Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 13: Strange Happenings

“Anything strange?” Hailey looked even more at a loss. “How could that be? Every year court mages preside over the ritual, and the ritual has never had a problem.”

“All done,” the stall woman cut them off loudly, pointing at the ten bowls of cheese and berries lined up in a row.

“Ten copper teeth a serving, one silver shield buys exactly ten.”

Myss worked hard to scoop up six servings but couldn’t carry any more. He turned to Hailey. “The other four are yours.”

Hailey’s mouth fell open. She was just about to decline when Myss added impatiently, “Take them, and count it as your fee for answering.”

“Wow, thank you. You really are a good person.” “Thank you!”

Hailey and the chickadee cried out together.

So much for getting his hopes up.

Myss had thought he might fish up some key lead, yet in the end they still had to honestly go investigate the ritual. Hugging a big armful of cheese and berries, he turned gloomily toward Salaar.

“…You bought that many, Myss.”

Madam Mina was still there. The moment Myss turned, he saw her at a glance.

She stood precisely between Myss and Salaar, her left arm cradling a brimming basket of candy and croutons, her right hand carrying two bowls of cheese with berries, as if she had been waiting there for him.

Her smile was unusually gentle, with not the least trace of displeasure at being kept waiting.

Myss felt a subtle discomfort.

Seeing Madam Mina again, his mind and body slipped out of alignment for an instant. The feeling was like the brief weightlessness when a horse jolts—his chest swelled, his stomach felt heavy, and he almost wanted to retch.

His mind told him this human wasn’t only rude but a bit abnormal. His body shouted the opposite, that he was looking at the person he trusted most.

Myss only knew a single human, so “the person he trusted most” could only force him to think of Salaar. Feeling this eerie “trust” made his mood even worse.

“What do you want?” he asked coldly.

“I only wanted to speak with you, child,” she whispered. “I am sorry I upset you. Let us meet again another time.”

“I don’t want to see you again,” Myss said bluntly.

Mina didn’t answer. Smiling, she smoothed her tawny bun, hugged the basket of treats to her chest, and her figure melted into the crowd.

Myss suddenly recalled the first time they met. Back when they were still on the caravan wagons, Mina had been sitting at Kai’s side with a food basket full to the brim in her arms.

What had she and Salaar talked about then? He had slept through most of the journey and hadn’t heard much.

Forget it. Overthinking was pointless. Madam Mina was only a human of no importance; not worth the effort.

……

“Your social skills are beyond my expectations,” Salaar said lightly, reaching out to take the cheese and berries.

Myss darted away, not giving him a single bowl, even though he could barely hold them steady anymore.

The Demon Lord had the air of a fire dragon guarding its eggs. If Salaar dared to snatch his food, he could breathe fire on the spot.

Moved by a certain curiosity, Salaar waited until Myss was distracted, then snatched one bowl with the speed of a duelist. Before Myss could get a curse out, the dessert had gone down Salaar’s throat with a gulp.

“Tastes great.” Salaar licked the berry juice at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be so stingy. You already gave Hailey four bowls.”

Myss raised his brows. “I would rather dump another four into the gutter.”

Salaar: “Either way you can’t finish them. Just pretend I’m the gutter.”

Myss gave him a scornful once-over and started stuffing his mouth on the spot. By the fifth bowl, he had to admit Salaar was right. Human bodies were a nuisance. The feeling of hunger was miserable, and the pain of being overstuffed wasn’t any better.

Before night even fell, Salaar had no choice but to take the indigestion-stricken Demon Lord back to the inn.

It’s not really a big deal, Salaar thought. Nights in the Lower City weren’t suited to going out anyway, and they still had time—

There were several days before the ritual. When the time came, they would go observe the Magic Initiation Ritual and find a way to get the records from ten years ago.

Rosha had fewer than two thousand people. At most thirty to forty children would take part in the ritual, and there wouldn’t be many guardians and staff who had access to it.

That mysterious pen pal had to be among them. At worst, they could go down the list and check one by one.

…Unless the summoning ritual in “Patience’s” letters referred to something else.

Salaar sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the notebook filled with copied letters.

In the glow of the setting sun, he flipped through the pages and reread the letters about Patience. Myss sprawled on his own bed, stretching his limbs and wrestling with the mountain of cheese in his stomach.

Knock, knock. A soft rapping sounded at the door.

Myss heaved himself on the bed with difficulty. “Hey.”

He compressed “Someone is knocking,” “I don’t want to move at all,” and “Go open the door” into a single word.

“Probably food from the inn. I ordered two bowls of cranberry soup. I’ll get it.”

Salaar actually understood. He snapped the notebook shut and walked to the door.

Sure enough, the same kitchen helper from last night was standing there with a tray that had two bowls of cranberry soup on it. They were served in light wooden bowls, the rims garnished with fresh mint leaves.

