Majo no Tabitabi - Volume 4 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

A Fictional Witch

A tough cookie like myself always began her day with a cup of coffee.

To those of us who dwelled in the shadows, making our living as spies, there was nothing better than waking up to a cup of java strong enough to properly banish sleep… At least, that was what’s written in my hard-boiled spy novels, so it had to be true.

Pumping ourselves full of coffee and drugs was the way of the world-weary. I mixed a drop of the medicine into my coffee and drank it down. This was my daily routine.

I’d never been sure of what was in these drugs. I bought them from some mail-order catalog. But they were super expensive, so I was convinced they were beneficial to my health.

“Bleh…so bitter.”

This strong flavor was actually what banished sleepiness. Probably. That wasn’t written anywhere in the books, though. Coffee was really bitter and gross and seriously tasted like mud, which triggered my gag reflex and made drowsiness my second priority. It didn’t taste anything like how they described it in the spy novels. In fact, they wrote that black coffee was delicious or something, but that had to be sarcasm or some sort of dark comedy. Get it? Because coffee is dark.

“…Ewwwwww…”

So after puking in the bathroom as usual, I headed for the office, looking cool. As I walked, I popped a (chocolate) cigarette in my mouth.

The very definition of hard-boiled.

My workplace was a spy organization that fronted as a coffee shop. It looked hip and intelligent up front, but in the back, we took care of the bloody business. Wasn’t that just the very definition of case-hardened?

“Oh, Yuuri, you’re here. Let’s get down to business. I’ve got a job for you.”

The person who spoke to me was a grumpy old man. The boss of the organization.

Apparently, this man was the one who picked me up when I was abandoned as a child and raised me. I have no memory of this since it happened so long ago. I’ve forgotten all about my past because I’m so jaded by the world!

“Humph. And I suppose it’s something that’s worthy of my time?” I asked, tossing my hair. Even toward the boss, my attitude was hard-boiled.

“It’s a job only you can do—look at this.” The boss frowned and tossed a file onto my desk. “And when did you become enough of a big shot to talk to me like that?”

He scowled at me, hard.

Keeping my trembling fingers in check, I opened the file. The contents were a very simple matter. However, it was a directive that was simple and therefore complicated.

DIRECTIVE FOR THE ASSASSINATION OF THE FICTIONAL WITCH

Under the title were written the basic characteristics of the target and the date set for the assassination.

The target was a traveling witch who had arrived in this country several days earlier. This witch had a cute outward appearance, but her character was evil beyond all description. She was a fiend among fiends who deceived people without hesitation, thought only of accumulating wealth, and made free use of any and all fraudulent methods to swindle people—from innocent commoners to royalty. Damage reports had been coming in night and day from neighboring countries, and it sounded like it would be no exaggeration to say that if we were unable to bring her down here, she could destroy a small country.

An evil individual, to be sure, but the inconvenient part was that the target was a witch. Among the ranks of mages, it went novice, apprentice, then witch—the highest rank that only rare geniuses attained. Sixteen years had passed since I was born in this country, but I had yet to lay eyes on a real one. That was how rare they were.

But that particular witch was pure evil, and this time, she was the target I was supposed to bring down.

……

“Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t put out this directive as a joke.”

“But…I’m just an ordinary mage…”

I forgot to tell you, but I was the lowest class of mage. You could say that if witches were like precious gemstones, I was like one of the little pebbles scattered around them.

“But this job is one that I can only entrust to you. As you know, our organization is entirely men, except for you. And most of them can’t even use magic. To be honest, if it comes down to a magical showdown, the person in our organization with the highest chance of survival is you.”

“…In other words, this is a job only I can do?”

I see!

“I’ve already told you that.” My boss let out a sigh of exasperation.

Feeling somewhat nervous, I looked over the description of the target witch one more time—

Her hair was the color of ash. It went down to about her hips and swayed gently in the summer breeze blowing across the seats at the café terrace.

Her eyes were lapis-colored. They were tranquil like the sea in midwinter, looking at the complete breakfast that had been placed before her, consisting of a boiled egg, toast, and black coffee.

She was a traveler, clad in a pointy black hat and black robe. Upon her breast was the star-shaped brooch that served as proof that she was a witch. In short, she was a traveler and a witch. She must have been around her late teens. Something about her was unrefined. As she worked diligently to peel the shell from her boiled egg, she looked like someone’s adorable daughter helping her mother in the kitchen.

Finally, the cute daughter (the witch) finished peeling her egg and gulped her coffee down in one mouthful. She loved it—black, or with a splash of milk, or with a sprinkling of sugar, as long as it was coffee. Even better to drink the first few sips black, then add a dash of milk and sugar to experience all the different flavors.

