If you enjoy this story and want to help it continue, you can support the project on Patreon.
Your support allows me to dedicate more time to writing, maintain a consistent publishing schedule, and keep creating new stories.
As a member, you'll also have access to benefits like early chapters, previews of future projects, and exclusive behind-the-scenes content.
Thank you for reading and for being part of this adventure!
https://www.patreon.com/c/Panoli
---
Petra Leyte knew that she was pretty.
It had not been a sudden revelation.
No one had sat down in front of her to explain it as though it were some complicated truth. She had simply grown up observing how adults smiled whenever she smiled, how her parents forgot certain mischief more quickly if she tilted her head in the correct way, and how the children of Arlam accepted her suggestions with an ease they did not display when the same ideas came from someone else.
Petra did not believe that made her bad.
Only observant.
The world was full of things other people did not seem to notice until someone pointed them out.
For example, most of the adults in the village believed children did not understand conversations held in front of them.
The adults were wrong.
They also believed that any dream born inside a village should remain within it.
They were even more wrong about that.
Petra wanted to see the capital.
She wanted to see shop windows filled with fabrics that never reached Arlam, dresses whose embroidery required days of work, and people willing to pay for garments made to their exact measurements. She had once watched a merchant unfold rolls of fabric across a table, and ever since then, the idea of spending her entire life mending farmers' trousers had felt far too small.
She did not despise Arlam.
She merely suspected the world was much larger.
That morning, she carried proof of it between her hands.
It was a small package wrapped in cloth. It weighed almost nothing, but Petra held it against her chest as though someone might take it from her during the walk toward the mansion.
Rem walked beside her.
The blue-haired maid carried a basket of supplies beneath one arm and moved with the serenity of someone capable of walking the path with her eyes closed.
"Petra has been very quiet," Rem said.
Petra looked up.
"I am thinking."
"That is usually dangerous among the village children."
"Not as dangerous as when Subaru does it."
Rem remained silent.
Petra glanced at her from the corner of her eye.
The edge of her lips had not moved.
But she had not denied the comparison either.
"Is he at the mansion?" Petra asked.
"Subaru is performing light duties."
"And Link?"
This time, Rem took a fraction of a second longer.
"Link as well."
Petra knew that pause.
Adults believed pauses that short meant nothing.
They were wrong about that too.
"Is he still being punished?"
"He was not punished."
"He nearly burned the Wolgarms."
"That is precisely why he does not need an additional punishment."
The answer made Petra think.
She had seen Link during the rescue.
Not everything.
Her memories of the forest were incomplete, mixed with roots, growling, fever, and the fear of waking without finding her friends. But she remembered red shapes moving through the darkness. She remembered an absurd strength lifting bodies and throwing Mabeasts aside. She also remembered that Link appeared different from every adult in the village.
Not merely because of the horns.
It was difficult to completely trust someone who could smile while covered in blood.
Although Subaru also smiled at strange moments.
Both of them were odd.
One talked too much.
The other could split a tree.
Petra still had not decided which was worse.
"What is he doing now?" she asked.
Rem looked toward the mansion, already visible between the trees.
"He is attempting to learn."
"To do what?"
"That is what worries Ram."
Petra found Link seated at a table in the garden.
He was not working with plants.
Nor was he feeding the Wolgarms, carrying tools, or practicing with the red limbs he called kagunes.
He was bent over a notebook.
Luci floated beside him, illuminating the page despite the morning sunlight making her assistance unnecessary.
Link gripped the pen far too tightly.
The tip scratched against the paper.
Petra approached from behind.
She made no attempt to hide her footsteps.
He did not hear her.
"'Gra… an… bo… la…'" Petra read slowly.
Link became still.
The pen left an ink line across half a word.
Petra tilted her head.
"Does that say 'great ball of fire'?"
Link covered the page with both arms.
"No."
"Yes, it does."
"That is private information."
"Then you should not write it in such large letters."
Link turned his head.
He looked at her.
Petra looked back at him.
His eyes were normal that morning. Brown, slightly tired, and surrounded by faint shadows. However, his expression resembled someone caught committing a crime.
Rem had stopped several steps away.
"Good morning, Link," she said.
"Good morning."
He moved the book slightly farther away.
