Chapter 150
The play Melissa recommended was set to have its final performance today, so Monica, Isaac, Cyril, and Raul decided to go see it together.
In the carriage on the way to the theater, Ture and Pike, in their weasel forms, seemed to be having fun, climbing onto Cyril’s lap and peering out the window.
When Ture climbed onto the window frame and nearly fell because of the carriage’s rocking, Raul swiftly cupped both hands and caught Ture.
“Thanks, Raul.”
“You’re welcome. You can ride on my shoulder if you like.”
“Okay.”
Ture cheerfully hopped from Raul’s arms to his shoulder, then up to his head.
Watching them, Cyril stroked Pike on his lap and spoke as if he’d just remembered something.
“By the way, there was something I wanted to ask you, Raul.”
“The recipe for the soup we had at lunch?”
“No. During the magic battle, you mentioned the White Dragon... Did the First 〈Thorn Witch〉 have some sort of feud with the White Dragon?”
It was something Monica had also been secretly curious about.
During the magic battle, Raul had let slip that the White Dragon was “my nemesis.” The way he’d looked at Ture then had been filled with genuine loathing.
“Did I say that? Well, I guess I owe Ture an apology.”
Raul turned his emerald-green eyes upward to look at Ture perched on his head.
“I don’t mind,” Ture replied leisurely. Ture really did seem not to mind.
Isaac, who had been watching their exchange, chimed in.
“I was a little curious, too. I’ve read legends about the 〈Thorn Witch〉 several times, but I don’t think any of them mentioned the 〈Thorn Witch〉 confronting the White Dragon.”
“Huh? They didn’t? It’s in one of the books at my house. The one where my ancestor fights the White Dragon with Black Flame.”
The moment Monica and Isaac heard the words “Black Flame,” their expressions unconsciously stiffened.
Cyril murmured, “Black Flame?” looking puzzled by the unfamiliar term.
“Wasn’t Black Flame the fire breathed by the Black Dragon?”
“Right, that! The flames of the underworld that burn everything to ash! Oh, that’s right, Monica fought the Black Dragon in Worgan, didn’t she? Does that mean you actually saw Black Flame?”
“N-no...”
Monica answered in a faint voice, letting her gaze wander.
The Black Dragon of Worgan was none other than Monica’s familiar—and the black cat currently on the run from home.
(Ah, but should I tell them about Nero? There’s a chance Nero might run into Ture someday...)
If Cyril brought Ture to Southdoll like he had this time, Ture and Nero might come face-to-face.
To avoid causing confusion then, perhaps she should tell Cyril and Raul about Nero.
But as Monica silently struggled over where to begin, Raul continued.
“You know, Black Flame used to be a kind of magic. These days, it’s one of the Three Great Forbidden Arts, and you’d be executed just for researching it. But back in my ancestor’s time, Black Flame users were revered almost like gods.”
The First 〈Thorn Witch〉 was the most powerful witch of her time, commanding both the Man-Eating Rose Fortress and Black Flame.
Apparently, that was part of why even the king couldn’t stand up to her.
“And what nullified my ancestor’s Black Flame was the White Dragon’s blizzard breath! That’s why the White Dragon was my ancestor’s nemesis.”
Monica’s eyes widened at Raul’s explanation.
Raul had said it casually, but it was an extremely valuable fact.
“Can the White Dragon really nullify Black Flame?”
Black Flame was the flame of the underworld that burned everything in the world to ashes.
It was said to burn even the highest-ranking defensive barriers to nothing. There was supposedly no way to nullify it.
That was why Monica had planned to shoot down the Black Dragon before it could breathe Black Flame when she went to slay it.
As Monica reeled from the shock, Ture bobbed its little head.
“Yeah, I can. That’s why Black Dragons hate White Dragons so much.”
“Huh?”
“When a Black Dragon sees a White Dragon, they chase after them, shouting, ‘I’m going to burn you no matter what!’ Scary, isn’t it?”
Cold sweat broke out all over Monica.
She’d been planning to find the right moment to tell them about Nero, but the conversation seemed to be taking an unexpected turn.
Monica asked Ture, perched on Raul’s head, in a strained voice.
“Um, T-Ture... have you ever encountered a Black Dragon?”
“I don’t remember much about the old days, but now that you mention it, I think I have.”
As Ture answered placidly, the golden weasel—Pike—leaped onto Raul’s head and snuggled close to Ture.
“It’s okay. If a Black Dragon chases Ture, I’ll freeze it solid.”
At the powerful declaration from Asshel Pike, the Ice Spirit, Monica grew even paler.
If Nero and Ture met, it would be disastrous. Absolutely disastrous.
“Well, it’s not like Black Dragons are just wandering around everywhere, and even if one showed up, Monica’s here, so we’re fine!”
At Raul’s cheerful words, with two weasels perched on his head, Monica let out a squeak.
Perhaps noticing Monica’s agitation, Isaac smoothly changed the subject.
“The Roseburg family probably covered up the fact that the White Dragon’s blizzard could nullify Black Flame. That’s why it wasn’t mentioned in the books I read.”
“That’s probably it. My family wants our ancestor to remain the strongest no matter what, so they hid the fact that she lost to a White Dragon.”
Hearing Raul mutter in an exasperated tone, Monica vowed not to let Nero and Ture meet.
Otherwise, a legendary showdown between the two great dragons would break out in Southdoll.
And then the high-ranking Ice Spirit Asshel Pike would join the fray. It would be quite the disaster, with Black Flame and blizzards flying everywhere.
As Monica imagined the scene and trembled, Cyril frowned and spoke to her.
“Monica, you look pale... Are you all right?”
“Y-yes, I-I’m f-fine!”
Cyril looked worried at Monica, whose reply was anything but reassuring.
Isaac quickly interjected.
“You must be feeling carsick. It looks like we’ll be there soon, so let’s drop this subject.”
Monica secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
(...I’ll talk this over with Nero when he comes back...)
In the first place, Monica didn’t know how Nero had lived before meeting her.
She thought he’d said he lived in the Empire, but that was all she knew.
What came to mind was something Nero had said shortly after they first met.
“Call me Nero. Nero-sama is fine, too. It means ‘black’ in the language of some country of mathematicians.”
Remembering when she’d just met Nero, Monica suddenly realized something.
Even before meeting Monica, Nero had already known a fair amount about human culture.
(Come to think of it, Nero’s robe...)
“We’ve arrived, Monica.”
“Ah, yes!”
Prompted by Isaac, Monica put her thoughts aside for the time being.
Outside the window, she could see a theater that had apparently just opened. A long line of people waiting for the performance stretched out in front.
She’d have to steel herself so she wouldn’t get overwhelmed by the crowd, Monica thought, swallowing nervously.