Aria of the Withered Branch
Chapter 2

Just as I’d expected, the protagonist abandoned his conversation with the person next to him and ran, leaving the scene entirely. It seemed that all these films were set to end the same way. I was waiting for the screen to turn black when the man rushed back into frame. Hurrying to the desk, he quickly scribbled something down on a piece of paper and tossed it aside immediately before running again.

As he disappeared from the study, the white piece of paper was shown as it drifted down to the floor. It simply read in large letters: [Letter of Resignation.]

What in the world is going on?

The film ended, and the third one began.

[3. Mahorren]

First, I had been shown a little girl, and then a handsome young man. This time, it was an old man with a well-maintained white beard, and he exuded a papal-like generosity and solemness. His hair was white, just as his beard was, and his eyebrows were almost entirely silver. Though he was certainly old, there wasn’t a wrinkle to be found on his face. Incredibly, he was actually better built than the two young men standing behind him. From the look of things, he was no ordinary old man.

Their location, which seemed to be a drawing room of some sort, was also far from ordinary. Most prominent was the object on the wall—a treasure among treasures, said to equal the entire yearly budget of most empires in value. It was the Staff of the Midnight Sun, one of the weapons from a collection: the Two Nights and Three Mornings—created by the greatest artisan who ever lived, Luhon Kalkiroze, two hundred years ago. And yet such a piece was hanging on the wall like an ordinary ornament. This man must have been very brave to display it so openly.

As if that wasn’t surprising enough, the entire room was dazzling in its splendor. I doubted that even the imperial palace was as fancy as this. The old man lounged on a sofa, with a white ivory table gilded elaborately in gold in front of him. There was a delinquency about his posture that simply could not be hidden, which made me feel strange since he also emanated a sense of virtue, often found in priests.

The pattern was upheld, however. The old man noticed me and shot to his feet, his eyes wide and startled. He took several deep breaths as if trying to slow his racing heart. Then, looking as if he’d come to a momentous decision, he stood and snatched the budget of an entire country—that is, the Staff of the Midnight Sun—off the wall.

His secretary and guard were shocked and shouted something at him, but the old man dashed away, his beard streaming behind him. The guard trailed after him closely. Just as I’d expected it would, the third motion picture came to a close. I’d hoped to take a break for a moment but the fourth began promptly.

How many more do I have to watch? Come to think of it… Are these actually films?

[4. Channe-Lodiharrah]

The moment the darkness faded, I was met with a blue sky. I thought perhaps I was outside, but this was not the case. Surprisingly, the ceiling above was just transparent. There was a high, dome ceiling set atop the large room and a small crowd of people who seemed out of place in this space decorated in white, blue, and other refreshing colors. They wore black masks and darkly tinted glasses, and sat around a meeting table, all appearing quite gloomy. The energy they gave off was dark as well.

As it turned out, however, they were simply citizens. This place was home to Zugrenar, the assassin’s guild known to be the strongest on the continent and infamous for their cruelty. I’d never seen a member with my own eyes, but I instantly recognized the badges they wore. That was just how famous they were.

The symbol featured a pair of crossed daggers in the arms of a goddess looking down from above with two lilies positioned at the very bottom. Few people were ignorant as to whom this unnecessarily sanctimonious symbol belonged to. Everyone from the nobility to children on the street recognized it since they all wanted to avoid anybody who wore it.

This one is pretty grim from the get-go. The unfolding scene taught me a variety of things I didn’t necessarily want to know—the first being the identity of the real master of Zugrenar. A collection of shockingly intimidating individuals were seated around the long table, but they were simply the fervent devotees of their guild leader. The real head of the guild wasn’t who I expected it would be, either.

A pretty woman was sitting alone some distance from the table, playing with her hair. This extremely beautiful woman was their leader. Smiling and winding a strand of her wavy silver hair around her finger, she looked like perfection itself, in my opinion. Her slim, fair face, plump pink lips, slightly heavy-lidded eyes, and the beauty mark right under her right eye—everything about her was beautiful. She looked far too innocent and lovely to be in charge of Zugrenar.

However, this was not the only surprising revelation. The truth behind their current location was even more shocking to me. My home nation of Chaive was allied with a country called Chrome. The nation was home to a very famous tower that functioned as the atelier of the great sage Losha-Lahadi, and a gathering place for renowned scholars and studious nobles. It was referred to as the Tower of Knowledge, and shockingly enough, the scene playing out before me was taking place on the top floor of it. Consisting of seventeen floors, it was one of Chrome’s main tourist attractions and renowned all over the world. And yet, on the top floor of this popular tourist destination, the worst and most infamous assassin’s guild had made roost.

The pairing was a complete mismatch, like water and oil. Even if this was only a dream, it was plainly unbelievable. And it was in this hidden location that the guild leader made a sudden declaration, interrupting the reports being delivered by her men.