"Why did you bring a child?"
Petra frowned.
"I am twelve."
"That still qualifies."
"You write worse than eight-year-olds."
Link's gaze slowly returned to her.
"I withdraw my welcome."
Petra pointed toward the page.
"That character is backward."
Link looked.
"No."
"Yes."
"Beatrice taught me."
"Then you were not paying attention."
Luci flashed intensely.
Petra suspected the sphere agreed with her.
Link took the notebook and turned it toward himself.
He studied the character.
Then he consulted a separate sheet containing the Lugunican alphabet written by a much cleaner hand.
He compared the two.
His face hardened.
He took the pen.
He attempted to correct it.
The incorrect character became a black stain resembling a crushed insect.
Petra leaned closer.
"Now it is worse."
"Thank you for the support."
"That was not support."
Rem placed the basket upon another table.
"Petra came because she wished to speak with Subaru."
Link looked at the package she held against her chest.
"Did he do something?"
Petra hesitated.
"Many things."
"That does not narrow it down."
"I want to thank him."
Link's expression changed.
His irritation over the character did not disappear, but the absurd defensiveness surrounding the book did.
"He is behind the mansion," he said. "Ram has him copying characters."
Petra looked at the page.
"She should have you doing that too."
"I am occupied with something more important."
Rem observed the closed book.
"What?"
Link placed both hands over the cover.
"Magical research."
"'Great ball of fire,'" Petra repeated.
"It was an initial concept."
"Underneath, you wrote 'even bigger ball of fire.'"
Link turned the book against his chest.
"Stop reading."
"And under that, there is something that looks like 'small sun.'"
Rem looked at Link.
He avoided her gaze.
"Theory."
"Ram requested that Link write down any new spell before testing it," Rem said.
Petra understood.
"To prevent him from exploding again?"
"Yes."
"I did not explode," Link protested. "The explosion happened far away."
"Link flew over the mansion," Rem said.
"That was the shockwave."
"The distinction does not help."
Link took the notebook and stood.
"Ram will authorize some of them."
Rem watched him with a degree of compassion Petra found very discouraging.
"Certainly."
"Do not use that tone."
"Rem did not use any."
"That is the problem."
Subaru sat beneath a tree.
A wooden board rested across his legs with a sheet of paper on top, and the tip of his tongue emerged slightly from one corner of his mouth as he attempted to copy a sentence.
Ram occupied a chair in front of him.
A blanket covered her legs, although she had already resumed part of her duties. She held an open book and a thin rod that, in Petra's opinion, was unnecessary for teaching someone how to write.
It was probably necessary for teaching Subaru.
"The lower line comes first," Ram said.
"That is what I did."
The rod struck the board.
"That was a curve."
"It was a line with personality."
"Barusu does not need to add personality to his writing. He already has too much of it in useless places."
Petra approached.
Subaru looked up.
His expression changed immediately.
"Petra!"
The rod struck again.
"The hand continues working even when the mouth becomes distracted."
"Yes, teacher!"
"Ram does not remember accepting that title."
Petra stopped in front of them.
For a moment, she did not know what to say.
She had practiced during the entire walk.
"Thank you for saving us."
"I am sorry I distrusted you."
"I thought awful things about you."
None of the phrases seemed correct while Subaru looked at her with such happiness, as though seeing her alive were reward enough.
The package felt heavier.
"I…"
Subaru set down the pen.
Ram raised the rod.
"This is important," he said.
Ram observed Petra.
Then the package.
She lowered the rod.
"Barusu has five minutes."
"Generous enough to bring me to tears."
"Four."
Subaru closed his mouth.
Petra extended the package.
"It is for you."
He accepted it carefully.
"May I open it?"
Petra nodded.
Inside was a thick dark-blue handkerchief with a red border stitched by hand. It was not a complicated garment. It had taken several afternoons because she removed the stitches twice after discovering they were not perfectly straight.
A small figure had been embroidered into one corner.
Subaru brought it closer to his face.
"Is that me?"
"It is a star."
"Of course. I knew that."
"You did not."
"I suspected it artistically."
Petra clenched her hands.
"I made it to thank you."
Subaru stopped joking.
"Petra…"
"And to apologize."
He said nothing.
