* * *

In a peculiar house with chocolate doors, cracker walls, and windows of glass candy, a dark-red-haired woman was feeding sugar thread spun by a cookie spider into a spinning wheel, turning it into cotton-candy clouds that floated in the air.

Cir blinked.

"Child, are jokes like that fashionable among your generation these days?"

"My generation ended ages ago. That kind of joke wasn't fashionable then, and it isn't now. And one last thing: stop calling me child, you old hag."

"But it is such an unexpected claim. Saying those children died because of the Great Barrier of London."

'Playing innocent, are you?'

Limon clicked his tongue inwardly.

She only claimed it was unexpected. The interest in her eyes alone told him that Cir already understood the broad outlines of the situation.

But he did not bother pointing that out. Nothing good would come of getting caught up in a witch's peculiar way with words—pretending not to know what she knew, and to know what she did not.

That was why he deliberately kept his explanation casual.

"Of course there's a connection. The witches of the twenty-seven magical lineages created the Great Barrier of London."

"That's quite an exaggeration. All those girls did was oil the machinery, at most."

"Only old hags like you know that. Anyway, that's what the kids these days believe."

"Hmm... So you're saying that's why the culprit murdered the children of the twenty-seven magical lineages?"

Cir nodded as though she had only just understood. Then she stopped the spinning wheel, held out a hand, and let the cookie spider climb onto its back, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips.

"To get rid of the Misty hours?"

Any Londoner who heard that would have chuckled in disbelief. From noon until one in the afternoon, between one ringing of the bells and the next, fog covered everything during the Misty hours—a curse rooted in the very depths of London.

It was a remnant of the Demon God War that even a Saint once invited by the Holy Alliance had declared impossible to lift.

In London, talk of getting rid of it was already regarded as a joke on par with making the sun rise in the west. But no one would have dared laugh if they knew who was planning it.

Just as Limon wasn't laughing now.

"Well, I don't know about that. All I know is that the Monarch of Magic is working toward it right now."

Karl Amadeus, the Monarch of Magic.

Limon frowned as he recalled the goal Karl had told Rose about: eliminating the 'Misty hours' from London.

Whatever anyone might say, even if he was not the strongest Monarch, he was acclaimed as the greatest genius among them. He had deciphered the principles behind magic-type skills, once dismissed as garbage, and elevated them into top-tier skills. That achievement gave him the authority to make people wonder, 'What if?' in the face of any impossibility.

"Child, if what you say is true, that ill-mannered brat of a Monarch of Magic would be a prime suspect."

"... Ill-mannered brat?"

Cir let the cookie spider crawling over the back of her hand enter her slightly parted lips, then bit into it with a crunch. Licking the crumbs from her lips, she continued languidly.

"He has potential, but no manners. Being called the Monarch of Magic isn't enough for him—he even trades on the name of the twenty-seven magical lineages without asking permission."

"Oh, that. Come to think of it, why did you just let him get away with that?"

"What else could we do? We'd lose if we fought him."

"I suppose that's true."

Limon sighed. This was the Iron Age, when even he, a Sword Master, was treated as a has-been, and the Seven Dragons Society barely maintained its prosperity through the power of money.

Witches without any substantial power base could hardly stand against the ten great guilds.

Of course, if Cir got involved, she could at least make life difficult for the Magus Guild without having to fight...

'But this old hag would never take such an active part in someone else's business.'

"Anyway, I wouldn't be surprised if that brat were the culprit. He's always disliked us witches."

"Why's that?"

"How would I know? It's hardly the first time we've been persecuted for no reason."

"I'm not sure you're in any position to say that... Anyway, I'll focus my investigation more closely on the Monarch of Magic."

"Rather than cutting his head off straightaway?"

"The Monarch of Magic is still only a suspect," Limon said firmly.

It could not be a coincidence that the witches had started dying just as Karl was working to eliminate the Misty hours. But that did not prove Karl was the culprit.

At the very least, the Blue Dragon Clan, the royal family, and the highest-ranking members of the Magus Guild would know what Karl was doing. Someone among them might have seized the opportunity to plot for their own gain.

Someone like the Liberation Brigade, with spies and agents planted everywhere.

'Hmm. Those bastards might be involved in this after all.'

Limon narrowed his eyes.

Of course, he had no evidence that would establish the Liberation Brigade's involvement. But considering how they had once manipulated even Lee Cheon-gi through their agents alone, there was ample possibility that they were behind this too.

That was why he had placed the Liberation Brigade on his list of suspects after the Blue Dragon Clan and the Magus Guild in the first place.

'It's a shame that lead still hasn't made a move.'

Had she come to work, or to sightsee? Limon briefly clicked his tongue as he recalled the report that Claire was taking things so easy it was impossible to tell.

Then he asked about something that suddenly came to mind.

"By the way, old hag. How did the things I asked you to do turn out?"

"Oh, those? I'd say half and half."

SNAP!

Cir snapped her fingers. A portion of the drifting cotton-candy clouds dropped down, stopped squarely in front of Limon, and offered him a small case.