Coffee is the best, she thought, letting out a sigh as she set the cup down.

Oddly enough, she was picky about her boiled eggs.

She thought it was best when the yolk crumbled into bits as soon as she pulled her mouth away after taking a bite. That way it was easy to sprinkle with salt. The very definition of hard-boiled.

“…What a beautiful morning.”

This witch seated at a highly reviewed café, taking a break from her travels—just who could she be?

That’s right. She’s me.

“……”

I could take in the scenery of this country from my terrace seat at the café. The city was lined with white-painted walls and uniform buildings. The ground was paved with brick, spreading out to form a fan-shaped pattern. The people trotting over it were shopping, or engaged in friendly conversation, or walking around people-watching like me.

It seemed like a nice, safe, clean city, though the scenery wasn’t anything special.

The everyday lives of the people were spread out before me.

And so I was blending into the scene by taking a rest at a café.

“Excuse me, miss… If you don’t mind, could I get your autograph?”

I was drinking my coffee, lost in thought about what I should do after breakfast, when the waitress brought me a piece of colored paper and a pen, along with another cup of java.

“The coffee’s on the house,” she added.

“My autograph? Why…?” I’m sure I was making quite a puzzled expression. “I’m not famous or anything, you know?” I’m just your average traveler.

The waitress looked very excited. “This is my first time seeing a witch! I’ve always aspired to be one, so I was moved when I saw you today!”

Her two light brown pigtails bobbed, tied at the back of her head. She peered at me with blue eyes, edging closer and closer. “So, um, if you don’t mind, I want to decorate the shop with it!”

“…Well, I guess I don’t really mind.”

I took the pen and smoothly wrote my name on the colored paper. It was a sloppy signature like I would do at the front desk of an inn.

“Here you go.” I handed it back to her, and the waitress held it like it was something precious.

“Thank you! Please drink that coffee, okay? It’s made with love!”

…But I was still working on my first cup. What the heck was that all about?

I couldn’t say I didn’t find that waitress strangely suspicious. Also, what did she mean by saying this was made with love? It looks like a totally ordinary cup of coffee.

A witch wasn’t opposed to hospitality, but it felt peculiar.

“Hey, Miss Witch. You’re cute. You alone? Wanna have coffee with me?”

As I picked up the cup that the waitress had just given me, a sketchy man sat down across from me.

“……”

A witch isn’t opposed to being treated in a flippant way. Rather, she knows that if she places a curse on the man propositioning her to make him spew blood from every orifice in his body, then the world will become a little bit more peaceful.

“I’m sorry. I’m a bit busy right now.” With a sigh, I brought the lovingly prepared coffee to my lips.

There are all kinds of ways to enjoy a cup of java. For example, as I told you earlier, you can enjoy it by taking the first few sips black before adding milk and sugar. Or you can enjoy it black from beginning to end. Anyway, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that a single cup holds infinite possibilities.

When considering your cup of coffee, which holds an endless expansion of enjoyment, the first thing you ought to do is inhale and feel the aroma flood the inside of your chest. I think there’s nothing better.

“I know a place that has better coffee. How ’bout it? Let’s go together.”

“……”

The sharp steam from the coffee blended with his cologne and his shallow words and actions, transforming into something truly repulsive. My heart dropped. The aroma of the high-quality coffee had undergone a complete change into something that seemed more like muddy water. I felt like throwing up.

“It’s definitely better! Really! I might not look the part, but you know, I’m quite the coffee connoisseur!”

“…Huh?”

I was ignoring the man and enjoying the coffee aroma for a bit when I realized something strange.

Mixed in with the coffee and the stench of garbage wafting off of the pile of human trash was a slight medicinal odor. It was hard to notice beneath the smell, yet there was an acrid smell that had no business in a café. It was just the slightest hint of a scent.

To test out this theory, I took some distance from the man.

“Hey! Wait! Are you ignoring me? That’s mean!”

Even when I isolated the cup from his filthy stench, the medicinal smell still wafted off it.

I kept sniffing around for a while, trying to identify the scent.

“…Ah!”

Then, I realized.

This is poison!

Poison with the secret potential to make me nauseous from the pit of my stomach if I drank it. What’s worse, it was an awful type that would only show its true power when mixed with coffee. If I were to drink this, I would puke all over myself in front of the whole town.

What was all that about yearning to become a witch like me? What was all that about making this with love? Does love mean projectile vomiting?

When I looked around me, I couldn’t see the waitress anymore. Not inside the café, not in the crowd, not anywhere in sight.