“Your cranberry soup is here.” Seeing Salaar open the door, she smiled gently. “Does Myss have indigestion? I added extra cranberries. It’ll be good for him.”

Salaar took the tray and stared steadily at the woman before him.

The woman fussed with concern. “If he still feels unwell before bed, try hot apple cider boiled with herbs. Hammer has stocked plenty of herbs. Just tell him.”

“Who are you, exactly?” After a brief daze, Salaar asked bluntly.

“Me? I’m Mina.”

The kitchen helper blinked, and her tone was as if they had known each other for years. “Child, you’re a little strange today. Are you feeling ill?”

Salaar stepped back two paces at once and slammed the door. A golden protective spell flared into place and completely sealed the room.

The two bowls of cranberry soup flipped to the floor with the tray. Deep red soup ran along the wooden boards, resembling blood.

Silence fell outside. The kitchen helper, who called herself Mina, made no response at all.

“What’s wrong with you?” Myss picked up the wooden bowls with a pang. Only a little soup was left inside.

“You didn’t see her?” Salaar kept his eyes fixed on the door.

“Her? The one who brought the soup just now was Hammer,” Myss said in puzzlement. “He said he could also make hot apple cider, gave you a greeting, and left.”

“Then you suddenly slammed the door and even knocked the soup over…”

Salaar’s face was as dark as still water.

He strode back to the bed, grabbed his notebook and a charcoal stick. After a few swift strokes, Salaar held the notebook up. A half-length portrait of a woman had appeared on the page, rendered so realistically it looked like a magical photograph.

In the picture the woman wore an ordinary linen dress, her long hair coiled into a bun at the back. Her brows and eyes were gentle, and a loving smile hovered at the corners of her mouth.

“Tawny hair, brown eyes.”

Salaar pointed at the person in the portrait. “She’s the one I saw at the door. She said her name was Mina. She gave me a feeling…”

He paused for quite a while here.

“She gave me a ‘motherly’ feeling,” he said after a few seconds. “Not the kind of ‘reminds me of my mother’, but the kind of ‘she is my mother’.”

Myss stared hard at the portrait. What a coincidence. He knew the woman in the picture too.

Without a doubt, it was Madam Mina.

Only a few hours ago he had just met this woman. She had been carrying a heap of food then, with a bonnet on her head and a dark apron, more than what the picture showed.

“I don’t have a mother. Try describing it another way,” Myss said, unusually earnest.

Salaar thought for a moment. “My subconscious finds her very kind. I feel relaxed by her side and can trust her unconditionally.”

“She definitely altered my memories. I have extra fragments in my head, scenes where she raised me.”

“If your memories have been changed, how do you know she isn’t your mother?”

The words were barely out when Myss regretted them.

Of course that was nonsense. How could Salaar’s mother still be alive three hundred years later? He kept forgetting how short human lifespans are. Myss sighed inwardly and waited for Salaar’s sarcasm.

But Salaar didn’t answer at once.

For an instant he looked at Myss with a complicated, almost sorrowful gaze. Then the feeling vanished, and only the usual Salaar remained.

“Oh, she didn’t live that long,” he said lightly. “In short, this is very wrong. We didn’t even sense any magical ripples. Which means I may have been affected at an earlier point.”

Myss thought it over. “When the four of us rode the carriage into the city together?”

Salaar drew a deep breath. “Myss, in that carriage it was only you, me, and… uh, Kai…?”

As he spoke, his eyebrows twitched, as if he wasn’t very sure of what he was saying.

Myss fell silent.

He tried to recall the past, and sure enough, more abnormal memories surfaced.

He remembered the child version of “himself” held in Mina’s arms, her embrace warm and soft. He remembered her shielding him from the slave owner’s whip, warm blood dripping onto his skin.

She hid flatbread for him when he was hungry, taught the ignorant boy to read a little at a time, and wove a fine cocoon of motherly love. Not long ago they had been bought together by Lord Kearns.

On the day he was sacrificed, she was locked in the mansion basement, and the corridors echoed with her despairing cries… In the end… They both escaped. They rode a carriage together to Rosha and took rooms on the second floor of the inn. Mina, his most beloved mother Mina…

…As if.

Myss sorted through the memories without a ripple, coolly watching those farces called love, like looking down at two ants touching feelers.

Mina had only tainted the memories of the body belonging to the slave. The part that belonged solely to Myss—the long years in the dark—hadn’t changed in the least.

Compared with such odds and ends, at this very moment Myss was more interested in another discovery.

On the opposite bed, Salaar was still studying the portrait of Mina, when suddenly, Myss lunged forward and shoved Salaar down onto the bed.

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The author has something to say:

Mina (to Myss): I’m the one you trust most…

Myss: I only know one human, Salaar. Are you sure you want to remind me of him?

Mina (to Myss): I’m the mother who loves you most…

Myss: I don’t have a mother.

Salaar: …

Pure nonhuman, 360-degree defense, cannot be targeted.

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