[V16C21] We Are Here

As night fell over the royal capital, a black cat scanned the streets from a rooftop.

The cat, aka Nero, was following Monica and the others to the restaurant for the afterparty.

Isaac had promised Nero a hearty serving of meat for helping with his training, but that was a matter for another day. Nero fully intended to take his share of tonight’s meat as well.

However, it seemed that Monica and the others were moving away from the restaurant instead of entering it.

(Nyeh? Are they heading to a different spot or something? They better not be disbanding.)

As he continued watching from above, he sensed a presence behind him.

Nero twitched his whiskers and turned around.

“You seem pretty lively for summer, White One.”

“That’s because Pikeh is with me.”

Standing behind him was Thule, a young man with white hair dressed in ethnic clothing. Riding on his shoulder was the ice spirit Ashelpikeh, disguised as a golden weasel.

Unlike most species of dragons, white dragons were resistant to cold and weak to heat. Apparently, Thule solved this issue by having Pikeh snuggle up to cool him down.

“Not in your weasel form today?” Nero asked.

“Yeah, I need to use this form for shopping.”

The white dragon Thule lifted the cloth bag in his hand. It seemed quite heavy, containing several bottles of wine.

“I got an allowance from Cyril, so I tried buying some drinks.”

“Huh? An allowance?”

“Yeah. For being his muscles.”

What was that supposed to mean? Nero squinted his golden eyes in doubt.

Thule took one of the bottles from the bag and held it out to Nero.

“Want to join us, Mr. Black?”

“Is this another potluck party? I don’t have anything with me today.”

Thule blinked a few times, before looking at Pikeh on his shoulder.

“Pikeh, what do you say in times like this?”

“Treat.”

“Oh right, I’ll treat you this time, Mr. Black. It’s really fun to mingle with humans, but sometimes, I feel like watching them from a distance.”

Nero could understand that feeling. They were both dragons, after all.

There were times when Nero felt like watching the humans interact with each other, and at such times, he did not want to see another dragon messing with them.

Thule extended a finger to Pikeh on his shoulder, and Pikeh touched it with her front paw.

“Oh, and I’ll need to reflect a bit with Pikeh too.”

The golden weasel squirmed into Thule’s clothing and peeked her head out from the collar, saying, “Monica noticed us right away.”

“Yeah, we need to study more before we can be good muscles.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about and I don’t care,” Nero said. “But I’ll take what I can get. Hand it over.”

Nero transformed into a young man and snatched the bottle from Thule. It contained a distilled liquor with an appealing aroma.

He took a swig and began walking along the rooftop, maintaining a certain distance from Monica and the others. Not too close, but not too far either.

Thule followed him with Pikeh riding on his shoulder.

The two dragons continued forward in human form, bottles in hand.

Leisurely and quietly, they enjoyed the interactions of the humans unfolding below.

＊　＊　＊

Monica and friends departed the restaurant recommended by Melissa and headed straight to Silas’s usual spot.

Melissa’s recommendation had been in a relatively upscale area, while Silas’s was on a street lined with commoner-oriented, affordable establishments.

“It’s not exactly a classy joint, but don’t worry, Nee-san. If anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll give them what’s coming.”

“O-Okay…”

“Most of the regulars are good guys. If they start yapping at you, just hand them an instrument… Oh wait…”

Silas had been walking at the front, but he suddenly realized something, turning around to Isaac.

“Ike, you’ve learned how to play at least one instrument, right? You seem handy enough to learn.”

“I can play, but probably not tunes from the East.”

Silas fell silent for a few seconds. By the time he opened his mouth again, it was with a furrowed brow.

“Does that mean you learned here in the central region…?”

“Something like that.”

Monica was curious about the exchange between Silas and Isaac, so she had to ask.

“Ike, you can play an instrument?”

“If I recall correctly,” Cyril interjected. “You dabbled a bit in the piano and the violin.”

“Just a little,” Isaac nodded with a complicated expression. A wry smile containing a hint of bitterness and self-deprecation. “I can play music from a sheet, but that’s not exactly great for Eastern tunes… In the East, you’ll get scolded for playing exactly as written.”

Monica and Cyril looked puzzled, while Silas folded his arms and agreed.

“Right. Especially the old guys. They’ll be like, ‘How dare you play it the same as the sheet!?’ or something.”