“……”

Could it be that I’m being targeted by someone?

With a bad hunch, I decided to leave the café right then.

“Hey, wait! What about our date?”

“Sorry. Gotta run. I’m busy. I’ve got plans,” I lied, collecting my things. “I’ll give you this coffee. I’ve already had some of it, though. I’m not a fan.”

I pushed the poisoned coffee toward the man and made my escape.

Even I thought my sloppy lie about being sensitive to coffee was rather transparent, but the shallow man bought it wholesale. He even had a lewd look on his face.

“Oh, leftovers? Really? Lucky me!”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Another lie.

“What’s the status on the matter with that witch?”

When I returned to the office, the boss was wearing another sour expression.

I had donned a somber black robe on top of my waitress getup to lend a hard-boiled feel to it all, and as I answered, I flipped the robe dramatically, causing my brown pigtails to bounce.

“As expected. I brought down the witch with my own hands! Right about now, that woman ought to be dying of embarrassment in front of the whole city!”

It was the perfect strategy.

The “Fictional Witch” in question had been leisurely enjoying her breakfast at a café in town, so I had gotten her autograph and hung it up in the restaurant. There was nothing more embarrassing in this world than having your signature hanging in a café despite not being famous for anything. That witch must be feeling so much shame that she would rather crawl in a hole and die! And of course, in this plan, there is no such hole.

I slickly told my boss the details of the plan that had taken down the evil witch.

And here’s what my boss had to say after silently lending me his ear:

“So I suppose you saw her become mortified with your own eyes?”

“Huh? Of course not.”

I would get secondhand embarrassment.

“……” At this point, my boss let out a huge sigh. “You… Okay, listen up. First of all, there’s no way a witch would die just because she was mistaken for someone famous, right?”

“She would die in the social sense.”

“No, I want you to physically kill her. Also, the witch wasn’t even humiliated.”

“Uh.”

“On the contrary, one of our own agents got mixed up in all this and threw up at the café.”

“Uh.” What do you mean? Did he drink coffee or something? Coffee is basically poison.

“…From now on, you’re only to carry out your plans after informing your colleagues, all right?”

“……”

After that, the day ended with me getting a long scolding from the boss.

I swore to him that I would do some serious reflection and bring down the witch with an even more perfect plan the next day. I stayed up all night working out my new scheme. Enjoying a cup of drug-laced coffee while rolling out blueprints and brooding over them (though I had absolutely no idea what was written on them) made me seem like a case-hardened detective.

And then I threw up.

I had one week to carry out my plan. I wasn’t going to think about what would happen in the event that I was unable to bring down the Fictional Witch within that time period.

Since I had recorded a crushing defeat on day one, I decided to use the next five days to diligently study the witch. On the final day, I would bring this matter to an end… When I told the boss about this plan, he replied, “Oh, cool.” His attitude was as cold as ice.

Day one of surveillance.

The morning sun was dazzling today.

The witch had been lounging at a café since morning. I could practically hear her challenging me: “You’re not really that scary. Go on, hit me anywhere you like!”

Today she ordered only a cup of coffee, perhaps because she’s on her guard. However, she hadn’t taken a single sip, watching as the coffee placed before her gradually lost all of its steam. I knew coffee was disgusting. She must have forced herself to drink it yesterday. I understood.

I continued staking out the café until evening.

Those boring hours were a struggle against drowsiness.

But it was especially at times like these that we must compose ourselves. True victory awaited me if I remained patient.

So that was why I drank coffee to keep me awake while I was on my stakeout.

And I puked it back up.

Night fell, and I withdrew from the café when it was time for it to close. I made sure to clean up my vomit, by the way.

Day two of surveillance.

The morning sun was blinding.

The witch had been lounging at the café since earlier. Why on earth could she be haunting the same café day after day? Could she be biding her time until I attack again?

But since I had decided not to try anything for five days, I spent this day on a stakeout, drinking coffee and throwing it up.

Day three of surveillance.

“Oh no, the hurl girl is here again.”

“It’s the puker. She’s back.”

“Watch, she’s definitely going to order coffee, and she’s definitely going to barf it back up.”

“It’s pretty much guaranteed she’ll throw up.”

“There’s a one hundred percent chance of vomit in today’s forecast.”

The café staff surrounded me at a distance, whispering among themselves. I could hear everything they said, but being the cynical type, I was accustomed to a certain degree of prejudice.

So I had coffee today, too. I gulped it down with gusto.

And up it came, in record-breaking volume.

Day four of surveillance.

