* * *

She nibbled.

With the first light bite, the chocolate coating crumbled, revealing snow-white marshmallow beneath. The slightly firm chocolate and soft marshmallow mingled on her tongue, their two sweet textures melting deliciously together. Then a sip of warm milk tea washed the lingering sweetness down her throat, warming her body.

“Tata’s krembo really is delicious. It deserves to be a cultural treasure.”

Only after cleansing her palate with tea did the white-haired girl speak, as though she finally felt alive again. Limon nodded as he watched Ainsha.

“Seeing you enjoy it makes bringing it worth the trouble.”

“You may have some too, Lee. As thanks for bringing Tata’s krembo. I will spare one... No. Two.”

As though she would share only because it was Limon, Ainsha swallowed her saliva, took two krembos from the basket, and held them out. He chuckled at the sight.

“I’m fine. Eat your fill.”

Ainsha had never imagined anyone would refuse Tata’s krembo. She blinked expressionlessly, then shifted her eyes back and forth as though agonizing over something before speaking again.

“Tata’s krembo is truly delicious. You will regret not eating it. Try at least one.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

Perhaps out of consideration for her gesture, Limon leaned forward and took a hearty bite of the krembo she held between her fingers. Then he nodded.

“I see... I thought it would just be sweet, but the bitterness of the chocolate and the cream balance it nicely.”

As Limon calmly remarked that the flavor was certainly something to boast about, Ainsha could say nothing. She merely blinked blankly, looking from his lips to her fingers, before her face flushed bright red.

Instead, it was Yu Na-gyeong who opened her beak, looking distinctly unimpressed.

[“... Team Leader, are you doing that on purpose?”]

“Doing what?”

[“Wow. This old man really is an old fogey. He’s doing something outrageous like he’s just accepting candy from a kid...”]

Limon wondered briefly what her inscrutable remark meant, then dismissed it as her usual silly chatter. Turning to Ainsha, he asked casually,

“Now that you’ve had something to eat, could you start explaining?”

“I do not know either. Tata’s krembo recipe is her own secret.”

“... I was asking why you’re here.”

“That is easy.”

Ainsha nodded, rose from the mat spread on the floor, and turned around.

“Follow me. I will explain on the way.”

A little later, Ainsha led them through a dim passage with a lamp in one hand, briefly explaining what had brought her to Tartarus.

“I investigated the Saint who made your violin, Lee. I also visited the Temple of Muse. But there were no records of the Saint.”

“I heard about that too.”

“It is strange. That should be impossible.”

The Temple of Muse was not the only place without records. Even the White Dragon Clan’s archives, which held detailed records of every god and church, contained absolutely nothing about the Saint of Muse. It was as though someone had erased every record in existence.

And as far as Ainsha knew, only one kind of being could perform such a seemingly magical feat.

“You’re saying a god intervened directly?”

“Almost certainly.”

“Hmm. Then Muse probably did it. At the very least, she must have turned a blind eye.”

Limon nodded. Unless one was a god capable of directly manipulating the order of the world, erasing even the White Dragon Clan’s records would be difficult for a Saint or a Great Witch.

There was only one question: why had Muse needed to erase the records of her own Saint?

“I personally searched the Church of Muse’s archives to discover why. And I found a suspicious record.”

“A suspicious record?”

“A record of the Church of Muse hiding something in Tartarus.”

That in itself was nothing unusual. As Limon had said when calling it the Holy Alliance’s garbage dump, Tartarus was where the various churches shoved all their curses and shameful secrets.

But what if the Church of Muse’s use of Tartarus coincided with the disappearance of the Saint’s records? That made it suspicious enough.

“So you came straight here from the Temple of Muse to check?”

“Correct.”

“But you disturbed something you shouldn’t have, a bunch of demons came pouring out, and you couldn’t leave even if you wanted to?”

Limon nodded. He had defeated them easily only because he was who he was. Each of the six demons had possessed power comparable to a demigod or a lesser god. Moreover, Tartarus’s curse meant they usually resurrected immediately even after being killed. It was understandable that even Ainsha might have been trapped for days.

“Only a quarter correct.”

“Why a quarter?”

“I did not touch anything. I am innocent. I am purely the victim.”

“... You didn’t trigger a trap or provoke a curse, but six ancient demons came popping out one after another?”

“Yes. It is strange.”

Limon’s expression grew peculiar. Even Tartarus was not overflowing with demons. Most had fallen in battle against the dragons or been chopped apart by Limon when he came to hunt fallen gods, and had yet to resurrect. For six powerful demons to come pouring out as they just had was decidedly bizarre.

‘Is it because of her dragon bloodline?’

The most plausible suspicion was that Ainsha’s very presence had provoked Tartarus’s curse. Considering that Tartarus had been a fortress built to oppose the dragons, and that it was the dragons who had sent those former gods to their graves, their frenzied attack was understandable.

As Limon nodded in acceptance of that explanation, Ainsha added,

“Also, it was not that I could not leave. I chose not to.”

