Flustered, Kusanagi Godou froze for a second before snapping back to his senses. It was only then that he realized the woman had spoken to him in Japanese, not Italian.
Noticing this oddity, he quickly calmed down and began to suspect this might be some kind of joke—perhaps his grandfather had arranged for someone to pick him up in Italy. After all, with so many Asians around, why would she specifically address him in Japanese instead of Chinese, Korean, or another language?
With that thought, Kusanagi Godou quickly turned around and saw the girl standing not far behind him.
Stunning!
This was the only feeling in Kusanagi Godou's seventeen-year-old heart at that moment. Standing not far behind him was a tall Italian girl with smooth, golden-sand-like hair. Unlike most Europeans, her skin was not only flawlessly fair but also possessed the delicate smoothness of an Eastern woman.
The girl looked as if she were attending a high-class ball, dressed in red high heels and an elegant gown of the same color. Her breathtakingly beautiful figure, coupled with the aura of majesty and nobility she exuded, not only stole Kusanagi Godou's breath but also drew the unconscious gazes of passersby.
Yet, even though the girl seemed to stand at the center of a stage, bathed in countless spotlights, no one dared to approach her. Her presence was simply too overwhelming—so much so that it even evoked a sense of fear.
This newcomer was, of course, Erica Blandelli. Having issued commands in Roy's name across Europe for three years, even though Erica was only just over sixteen, she already carried the authority of someone who wielded great power.
Kusanagi Godou began to doubt his earlier assumption. A girl so noble, elegant, and imposing hardly seemed like someone his folklorist grandfather would know. The moment he saw her, words like "queen" and "princess" flashed through his mind.
And he wasn't wrong. In all of Italy, Erica was now regarded as a true princess.
"Um… were you talking to me?"
Japan was known for producing otaku, but Kusanagi Godou wasn't one of them. Of course, he wasn't exactly a smooth talker either. As he spoke to Erica, he felt both the excitement of talking to a beautiful girl and the nervousness of not knowing what to say.
"Indeed, I was speaking to you—Kusanagi Godou from Japan."
Erica scrutinized the boy before her and quickly reached a conclusion: just an ordinary high school student. Compared to her, a Great Knight who commanded the European mage society in Roy's name, he was nothing more than a mere mortal among mortals.
However, even though Erica could tell that Kusanagi Godou was just an ordinary high schooler—not even a magician—she didn't let her guard down. After all, this was a task assigned to her by Roy.
"Huh? How do you know my name?"
Kusanagi Godou's nervous heart leaped again, his voice tinged with surprise. He began to wonder if she really was here to pick him up. Just where had his grandfather met such an extraordinary girl?
Of course, Kusanagi Godou wasn't some lecherous fool who thought he could get anywhere with a girl like this. But simply being able to talk to and get to know such a stunning and impressive girl was, for any man, a future bragging right—a small happiness.
Kusanagi Godou was just a young man. Even if he might outwardly deny it, deep down, he couldn't help but think this way.
His emotions rose and fell with every word exchanged.
Erica realized that he seemed to have misunderstood something, but she couldn't be bothered to explain. Instead, she simply said to Kusanagi Godou, "...Hand over the bag you're carrying, and you may leave."
A single sentence snapped the somewhat lightheaded Kusanagi Godou into alertness. Clutching his bag tightly, he cautiously asked, "...So my grandfather wanted me to give what's inside to you? You're the so-called 'witch' he mentioned? But weren't you supposed to be in Sardinia? How did you end up in Rome?"
"Witch? Sardinia?"
Erica's delicate brows furrowed as she replied impatiently, "...I suppose you could call me a witch, but I don't know your grandfather. Hurry up and hand over the contraband in that bag—I still need to report to Lord Roy!"
Erica had grown tired of arguing with this inexplicable Japanese high schooler. She'd rather spend this time returning to the King's side. Even if she did nothing, said nothing, just watching the King sit on a sunlit sofa reading a book, gazing at his focused profile—that alone was the highest form of enjoyment.
She'd rather flash a bewitching smile before the King than display her majesty before some Japanese teenager.
Kusanagi Godou realized he'd misunderstood—this woman was after the contents of his bag. Though he didn't know why anyone would covet the shabby stone tablet his grandfather had entrusted to him, he'd promised to return it to its rightful owner, and he wasn't about to break that promise.
"Sorry, but this tablet was meant to be delivered to Lucretia Zola by my grandfather. I can't give it to you."
Godou shook his head firmly, tightening his grip on the bag.
Though the girl opposite him carried an imposing aura, it didn't intimidate him. If Erica had been an Italian customs officer, he might have felt more panic.
"Lucretia? So the 'witch' you meant was the 'Witch of Sardinia'... Hmph, in that case, I must insist you hand it over. If you know Lucretia, you'd better not cause trouble for her. Should Lord Roy discover her involvement in this, that witch wouldn't survive the King's wrath!"
Erica's expression cleared with realization before turning stern. "...I hold great respect for that witch. I suggest you don't make things difficult for her!"
Godou was utterly confused—what Witch of Sardinia? What King? What was she talking about? Did Italy even have a king? He genuinely didn't know...
Meanwhile, Erica, seeing that Godou knew of witches and Lucretia, mistakenly assumed he belonged to the magical world. She believed invoking the King's name would make him comply immediately.
As a great knight, Erica disdained using force against an ordinary high schooler.
But their misunderstanding only deepened as Godou kept shaking his head—there was no way he'd surrender someone else's property based on a few words.
This finally ignited Erica's anger. To refuse a demand made in Roy's name was nothing short of an insult to the King.
With a furious laugh, she spat out, "...Fine, fine! I tried reasoning with you politely, but since you refuse to cooperate, don't blame me for what comes next!"
No longer wasting words, Erica reached out, and an ornate ceremonial sword materialized in her palm.
"Magic?"
Kusanagi Godou widened his eyes in shock at the ritual sword that had appeared in Erica's hand, asking in astonishment.
And this question hit the mark, because what Erica was using was indeed magic—though the 'magic' the two of them understood were not the same thing.
Swish—
A cold gleam flashed. Before Kusanagi Godou could even comprehend what had happened, the next instant, his foot lost all sensation, and he collapsed to the ground.
He stared dumbly at his left ankle, where a deep, bone-exposing wound had appeared. His Achilles tendon had been severed, and blood gushed out in a spray.
"AAAAAHHHHH—MURDER!!!"
Kusanagi Godou let out a piercing scream, scrambling backward on his hands and feet, desperately trying to draw the attention of the people around him with his shouts.
But soon, he realized in horror that the pedestrians in the airport seemed completely oblivious to what was happening here. Each person walked past him as if the 'murder' unfolding before them was nothing more than a staged performance.
"No need to shout. I've already used magic to disperse the area. No one else can see what's happening here."
Erica advanced step by step, her long sword in hand.
"D-Demon... demon..."
Cold sweat broke out on Kusanagi Godou's forehead as fear gripped his heart. Trembling, he pointed a shaky finger at Erica, his voice hoarse with terror.
"That's right. I am Erica Blandelli, the Diavolo Rosso of the Bronze Black Cross. I'm surprised you actually know my title!"
Erica flashed a bewitching yet domineering smile, but in Kusanagi Godou's eyes, it was nothing less than the grin of a demon.
It seemed the two of them had misunderstood something yet again.
***
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