Subaru's patience could be surprising whenever he decided to use it.
"I did not trust you," she continued. "You appeared suddenly. You knew our names. The other children started following you even though you were strange and loud."
"All completely true."
"I was even glad when the puppy bit you."
Subaru looked at his hand.
The mark was no longer there.
"That is slightly crueler."
"I know."
Petra lowered her gaze.
"Then you came looking for us."
The forest returned for an instant.
Darkness.
Teeth.
Subaru's voice calling every child by name even though he could barely remain standing.
"You did not have to do it," she said. "You did not even like us that much."
Subaru held the handkerchief between both hands.
"That does not matter."
"Yes, it does."
"Not in that way."
Petra raised her eyes.
Subaru smiled.
It was not the exaggerated smile he used in front of Emilia, nor the one appearing before he said something ridiculous.
It was small.
Tired.
"You do not have to be someone I like for me to not want giant dogs to eat you."
"Wolgarms," Ram corrected.
"Do not ruin my moral argument."
"Ram is attempting to prevent Barusu from spreading incorrect zoological information."
Petra felt something loosen inside her chest.
"Then… you are not angry?"
"No."
"I thought bad things."
"I think bad things all the time. Sometimes about Ram."
The rod struck his head.
"And some of them have consequences."
Subaru rubbed his hair.
"Forgiven."
He said it so easily that Petra almost became upset.
She had spent days preparing that apology. She had imagined questions, reproaches, and a complicated moment in which she would need to prove she regretted it.
Subaru simply accepted it.
"Is that all?" she asked.
"I can make a longer speech."
"No."
"Then that is all."
He looked at the handkerchief again.
"You made this yourself, right?"
Petra nodded.
Subaru ran his thumb across the stitches.
"It is incredible."
"It is not that impressive."
"It took me half an hour to sew on a button, and it ended up facing another direction."
"Buttons do not face directions."
"Mine did. It judged my decisions."
Ram closed her book.
"The stitches are uniform for a beginner."
Petra knew Ram well enough to understand the compliment.
"I want to become a seamstress," she said.
The words escaped before she could regret them.
It was the first time she had said it seriously to anyone outside her family.
"In the capital," she added. "I want to make dresses and sell them. Not merely mend clothing."
Subaru looked at her as though there were nothing strange about the dream.
"Then do it."
Petra blinked.
"It is not that easy."
"I never said it would be easy."
"I need money. And training. And travel."
"Yes."
"It might not work."
"That too."
Petra frowned.
"You are not helping."
Subaru raised the handkerchief.
"You made this without a teacher from the capital. You are twelve, and you already know what you want. The difficult part does not prove you cannot do it. It only means you will have to work very hard."
Ram looked at Subaru.
She did not correct him.
"You can achieve it," he concluded.
Petra felt warmth in her face.
Not because Subaru had said she was pretty.
He had not.
He had not accepted the handkerchief merely to make her feel good or praised her dream because she was a child.
He had looked at the work.
And trusted her.
"Besides," Subaru added, "when you become a famous seamstress, you can make clothes for me for free."
Ram struck him.
The emotion disappeared enough for Petra to breathe.
"It will not be free."
"Perfect. You already possess a business mindset."
"Subaru has no money."
"That is a problem for future Subaru."
"It will also be a problem for the seamstress who accepts his commission," Ram said.
A voice came from behind them.
"I can pay."
Link had approached with Rem.
The notebook remained beneath his arm.
Petra looked at him.
"What do you want?"
Link pointed toward one of his work shirts.
The back possessed several reinforced openings through which his kagunes could emerge. The stitching was not elegant, but it was durable.
"Something similar to this, but better. Four openings. Reinforcement around the back. Fabric that will not tear when they manifest."
"That sounds difficult."
"That is why it would be a commission."
"I do not have materials."
"I will obtain them."
"I do not know how to take measurements for that."
"You learn."
Petra studied Link's back.
Her initial fear diminished beneath stronger curiosity.
A garment for someone with four additional limbs.
There would be nothing else like it in Arlam.
Perhaps not even in the capital.
"I would need to see how they emerge," she said.
Subaru raised one eyebrow.
"Petra, that phrase—"
Ram struck him before he could finish.
Link nodded with complete seriousness.
