Chapter 6: The Never-Ending Night

The grand ball had finally reached its peak.

The highlight, the dance competition, had concluded.

Rumia, the victor, was to change into the [Robe de la Fae].

Naturally, Glenn couldn’t follow her into the dress-fitting room backstage at the ballroom, so he sent Re=L along as her escort, seeing Rumia off.

“Hell yeah! I’ve been dying to see Rumia in the [Robe de la Fae]!”

“Damn it! I wanted to see Sistine in it!”

“Team Re=L-chan, coming through!”

“Mmph… N-next year, I swear… I, with my noble blue blood, will…!”

“Tch… You guys are too damn loud. It’s just a dress, quit freaking out.”

Around Glenn, the students from his class were in a frenzy of high spirits and chaos.

Looking around, even after the competition ended, the venue’s vibrant energy showed no signs of fading.

The orchestra conductor waved his baton as if signaling the climax, and the musicians pushed past their limits to match, their performance dominating the hall in top form.

Lively chatter never ceased, and the circles of joyful dancers never broke. The excitement only accelerated toward the finale.

(Man, everyone’s so hyped… Don’t they ever get tired? These kids…)

Well, maybe it was just one of those nights. Something about tonight felt special.

Keep partying till dawn… Even Glenn felt like he could manage that with ease.

(Hah… Guess I’m getting swept up in the vibe of this place too…)

As Glenn surveyed the hall with a wry smile…

Suddenly, the entire crowd let out a collective “Ooooh…” of awe, a ripple of excitement spreading through them…

“Sensei! Sensei! She’s here! Holy crap, it’s way better than I imagined…!”

“…Hm? Who’s here…?”

With Kash tugging at his sleeve, Glenn turned around—

“…Sorry to keep you waiting, Sensei…”

There stood Rumia, transformed into the [Robe de la Fae], escorted by Re=L, her delicate beauty unveiled.

“…!?”

The hem of her flowing skirt was like an angel’s celestial robe.

The floats on her arms fluttered like fairy wings.

The gemstone adornments on her dress sparkled like a sky full of stars.

The embroidery accentuating the gown gleamed like intricate silverwork.

Bathed in the dazzling light of the chandelier, she shone with an ethereal, mystical glow.

The outfit polished Rumia’s raw beauty to its absolute limit, elevating it to perfection.

Her fantastical beauty was so overwhelming that—for a moment—Glenn felt his soul stolen away.

—Surely, the [Robe de la Fae] will become her beautiful shroud—

For an instant, someone’s words flickered through his mind…

But before Rumia’s radiance, they quickly scattered into nothingness…

“…Um, S-Sensei… What do you think…? Does it suit me…?”

Rumia’s cheeks flushed as she shyly looked down, stealing glances at Glenn to gauge his reaction.

“…”

Glenn, staring at Rumia in a daze, took a long moment to respond…

“Honestly… Come on, snap out of it, Sensei.”

Wendy smacked his back, jolting him back to reality…

“…Yeah. It looks amazing on you… They say even a fool looks good in fine clothes, huh…”

That was all he said—a completely tactless compliment.

But that was enough. Rumia seemed utterly satisfied.

She smiled, genuinely delighted… blissfully happy.

“Well then… Sensei, please escort me for the final dance tonight.”

With a dreamy smile, Rumia stepped toward Glenn, extending her hand.

“…Right.”

Glenn took her hand, leading her to the central stage.

The traditional highlight of the ball—the finale dance performed by the couple who won the [Robe de la Fae]—was about to begin.

All eyes in the venue were on Glenn and Rumia.

As the two took their place on the stage,

The orchestra conductor raised his baton with quiet grace…

The symphony, Sylphid No. 7, began to play.

The dance to accompany it was the Sylph Waltz, No. 7—

Meanwhile, atop the roof of the student hall,

“Phew… Looks like it’s wrapping up smoothly, huh?”

“Indeed. My barrier hasn’t picked up any enemy activity either.”

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking this whole time, but the music at this ball was really something else.”

“Yes, I’d love to hear it up close… I was thinking the same.”

Bernard《The Hermit》and Christoph《The Hierophant》let out sighs as the strains of the finale dance reached them.

Just then,

Re=L, who had scaled the outer wall of the student hall, gave a particularly strong kick off the wall, soaring into the night sky. She spun gracefully above them before landing lightly in their midst with a soft thud.

“I’m here.”

Gone was the dashing tailcoat of her boyish guise; she now wore the formal attire of the Imperial Court Mage Corps.

On her slender shoulders, she effortlessly carried a massive greatsword, forged with high-speed alchemy.

“Well done, Re=L! You did great, kid! Good job!”

Bernard ruffled Re=L’s hair enthusiastically, as if praising a beloved grandchild.

“Just now, Eve told me I wasn’t needed there anymore and to come here instead. So I changed quickly and came.”

As usual, Re=L spoke in her sleepy, expressionless tone, but there was a hint of dissatisfaction in her voice.

“Oh? You seem a bit grumpy, Re=L. That’s rare.”

“…Rumia’s robe…? I wanted to see it more.”