I started puking in the morning, throwing up at the café to vomit.

By the way, the witch had deliberately placed a single cup of coffee on the table in front of her.

My vomit soundtrack would continue as long as she did not move.

Day five of surveillance.

The boss summoned me first thing in the morning.

“What are you doing every day at that café?” he asked.

Huh? What’s this? Is this boss of mine stalking me?

Apparently, a letter of complaint had arrived from the café, stating, “We’d like you to do something about your subordinate who has been vomiting at our café every single day. She’s been really bad for business.”

After he gave me a piece of his mind, I snuck back over to the café.

The witch was there on that day, too.

The only thing I learned over five days of surveillance was the fact that the witch was going to the same café and sitting there in a daze from morning to night, totally exposed.

The only thing I could be certain of was that I had plenty of opportunities.

I simply had to jump on the opportunity, right?

The following day…

I finally set out to execute my plan. I had been ordered to kill her, but killing went against my principles. So I decided to capture her instead.

On this day, she was parked in a seat at the café without a care, coffee sitting on the table in front of her. Completely defenseless. If I was going to do it, it had to be now.

I gripped my wand and came up directly behind her, then shouted as I cast a spell, “All riiight!”

It was a handcuff spell—an amazing spell that forcibly entrapped my opponent in the type of handcuffs that bound even the fingers with solid chains.

By the way, it had taken me a week to learn it.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! How’s that? You can’t do anything like this, can you? Serves you right!” I laughed loudly in the café as I dragged the Fictional Witch off by the scruff of her neck.

Let’s get you back to the office!

But—

“…Um, are you an idiot?”

Someone tapped my shoulder.

“Huh? What’s your deal?”

When I turned around, I saw a witch with ash-colored hair and lapis-colored eyes.

Huh? What the heck? Why is my captive just standing there? What’s going on?

“Did you really think the dummy sitting at the café all day was me?”

When I looked more carefully, the Fictional Witch in my bindings was just a doll with the same appearance as the witch.

She hadn’t been coming to the café every day for five days. This doll had been sitting here the whole time.

That was her trick.

I was made acutely aware of this fact in that moment.

“You dummy,” the witch said as she fired a spell in my direction.

I had realized on the first day of my stay that I was being targeted by someone. Right away, I took steps to protect myself from whoever it was. The following day, I had gone to the café before it opened.

“Umm, excuse me? …Would it be okay for me to put this doll in one of the terrace seats?” I asked.

It was a mannequin that imitated my appearance to a T. From the modeling on its face to the shape of its figure—even the texture of its skin was exactly like mine. For a witch of my caliber, making this was a piece of cake.

“Huh? This…? Well, we don’t really do that sort of thing here…”

The manager was a little confused.

“I should have said this earlier, but my name is Elaina. The Ashen Witch, Elaina.” I introduced myself politely. “By the way, I’m quite famous.” I pointed to the autograph decorating the café wall.

I suspected that whomever had tried to get me to drink poisoned coffee on the first day had placed it there.

I had absolutely no idea what purpose it was supposed to serve, but I was going to take the liberty of using it against them.

“A famous person…” The manager started mulling it over.

“Think about it, Mr. Manager. My signature is here on your wall, right? And I have a doll of myself, right?”

“Yes…”

“And we’re going to put it on the terrace, right?”

“Hmm.”

“It’ll be great for business!”

“Let’s do it.”

The manager and I shook hands firmly.

Then, the mannequin was put into place, and I began my surveillance of Lady Barfsalot (my temporary nickname for her), who was surveilling me.

She watched me for five whole days, covering herself with puke as she did. Great job.

But I was not the least bit inclined to reward her efforts.

“You dummy.”

I fired several orbs of magical energy, blasting her, but not enough to kill her.

I thought that if I blasted her, she probably wouldn’t come after me anymore.

“Well, that’s all taken care of.”

I considered collecting my mannequin, but that would make it look like I’d lost to a mere customer in some way, so I decided to leave it where it was.

This way, it can live a life of dignified leisure, drinking coffee at a café, I suppose.

“Oh, excuse me. One coffee, please.”

I sat opposite the mannequin and raised my hand to call the manager over.

Startled to see the same face sitting across from itself, the manager placed my coffee and a refill for the mannequin’s cup on the table and left.

I was enjoying the aroma of my coffee.

“W-wait right there…! We’re not done here!”

Panting and puffing, the mage reappeared. Her brown pigtails were in disarray, and strands were sticking to her sweaty face. She must have run back here after being blown away.

“Oh, hi there.” I greeted her with a bob of my head. It wasn’t well received.

