Dreadful shrieks echoed around the wide room. One monster with a sword stuck in its right eye was letting out a piercing cry. Its companion was already lying on the floor, its giant, motionless body slowly disintegrating into black specks that vanished into the air.

The remaining enemy was lashing out with its left arm as black ooze dripped from its right eye. Strengthened by the statue monster’s rage, such a strike threatened instant death if it found purchase. However, the attack grasped nothing but empty air.

Oscar dodged the deadly swipe with his formidable reflexes and slashed down to cut the monster’s neck. Its head hit the floor with a dull sound. The huge, headless statue swayed left and right and finally tumbled to the ground.

“So that’s all there was to it? Pretty annoying.”

Oscar flicked his sword to shake off the blood. He glanced back and saw Lazar giving him a relieved look. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt…,” he said.

“I would’ve been worse than hurt if I’d taken a hit from them,” Oscar joked as he looked ahead. As the fallen statues disappeared, a spot in the back of the room began glowing faintly. The mechanism that would transport them to the next floor had begun to operate.

“Let’s go.”

Oscar set off for the device.

That was when the whole room began to shake violently.

“What’s going on?!” Oscar shouted.

He looked around to see that holes had opened up all over the floor. The room caving in appeared to be part of a trap. The rest of the floor began slowly collapsing inward, too.

“Hurry, Lazar!” Oscar looked over his shoulder, then gasped in shock. There was a gigantic hole between him and Lazar, who was still against the wall. Lazar was stranded.

Oscar knew he could make the jump, but it was impossible for Lazar to leap that great a distance. Making a decision, Oscar turned on his heel to run toward Lazar. “Wait for me!”

More and more of the room collapsed, revealing the distant ground level. The path to the transportation mechanism had largely fallen away; little more than bits resembling stepping-stones remained.

Lazar raised his hands in front of him, urging his lord away. “Your Highness, please go on without me.”

“Are you insane?! You’re going to fall!”

“No, I’ll be fine. I’m very sorry, but I’m heading back first,” said Lazar. His face was pale, but he maintained a smile as he gave a deep bow. “Please go on ahead… With all my heart, I will be looking forward to the day you become king,” said the attendant who had been a constant at Oscar’s side for as long as either could remember. Lazar did not lift his head. His voice was quivering slightly but also held a note of tempered determination.

“Wait, Lazar!” Oscar sounded panicked. He stretched out a hand in vain. The next moment, with an intense roaring sound, the ground beneath Lazar gave way.

There were five floors left.

All of these featured abstruse puzzles or powerful monsters, but Oscar cut his way through each dispassionately. It was as if he’d climbed the tower alone from the start. Even with Lazar gone, Oscar had no trouble with battle. However, an indescribable sense of despondency plagued his whole body. Oscar imagined that when his great-grandfather had climbed this tower seventy years ago with a party of ten friends and had been the only one to make it to the top, he must have felt the same.

As the thought swirled about in his mind, Oscar at last reached the door to the top floor.

The thing that first caught his eye when he opened the door was the incredible landscape visible through the chamber’s enormous window.

It was the top floor of the tower, after all, so the view commanded the far edges of the wilderness. The sun was just setting, and Oscar was speechless in the face of the grand, natural vista dyed in reds and purples. He had never gazed out at the land from up so high before. A gentle breeze blew in, ruffling his hair.

The room itself was large and messy. Along the walls, a variety of mysterious objects had been stacked haphazardly—from swords and boxes to jars and statues. Oscar could see a great many magical items mixed in as well. Aside from the jumble of paraphernalia against the walls, everything else resembled any ordinary person’s room.

“Welcome.”

A delicate, flutelike voice caught Oscar’s ear. It sounded like it was coming from the blind spot farther into the chamber.

“I’ve made some tea. Come here.”

Still holding his sword at the ready, Oscar advanced cautiously. Deeper inside, the space was still jam-packed with miscellany, just like the entrance had been. On the left-hand side by the window, he could see a small wooden table and a couple of steaming cups. He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he took another step forward.

