Chapter 𝟙𝟘

“Incredible! What house is she from?”

“She saved us!”

I was still dazed while the people cheered.

Was it done? Had the creature fainted?

I glanced around at the guards, not quite sure what was happening. Everyone was staring blankly at me.

“A blood demon... She killed it by herself...”

Noticing the crowd stir, a man who seemed to lead the guards took control of the situation. Only then did the guards rush over and throw a net ringed with magic stones over the blood demon’s body. The stones anchored like great nails into the floor, just in case the beast somehow came back to life, and the guards proceeded to tie up the demon securely with rope.

It almost looked like Gulliver being tied up by the Lilliputians.

“Lady Kyla?”

I turned around and was shocked.

Cadets from Kratie had arrived, wearing their blue knights’ uniforms, and Ritaus stood at the lead. They each had a sword and a rifle at their belt—the sword was on the left,

and the small rifle was on the right. The rifles were probably armed with magical bullets.

Kratie students had been sent in instead of the Guardians, it seemed.

The comic provided a lengthy explanation that read, “Ritaus, having just been knighted, was exceptionally powerful among the cadets.”

Franz had always followed him.

“Did you just... defeat the blood demon by yourself?” Ritaus asked, looking slightly shocked.

I held out my right hand and showed him the glowing Schuette. Ritaus and the other cadets behind him finally seemed to understand.

“That’s Vesta’s Schuette for you.”

“Of course. How could a child like her defeat a monster by herself?”

The whispered words were not too pleasant to hear, but they were true. I didn’t bother to correct them.

Ritaus had his eyes on Schuette. Then he looked up slowly, staring over my shoulder.

I found myself turning around as well.

Ritaus was staring at the girl in the black hood.

“As-Astelle!”

Ritaus dashed over to her. She took his hand and rose unsteadily. Her hood slipped off for a moment, and her ample pink hair poured out. She flinched, and Ritaus quickly put the hood back on.

They seemed very familiar with each other, and this beautiful girl with the pink hair seemed to be named Astelle.

My stomach suddenly plummeted. I’d remembered who this girl was.

Or rather, I remembered a boy who looked like a girl.

Astair!

This was Astair, the maddened love interest from the comic that I’d been so eager to avoid. His full name was Astair Lisrich Erbach. Since an early age, he’d been raised wearing girls’ clothes because of a curse.

“If your child is a boy, he will die before his coming-of-age ceremony.”

In the comic, Astair first appeared when he was around fifteen or sixteen years old, and he was wearing girls’ clothes. But his female disguise only appeared for a brief moment—in this world, sixteen was the age at which someone was regarded as a legal adult.

That was why I’d completely forgotten about the fact that Astair dressed as a girl early in The Mirage of Magic. The only color illustration of Astair was on the cover, and he was dressed as a guy, not a girl.

The only time I’d seen Astair’s female look was in black and white, and this had prevented me from realizing who this pink-haired girl was.

Ugh. I am such an idiot!

Astair suddenly looked up as Ritaus supported him. He gazed in my direction, his purple eyes studied me openly.

Why is he looking at me? Why?

I realized that he’d given me a resentful look earlier. Had I angered him in some way? All I’d done was help him. I’d never done him any harm.

I turned away, evading his eyes.

The guard captain came to me, asking for an account of what I’d seen. As I ran to the platform where the guards were gathered, I told myself that I needed to hurry and ensure that Franz mastered Schitzuro as quickly as possible.

And all the while, I felt Astair’s intense purple eyes following me.

Astair Lisrich Erbach

Spirits were always hovering around Astair. They were not visible to the human eye—only to Astair, who was the heir of the Spirit King.

“You are the loveliest child in the world. Far more beautiful than any girl.”

That day, just like any other, they whispered things to him that were most pleasant to hear.

Having been forced to dress like a girl since he was young, Astair had once believed that he really was one. He’d played with dolls like other girls and had liked his toy tea sets, which he’d used for playing house.

He’d loved the princess stories that had been read to him every night before bed. His most favorite of all was about a princess locked up in a tower who was rescued by a knight.

“Will my own Prince Charming come and save me one day?”

Astair thought his cursed life was similar to that of this princess. At one point, he’d even believed that Ritaus, his second cousin, was that prince.

“I’m going to marry you, Ritaus. I’ll wear a wedding dress the same color as my hair, and the bouquet will be made of violets, which resemble my eyes.”

The adults thought the sight of the seven-year-old Astair chattering was cute, but an eleven-year-old Ritaus said coldly, “You can’t marry me.”

This was the first time that the reticent but kind Ritaus had rejected him.

“Why? Why can’t I?”

“You’re a boy.”

Silence. Astair had never once thought of himself as a boy.

“No! I’m a girl!”

“You are a boy. I’ve taken baths with you, remember?”

“What about it?”

“Girls don’t have a penis.”

Astair sank to the floor, and Count Izar and his wife began to rebuke Ritaus loudly. “He knows nothing yet. Can’t you just play along?”

That was the nail in the coffin—surefire proof that Astair wasn’t a girl after all. Even the spirits that always whispered in his ear did not deny the words.

I am a boy?

He’d been sure he was a girl.

He had to marry Ritaus when he grew up. But he was a boy!

He could not marry Ritaus, even when he was older.

It’s because I’m a boy.

That was about the time his endless obsession with Ritaus began. At first, he hated all the girls in the world who could marry Ritaus. Astair got in the way of any female relative who wanted to be friends with the subject of his monomania.

He then began tormenting the maids who waited on Ritaus.

At first, his antics were cute—if they could be called that. Astair used simple magic to trip them up, inducing them to break piles of dishes by mistake or cutting laundry lines to dirty finished laundry.

Soon enough, however, he upped the intensity.

He splattered boiling water from a kettle onto a maid’s face, burning her severely. He caused a maid sewing clothes to poke her own eyes. When a maid was on a high ladder, dusting the ornaments on the ceiling, he pushed the ladder over. That maid hurt her legs, and for the rest of her life, she was mostly paralyzed from the waist down.

That was when Count Izar and his wife realized the gravity of the situation. They now knew what happened when a child with the Spirit King’s power grew to have twisted feelings.

As such, they decided to replace all the ladies-in-waiting who served Ritaus with men. With the women around Ritaus gone, Astair seemed to stop his wicked behavior, and the count and his wife were relieved.

That was a big mistake.

They could not have imagined that this time, he would begin to target the men around Ritaus.

Astair’s maternal grandfather, Duke Lisrich, was busy managing his estate and often failed to care for Astair. That was why Ritaus, the eldest son of the House of Izar, was often left with the task of looking after Astair.

Ritaus followed the commands of Duke Lisrich, Count Izar, and his wife.

Astair was unpredictable unless he got what he wanted, so he was always given his way. Ritaus read him books, played hide-and-seek, and played house as the child asked, taking on various roles.

He danced if the child wanted to dance, hugged him if necessary, and when Astair asked for a kiss on the mouth, he complied.

There was no emotion in the act.