"I can manifest one during the measurement. Slowly."
"You would also need an opening for the horns if you want a hood."
Link placed one hand against his chin.
"I had not considered that."
"And the fabric near the back needs to withstand heat."
"Because of the kagunes?"
"Because you catch fire."
Rem discreetly covered her mouth.
Petra suspected she was hiding a smile.
Link looked at her.
"That happened only once."
"There was a crater," Petra said.
"News travels too quickly."
"It was visible from the village."
Link remained silent.
"I will make a design," Petra decided. "But I do not promise it will work."
"I will not pay you for promising. I will pay you for attempting it."
Petra looked at Subaru.
He was smiling.
Then she looked at Ram.
The pink-haired maid examined the handkerchief again.
"Petra will need to practice reinforced stitches before touching a work garment."
"I can."
"Ram possesses scraps no longer suitable for mansion clothing."
"Will you give them to me?"
"If you stop looking as though Ram has offered a fortune."
To Petra, she had.
"Thank you."
Ram looked away.
"It will be cheaper than allowing the gardener to destroy another shirt."
Link nodded.
"Everyone wins."
"Ram still has not examined your notebook."
The satisfaction disappeared from his face.
"We can do it tomorrow."
"No."
"You need to rest."
"Ram is seated."
"That does not mean—"
Ram extended one hand.
"The book."
Link hugged it against his chest.
"First, you must promise to evaluate every idea with an open mind."
"Ram promises to evaluate exactly what she sees."
Subaru murmured:
"That was not what he asked."
Link heard him.
His grip tightened.
"Petra," Ram said, "stay."
"Why?"
"Someone will need to translate."
Link opened his mouth.
Petra smiled.
"I can do it."
"Traitor," he muttered.
The review took place in the garden.
Ram remained seated before the table.
Petra occupied a chair to her right.
Subaru settled on the other side with the absolute happiness of someone about to witness another person's execution.
Rem and Emilia approached out of curiosity.
Puck floated above Emilia's head.
Beatrice appeared when she heard the words "new spells" and refused to leave even after discovering who had written them.
Link remained standing.
The book was still in his hands.
Ram extended hers.
"Give it to me."
"I repeat that these are proposals."
"That means they can still be eliminated without producing casualties."
"Some of them are excellent."
"The book."
Link looked at Rem.
She tilted her head.
She would not save him.
He looked at Emilia.
"Ram will only review them," she said.
Link looked at Subaru.
Subaru raised his thumb.
"Die with dignity."
Link placed the book upon the table.
Ram opened it.
The first page was covered in irregular characters.
Some were enormous.
Others nearly disappeared between the lines.
Words had been corrected multiple times, arrows pointed toward side notes, and small drawings of flames appeared to have been made by a bored child.
Ram remained silent.
Petra read over her shoulder.
"This says, 'magical ideas to avoid flying over the mansion again.'"
"It is a provisional title," Link clarified.
Ram picked up a pen.
The ink was red.
Link paled.
"Why red?"
"Visibility."
"You can use another color."
"No."
Ram read the first proposal.
"'Great ball of fire.'"
"Simple. Efficient. Easy to remember."
Ram drew a red line through the name.
"You did not even listen to the explanation!"
"You already create fireballs. Making them larger is not a new spell. It is repeating the previous mistake."
"I can improve the control."
"Then write 'control Goa.'"
Petra copied the correction onto a clean sheet.
Link stared at the first crossed-out line as though he had lost a family member.
Ram continued.
"'Even bigger ball of fire.'"
She crossed it out.
"It was a superior stage."
"It was the same stupidity with another quantity."
"Magical progression needs levels."
"Your progression needs supervision."
Subaru covered his mouth.
It did not conceal his laughter.
Ram moved on.
"'Small sun.'"
The red pen descended.
Link caught her wrist before it touched the paper.
Everyone became silent.
Ram looked at the hand upon her.
Link slowly released her.
"Listen first."
"Ram is listening."
"A sphere of compressed fire that illuminates a wide area."
"That is a lamp."
"An impressive lamp."
"Use Luci."
The floating sphere flickered enthusiastically.
"Do not involve her," Link said.
Ram crossed out the spell.
"It was different!"