“We will cease all operations for the time being.”

The silver-haired beauty stopped fiddling with her hair and smiled. The image on screen shifted, and suddenly her purple eyes were staring right at me. A chill traveled down my spine, though I couldn’t pinpoint why.

But this is only a dream. She’s not even real. So why do I feel so uncomfortable?

[5. Julius]

The fifth film began as I was midway through desperately hoping it was the last.

Why is it so dark? I looked around, confused by the darkness, and suddenly noticed a glowing red pentagram. As my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, the previously obscured scene slowly became visible. Unidentifiable dark figures stood gathered around the red pentagram, dressed in robes.

“Another failure…” someone said, sounding deeply disappointed as he closed the book in his hand. He was the only among them with elaborate golden embroidery decorating his clothing, and unlike the others, he wore a shorter jacket over his robe. I assumed it meant he was the leader of this unusual gathering. Though the situation itself was confusing to me, this suspicious-looking man had to be the focus of this fifth film.

I thought back to all the protagonists I’d seen so far. From the way the books flew at the wave of her hand, the little girl had to be a magician. The graceful young man with the golden hair was probably a knight. The old man with the generous features had to be a merchant, and the pretty lady was surely an assassin. Well, that was all good and well, since they seemed like impressive people worthy of being protagonists.

So what’s up with the fifth man? I suppose you could call him special, too… in his own way. But the fifth man’s type of special was something completely unexpected. I suddenly had a gut feeling that the tedious series of short films was finally coming to a close.

Some of my patience had returned to me, so I was in a more forgiving mood. I had no idea what they were trying to do—and I frankly had no desire to know—but now that the ritual had failed, the robed figures were lighting candles and talking among themselves. They discussed anything special that might have happened recently, as they rummaged through a variety of books. Though the scene looked very dark, I found them amusing, in a way. Talking about mysteries, strange stories, and black magic, they seemed to be occult enthusiasts.

The protagonist still wore his hood pulled up over his face as he cocked his head and glumly muttered, “Why won’t you appear, the great Fly Lord?” It seemed the pentagram from earlier had been intended to summon something.

But why a… fly lord? That sounds disgusting. In any case, I was hoping that he would hurry up and look this way, gasp, and then stare in disbelief just as the others had. That way, these mysterious movies might finally be over. Perhaps my wish was heard somehow, because the protagonist suddenly raised his head and looked in my general direction. Thanks to his hood, however, I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me or not.

Then I heard him say, “Actually, maybe we did succeed…” He stroked the cover of the old book in his hands lovingly and left the shot quietly. Even though he’d made no sound leaving, all the others wearing green robes moved in unison, picking up after themselves and leaving as well.

The screen went dark, and the film was over. No new images appeared.

I can finally rest now… Right? There was something niggling at the back of my mind, however, and I knew whatever was bothering me had begun near the end of the last scene.

That’s right. He muttered about failing to summon a fly lord or something. Then he’d said that maybe he’d succeeded after all.

Wait, does that… does that mean I’m the fly he was talking about? Damn you! How’d you like to die together, huh?

***

I expected my life to end as soon as the short films did, since it had felt like my consciousness was fading afterward. But things were never that easy. I found myself returning to reality following my desperate wish for the whole affair to be over. I was still alive.

“I need to go to sleep again.”

Judging by the fogginess in my brain and the lethargy in my limbs, it seemed I’d slept longer than expected. But it wasn’t nearly long enough. I closed the curtains to block out the sunlight and pulled the covers over myself again. Then came an insistent knocking at the door.

I’m pretty sure I told the innkeeper to stay away from my room until the money ran out… I sighed and opened the door. The female innkeeper smiled at me awkwardly, her nervous gaze avoiding mine.

“I believe I asked not to be disturbed. It hasn’t even been a day.”

The look on my face must have been quite intimidating, since she paled further and said in a quivering voice, “I-it’s actually been… a week.”

What?

“A week? Did you say a week?”

“Y-yes!”

I wondered for a moment if I’d misheard, but I hadn’t. No wonder I feel so weak… Too weak to have just slept for a little while.

“I see. What do you want?”

Be it a day or a week, why did you come knocking, young lady? I shoved back some of the hair that had fallen over my forehead and glanced at her tiredly. The woman seemed dazed, her lips moving for a moment without making any sound. I raised an eyebrow, and she jerked.

“Uh… Some of our other guests sent this… They seemed to know you… Um… They asked when you were coming down and said to give you this if you couldn’t be bothered coming to them…”

“What do you mean, they seemed to know me?” I asked.

“Y-you don’t? But they sure sounded like they did…”

Who knows that I’m here? And even if they did, there was no one close enough to me that they would send me a gift.