“Did you think I would just give up? Well, too bad! I won’t give up until I’ve knocked you out with all my power!”

The girl took her wand in hand, prepared herself, and cast a spell in my direction.

It was just a crude burst of blue-white light, a collection of magical energy.

“Pff—” I curled the corners of my mouth up slightly and raised my wand as I balanced my cup in my hand. “You really are a dummy. As if something like that would be effective—”

But the spell she had cast slipped right through and blasted my head to bits.

My mannequin’s head, that is.

“…That’s not me.”

I showered her with spheres of magical energy again and sent her flying.

Then I repaired the mannequin.

Even after that, she kept coming back, over and over again.

“Too bad for you! I’ll come back as often as it takes!”

Well, I blasted her away again.

“My name is Yuuri! I’m an elite mage working as a spy in this country!” It was a little late for her to be introducing herself, and she wasn’t acting with the slightest bit of secrecy despite being a self-proclaimed spy. I had a whole host of questions, which made my head throb. So for the time being, I simply fired more magic at her.

“Oh? What’s this? Is that all you got? If you want to take me down, you better hit me with something stronger!”

I went along with her suggestion and blasted her away more forcefully.

“I mean, what’s with you? What is the deal with witches? Why are you sharing a table with a mannequin? It’s so gross, I’m gonna puke.”

I blasted her away.

“I have to bring you down! Now kindly behave and let me finish you off, you evil witch!”

I blasted her away, and you know the rest.

“…Come on, just one hit would be nice, so won’t you just take it? I really just want to land one hit! Okay? Please?!”

I blasted… Well, you know the rest.

“…Come ooooon! Die!”

I… You know the rest.

“I’m putting all my power into this one attack!” …You know the rest.

“I was still in the middle of chanting my spell…” …You know.

“…………Humph. Grrrr.”

Finally, the ragged girl appeared before me, her breath ragged from crying.

“…I hate witches.”

She was gripping her skirt tightly.

“Would you like to borrow this to wipe your tears?”

“I’m not crying.” Yuuri snatched up the handkerchief I offered to her.

“Yes you are.”

“Am not.” Yuuri blew her nose into my handkerchief.

What is this girl doing?

“…You can keep that.”

“…Thanks.”

“…Feel another cry coming on?”

“…I’m going home.”

And then she slowly walked away.

Her back had an air of sorrow about it.

“You’re fired.”

It was the following day.

I went to the office as always, when the boss hit me with those words and nothing else.

“Whaaat…? You’re joking, right?”

I was half laughing, unable to fully believe him. However, the eyes of the boss as he stared at me were merciless.

“I’m serious.”

“……”

“Listen. This latest directive was not just an internal affair. We had appeals from other countries, too. But you screwed up. Do you know what this means? Think about it with that tiny brain of yours.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t something that can be solved with an apology. Thanks to your screwup, the reputation of my organization has been dragged through the mud. To make matters worse, you caused a huge uproar at the coffee shop. You’ve got a heavy burden of responsibility here.”

“…Like how much?”

“Like this much.” The boss raised his hand and pointed it at me. His rugged hand was covered in a black glove and holding a revolver.

He was pointing it at my head.

“…Y-you’re joking, right?”

“I’m serious.”

This was the first time anyone had genuinely intended to kill me.

“Th-that can’t be…!” I was frantic, holding my wavering voice in check. “That can’t be right! All I did was fail one important assignment, right? Why do I have to die?! I’ve worked here for a long time—I may still be immature, but I won’t mess up again! So come on…”

“Get out. Now. If you leave, I won’t have to get my hands dirty.”

“Were you listening—?”

“Even if I’m not the one to kill you, many people in this country will come after you. It’s probably a good idea for you to leave town. But news of your failure is already spreading to our neighbors. If you don’t get far away before anyone finds out, I’m guessing you’ll be assassinated.”

“……”

“I can’t bring myself to lay a hand on you… You were like a daughter to me. Could you just piss off to somewhere I don’t know about, please? I’m firing you so I don’t have to do something worse.”

He didn’t want to get his own hands dirty, so he was taking my leash off and throwing me out. He would have nothing to do with what happened after that, whether I died a dog’s death or whatever else. I understood the implication.

“You won’t protect me?” I choked out, but that was all I could say.

“Of course not. That’s what it means to be a spy. We dispose of you when you’re no longer useful, even if you’re an ally, even if you’re gifted. You’re no exception.”

“……”

Without saying anything, I just stood stock-still.

“Take care and try not to get killed before you leave the country.”

Those were the last words my boss ever said to me.

It was the day after Yuuri had given up on me and gone home.