“Hahaha, that’s too bad! Don’t worry, it’s almost over, so hang in there!”

“…Hmph.”

Re=L turned away, puffing out her cheeks in a pout.

“Man, I’m seriously jealous of Glenn. I peeked inside earlier with far-sight magic, and… damn, as expected of Alicia-chan’s daughter, she’s stunning… Hmph… Y’know what? I take it back—I can’t forgive that guy for leaving the military anymore. I’m gonna punch him later.”

“Haha, Bernard-san, really? Alright, I’ll help you out when the time comes.”

“Get serious, both of you. The mission isn’t over yet.”

Albert《The Star》furrowed his brow slightly, interjecting sharply…

Yet, despite their banter, neither Bernard nor Christoph showed the slightest opening.

Beneath their casual demeanor, both remained in a state of constant vigilance, ready for battle.

Deep down, they both sensed it… This wasn’t over yet.

Of course, Albert felt the same.

(But… the fact is, there’s not a trace of the enemy anymore. No sign of them making a move now, either. Could it really be… over?)

With everything so quiet, even Albert couldn’t help but lean toward that conclusion.

Still grappling with that uneasy feeling, Albert pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. It was time for his regular brief report with Eve.

“This is《The Star》.《The Magician》, do you read? Respond. As of 1100 hours, no anomalies detected in the patrol perimeter. As per your instructions, I’ve linked up with《The Chariot》. Repeating, no anomalies in the patrol perimeter, and I’ve linked up with《The Chariot》. What’s the situation on your end? Requesting information.”

Albert pressed the gem-shaped communication magic device to his ear, delivering his report calmly.

But—

“…Eve? Can you hear me? Respond.”

No matter how long Albert waited,

No reply came from Eve through the communication device.

Albert frowned, puzzled—

Meanwhile—

“Sorry for dragging you into this so suddenly, Sistie.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Rize-senpai.”

“I keep telling the committee members to keep their documents organized, but…”

Sistine and the student council president, Rize, were in a room set up within the student hall where the ball was being held—the operations committee’s waiting room.

After the dance competition finals, at Rize’s request, Sistine had parted ways with Rumia and the others to help with some minor tasks in this room.

The waiting room was cluttered with piles of documents, schedules, and personnel assignments plastered on the walls. Except for Sistine and Rize, it was completely empty, giving it a quiet, desolate air.

“It’s the same every year, but we’re always short on hands…”

“Haha, but this year was a huge success, wasn’t it, Senpai?”

Without a single complaint, Sistine swiftly sorted through scattered receipts and papers.

“It’s all thanks to you and everyone else working so hard!”

“That’s kind of you to say. I’m glad to hear it.”

Rize chuckled softly.

“…By the way, I watched the finals. You were so close, Sistine.”

“Oh, you mean the dance competition? Haha, I guess half-hearted determination doesn’t cut it. Rumia was dead-set on wearing the [Robe de la Fae], while I just kinda wanted to… No surprise I couldn’t beat her.”

“…Hehe, you need to be a bit more honest with yourself… Listen quietly to the voice in your heart. That’s my advice as your senior.”

“…? What do you mean by…? Oh, I’m done sorting, Senpai.”

Just as she finished organizing the papers, Sistine stood up,

As if trying to dodge the topic.

“Thank you. I’m really sorry about this. If you hurry, you might still make it for the finale dance. Look… I think the prelude just started.”

As Rize said with a wry smile, the sound of the orchestra’s performance drifted in from the venue.

“Oh, then I’m off! I’ve gotta burn my best friend’s [Robe de la Fae] look into my memory!”

“Hehe, have fun.”

Urged by Rize, Sistine started to leave the room… when,

She noticed sheet music scattered on the floor.

“Huh? Senpai… what’s this…?”

“Oh dear… Those kids, leaving something so important lying around…”

Rize sighed as she began picking up the sheets, and Sistine instinctively helped.

“These are the original scores for the music used at this ball. Yes, exactly the same as what the orchestra is playing right now.”

“Oh, I see… So this is what they were performing…”

“Yes. It’s no exaggeration to say this year’s ball owes its success to these scores.”

“…What do you mean?”

Curious about Rize’s peculiar phrasing, Sistine couldn’t help but ask.

“Hehe, these scores have an incredible arrangement. It’s subtle, but it makes your heart race unknowingly as you listen.”

“Oh, now that you mention it, I thought this year’s ‘Sylphid’ felt a bit different… So it was rearranged, huh…”

Nodding in understanding, Sistine peered at the scores in Rize’s hands.

…And then,

Sistine’s expression suddenly froze.

“Wha—!? Why!?”

With a shout, she snatched the bundle of scores from Rize’s hands with ferocious intensity.

“Sistine?”

Ignoring Rize’s bewildered blinking, Sistine lunged for her bag in the corner of the room, yanking out a thick stack of papers. It was a magic thesis from the academy’s library, authored by Professor Fossil, a work on magical archaeology she’d read so thoroughly it was practically falling apart.

She flipped through the thesis with frantic energy, landing on a specific page, then began intensely comparing it to the scores, her eyes darting back and forth.

“—I knew it! What’s with this arrangement!? There’s definitely something off…!”