“Um, so is it bad to play it according to the sheet…?”

Though Monica did not know much about music, her belief was that sheet music represented the optimal solution of a song.

It seemed similar to how a mage wanted to reproduce the beauty of a magical formula as perfectly as possible. She thought that playing music as written was surely the most correct way. But apparently, that wasn’t the case to the people from Eastern Ridill.

Isaac nodded and chose his words carefully.

“Music from the East generally consists of the same phrase over and over again. They add embellishments with each repetition, and usually, the tempo increases over time as well.”

“Is there some kind of special rule to that tempo…?”

“Not really. What matters is the mood of the moment.”

Monica repeated the word, looking more stern than when faced with a difficult equation.

“Mood…?”

“It’s music for getting drunk people excited in a tavern, after all. Ah, there, you can hear it now.”

Isaac pointed his eyes at a relatively worn down building up ahead. The faint sounds of cheerful laughter and lively music could be heard coming from it.

The overall tone was more lighthearted than the refined music at palace parties. It gave the image of animals frolicking and hopping around, and like Isaac said, the tempo grew faster with each repetition of the melody.

As Monica focused her ears on the music, Isaac let out a quiet mutter.

“I’ve gotten too used to playing things as written.”

She looked up to see a quiet sadness and a nostalgic yearning on the side of his face.

Isaac had started showing a bunch of new faces lately. This was probably because he stopped hiding his emotions.

(…Ike would never make that kind of expression with the prince’s face.)

Monica wanted to say something to cheer him up, but she couldn’t think of the right words, so all she could do was quiver her lips. She looked over to see Cyril doing the same thing.

The two former members of the student council exchanged glances.

——What should we do, Cyril-sama?

——Either we give him some space, or offer some words of encouragement…

Cyril seemed hesitant, so Monica clenched her fists and let out a puff of air through her nose.

——I want to cheer him up.

——I see. In that case, I will join you.

And so, their silent student council meeting reached a decision.

Monica and Cyril opened their mouths to cheer Isaac up.

But before they could say a word, Silas slammed open the door of the restaurant and shouted in a booming voice.

“Hey, old man! Lend me some shoes!”

“For you?”

“Nah, they’re for this guy!”

With that, Silas pointed his thumb at Isaac.

Monica caught up and peeked into the shop from behind Silas. There was a counter right in front of the entrance, followed by rows of well-used round tables further in.

The restaurant was about half full, and a decent number of customers carried musical instruments. In addition, there were several instruments hanging on the walls. It seemed that anyone was allowed to grab one and play.

After borrowing a pair of black leather shoes from the owner, Silas shoved them at Isaac.

“Here, you won’t be able to lift your feet properly in those heavy boots of yours.”

“…What are you going to make me do?”

Isaac narrowed his sharp eyes in suspicion, but Silas responded with a grin.

“You know how the saying goes. ‘A man from the East never turns down a drink, a fight, or an invitation to dance’.”

“Okay,” Isaac replied. “How about we start with the fight?”

“Put on the shoes! This is an order from your bro!”

“What a tyrant of a brother.”

Isaac sighed in resignation as he changed into the shoes. In the meantime, a young waiter came over and guided Monica and the others to their tables.

Monica sat down, anxiously turning to Silas with a question.

“Um, Silas-san, what are those shoes for…?”

“I figured now was a good time to get his feel back.”

Silas went on to place his order, then gave recommendations to Hugo and Glenn as they looked over the menu.

Monica and Cyril exchanged troubled looks. As it was their first time in this kind of restaurant, they had no clue how things were supposed to work. On top of that, Silas’s intentions were a mystery to them.

Raul, who had been happily looking around the restaurant, spoke up in a cheerful tone.

“This restaurant is very nice. I’ve never been to a place like this, so I’m a little excited.”

“Raul, can you play an instrument?” Cyril asked, still a bit fidgety.

“Yeah,” Raul nodded. “I can play the flute! How about you, Cyril? Monica?”

“No,” Cyril replied. “I can’t play anything…”

“I-I’m not very good either…”

Monica’s understatement caused Cyril to grimace slightly. She decided to confess the truth.

“…I’m very bad at music.”

Cyril nodded this time. He knew about how Monica nearly failed her music and dance classes.