“What do you mean?”

“You will understand when you see.”

With that blunt reply, Ainsha stopped before a door. It bore Muse’s emblem and must once have been sealed in layer upon layer, though those seals had now been torn away. Ainsha threw it open without hesitation.

The moment Limon saw inside, his eyes narrowed.

“... I see.”

It was a peculiar room, packed on every side with bookshelves like a library. Several members of the White Dragon Clan, who had been examining books and scrolls, greeted Ainsha respectfully. Limon nodded at the sight.

Naturally, they were there. As the White Dragon Princess, she would hardly travel alone without even a minimal escort and attendants. What mattered were the documents they had been examining.

“The missing records of the Saint were hidden here? And you’ve stayed in Tartarus all this time to investigate them?”

“Yes. It was extremely difficult.”

Ainsha nodded expressionlessly.

Finding this sealed chamber using the Church of Muse’s records had not been difficult. The problems were the overwhelming volume of material and the demons. The six demons had kept attacking, forcing Ainsha herself to step in and repel them time and again.

“But I saw a precognitive vision of you coming and killing the demons, Lee. So I held firm and continued the investigation.”

“You must have had a rough time.”

For a moment, Limon nodded at Ainsha, whose entire posture proudly proclaimed that she had worked hard and deserved praise. Then he suddenly asked,

“But why didn’t you go out and bring reinforcements? If you’d brought the Divine Dragon Unit, you could’ve beaten the demons without waiting for me.”

“...!”

“... Never mind. I don’t need to hear it.”

Ainsha’s eyes trembled wildly in her expressionless face, as though that future had never appeared in her precognition. Limon sighed.

‘In the end, the White Dragon Clan did what the White Dragon Clan does.’

Ainsha had needlessly put herself through hardship because her precognition showed no particular problem, while her attendants had followed their princess’s orders to the letter without calling for reinforcements. Looking at them with pity for being so thoroughly typical of the White Dragon Clan, Limon asked casually,

“So, did you find anything?”

“... Of course I did.”

Ainsha was briefly crestfallen at realizing all her hardship had been unnecessary. Then, deciding to erase her humiliation with results, she held out a hand. After accepting a parchment scroll from one of the White Dragon Clan members, she walked deeper into the chamber and continued.

“The reason Muse hid every record concerning the Saint here is clear. They were a shameful secret of the church.”

“The Saint was a shameful secret?”

“Yes.”

Saints stood at the pinnacle of the priesthood. Alongside Great Witches, they had reigned as absolute beings in the Silver Age. Ordinarily, any church would have preserved their memory as a source of pride and as great historical figures.

Of course, that also meant a Saint’s apostasy or corruption could become its greatest disgrace. There was only one thing that did not make sense.

“Didn’t that Saint make this violin and then commit suicide? There shouldn’t have been a chance to do anything particularly disgraceful.”

“Correct. The records do indeed say that the Saint remained a devout follower and priest of Muse until death.”

That was only natural. The Saint had devoted an entire lifetime to creating a magical artifact on par with a divine relic solely to offer Muse beautiful music. With faith so fanatical that failure alone had driven the Saint to suicide, there was no way the Saint would have acted against that faith.

“At least, while alive.”

“... While alive?”

At that moment, Limon’s brow twitched. He had caught the subtle implication in Ainsha’s words. Leading him farther into the chamber, she calmly continued her explanation.

“The problem came after the Saint died.”

Though the Saint’s life had ended in suicide, it had nonetheless been a lifetime of devotion. Furthermore, Muse’s teachings held no prohibition against suicide, so the church mourned the death and planned a grand funeral.

It would have carried out that plan, had bizarre incidents not begun occurring in the temple.

The sound of prayers rose from an empty prayer room. A pale figure appeared at night. Objects moved from their places.

These strange occurrences in their sacred temple threw the Church of Muse into an uproar. After a thorough investigation, they finally discovered the culprit...

The answer was frighteningly simple.

“The Saint of Muse appeared as a ghost? And the church was so horrified that it sealed away every last record of the Saint?”

“Yes.”

Leaving Limon with his face rigid, perhaps from sheer disbelief, Ainsha turned around. She pointed to a small stone coffin at the very back of the chamber and the empty space beside it, then continued bluntly.

“This place was not a secret archive. It was a tomb where a certain cursed divine relic was sealed away with the Saint’s body.”

“... For some reason, I get the feeling that relic is something I know.”

“Correct.”

Ainsha unrolled the scroll in her hand. Pointing to a picture of an entirely black violin, one exceedingly familiar to Limon, she concluded quietly,

“Lee, your violin was originally a burial offering interred with the Saint in this tomb.”

Limon involuntarily pressed a hand to his temple. Though neither a priest nor a mage, he had witnessed every sort of funeral over his long life. And as far as he knew, there was only one reason to place a cursed burial offering in the tomb of someone who had become a ghost.

“... In other words, that Saint’s ghost is possessing my violin?”