I was at my usual café. Actually, I hadn’t particularly planned on coming here, but what can I say? I had grown to like the taste of their hard-boiled eggs.

Since the townscape as viewed from the terrace seating had its own kind of charm, I had decided to sit in my usual seat.

“—Sniff. This is all your fault. I’m gonna hate you for the rest of my life.”

However, it seemed another customer had arrived before me.

“…If you had just let me take you down like the directive said, I could have finished the job without getting fired. I could have continued forever as a spy. I hate witches.”

It was Yuuri.

Fat teardrops spilling from her eyes, she sat across from my mannequin, blabbing on forever in total despair. Didn’t that make her feel worse?

“It’s all over… How did it turn out like this…?”

She was cradling her knees, hunched over on the chair. Balanced atop her knees was a pointy hat that was heartrendingly squashed.

“Are you sure it wasn’t because you’re still immature?” I gently planted my hand on her head.

“Wha…?!” She turned around, and after looking back and forth between me and the mannequin several times, she quickly wiped her tears. “I w-wasn’t crying!”

“Oh, is that so…?”

Shall I lend you another handkerchief?

“What? Did you come to laugh at me?”

“No, I just came to eat breakfast. Aren’t you here for the same reason?”

She suddenly turned her face away from me. “…That’s right.”

“You don’t look like you’ve ordered yet.” The tabletop was empty.

“…I was just about to.”

“Well then, mind ordering something for me, too?”

“Do you hear yourself? No way.”

“No, not for me. Order for the version of ‘me’ across from you.”

“…Fine.”

“Great.”

I tossed the mannequin off to the side somewhere and sat opposite the girl.

“……” Yuuri glared at me without saying anything. “I’m not going to treat you.”

“It’s not nice to lie, you know?” I think I let out a little laugh. “If you treat me, I’ll tell you about your future.”

“…What?”

“I think we’re ready to order.” I raised my hand and called a waitress over. “A double order of my usual breakfast, please.”

We both sat in silence until the waitress returned with our food. I wasn’t particularly bothered by it, but Yuuri seemed to have been in agony the whole time.

“…What?” she barked, sounding all prickly as our breakfast was being set in front of us.

“Seems like they kicked you out of that spy organization, huh?”

Cutting off any chance for a light roundabout conversation, I spoke up right away as I gently tapped the shell of my egg on the table. “Was yesterday the deadline for ‘taking me out’?”

“Why do you know about that? Where did you hear that?”

“I knew as soon as you sat down at this table.”

“You mean you knew from the start?”

“You know, you won’t impress anyone by chattering on about the details of your work in public. I don’t think you make a very good spy.”

“……”

She clammed up. She was probably feeling self-conscious.

“So, they drove you out because you still had some growing up to do, huh? That’s too bad.”

“…It’s all your fault.”

“It probably would have turned out that way even if I hadn’t been your opponent.” If that was the extent of your true abilities. “Wouldn’t you have been fired somewhere down the line once they found out you were useless? Whether your opponent was me or someone else, it would have turned out the same way eventually.”

Sooner or later, that would have been her fate. That’s all there was to say.

I continued pressing her. “But why do you think everything is ‘over’ just because you were fired? Don’t you think you need some perspective?”

For example, for a given cup of coffee, there were some people who preferred it black, and there were those who liked to add milk and sugar.

…And I supposed there were also girls who disliked it so much they puked all over themselves.

In other words—

“Look at a cup of coffee. It can take on many different flavors depending on the person drinking it. How about it? How about trying to look at your current situation a different way?”

“…Like how?”

“Let me see…” I looked up at the sky. After pretending to think for a little while, I chomped into my egg. “Well, how about something like this?”

And then I said, “Think of this as starting life anew.”

You just graduated from the spy organization, ordered to go out into the greater world. So maybe you’re being driven out of this country partly by force. But don’t you think you would be welcomed back with open arms if you returned as an excellent mage?

Don’t you think that would be a cool way to live?

I said something along those lines.

“……” She went silent again.

However, her dark expression was gone. “…So cool. So hard-boiled… That might work,” she mumbled to herself, the color gradually returning to her face.

So, you like hard-boiled detectives?

“You don’t really have time to be wasting, then. Why don’t you go learn things out there in the greater world? What you’re missing is experience.”

She was quite hardheaded, which I realized when she had thought she could win just by blasting me with balls of magical energy. She was on the same level as a boiled egg.

I placed an envelope on the table and stood up.

“Well, since you’ll be going, I’ll give you this as a gift for your brand-new life. Open it and take a look in a year’s time.”