At the time, Monica had a difficult time speaking in front of other people. She only survived choir class by using her forbidden chantless techniques, aka mouthing the lyrics. She barely passed her retake of the dance exam after practicing with Glenn.

(I still remember that dance practice…)

While Monica was lost in nostalgia, Isaac finished tying his shoelaces.

Silas grinned and picked up a fiddle hanging on the wall. The instrument almost seemed small compared to his large frame.

He started playing a tune with practiced ease. Even a musical amateur like Monica could recognize the skill behind his powerful performance.

Upon hearing this, a few people murmured, “That one, huh?” and “I can do it,” as they picked up their instruments too. These included an accordion, a tin whistle, a wooden flute, and even some wooden percussion instruments that Monica didn’t recognize.

Once Silas finished the first phrase of the tune, the other men joined in with their instruments.

They played the same melody started by Silas, but it felt like a sudden expansion with the additional embellishments and instruments.

The tune was refreshing, high-tempo, and somehow a bit nostalgic. Like a gust of wind blowing across the plains.

“There are so many people who can play music…”

Monica murmured in admiration. They joined together in an impromptu ensemble without the need for sheet music. It seemed like an incredibly advanced skill to her.

“It should be easy to remember since it’s the same phrase repeated over and over again,” Cyril explained. “Also, each part is fundamentally the same, so it’s not hard to adapt to different instruments.”

The drunkards without instruments joined in as well, whistling and clapping along with the rhythm.

And in between, there was a rhythmic tapping from the soles of shoes coming from the man right next to her, Isaac.

Isaac took a big swig from the mug of ale he ordered, then let out a deep breath as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. His eyes sparkled with mischief and confidence.

“I’m gonna go show off a little.”

Isaac stepped forward. A few men whistled at him, and he whistled back in response.

In sync with the melodic whistling, he kept tapping his shoes against the floor. His agile movements matched the rhythm of the music perfectly.

This seemed to be a step dance using only the lower body, as there was barely any movement in his upper body.

The soles of his shoes played a rhythm just as pleasing as the instruments themselves. His long legs crossed and swung dramatically as he kicked off the floor.

(Wow! This is amazing!)

Meanwhile, Silas handed his fiddle to another man and beckoned Monica over.

When she stepped closer, Silas grabbed a mop leaning against the wall.

“Nee-san, hold this mop with me. Place your hands underneath the handle to support it. Got it? Don’t grab it, just support from below, okay?”

“O-Okay? I will…”

Monica and Silas each held one end of the mop, holding it horizontally just barely above the floor.

(Um, so I put my hands underneath… I wonder why we have to hold it from below though…)

In the meantime, Silas shouted at Isaac.

“Ike! You’re not raising your feet high enough!”

“Oh, I’ll make you regret saying that.”

With a confident smirk, Isaac came over and started dancing across the mop handle.

He danced the same snappy steps in the same rhythm, but now, he had to swing his legs high enough to clear the mop.

Meanwhile, the drunken musicians played faster and faster with each repetition. The song was fun and chaotic, but it had a solid foundation as its center.

Isaac’s steps captured all of it.

Monica felt like she could finally understand the reason this music didn’t follow the sheet.

(Wow, wow, wow…!)

As she watched Isaac with flushed cheeks, the end of the song approached.

With a grin, Isaac kicked the mop handle upward. This must have been why Silas told her to hold it from underneath.

He caught the mop and pulled it close, as if it was his dancer partner, and performed a bow.

Everyone erupted in cheers, including the clapping Monica.

“Wow, Ike, that was amazing!”

“…Did I look cool?”

“Yeah!”

Monica nodded enthusiastically, and Isaac brushed his sweat-drenched bangs back with a smile. This time, it was a cheerful, unpretentious smile.

Then, Silas clapped Isaac on the shoulder.

“Ike, pass the mop! It’s my turn now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Isaac said, pressing the mop into Cyril’s hands as if it was only natural. “Here, you can go join him.”

“…”

Cyril seemed a bit dissatisfied as he was pushed into holding the mop for Silas alongside some old guy he’d never met.

Silas danced above that mop in tune with the rhythm. He was even taller than Isaac, so his steps packed far more power.

As the one who pushed Isaac into this, he was clearly skilled. However…

“Ah?!”

Silas missed a step and stomped down on the mop handle. The mop snapped in two with a thunderous crack.

