She never managed to see the face that should have been laid bare at such close range.
The instant their lips touched, Masumi had squeezed her eyes shut. When his breath brushed her neck, she reflexively turned her face away, trying to escape.
Now the black cloth once again concealed the young man’s features.
His purpose remained unclear. Since arriving at what appeared to be an abandoned house, he had fallen unnervingly silent, the earlier verbosity seeming like a lie.
After the clash at the watchtower, Masumi had been abducted with her freedom completely stripped away.
The restraint technique was flawless, to the point of evoking déjà vu. She would not name names, but a certain captain of the royal guard also possessed disturbingly elegant skills in that regard. Perhaps, in this Albarique Empire, being able to tie someone up efficiently was considered the mark of a true professional.
Too many things were handled far too smoothly.
As she found herself admiring such a strange detail, the young man hoisted Masumi onto his shoulder and sprinted through the night streets of Vestofa. Compared to Arc and Kasumireaz, he did not appear particularly large-framed. Yet if he could carry a grown person so effortlessly, then beneath those black garments lay a body honed far more than it seemed.
He vaulted lightly over rooftops and slipped soundlessly through back alleys.
His ninja-like movements went completely unnoticed by passersby, and eventually they arrived at a quiet residential area on the outskirts of the city.
He entered a single house, its lights extinguished. It hardly seemed like his own residence, yet the door was unlocked, and the wooden panel opened without resistance.
Darkness welcomed them both.
They were likely in the central living room, relying only on pale moonlight spilling through the windows. Then, as Masumi strained her eyes to see, the room suddenly brightened.
A soft orange glow bloomed.
She searched for the source. The young man held his right palm upward, several small spheres of light floating above it.
With her vision secured, she took in their surroundings at last. As expected, it appeared to be a living room. Every sofa, table, and shelf was draped in white cloth.
A long absence, perhaps, or a house waiting to be sold along with its furnishings.
A lonely stillness slept within the space. Judging by the thin layer of dust, no one had visited in quite some time.
Which meant this was probably trespassing.
Someone willing to kidnap another without hesitation was hardly the type to have acquired a house through legitimate means. More likely, he had confirmed that no one came here and decided to use it at his convenience.
Between suddenly being branded a spy and now being half-forced into becoming an accomplice to a crime, which situation was worse?
Assume a lifespan of eighty years. She had not even reached the halfway point, yet she doubted she would ever again be asked to compare these two options. A rare experience indeed—though so miserable that it firmly qualified as rock bottom.
As she drifted through these thoughts, the young man tossed Masumi onto the sofa.
Whump.
Dust billowed up with the sound. She coughed, then sneezed twice in quick succession.
It was rough handling, but far better than being dropped on the floor. As Masumi tried to frame this positively, a dry rustling sound echoed through the room.
Following it with her eyes, she saw a small slip of paper in the man’s hand.
Something was written on it, though from this distance she could not read it. Even if she could, it was likely not a language she knew. Watching closely, she saw him scan the page for a moment, as if checking for errors.
After a short while, he lifted his face and looked straight at her.
“Now then. Who do you think will be the first to come for you?”
His narrowed eyes were filled with provocation.
As he had when conjuring the lights, the man raised his left hand into the air. A soft rose-colored flame blossomed. It spread like a great flower opening, then took the shape of a bird.
Pink feathers burning like a phoenix. The bird pecked at the letter in his right hand and swallowed it whole. Its body flared brightly once, and in the next instant, with a beat of its wings, it dissolved into the air.
“Too much for a lower tier. Banarret class should be appropriate.”
Masumi had no idea what that mutter meant.
Just as Arc had said, she truly knew nothing. She could not even grasp how dire her situation was.
Only the letter consumed by that bird filled her with a deep sense of unease.
It was certainly not a notice for a lost child.
And a love letter made even less sense.
Given the circumstances, it could only be a threat. Could it not?
＊ ＊ ＊ ＊
Come to think of it… that voice.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Masumi realized that the young man’s voice matched one she remembered.
Where had she heard it?
Not long ago.
She stared intently at his face. Sensing her gaze, the man, who had been looking out the window, turned his eyes toward her. Ever cautious, he had not spoken a word since the rose-colored bird flew away.
She needed more clues.
If she could hear him speak again, she might recall where she had heard that voice. And if she knew who he was, perhaps she could infer his objective.
“Who are you?”
Remaining silent would change nothing. Her hands and feet were already bound, but at least she had not been gagged. Now was her chance.
She took it.
Pitch—the height of a sound—can be manipulated to deceive others.
In humans, this is referred to as vocal range. Even without singing, an adult can alter their speaking pitch by two octaves. With training, that range can expand, and even assuming clear articulation, as many as four octaves can be controlled.
Pitch is conscious.
But timbre is not. That is what tone truly is.
When it comes to hearing, “sound” encompasses many attributes. Pitch, volume, and timbre define its character and give music its color. Pitch and volume can be altered relatively easily, but timbre—the innate quality of a sound—cannot be changed by will.
Timbre is what distinguishes sounds of identical pitch and loudness.
Put simply, even if both are an A at 442 hertz, a piano and a violin do not sound the same. Sharp or soft, piercing or deep. The difference is obvious between instruments, and the same principle applies to individuals, including human voices.
