"No, no, no, and absolutely not! Put that knife down this instant, Meliodas, I just finished sewing that tablecloth!"
"But it's only to cut the bread, Elizabeth. I don't see the problem—"
"The last time you said that, you ended up slicing the entire table in half while trying to impress that poor traveler."
"He looked impressed, though."
"He ran away screaming, Meliodas."
Merlin, sitting in a corner of the small tavern with a spellbook open in front of her that she was only half reading, let out a small laugh despite herself.
Two years earlier, she never would have imagined seeing that man laugh again, much less getting scolded like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar by a woman whose voice was as gentle as a spring morning.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warm bustle of the tavern fade behind her eyelids, replaced by the persistent memories of everything she had tried over the past two years.
Entire nights spent bent over borrowed grimoires, stolen ones, and sometimes books outright taken from mages who hadn't been willing to hand them over willingly.
Circles drawn with chalk.
With ashes.
With blood once, during a moment of desperation she wasn't particularly proud of.
Journeys to forgotten sanctuaries simply to consult an old blind priest who claimed to know a ritual capable of finding anyone, anywhere.
None of them had worked.
Not a single one.
"Are you laughing at me, Merlin?" Meliodas called out in mock outrage, setting the knife back on the counter with a theatrical sigh.
"I'm laughing at the situation," Merlin corrected without looking up from her book. "As for you specifically, I simply find you pathetic."
"Ouch. Right through the heart."
Elizabeth walked over to Merlin's table, carrying a tray filled with steaming cups, her long white hair gently swaying with every step.
A warm glow, almost imperceptible, always seemed to surround her, as though the entire room became just a little warmer wherever she walked.
"Working again, Merlin?" she asked as she placed a cup in front of her, wearing a smile so kind it was almost disarming. "You should get some rest, you know. You've been bent over that book for hours."
"Hours, months, two years," Merlin replied, finally closing her book with a sharp snap. "At this point, I think the word 'rest' has simply stopped being part of my vocabulary."
Meliodas sat down on the stool across from her, tilting his chair back with the effortless ease of someone who had had very little left to fear from the world for a long time.
"Still the kid?" he asked, every trace of humor instantly disappearing from his voice.
"Yeah," Merlin confirmed, her fingers nervously tapping against the cover of her grimoire.
Elizabeth sat down as well, gently placing a hand over Merlin's.
It was a simple gesture, yet it carried a warmth that was difficult to put into words.
"Tell us," she said softly. "Maybe we can help."
Merlin sighed, a long breath that seemed to carry the weight of two entire years of accumulated frustration.
"I've tried everything. Absolutely everything," she began.
"Bloodline location spells, impossible since we're not related."
"Magical resonance spells, completely useless because his magical signature is unlike anything I've ever cataloged."
"Divination through mirrors, through water, through ashes..."
"I even ended up digging up an old necromancer's ritual that I would have preferred never to learn."
"Lovely," Meliodas commented with a slight grimace.
"You have no idea. It required the severed finger of a hanged man to work properly. I won't even tell you where I eventually found one," Merlin added with a matching grimace.
"And despite all that... despite all the blood, the dust, the sleepless nights spent repeating incantations until I lost my voice..."
"Nothing."
"Not the slightest image."
"Not the faintest whisper."
"And none of it worked," Meliodas guessed, more through deduction than an actual question.
"Nothing. Not even the smallest scrap of information," Merlin confirmed, frustration clearly breaking through her normally composed voice.
"And the worst part is..."
"I know exactly why."
"Drainda," Elizabeth simply said, as though the name alone explained everything.
Merlin nodded.
"That damned sword has been stuck in my workshop for two years now, as motionless and silent as a tomb."
"And every time I try to use it as an anchor for a location spell..."
"Every time I think I've finally found a thread that could lead me to him..."
She clenched her fist.
A spark of magic crackled briefly around her fingers before fading away.
"...the blade simply swallows the spell whole."
"As if it absolutely refuses to betray its owner, even while he's gone."
Meliodas let out an appreciative whistle, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile despite the apparent seriousness of the situation.
"A loyal sword."
"I kind of like that concept."
"It would be charming if it weren't driving me completely insane," Merlin shot back rather sharply.
"Here."
"Watch."
She placed her palm flat against the table and closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her concentration.
A faint bluish glow began to dance in the center of her hand, a tiny trembling constellation that seemed to be searching for a direction.
"Location. related object: The Demon-Dweller Sword, Drainda, name of the target : unknown" she murmured.
The light grew brighter.
It stabilized.
It even seemed ready to stretch toward a specific direction—
Then it vanished instantly, absorbed by something invisible, as though an unseen hand had suddenly closed around a candle flame.
"You see?" Merlin said, her voice carrying the familiar mixture of exasperation and exhaustion.
"It does that every single time."
"Without fail."
"No matter what spell I use."
"No matter how much power I pour into it."
Meliodas stared at the spot where the light had disappeared, one eyebrow slightly raised.
"That's actually pretty impressive. Though I still don't understand what that sword has to do with demons."
"It's mostly just incredibly annoying," Merlin corrected.
"Are you sure it's not simply a problem with your approach?" Elizabeth asked, her voice as gentle as ever despite the direct question. "Maybe there's still a spell you haven't tried."