"Yes. Luci does not attempt to incinerate the sky."
Puck released a laugh.
The next proposal said:
"'Rain of fire.'"
Red line.
"'Burning meteors.'"
Red line.
"'Flame dragon.'"
Ram stopped.
Link recovered some hope.
"That one possesses a controlled shape. The fire compresses into a dragon and—"
Ram drew a line through it.
"Why?"
"An unnecessarily complex shape increases risk."
"But a dragon is intimidating."
"You are already intimidating."
Subaru nodded.
"Solid point."
"You are not helping."
Ram continued.
"'Black fire that cannot be extinguished.'"
Beatrice looked up.
"No."
Ram crossed out the phrase with three lines.
"Wait," Link protested. "The idea is that it continues consuming the target until—"
"How do you stop it?" Emilia asked.
Link remained silent.
"I could develop another technique."
Ram added a fourth line.
"'Technique for extinguishing black fire,'" Petra read from the note below.
"It was accounted for."
"Crossed out," Ram said.
"That was two spells!"
"Now they are two fewer problems."
The next page contained a drawing.
Petra tilted her head.
"Is that a person holding a sphere above them?"
"A basic representation."
"It looks like a potato with arms."
"I am not an artist."
Ram read the title.
"'Cruel Sun.'"
Link smiled.
"That one is good."
"No."
"I did not even say what it does!"
"The name is enough."
"You cannot judge a spell by—"
"Link attempted to create a small sun two pages ago."
The pen descended.
Link walked around the table.
"Ram."
She moved to the next proposal.
"'Flame Emperor.'"
"Ram."
Red line.
"'Roar of the Fire Dragon.'"
"Ram!"
Red line.
"'Great Fiery Annihilation.'"
Link knelt beside the chair.
"That one has defensive applications."
Ram crossed out the name.
"Defensive?!"
"The enemy cannot attack if the entire area becomes ash."
"That definition would also make Roswaal-sama an excellent member of the cleaning staff."
The margrave was not present to hear the compliment.
He probably would have agreed.
Ram turned another page.
Link saw the heading.
His expression changed.
"Not that one."
"'Explosion, second version.'"
The red pen rose.
Link grabbed Ram's skirt.
Not near the waist.
He held the outer fabric at knee level with both hands and embraced it as though doing so might prevent her arm from continuing to move.
Petra's eyes widened.
Subaru stopped restraining his laughter.
"Do not kill it!" Link pleaded.
Ram drew a line while he remained attached.
"Ram!"
"Release me."
"It has potential!"
"We have already seen its potential."
"The first one was a prototype!"
Ram passed the pen over the title again.
Link rose from his knees without releasing the skirt.
When Ram attempted to move her chair slightly, he moved with it, dragging his feet across the grass.
"I can reduce the radius!"
"No."
"Change the direction!"
"No."
"Use Luci as an anchor point!"
Luci hid behind Emilia.
"Even your spirit refuses," Subaru said.
"She does not understand art!"
Ram turned the page.
Link remained attached to her skirt.
"'Thirty consecutive Explosions.'"
Ram raised the pen.
Link tightened his arms.
"It was a future objective."
Red line.
"MURDERER!"
"Ram has saved thirty different regions."
"I would never have used all thirty together!"
"Then the name is incorrect."
"That could have been edited!"
Ram moved to the following page.
Because Link refused to release her, she stood.
He remained attached.
Ram began walking.
Link was dragged behind her across the grass while hugging the edge of her skirt.
"Give me back the book!"
"No."
"At least use black ink!"
"No."
"The red lines are aggressive!"
"That is the purpose."
Subaru leaned over the table, unable to breathe properly from laughter.
Emilia covered her mouth.
Puck floated on his back, moving his paws as though swimming through the air.
Beatrice watched the scene with almost religious contempt.
Petra had witnessed adults behaving without dignity before.
She had never seen a twenty-one-year-old man being dragged by a maid while begging for the survival of an imaginary meteor.
Ram stopped before the table.
Link remained lying upon the grass, still holding on.
"'Dry all clothing through a heat wave.'"
"Practical," Link said from the ground.
Ram crossed it out.
"Why?!"
"Because you nearly burned the clothing after thinking precisely that."
"I learned from the experience!"