Masumi’s ears insisted that they recognized this voice.
She had trained them since childhood. She trusted that instinct enough to stake something on it.
The man tilted his head slightly, wary, but still said nothing. Pressing further, Masumi fired off questions in quick succession.
“Where are you from? What’s your name? You’re dressed like that, but are you a knight? A mage? You kidnapped someone—don’t tell me you’re just a civilian.”
The furrow between his brows deepened.
He was reacting, unmistakably. He seemed to have plenty to say but was holding back. For her goal—getting him to speak even once—this was working.
If she pushed a little more, he might snap back with a retort or two.
She would likely earn a reputation as an idiot, but this was no time to worry about that. Being kidnapped was a first for her. She had almost no bargaining chips.
“Are you in some kind of underworld business? Hired by someone?”
“…You really think I’d answer that?”
Ah.
Masumi’s heightened hearing instantly pulled a buried memory to the surface.
A question answered with a question was enough. The gray eyes, for one. Back then, his brows had drooped in a troubled expression, and even his manner of speaking had been different.
That young man.
Covering his mouth, altering his speech, and tightening his brow had changed his entire presence. The boldness of it left her stunned.
“You’re the one I bumped into in the street…”
His brow twitched.
“For someone who barely paid attention, you remember well enough.”
“What do you want?”
“Across time and place, there’s always a certain type of person whose life is most often targeted in a knightly order.”
So it really had been a threat.
Masumi, it seemed, had been selected as bait to lure Arc. In a way, it was an honor. But this man was deeply mistaken.
“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t think I’m worth much as a hostage.”
“Bluffing. I looked into it. You spend the night together.”
“Yes, well, that part is true, but—”
Stop stating embarrassing facts so plainly.
She had plenty to protest, but it was beside the point. Masumi swallowed it down and let it pass. The black-clad man shrugged.
“You’re the commander’s personal musician. By now, he must be searching with fire in his eyes.”
“Hmm. I’m not so sure about that…”
“It’s a short-term contract, but thinking ahead to next year, they won’t discard you so lightly.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. Before contract renewals, I’m under suspicion as a spy.”
“…You are? Wait, what?”
His eyes flew open. Beneath the cloth, his mouth was surely hanging open as well.
He was clearly not processing this.
She had figured she might as well try negotiating, but being met with that level of shock was oddly insulting.
“I accidentally trespassed into the garrison, apparently. Got labeled a suspicious person right away. Then, in the chaos, the real musician ran off, and I was forced to step in as a substitute.”
So yes, officially she was the commander’s musician, but the reality did not match at all.
Sleeping in the same room did not make her important.
As he processed her words, the crease between his brows deepened.
“The garrison? Vestofa’s?”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“You just wandered in?”
“I was irritated, sure, but it wasn’t intentional.”
It hardly felt like something to repent for.
Cursing someone digs two graves, they say. But being treated like this just for resenting happy couples on a holy night felt wildly disproportionate.
Masumi had plenty to say, but the man before her looked even more confused.
“At least I get it now. You’re nothing like what I expected.”
“There we go.”
“The garrison should have intrusion-detection wards. How did you bypass them?”
“No idea.”
“You don’t remember? Then perhaps you were a concealed caster. That would make sense.”
“No. I don’t think that’s it.”
She cut him off before the misunderstanding grew.
This was going nowhere. She had already lived this conversation once.
Seeing Masumi—supposedly a musician, actually a suspect—make such absurd claims, the black-clad man grew openly dubious.
“Not that? Then did you force your way through with brute strength? Bold.”
“No.”
“Another form of magic, then?”
“Please stop fixating on how I got in. I’m not a spy.”
Gray eyes blinked rapidly.
“…What? But you said you’re under suspicion.”
A fair question.
Explaining this was exhausting.
“I don’t remember everything. I woke up on the garrison grounds and have no idea why. Before that, I was just an ordinary civilian living peacefully. I can’t use magic. So even if they call me a spy, I can’t gather information, and I have no intention of harming the commander. I didn’t even know who Arc was.”
“…Then why suspect you?”
“I’d love to know.”
Silence fell.
After a long ten seconds, the man clicked his tongue sharply.
“…I may have chosen the wrong person.”
“Seems like it. My condolences.”
At last, it had sunk in. He pressed a hand to his forehead, looking genuinely pained.
Strictly speaking, his choice had not been unreasonable.
Given the knight order’s predicament, a musician should indeed be treated as vital. Arc and Kasumireaz certainly acted accordingly, even with the lingering suspicion.
Had she been the real musician who fled, the order would have been in an uproar.
A musician was desperately needed. An abduction would tarnish their reputation further, making recruitment even harder. They would have launched a serious search.
In that sense, she would have been perfect bait. Whatever plan the man had beyond that remained unclear, but he likely intended to exploit the chaos to make a move against Arc.
Unfortunately, the musician had been swapped out.
And worse, the replacement came with a spy label attached.
That changed the meaning of “important” entirely. Losing a musician would hurt. Losing a suspected spy would not.
The timing could not have been worse.
Watching his shoulders slump in visible dejection, Masumi felt a twinge of sympathy and thought, You really should have checked first.
If she pointed out how sloppy that was, would he tighten her restraints in response?