She took the securely closed envelope and frowned. “I think I’m probably going to open it right away.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ve placed a spell on it so that if you open it before a year has passed, the letter inside will burn up and disappear. It’ll be a huge disaster if you open it.”

“That’s not fine at all…”

That’s why I told you not to open it. What’s wrong with you?

“The letter contains guidelines for traveling and secrets for becoming a strong magic user. If you train diligently for a year, I bet you’ll see satisfying results.”

I dropped a single gold coin on the table with a thunk and sat the mannequin back in its seat. “All right. After you enjoy a pleasant breakfast with this version of me, please hurry up and leave the country.”

Still sitting across from the mannequin, the girl opened her eyes wide in surprise.

“Huh? I thought I was treating you to breakfast.”

“I lied.”

It was the day after I had come to this country and subsequently almost drank coffee poisoned by Yuuri.

I was in a coffee shop. As I walked around town, I was flagged down by a gaudy man (which was the same guy who had tried to pick me up).

Again with this guy? I thought. He had changed completely from the previous day, wearing a sour look on his face. In the end, I decided to go with him, wondering what was going on.

I followed him until we arrived at this coffee shop.

“I have a request for you.”

On the other side of the counter, an austere older man crossed his hands and told me he was the boss of a spy organization.

He assumed an even more serious expression. “There is a young girl in our group. Her name is Yuuri. She’s the girl who asked for your autograph yesterday.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ll get straight to the point. Will you please help me drive her out of this country?”

I was about to ask why, but the man was already continuing to speak. “Well, we’ve already put together this plan to drive her away.”

The man flung a single file toward the stool, a folder with DIRECTIVE FOR THE ASSASSINATION OF THE FICTIONAL WITCH written on it.

I was urged to read the contents, so I opened it without hesitation.

Written in the file was a profile of a witch with an appearance and personal history that closely resembled mine, along with a call for her elimination on account of being an evil influence. The only apparent difference was the witch’s name. I didn’t go by a title that sounded as fake as “the Fictional Witch.”

“I never imagined a witch with ashen hair would actually come to our country. I made a miscalculation. I doubt this reflects your personal history, but—with this directive, you’ve been transformed into quite the villain.”

“……”

“Why are you looking away?”

“No reason.” I changed the subject. “So why is Yuuri supposed to assassinate her?”

“It’s a long story, but—” The sour-looking man told me the story reluctantly.

It recounted the past.

The man had picked up Yuuri when she was still an infant. Apparently, she had been abandoned. Feeling pity for her, he showered her with parental love and raised her as his own.

Yuuri grew up an obedient child. One could even call her naive.

She respected the job that this man—her father—did and started to help him with his work. However, she was in no way cut out to be a spy. Her heart was simply too kind.

“I can’t protect her forever. Yuuri has one foot in this world, which isn’t as nice as she thinks. It’s as filthy as mud.”

I imagined he was committing murders and other heinous acts, which he hid from Yuuri. Beneath those black gloves, his hands were so stained with blood that he could certainly never expose them in public—and that was something he himself understood quite well.

“So that’s why you want to distance yourself from her?”

“That’s what it comes down to. So I came up with the plan of the Fictional Witch.”

“……”

According to his plan, he would task Yuuri with the assassination of the Fictional Witch. Since she would be searching for a witch who shouldn’t exist in the first place, she would fail in her duties. As soon as that happened, he was planning to condemn her and drive her away.

However, my arrival complicated things.

I see.

“In other words, you’d like me to play along and knock her around a bit and make her feel powerless. On top of that, you want me to give her a beacon of hope as I drive her out of the country?”

“I guess that’s what I’m asking, yes.”

“You have no problem putting me in a tough spot.”

“I think you can do it, being the witch you are.”

“Don’t underestimate me.”

I’m more than capable.

I had one question.

“Why did you come up with a plan to assassinate a witch who looks like me?”

“……” He was quiet for a moment. “It’s a long story, but—”

“Give me the abridged version, please.”

“……” He was quiet again. “A long time ago, when I was still young, I was commissioned to assassinate a witch who looked like you. But she easily turned the tables on me.”

“Huh…”

Well, your opponent was a witch, after all.

“And I fell in love. She was a strong, amazing, beautiful woman.”

“Oh…?”

Well, she was a witch, after all.

“The witch disappeared after several days, but I’ve never been able to forget that encounter—anyhow, she was the first person to ever defeat me. So that’s why I drew up the directive this way. I remember that time well. At this point, it’s become a treasured memory.”

That’s the story the man told me as he stroked his black gloves.