Limon immediately took the case and opened it. His eyes narrowed at what he found inside.

"What's this?"

"The successful half."

"... What exactly did you succeed at to turn a bell into this?"

"A bell was far too old-fashioned to begin with. Trying to locate a target by its ringing alone is rather imprecise, too."

"So you turned it into a smartphone?"

"You should be grateful. It's a custom model—not only did I enhance its original search function, I added extra effects as well."

Limon eyed the luxurious smartphone in the case suspiciously for a moment, then took it out. His eyebrows twitched.

The instant he held it, the screen switched on automatically and displayed a pattern of concentric circles.

Against the otherwise black screen, a single dot blinked in time with occasional rippling waves. It looked just like...

"... A radar?"

"What do you think? I put a little cutting-edge technology to use."

Limon gave Cir an odd look as she smugly declared that magic had to keep up with the trends too. For a moment, he wondered whether technology used since the Second World War could really be called cutting-edge.

Fortunately, however, that was not the smartphone's only function.

"Try camera mode too. That should make things clearer."

"Hmm?"

Puzzled, Limon nevertheless aimed the smartphone in the direction of the dot on the radar and tried its camera function. He let out a brief sound of admiration.

On one side of the house stood a table made entirely of cake. When he pointed the smartphone at it, the screen clearly showed a violin hidden inside the cake, radiating a shimmering glow like a heat haze.

"Oh, now this really does seem like cutting-edge technology."

"Of course it does. Who do you think made it?"

"Fine, I'll admit it's impressive."

For once, Limon agreed with Cir. She had not merely repaired the broken bell; she had remade it into a magical artifact with both radar and a see-through function.

Only a witch of her caliber could have done such a thing.

"There are two things you should be careful about. First, don't put too much faith in the radar. Its accuracy drops if the target is hidden behind a powerful barrier or seal."

"I can live with that. What's the second?"

"Avoid using the camera function on people if you can."

"Why? Does it emit ultraviolet rays or something?"

"No. It sees through clothes too."

"... I take back what I said about it being impressive, you damned old hag."

"Why? It's something every man would dream of."

"Only a voyeur would say that."

Limon fought the urge to hurl the smartphone away and put it in his pocket instead. Photographing a woman would be bad enough, but what sort of horrifying image would appear if he accidentally pointed it at a man?

The mere thought made his face contort, but he could hardly smash the only magical artifact capable of finding the Seven Arcs.

After another sigh, Limon took the Violin of Deepest Black from the cake table, which had split open to either side, and placed it in the box beside him as he asked,

"So, what about your investigation into this violin?"

"Unfortunately, that half was a failure."

"... A witch of your caliber couldn't find out anything?"

"I did discover a few things. I simply couldn't discover the most important one."

"What did you find out?"

"First, it's almost certain that something unrelated to magic or skills resides in this violin," Cir said languidly.

To be frank, that information was utterly meaningless. Even the bell used to find the Seven Arcs held a special mystery. He would have been disappointed if the Seven Arcs themselves were merely products of magic or skills.

"What's interesting is that it resides there in a form much like a seal."

"A seal?"

"Yes. You know how sometimes a powerful holy relic or magical artifact is used as a barrier to seal something inside it? It was similar to that."

Limon narrowed his eyes. Having encountered countless spells and magical artifacts, he understood what Cir had found 'interesting.'

"In short, this violin was only used as a 'vessel,' and what matters is its 'contents'?"

"It's rare for the contents to be worth less than their vessel. All the more so when that vessel is a magical artifact on par with a divine relic."

"... I see. That certainly is interesting."

The Violin of Deepest Black was itself a masterpiece that a Saint had spent a lifetime creating and Cir had imbued with a curse. It might be a cursed item, but in terms of the magical power bestowed on it alone, it ranked among the ten greatest treasures in all of human history.

And something had required an artifact like this merely to serve as its vessel? Whatever resided within it, no wonder the Liberation Brigade was willing to set everything else aside to find it.

"Just to make sure: did you learn anything about the contents, or how to break the seal?"

"I told you, it was a failure."

"Hmm. Then there's nothing to be done."

Limon nodded. Though she had not uncovered the most important thing, this made it clear that the Seven Arcs were no mere magical artifacts.

That knowledge alone had made entrusting the violin to Cir for investigation worthwhile.

'... Come to think of it, why is that idiot princess taking so long to get in touch?'

Limon looked dubious as he recalled Ainsha, whom he had asked to investigate the Saint of Muse. Given the Seven Dragons Society's intelligence-gathering capabilities, he had expected her results to arrive sooner, yet he still had not heard a word.

'Well, she's probably doing something stupid again.'

As Limon gathered his thoughts, assuming that the White Dragon Clan was simply being the White Dragon Clan, Cir added something as though it had suddenly occurred to her.

"Oh, and child. There's one more interesting thing."

"What now?"

As Limon looked at her in puzzlement, Cir spoke with a knowing expression.

"In that violin..."