She was standing there with her back to him.

“Your companion is sleeping on the first floor. He’s not hurt,” the witch said, turning around and smiling at him.

***

“It’s nice to meet you. My name is Tinasha, although there aren’t many people who call me by my name.” Her smooth greeting was so airy it almost felt anticlimactic.

Oscar sat down in the chair she had indicated and began questioning her. “You’re a witch? You don’t look like it.”

“How foolish to question a witch’s appearance.” Tinasha shook her head, finding Oscar’s inquiry strange. To all appearances, she resembled a beautiful young woman of sixteen or seventeen. She wasn’t wearing a black robe, nor was she some hunched hag. Clad in an ordinary dress made of high-quality fabric that looked easy to move around in, she took a seat opposite Oscar.

The witch possessed exceptionally good looks. Long black hair and porcelain-white skin. Her eyes were the color of the deepest darkness—night given shape. Her beauty was somewhat melancholy and yet serene, more striking than that of any of the young noblewomen Oscar had seen before.

“Have you used magic to change your appearance?” Oscar asked, voicing a naive doubt.

“You do ask the rudest questions. It’s all natural,” she replied.

“But you’ve lived for hundreds of years, and you don’t have any wrinkles.”

“I have lived many times longer than humans, yes. My body’s growth has simply stopped, that’s all.” She brought a cup of tea to her red petal-shaped lips.

Oscar felt completely undone; this girl was so different from what he’d imagined a witch to be.

Apparently, Tinasha had expected such a reaction and smirked wryly as she urged the conversation forward. “So? Now it’s your turn to talk, don’t you think? You’re the first one who’s made it this far all on your own. You should tell me your name.”

Oscar straightened up at the question. Nobility and majesty emanated from him naturally, transforming his whole bearing. “I apologize. I am Oscar Lyeth Increatos Loz Farsas.”

When she heard his surname, the witch’s eyes widened slightly. “Farsas? The Farsas royal family?”

“I’m the crown prince, yes.”

“A descendant of Regius?”

“I’m his great-grandson.”

“Woooooooooowww,” Tinasha said, looking him up and down with a scrutinizing eye.

“Come to think of it, you do look a bit alike…maybe? Although, you could see in his face how good-natured Regius was.”

“Sorry for being bad-natured,” Oscar quipped coolly, and the witch burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry. You’re a fine man. Reg was too pure and could be a bit childish…” As Tinasha spoke, she gazed out the window, and for a moment, Oscar could see something more than nostalgia in her eyes.

Those black orbs unmistakably belonged to someone who had lived for a long time, and the emotions swimming in them convinced Oscar that this really was the Witch of the Azure Moon.

When Tinasha looked back at him, however, all those feelings vanished like they’d never been there. She was smiling like any other young woman would’ve. Oscar suddenly hit upon something to ask.

“Do you live here alone?”

“I have a familiar. Litola!”

In response to their master’s call, Litola appeared soundlessly in the doorway. The genderless familiar faced Oscar and bowed.

“This is the first time we have met. My name is Litola. Your companion is under a spell and sleeping soundly, so I covered him with a blanket.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Lazar was safe, and so far, Oscar hadn’t detected that Tinasha harbored any hostility. It was like they were just having a tea party. Oscar lifted the cup in front of him, and a comforting scent tickled his nose. Everything about this was all very far removed from the impression he’d gotten from the plausible-sounding tales whispered about this tower on the street.

“What happened to the people who came here and never went home? Did they end up in some mass grave?”

Tinasha openly scowled. “Don’t just decide that people are sitting in holes. I don’t want dead bodies in the tower. I arrange things in such a way that they don’t die.”

“If one of those stone statues landed a blow on them, they’d die.”

“The moment a fatal wound occurs, they are returned to the first floor. After that, I adjust the memories of disqualified challengers and teleport them somewhere on the mainland. Most of my visitors are those seeking to test their skills or covetous of fame. I assumed they were ready to pay a price of that order, at the very least.”