"Big Sister, I've literally gone through everything human magic, fairy magic, and even a good portion of forbidden magic have to offer on the subject," Merlin replied, a weary smile softening the sharpness of her words. "If there's still a spell I haven't tried, we'd probably have to look for it in a goddess's personal library."
A brief silence followed that remark, carrying an implication neither Meliodas nor Elizabeth addressed directly, although an amused glint flashed through the demon's eyes.
"I could always ask," Elizabeth offered after a moment, her voice slightly more hesitant than usual. "There might be something in the old texts about objects that actively refuse to be found. I think artifacts like that exist. They're rare... but they do exist."
"You'd do that?" Merlin asked, genuinely surprised.
"Of course," Elizabeth replied with a smile so sincere it was almost disarming. "That boy means a great deal to you. It's obvious."
Merlin looked away a little faster than necessary, suddenly pretending to take a renewed interest in the cover of her grimoire.
"He saved me," she simply said, as though those three words alone justified two entire years of relentless searching. "I just want to know if he's alright. That's all."
"That's all," Meliodas repeated with a mischievous grin, but he didn't push any further, merely lifting his cup to his lips.
A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the crackling of the fireplace and the distant murmurs of a few customers seated across the room.
A silence that Meliodas, naturally, had no intention of letting last.
"Two years of obsessive searching, sleepless nights, rituals involving a hanged man's finger... all for a boy you've only met once," he said, his grin slowly widening. "You know there's a name for that kind of behavior, right?"
"It's called gratitude, Meliodas."
"No. It's called being hopelessly in love."
"W-What?! That's ridiculous!" Merlin felt her cheeks burst into flames, the heat spreading all the way to her ears. "I barely know him! We talked once, Meliodas. Once!"
"Are you kidding me? You've literally been counting the days for two years, hoping for some kind of sign from a kid you met for five minutes."
"I— It's not... He saved me! That's different!" Merlin stammered, snapping her grimoire shut a little too forcefully to seem natural. "I'm worried about him, that's all. Anyone would be. You're completely blowing this out of proportion. It's ridiculous."
"Big Sister, look, she's stuttering," Meliodas called toward the counter, wearing a triumphant grin. "I think we've struck gold."
"Meliodas, stop it this instant," Merlin groaned, burying her burning face in both hands, which naturally only confirmed the demon's suspicions even more.
From behind the counter, Elizabeth let out a soft, sympathetic laugh.
"Leave her alone, Meliodas," she said gently, though an amused smile also played across her lips. "Even so... I have to admit, you're blushing an awful lot for someone who insists it's only gratitude, Merlin."
"Not you too, Big Sister..." Merlin groaned, her face still hidden behind her hands.
"Then stop worrying about him so much," Elizabeth continued soothingly, gently taking Merlin's hand again as soon as she lowered it. "A boy capable of surviving five mages while barely able to stand... I'm sure he's doing just fine, wherever he is. Maybe Drainda isn't keeping you from finding him out of malice. Maybe it's simply waiting for the right moment."
Merlin didn't answer right away, pondering those words with almost reverent attention, and perhaps feeling just a little relieved that the subject had finally changed.
"I hope you're right," she whispered at last.
"I usually am," Elizabeth replied with a playful wink that suited her surprisingly well before getting up to attend to a customer who had just entered.
Meliodas watched Merlin for a moment, his usual grin softened by something more sincere, more attentive.
"For what it's worth," he said, "you don't have to carry all of this by yourself, you know. We're here."
Merlin looked up at him, caught slightly off guard by the sudden sincerity of the demon she had known to be so cold and detached just two years ago.
"You've changed a lot, Meliodas."
"People change," he replied simply, his gaze drifting briefly and tenderly toward Elizabeth on the other side of the room. "Sometimes for the better, believe it or not."
Merlin smiled.
A genuine smile this time, one that chased away a little of the exhaustion that had settled across her face.
"Well," she finally said, reopening her grimoire with renewed determination, "I suppose all that's left is to find that famous spell capable of breaking through the defenses of one particularly stubborn sword."
"With or without the help of a goddess's library?" Meliodas asked, raising an eyebrow.
"With, preferably," Merlin answered without the slightest hesitation. "I may be Belialuin's greatest genius, but I'm not too proud to accept a little divine assistance."
Back behind the counter, Elizabeth let out a bright, crystalline laugh that seemed to make the entire tavern just a little warmer.
"I'll see what I can find," she promised. "For you... and for that boy I've never met, but who clearly holds a special place in your heart."
Merlin didn't reply.
She simply lowered her eyes back to her book, a faint smile lingering on her lips, a newly rekindled flame of hope quietly burning somewhere deep inside her chest.
Two years of fruitless searching hadn't been enough to extinguish that hope.
And they probably never would be.
Outside, the sun was beginning to set, bathing the tavern's windows in a warm orange light, gentle enough to seem as though it were trying to contradict every frustration the day had brought.
Meliodas got to his feet to help Elizabeth with the last few customers, not without giving Merlin one last knowing wink as he passed.
Merlin remained alone for a while, her grimoire open before her, the faint blue glow of her failed spell still lingering behind her eyelids.
Somewhere, in a corner of the world she still couldn't reach, a white-haired boy was probably still fighting... still growing... becoming someone she would barely recognize if they happened to meet today.
Wait for me a little longer, she thought, her eyes once again fixed on the pages of her grimoire. I'll find a way to break through that damned sword's barrier eventually.