger, and his voice echoed through the forest.

There could be no doubt about it. He was ‘the usual Cyril-sama’.

A wave of relief rushed over Monica… but in the next moment, she realized there was no time for that and hurried back on her feet.

The black flames surrounding her had scattered the moment Cyril punched the Thorn Witch. If she was going to act, it had to be now.

Without chanting, Monica invoked blades of wind to cut through all of Raul’s vines.

“Cyril-sama, please stand back! Raul-sama is currently-…!”

“That thunderous voice…” muttered the Thorn Witch, as if completely ignoring the punch to her cheek. “I see how it is. So you are the Librarian.”

Cyril raised an eyebrow in confusion. By now, he probably realized that Raul’s current condition was different from the time they faced off in the Roseberg Forest.

Monica clumsily rushed over to Cyril and started explaining.

“C-Cyril-sama… Raul-sama’s consciousness is most likely… in a state extremely close to that of the First Thorn Witch.”

“What?”

“There was probably a trap set up in this book, ‘The Botanical Specimen Garden’. One that only reacts to members of House Roseberg… or maybe Raul-sama in particular.”

Cyril crossed his arms and went deep in thought. He had just regained consciousness, so he still had no idea what was going on.

”‘The Botanical Specimen Garden’ you say… I remember seeing that in the catalog.”

“It is one of the forbidden tomes housed in the Fifth Forbidden Archive. We are currently trapped in the space sealed within that book.”

Sophocles assisted in explaining from Monica’s hand.

After that, Cyril finally understood the gist of the situation.

He stared at the Thorn Witch, who had taken over Raul’s body, and placed a hand on his mouth in thought.

“A trap in ‘The Botanical Specimen Garden‘…? A state extremely close to the First Thorn Witch…? Could this be an attempt to reproduce more than just the surface layer?”

Cyril muttered to himself in a voice almost too quiet to hear, but then, he suddenly looked up as if something had clicked.

He glanced at the Thorn Witch again and quickly turned pale in realization. Understandable, as he had delivered a punch to the face of history’s greatest evil.

…Then, for some reason, Cyril straightened his posture and bowed his head.

“Milady, I offer my sincerest apologies. Even if it was to uphold a promise to a friend, I raised my hand against a woman. You may strike me until you are satisfied.”

Monica, Sophocles, and the Thorn Witch all fell into an awkward silence.

Cyril Ashley would always be Cyril Ashley.

The Thorn Witch raised her hand and traced her lips with a finger. She was looking at Cyril, but her eyes housed a surprising lack of anger or malice. She seemed more annoyed, or perhaps amused.

In the meantime, Cyril raised his head and continued speaking.

“But once you are done, please return my friend. His body does not belong to you, nor is it an ancient artifact.”

(…Huh?)

The strange wording used by Cyril made Monica look at him in puzzlement.

Meanwhile, Cyril looked the Thorn Witch in the eyes with complete seriousness.

“Also, I do not possess the title of Librarian. Strictly speaking, I am an officer of the Library Society. At present, I am in the middle of a volunteer cleaning effort to ease restrictions on access to the Forbidden Archives and—”

“With how you talk, you can only be the Librarian,” the Thorn Witch murmured as she crouched to pick something off the ground.

Among the shredded vines at her feet was a small, yellow rose. Perhaps the same rose that first entangled Raul in front of the gardenia.

“A rose that didn’t exist in my time. So it is as I suspected…”

The Thorn Witch crushed the yellow rose with the powerful hand of a man, letting their yellow petals flutter to the ground.

She slowly stood and placed her hand on the rose growing between her neck and shoulder.

“I never wished for this sort of manifestation in the first place. You can have this heavy body back… But I have one condition.”

Her green eyes looked at Monica, then Cyril, and finally, up at the false sky overhead.

“Someone has tampered with this book, ‘The Botanical Specimen Garden’.”

The Thorn Witch slowly brought her gaze back to Cyril and pointed at him with a tanned finger.

“You must take responsibility and restore it to its original form, Librarian.”

“Understood. I, Cyril Ashley, swear to fulfill my duty as an officer of the Library Society.”

Cyril gave a sincere reply with an unwavering demeanor. This was exactly the ‘usual Cyril-sama’ that Monica liked most.

The most notorious witch in Ridill’s history closed her eyes. Her green irises were hidden under long lashes.

“…The exit of the garden is in the winter forest, but the gravekeeper has been tampered with as well.”

She whispered a sing-song tone, before suddenly tearing off the rose blooming on her neck.

A spray of blood scattered through the air as the rose fell from the witch’s hand to the ground.

Simultaneously, Raul collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Raul-sama!”

“Raul!”

Monica and Cyril hurried over and checked the wound on Raul’s neck.

Tearing off the rose had left a wound on his shoulder the size of the thumbnail. However, there was surprisingly little bleeding. His pulse was still strong, and his breathing remained stable.

Confirming there was no danger to his life, Cyril let out a sigh of relief and looked at Monica.

“…What happened while I was unconscious?”

“Um, well, where do I start…”

Monica wondered how she was going to explain everything that happened after entering ‘The Botanical Specimen Garden’, when suddenly, Cyril put on a stern expression.

He stared at Monica’s face, or more precisely, her eyes.

“What happened to your eyes?”

“Huh?”

“They’re red.”

Monica went pale in realization. She had rubbed her eyes earlier when she was crying.

To make matters worse, she never wiped her face properly, so perhaps the tracks left by the tears were still visible on her cheeks.

“Ah, um, t-this is because…”

Monica panicked and tried to hide her cheeks, but Cyril grabbed her wrist.

The touch of his hand, as well as its warmth, made Monica’s heart skip a beat. At this rate, he would notice her quickening pulse. She needed to come up with a magical formula for suppressing it, and fast.

“Um, it’s nothing, really. S-Sorry, I just…”

“Monica.”

The moment his clear blue eyes looked straight into hers, all of Monica’s thoughts vanished into thin air.

His eyes put his sincere concern for Monica on full display, combined with his anger toward the person responsible.

Cyril opened his mouth once, then closed it. Perhaps he had swallowed a shout of rage in order to avoid scaring her.

After a slow and deep breath, he asked in a more restrained voice.

“Who made you cry?”

Meanwhile, Sophocles blinked slowly on Monica’s finger.

The light of his gemstone glowed near the edge rather than the center, as if he had awkwardly averted his eyes. As usual, he was weirdly expressive for an inanimate ring.

“Um, uh…”

Monica quivered her lips in hesitation until they suddenly heard a voice behind them.

“Great Witch, Great Witch.”

The two turned around to see a black shadow.

A mass of darkness in the shape of a human child was walking toward them.

The shadow had no face, so there was no way to determine its expression. However, Monica heard a clear sense of joy within its tone of voice.

Meanwhile, small yellow roses slithered around at the shadow’s feet.

The shadow extended its short arms toward them, as if reaching out with a smile on its nonexistent face.

“Welcome back, Great Witch.”

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