"Ram's experience says no."
"Rem," Link pleaded. "Intervene."
Rem looked at his hands closed around her sister's skirt.
"Rem believes Link should release nee-sama first."
Link looked at what he was doing.
Then at Ram.
"You could have mentioned that sooner."
"Ram wanted to know how long it would take you to notice."
He released the skirt.
The fabric fell back into place, only slightly wrinkled.
Link attempted to smooth it.
Ram struck his hand with the pen.
"Do not touch."
"I was repairing it."
"Petra."
"Yes?"
"Write that Link does not possess permission to use magic upon clothing, curtains, documents, or any flammable material inside the mansion."
Petra wrote it down.
Her handwriting was clearly superior.
Link slowly returned to his place.
He no longer resembled a powerful Oni.
He resembled someone who had just attended the funeral of his aspirations.
Ram opened another page.
"'Portable oven.'"
She raised the pen.
Link said nothing.
Ram waited.
"It no longer matters," he murmured. "Destroy that one too."
Ram placed a small mark beside the name.
Not a line.
Link raised his head.
"What does that mean?"
"Authorized for basic development."
"Authorized?"
"A flame contained within a suitable structure may be useful during travel."
Link approached the table.
"Seriously?"
"Under supervision."
"Of course."
"Without explosions."
"Yes."
"Without transforming it into a dragon."
Link hesitated.
"That was a secondary idea."
Ram picked up the red pen.
"Discarded!" he said quickly. "Normal oven. Boring. Square, if necessary."
Ram left the mark.
The next proposal was:
"'Emergency fire signal.'"
Another mark.
"Authorized with a height limit," Ram said.
Petra copied it.
"'Line of fire to prevent Mabeasts from passing.'"
Ram read the notes below.
"Controlled test outside the grounds, with Puck or Beatrice present."
She marked the proposal.
Link recovered some life.
"That one is good."
"It was obvious."
"I wrote it."
"Even Barusu is correct occasionally."
"Do not ruin the moment."
Ram crossed out several more pages:
"Fire armor."
"Fire wings."
"Fire sword."
"Giant fire fist."
"Flaming head for intimidation."
"Fire horse."
"Giant Luci made of fire."
Luci approached the corresponding drawing.
It resembled a sphere with legs.
The little light moved away, offended.
Finally, Ram reached an almost empty page.
Petra had to lean closer to read.
"'Warm a cup without breaking it.'"
Ram looked at Link.
He crossed his arms.
"Fine control."
"Why is it written so small?"
"Because I added it after the other ideas."
Ram placed a mark beside it.
"Authorized as an exercise."
Link contemplated the final result.
Of more than forty proposals, four had survived.
Portable oven.
Emergency signal.
Defensive line.
Precision heating.
"This is a massacre," he said.
"It is prevention."
"You left me the boring spells."
"She left the ones that can be used without evacuating the village," Petra said.
Link looked at her.
"You were on my side."
"No."
"You copied my ideas."
"I copied the approved ones."
Petra raised the sheet.
The four names appeared in clean and uniform handwriting.
Below them were the conditions and limitations dictated by Ram.
Link compared the page with his notebook.
The difference was humiliating.
"I can improve my writing."
"Yes," Ram said.
"You did not need to answer so quickly."
"Petra will copy future proposals."
Petra's eyes widened.
"Me?"
"If she accepts."
Link looked at the sheet.
Then at the handkerchief Subaru still held.
Then at the stitches in his own shirt.
"It will be paid work," he said.
Petra attempted not to display too much excitement.
"How much?"
Link named an amount.
Petra frowned.
"That is too much for copying letters."
"You will also verify that what I write is understandable."
"That is more work," Ram said.
Link looked at her as though betrayed.
Ram ignored his expression.
"And she will make sketches for the commissioned garment," she continued. "The mansion will provide scraps for practice. She will not touch expensive materials until proving she can create the openings without weakening the back."
Petra looked at Ram.
"Really?"
"Ram does not repeat offers."
"I accept."
The answer came so quickly that Subaru smiled.
"Our little businesswoman has just acquired her first monstrous client."
"I am not monstrous," Link said.
Everyone looked at his four kagunes, which had manifested during the discussion and remained behind him like indignant serpents.
