Chapter 06
“Huh? Why is the window open… Oh my! Dear!”
Crash!
Mrs. Scrooge’s scream pierced the night sky. The glass cup she was holding slipped and shattered on the floor.
At the same time, lamps lit up all along Demarcy Street.
“Number 36! Fifth floor of the lilac dress shop!”
“Over here!”
It didn’t take even ten minutes for the Capital Guard, alerted by a report, to storm into the shop.
“We received a report of gunshots!”
Considering they came after everything was already over, there were an awful lot of them.
Good.
“There are bullet marks here!”
“It really was a gun?! Then is this a robbery?!”
“It looks like that gentleman over there fired the gun?”
“…Huh?”
“What, so he’s not the victim?”
Soon, windows in neighboring buildings began opening one by one.
People in nightcaps peered across at Scrooge’s dress shop, wondering what had happened. Some, more curious than others, came out into the street wearing coats over their pajamas.
“So then…”
“It’s not robbery or theft?”
“But someone knocked out the gentleman, so isn’t that still a crime?”
“But he’s not injured.”
Once the guards confirmed there were no missing items and no real victim, their attention shifted.
“Mrs. Scrooge, can you explain why you were alone here at this hour with a gentleman who is not your husband?”
“T-That’s…”
“…Surely you’re not suggesting what I’m thinking?”
“No! Absolutely not!”
Mrs. Scrooge, who had followed the stretcher carrying the unconscious adulterer onto the street, quickly denied it.
“H-He’s one of our regular customers! We just needed to take some measurements urgently!”
“…At two in the morning?”
“O-O-Our clothes were terribly urgent!”
Whisper whisper.
“What did she just say?”
“Said they met to take measurements.”
“Now?”
“She said the clothes were urgent.”
Citizens surrounding them stared at Mrs. Scrooge and the unconscious adulterer, whispering.
“Urgent clothes at 2 a.m.?”
“Really.”
Suspicious as it was, she was insisting so firmly that no one could refute her.
And then—
“Huh?”
Letters fluttered down from the sky.
One curious citizen quickly snatched one up and read the envelope aloud for everyone to hear.
“Sender: Ebinie Scrooge of Demarcy Dress Shop. Recipient: Stephan Oblonsky. Contents— Wait, WHAT?!”
“What?!”
“What’s in it?!”
“In Mrs. Scrooge’s letter to Mr. Oblonsky… she calls herself ‘Baby’!”
“There’s another letter here from a different woman! There’s lipstick on the envelope! The contents say— What the— pregnancy?!”
“What?!”
“Hold on, Oblonsky… isn’t he from the Oberon Trading House?”
“Yes, and didn’t the merchant lord take him in as a son-in-law? They only have one daughter…”
“Then?”
“He’s married!”
Whisper whisper whisper. The murmurs grew louder, impossible to contain.
People who’d been watching from indoors rushed outside, grabbing neighbors.
“What’s happening?!”
“An affair!”
“With TWO women!”
“One of them is pregnant!”
“Wow!”
No one on Demarcy Street was sleeping tonight.
In the chaos, the adulterous man finally woke, mumbling dazedly.
“Huh? Why am I here… What happened?”
What happened? Your life fell apart, that’s what.
No one looked up at the roof of the dress shop.
Sitting there with my legs stretched out, I quietly answered him in my mind.
As you’ve probably guessed, I’m the one who dropped those letters from above.
And I’m the one who reported the “gunshot” to the patrol guards.
The Capital Guard patrols at night now, starting this year.
Apparently it was a policy pushed by His Highness the Crown Prince, who I’ve never seen before. But he must be a good person—definitely someone considerate of citizens like me who go home late after work.
A truly blessed man, even if I’ve never laid eyes on him.
Anyway.
“With this, that adulterer will get divorced without a single coin left…”
I shook the letters I had saved separately—his personal stash.
He must have carried them everywhere, terrified his wife might find out. I only had to search his pockets to get them.