So, her outward appearance and whatnot didn’t really matter. He simply couldn’t be bothered to come up with a new face.

So that’s what’s going on. But—

“Why is she the ‘Fictional Witch’?” I asked.

He smiled masochistically.

“Because the directive is a work of fiction.”

A year had passed since the incident, and in order to fulfill my promise to a certain witch, I opened the letter in a coffee shop I visited along my travels.

It didn’t burn up. Several sheets of slightly discolored stationery peeked out shyly from inside.

The handwriting was quite rough and unrefined, as if it had been written by a middle-aged man and not a girl about the same age as me.

“…It was all a bunch of lies.”

It contains guidelines for traveling and secrets for becoming a strong magic user. That had been a dirty lie. The letter contained nothing of the sort. I read until the words went blurry. What was written there were well-wishes on my departure, requests for me to come see him, warnings that he would kill any potential boyfriends but that he wanted to see his grandchild’s face, et cetera. It was a letter sent from a father to his daughter, full of paternal doting.

How stupid.

“Oh? What happened? Were you shocked you failed the advancement exams again?” The black-haired witch who sat down next to me laughed loudly, as if she saw me as just a dumb kid.

“I’m not crying.”

“If you’re hurting, I can give you some advice.”

“I said I’m not crying. Geez!” I wiped my tears and punched her shoulder.

The witch—Saya—acted like it didn’t hurt and laughed. “But that’s really too bad. How many times does this make?”

“Five.”

“I failed way more times than that. You’re fine!”

“Fine? How…?”

“Well, I also went through this phase long ago. But thanks to an incredible witch—”

“How many times have you told me this story? I’m sick of it.”

Currently, I was studying magic while I traveled around to all sorts of countries, working my way toward the top rank of mage—toward becoming a witch’s apprentice.

Well, that would be no easy feat, but if I could manage that, I could handle anything. Right now, however, I was feeling disheartened as a self-supporting student who had failed several times already.

I had met Saya while living the student’s life. She had been working part-time proctoring exams to top up her traveling expense fund, and, maybe because she pitied me as a particularly poor student or because she sensed something about me, she had been following me around the whole time I took the exam.

“I met Elaina in this country, you know. Oh, I remember it clearly even now—”

This crowded country packed with busy rooftops apparently only admits mages. All the more ideal for certain travelers to hone their skills in magical combat! Hooray!

That was all well and good, but more importantly, the witch named Elaina who appeared in Saya’s story bore a striking resemblance in both appearance and personality to the witch who had taught me a thing or two. But what on earth could I say about that?

“—and so…hmm? Huh? Yuuri, what’s with that handkerchief?”

“Hmm?”

Saya had been chattering away, but her eyes fell on my handkerchief, and she stopped talking.

“This is—Look, you know that story I told you before? This was given to me by the witch who inspired me to leave my home country.”

“Huh…”

She stared hard at the handkerchief and mumbled to herself, “No…it can’t be…but like this…huh? Seriously? No…no wayyy…”

Sometimes I really didn’t understand Saya.

To escape her gaze, I set the handkerchief down beside the letter and picked up my coffee cup.

“What’s that letter?”

Saya’s eyes moved from the handkerchief to the letter.

“This? I got it from my father.”

“Hmm…”

“…Why do you have to look at me with doubt in your eyes? I’m telling you that’s the truth, okay? I’m not lying.”

“Can I read it?”

“I don’t think you’ll find it very interesting.”

“That’s not true!” With a smile, she took the letter from me. She read the letter, mumbling “Mm-hmm,” and “Mm? I knew it. This scent…”

Beside her, I brought my cup of black coffee to my mouth.

Thinking about it now, it had probably been nearly one year since I last drank coffee.

Even with all that happened, it wasn’t bad to have a little taste of home from time to time while traveling.

At some point, I would become an even more splendid mage. At that time, I think even my stubborn boss, as hardheaded as a hard-boiled egg, would be happy to see me again.

With everything that happened, I think I can summarize this story in a single phrase.

That phrase being: The very definition of hard-boiled.

Sorry. I lied.

“Huh? There’s one more sheet of stationery left in this envelope.”

“What?”

That can’t be right. That’s what I thought, but sure enough, Saya slipped a single piece of paper out of the envelope. No way.

“……”

“……”

We put our heads together and both read what was written on the paper.

P.S.

I forgot to tell you one thing, so I included this sheet as a postscript.

Recently, one of the local cafés has started a service where you can be seated with mannequins. This is really the best of the best of the best.

I think I can summarize what I want to say in a single phrase:

Mannequins are great.

I threw up.