Link retracted them.
"Professionally eccentric."
Ram closed the notebook.
"There is another condition."
Link became suspicious again.
"What?"
She pointed toward the Lugunican alphabet.
"You will continue studying."
"Petra will copy everything."
"Petra will not always be present."
"Subaru can read to me."
"Barusu can barely read himself."
Subaru raised one hand.
"Objection partially accepted."
Ram took a clean sheet.
She wrote one character.
Then gave the pen to Link.
"Copy it."
"You just destroyed my dreams."
"Then you have room to learn."
Link sat.
He held the pen.
He copied the character.
It was tilted too far.
Ram took his wrist.
"Less pressure."
Petra watched.
Ram's hand looked small over Link's, but she controlled the movement without effort. She guided the tip of the pen downward and then to one side, correcting the angle.
Link remained strangely still.
"Like that," Ram said.
"Rem writes more beautifully."
The pen pierced through the paper.
Subaru fell backward laughing.
Ram released Link's wrist.
"Lesson over."
"It was an objective observation."
"Petra."
"Yes?"
"Charge him twice as much."
"RAM!"
Petra remained at the mansion until after lunch.
She took measurements of Link's back under Rem and Ram's supervision.
He slowly manifested a single kagune.
Petra watched the fabric open around its base.
She did not feel fear.
She felt curiosity.
She marked distances.
Asked how far each appendage could move, in which directions, and which sections of the shirt received the greatest tension. Link answered seriously. He did not treat her like a child pretending to be a seamstress.
When Petra said she would need multiple tests, he accepted.
When she explained that she might ruin the first designs, he said errors were part of the price.
When she asked whether he would truly pay for something that might not work, Link answered:
"Your time still has value even if the first attempt fails."
Petra kept that phrase.
Subaru accompanied her to the entrance when it was time to return.
He wore the blue handkerchief tied around his neck.
It sat slightly crooked.
But he wore it.
"It looks bad on you," Petra said.
Subaru placed a hand over his chest.
"My sense of fashion has been attacked by a professional."
Petra corrected the knot.
"Now it is better."
"Thank you."
She held the folder containing Link's approved ideas and the first sketches for the shirt.
The world appeared different.
Not because the mansion had changed.
Because she had found work inside it that did not exist in Arlam.
Clothing for people with additional limbs.
Heat-resistant fabrics.
Uniforms that needed to withstand magic.
Clients who wrote worse than small children and dreamed of setting the sky on fire.
"Subaru," Petra said.
"Yes?"
"I still want to become a seamstress."
"Good."
"In the capital."
"Even better."
Petra looked toward the road.
"But perhaps I do not have to wait until I arrive there to begin."
Subaru smiled.
"That sounds like something a terrifying businesswoman would say."
"Link is already my client."
"Then I regret to inform you that your career has begun at the highest difficulty level."
A shout came from the garden.
"RAM, GIVE ME BACK THE DRAGON PAGE!"
Ram's voice answered with absolute calm:
"It is already in the fire."
"NOOOOO!"
Petra looked toward the mansion.
Then at Subaru.
"He is a strange adult."
"You have no idea."
"I believe I do."
Subaru laughed.
Petra started walking.
Before moving too far away, she turned.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
She thought about the forest.
The handkerchief.
The words about her dream.
A client who had looked at her stitching before her face.
"For treating me as though I could do it."
Subaru raised one hand.
"You can."
Petra continued toward Arlam.
The folder weighed little.
Inside were only four authorized spells, a list of measurements, and several incomplete drawings.
However, to her, it contained something larger than the village.
A first commission.
A first client.
A reason to practice.
And proof that the world did not begin only after crossing the gates of the capital.
Sometimes the world came to you disguised as two strange foreigners.
One capable of throwing himself into a forest filled with Mabeasts for children he barely knew.
The other capable of imagining forty different ways to set something on fire and writing every one of them with dreadful handwriting.
Petra still wanted to make beautiful dresses.
She still wanted to see the capital.
And someday, she wanted someone kind beside her.
But that afternoon, she understood that she did not need to wait for any of those things to begin building the life she wanted.
She only needed a needle.
Fabric.
Work.
And clients foolish enough to commission impossible clothing.