The stunned Cyril stared down at the broken mop as Monica rushed over to him in panic.

“Cyril-sama, a-are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but…”

A sudden burst of laughter erupted behind them. They turned around to see Isaac doubled over, clutching his stomach and laughing.

“You actually stepped on the mop and broke it! After challenging me to a dance so confidently!”

“Shut up, Ike!”

Isaac wheezed with laughter as Silas shouted until he was red in the face.

After watching this exchange, Cyril muttered quietly to Monica.

“That…”

Cyril paused and closed his eyes for a second, before reopening them with a smile. It was as though a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“That is Ike, huh.”

“Yes,” Monica replied with a smile of her own. “That is Ike.”

Silas tried to throw a jab at Isaac, but Isaac easily dodged it.

He escaped to join Glenn and Hugo, who were munching on sausages while discussing if sausages were better boiled or grilled. The disciples of the Seven Sages seemed more serious about meat than magic.

After washing down the sausages with ale, Isaac went back to talk to Silas and Raul about the differences in flutes from the East.

Cyril watched it all with a tranquil gaze. Surely, Monica herself had the same look on her face.

Eventually, the food was brought to their table. Cyril had looked a bit drained after suffering from Ray’s curse, but he seemed to have regained some appetite.

“Monica, could you pass me that plate?”

“Yes, here you go… ah, do you know how to eat this?”

Cyril paused in front of the plate of bread, meat, and vegetables.

With a hint of pride, Monica split the bread into two and stuffed it with meat and vegetables.

“Like this, like this… and done!”

“Pft…!”

Cyril held back a spurt of laughter.

Monica panicked slightly, wondering if she had done something strange. However, Cyril covered his mouth and explained.

“Sorry, you just reminded me of what Ike did earlier…”

“Oh.”

Monica also chuckled as she remembered Isaac three-step prank demonstration of ‘Like this, like this, and done!’

“I guess I got influenced a bit.”

Monica took a bite out of her sandwich.

The meat seemed to be flavored with a slightly sweet fruit-based sauce, which Monica enjoyed pairing with lots of vegetables, and perhaps a squeeze of lemon if available.

“This sauce goes well with it too,” Cyril said, pouring a different sauce onto his sandwich.

“I don’t think I’ve had that one before. Maybe I’ll try it.”

“It’s the tangy kind.”

This was just an ordinary chat over a meal, but Monica loved every second of it. She found such simple moments to be the most precious.

Monica had the appearance of a child, so she looked out of a place in a tavern at night. And yet, everyone accepted her as if it were only natural.

And she had come to accept herself too.

Previously, she was constantly thinking, “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. I want to disappear” when dealing with others.

But now, she was surrounded by many people, including strangers, and those thoughts were gone.

(I am here… and Ike is too…)

The old Monica was afraid of people, unable to find her place in any circle.

The old Isaac was obsessed over becoming the perfect prince, to the point where he gave up on his life as Isaac Walker.

The witch who escaped into the world of numbers and the ghost bound by delusions were now standing there and facing forward, surrounded by many friends. They lived as people, among people.

“Do you really like the sandwich that much?” Cyril asked.

“Huh?”

“Because you look so happy.”

Even Cyril was smiling too. It was like both of them had been swept up in the warm and lively atmosphere.

Surely, this moment would become one of Monica’s treasures. One too big to fit in her drawer.

Monica lifted the corners of her mouth into a soft smile.

“Well, I am having a lot of fun. What about you, Cyril-sama?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Raul started playing the flute under Silas’s guidance, while Hugo tried to copy the dance steps, muttering, “Wouldn’t I be super popular if I can do this?” Glenn was secretly pouring a drink into a small dish and offering it to Wildianu.

As Monica and Cyril watched all of these scenes, Isaac paused his dance lessons to Hugo and approached them.

The man fully immersed in the joys of dancing, drinking, eating, chatting, and laughing held out his hands to Monica and Cyril.

“Come over here. I’ll teach you the steps too.”

“D-Dancing might be a bit too hard for me… Er, actually, nevermind, I’ll try my best!”

“Yes, please. It would be my honor to learn from you, Ike!”

Monica replied with the determination to try anything, and Cyril followed behind her.

Isaac grinned, taking Monica’s hand in his right and Cyril’s in his left, as he led them through the steps.

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