Owl

Ian, right after finishing his alchemy work, asked his godmother for permission and made a phone call.

He wanted to learn about Dolores's temperament, and since he'd already gotten Dolores's permission, his godmother cheerfully told him the temperament she'd once assessed.

[She's more on the good side than the evil side. That said, if she does something that goes against the good she herself pursues, she's the sort of extreme person who would rather eliminate it than teach it.]

It was close to midnight.

Bathed in moonlight slipping through the crack in the window, Ian let out a low sigh. Perhaps because it was a residential area with few people living there, there wasn't a single pedestrian on the street. Only the streetlamps were lighting the dark pavement.

[Still, her idea of goodness isn't so far outside common sense that you need to worry too much. She is a little high-strung, so she might wear you out, though.]

“Then that should be fine.”

[Yes. Dolores is a good mage.]

Since he had his godmother's approval, there was no reason to refuse accompanying Dolores. He nodded in satisfaction and quietly let the cold wind blowing in from the window wash over him.

The wind was colorless and scentless. It carried no pollen, no trace of dust, no floral fragrance. It was simply cold...