"Even… even if you can break the Walking Church, I'll never tell you a single word from any grimoire!"
Index instinctively stepped back, then bit her lip, standing tall with resolve. She crossed her arms over her mouth, determined to stay silent.
"Hm… tch. Chosen by the Anglican Church to store the grimoires, you probably won't crack under force, no matter what I do."
"Mhm, mhm!"
Index nodded vigorously agreeing with Samuel.
"How about… drugs, then?"
"Eh?"
"Strip you down, tie you up, and force you to take some suspicious drugs…"
Samuel flashed a wicked grin, his gaze slicing over Index like a blade, as if it could pierce the fortress-like Walking Church. A chill ran through her, as if she stood bare before him.
"I…"
"Don't think keeping your mouth shut will help. Times have changed—I can inject it anywhere. Guess… where I'd start?"
As he spoke, Samuel closed in, his presence overwhelming. Index backed away, tumbling onto the bed again. She clutched the blanket, wrapping herself tightly, as if it could shield her.
"W-Wah~ Doing this… God won't forgive you!"
"Heh heh… Come on, let me see…"
"No!"
"Be good, let me take a look…"
"No… Samuel… don't…"
Bang~
As Samuel teased the nun, the door swung open.
Hayasaka Ai stepped in with a broom, her eyes scanning Samuel, then Index curled up on the bed. Realization dawned in her gaze.
Her look at Samuel carried an extra shade of "pervert."
"Am I interrupting?"
"Indeed."
An unexpected turn. Samuel shifted gears.
"No! You're right on time, onee-san! This guy knocked me out, brought me here, and did awful, perverted things! He even forced me to wear this outfit. Save me!!!"
Index's words spilled out like rapid-fire, her small mouth a machine gun.
"Really?"
Hayasaka turned to Samuel.
"Not true. I didn't force her to wear that outfit—though it's got a certain charm. As for the rest… yeah, I was just about to!"
Samuel replied with deadpan sincerity.
"Hm… typical you. I'll leave you to it, then."
"Wait! Why are you so casual about this?! And you, nee-san, you're way too used to it!"
Index quipped.
"Hahaha… Alright, little one, just kidding. I won't do anything to you—because you'll come around willingly."
A man's charm peaks with ability, looks, and confidence. When everyone knows you can back up your words, that's when you shine.
Like Samuel now…
His unshakable confidence made Index feel like a lamb served up on a plate—deliciously vulnerable.
"Do you know, Index? What are grimoires? What's their purpose?"
Samuel's question came out of nowhere.
"Grimoires are just grimoires! Spells and magical insights left by past masters…"
"Tch, tch, tch. You don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?"
"Want to understand? Let me show you something interesting."
"Samuel… what are you—don't come closer…"
Before Index could finish, Samuel sealed her lips again—not to unlock the Index, but to add something to it.
"Scientific Magic"
The 103,000 grimoires became 103,001!
Or rather… 103,000 and a half!
"Mm… ah…"
A mystical light bloomed in Index's mind. Countless dormant knowledges sprang to life, like the difference between rote memorization and practical application.
The knowledge glowed, the 103,000 grimoires resonating as if stirred by some catalyst, vying to outshine each other.
Grimoires were wisdom—miracles born from their authors' lifetimes, shaped by perfect timing, place, and circumstance. Even if the author rewrote them, they'd never be identical.
As wisdom, they yearned to be inherited, to be passed on, seeking worthy successors.
Just as magicians went mad for grimoires, seeing them as supreme knowledge, grimoires craved exceptional minds, competing for their approval.
Knowledge wasn't meant to be sealed away—it was meant to be recognized, to be carried forward!
So…
Index Librorum Prohibitorum
The Index itself was meaningless, unneeded by Index, unwanted by the grimoires, existing only to satisfy the whims of higher and lower beings.
Fools seeking to understand were harmed by the grimoires' wisdom—like playing with a knife and getting cut.
High beings feared the grimoires' power falling into others' hands, threatening their status.
Some ideas were intolerable to them.
Like freedom in a feudal age.
Or socialism in a capitalist era.
Thus, the Index was created to lock and bury them.
But the grimoires… they longed to be understood, to be acknowledged.
Only those akin to their original authors could make grimoires willingly submit.
And Samuel… was that person.
An existence of infinite possibilities, a superposition of countless "Samuels." He was "human," the embodiment of all humanity.
He could fulfill every grimoire's desire.
A contest of brilliance within the Index!
But for Index… this wasn't good news.
The grimoires were like dormant nuclear bombs, now reacting. Forget the rest—the "warehouse" was in trouble.
"Quiet… don't hurt my little grimoire!"
Samuel whispered in her ear.
The grimoires instantly ceased.
Through Scientific Magic, Samuel projected himself into the Index, sparking a frenzy among the grimoires. But under the Index's suppression, he couldn't extract anything…
As for Hayasaka Ai…
She had no idea what they were talking about and didn't dare ask.
***
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