“And once the wife sues the mistresses for damages, they’ll be ruined too.”
The penniless adulterer and his two mistresses—let them raise the mistress’ baby together. Perfect.
“What is this, Men at the Center?”
Looks like he’s even a member of some gentlemen’s club.
I flicked the club badge that came along with the letters; it clattered onto the street below.
While I did that, Maltese gnawed on the last star-shaped candy with both paws, crunching away.
I fiddled with the brooch that had returned to its original form.
“Hey, puppy.”
“Sacred beast, actually.”
“Didn’t you say a magical saintess delivers justice to people who slip through the cracks of the law—those who did wrong but can’t be punished properly?”
I barely finished speaking before Maltese’s eyes went round.
He jumped up and hugged my leg.
“THE MAGICAL SAINTESS HAS A NO-REFUND POLICY!”
“…Huh?”
“You tried on the outfit! You transformed! You’re not backing out now, right?!”
“…”
“Seraphina, do you know what dining-and-dashing is?!”
“I never said I wouldn’t do it.”
“Really?!”
“Yeah. I’ll do it.”
But under one condition.
“First, let’s get out of here.”
I picked up Maltese—his mouth stained in rainbow colors from the candies—and kicked off the roof.
Behind us, the still-gathered crowd was shouting:
“Wait! There’s something written on the back of the letter!”
“Read it!”
“I can’t see!”
“Don’t push!”
“Read it out loud!”
“There are so many scumbags in the world—what is the heavens even doing?
If they won’t drag him away, I will.
For stealing a young worker’s job,
I hereby accuse you!
Have a righteous day!
—Magical Saintess SENA 💫”
“By the way, who’s Sena? Your name’s Seraphina!”
“What, you think I’m going to advertise my real name so someone can arrest me?”
Seriously. He’d yelled my real name right in front of the adulterer earlier. Good thing the idiot lost his memories.
“You think people can identify you by name alone? Is Seraphina that rare?!”
“Oh please. What’s your name then, dog?”
“I am—!”
The dog puffed out his chest proudly.
“The illustrious sacred beast, Johann Mendelssohn Handel Beethoven Bach Schubert Mozart Debussy Park-Yeon Strauss the Third!!”
“…”
I’ll just call you Tofu.
“Anyway, Tofu. How do I get this outfit off?”
Shouldn’t I revert now that the magical mission is over?
“If I pull, it’s about to rip, but it won’t come off.”
“NO! DON’T RIP IT!”
“If the outfit tears, the facial-recognition-blocking spell will break!” Tofu flailed, rummaging in drawers for snacks. “Just take off the necklace!”
“Oh, that’s it?”
I skeptically removed the necklace.
“Oh. It really works.”
No lights, no petals, no rainbows—just instant transformation.
So transforming is dramatic, but reverting is low-budget?
“Obviously. Transformation is all about psychological domination.”
“You’ll get shot trying to dominate people…”
“Always keep the necklace on. It shrinks into a compact mirror when worn.”
“Got it.”
I looked around.
We were now in Tofu’s room in the Temple.
It was enormous.
A desk the size of my bed, a separate tea table, a fireplace big enough to roast a wild boar, and an entire wall covered with sacred flames—
The dog’s room was nicer than mine.
“No matter how I look at it, this battle outfit is too flashy and uncomfortable.”
“Deal with it. Everyone dressed like that 950 years ago.”
Thank the heavens I wasn’t born back then.
“Can’t we make a new one?”
“There are no modern mages who can apply the facial-recognition curse to battle gear anymore.”
“Oh.”
Fine. I’ll endure it.
No one knows it’s me anyway.
Perfect for protecting my social image.
Now for the real question—
“Tofu.”
He handed me dried pollack like it was a treat.
“When I work as a magical saintess… how much do I get paid?”
“Woof?”
“Don’t tell me you expect me to do this for free?”
How dare you.
I am not a magical girl. I am a magical adult woman who has seen hell and back.
Pay me a wage befitting my labor.