Turning to Rize with a desperate expression, Sistine closed in on her—

“Senpai, listen! I’m not certain, but I need you to do something! Please, you have to—”

After rattling off instructions to a stunned Rize,

Sistine bolted out of the waiting room—

Racing down the corridor toward the venue in a panic.

“Hurry… I have to tell Sensei…! I’ve got a bad feeling…! I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen, but… it’s a really bad feeling…!”

The venue was just past the cross-shaped intersection ahead, if she turned right.

The student hall’s needlessly vast layout felt maddeningly inconvenient now.

And just as Sistine reached the corner,

From the left corridor, a man suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

The black-clad figure, hurrying toward the venue, was unmistakable.

“—A-Albert-san!?”

Hearing his name, Albert paused, his sharp gaze briefly sweeping over Sistine.

“…Fibel. What a coincidence to meet you here.”

Albert Frazer, Number 7 of the Imperial Court Mage Corps’ Special Missions Annex, codenamed《The Star》. A former comrade of Glenn’s from their military days, he was one of the empire’s top aces in a covert unit handling magic-related incidents.

Why was someone like him here?

But his presence alone turned Sistine’s suspicions into certainty.

“P-Please, Albert-san! Listen to me! There’s a chance… something terrible is about to happen! You might think it’s just a kid’s nonsense, but…!”

Holding up the scores, Sistine pleaded with a desperate expression.

Albert scrutinized her with his piercing gaze… and soon, his expression shifted, as if he’d sensed something gravely serious.

“…Speak.”

With that short, calm prompt, he urged Sistine to explain—

—

“—That’s the information from Fibel. What do you think, old man?”

‘What do I think? It’s a done deal! No wonder the enemy’s moves outside felt so half-hearted—that’s what they were planning!?’

As Albert relayed the information to his comrades via the gem-shaped communication device, Bernard’s frantic, shocked shout came roaring back.

‘Damn it, they got us! To think they’d pull a stunt like that!? We’re in deep now! It’s only a matter of time before we’re caught in their trap…!’

“Understood. But the princess is completely ensnared in their scheme. We need to retrieve her immediately.”

‘Got it! We’ll leave that to you for now! We’ll prep things on our end!’

‘—Albert-san, Bernard-san! This is Christoph!’

In the midst of this, Christoph cut into their communication.

“Christoph. What’s the situation on your end?”

‘No good. The two we captured, Zayd and Laurence, were knocked out and left lying around… but Eve-san is nowhere to be found. And, as Sistine-san’s information suggested, something was set up in the room. It’s likely—’

‘Yeah, that’s it… Ugh, how did it come to this…?’

“We all misread the situation. Zayd and Laurence were decoys… ordinary civilians with no ties to the organization. They were manipulated by the spell in question, made to believe they were assassins of the organization and act accordingly… all orchestrated by the true mastermind.”

‘No wonder Eve-chan got it wrong…’

‘If only Eve-san had shared the mastermind’s existence with us beforehand… the fact that the boy from Kleitos Academy, manipulated under the name Zayd, and someone pulling the strings behind him… If she’d just shared that with us! Or, at the very least, allowed a direct communication line between us and Glenn-san…!’

‘Yeah, not being able to contact Glenn is killing us right now…!’

In hindsight, Eve’s stubborn refusal to allow a direct communication line between Glenn and Albert’s team, insisting on managing both sides’ information herself, was likely to prevent the mastermind’s identity from reaching Albert’s group through Glenn. All to monopolize the credit for herself—

“No use dwelling on it now. We soldiers do our best in the battlefield we’re given.”

‘…You’re right.’

“Old man, Christoph, I’m counting on you both to adapt as needed. We’re already behind the enemy. From here on out… we can’t afford a single misstep.”

As a sense of agreement came through, Albert cut the communication.

“To think… something like that was happening behind the scenes of the ball…”

Beside him, Sistine, who had been shrinking back, trembled with a pale face, shaken by the truth Albert had just revealed.

“So… Sensei forced Rumia to be his dance partner… to protect her? That’s why he was so desperate…? And I, completely clueless, kept getting in his way…!”

“…Don’t beat yourself up, Fibel. You did nothing wrong.”

To Sistine, who clutched her head in regret, Albert said calmly,

“If there’s any evil in this, it’s the enemy organization… and us, who tried to exploit this situation for our own gains. You have every right to hate and curse us as monsters.”

“That’s not…”

Sistine fell silent, overwhelmed by complex emotions.

“But, at the risk of piling on more shame… per Article 4 of the Imperial Military Law, Chapter Six, Emergency Provisions—… No, that’s too formal. Fibel, I have a request. Will you lend us your strength?”

“M-Me…!?”

“The situation is already checkmate. The princess’s life is in the enemy’s hands. We can’t turn this around alone anymore. We need your help.”

Instantly, Sistine’s body began to tremble. Helping Albert in this situation meant… almost certainly getting caught up in a battle.

A brutal fight against the vile mages of The Researchers of Heavenly Wisdom… a life-or-death struggle…

“Of course, it’s your choice. I won’t force you. I’ll do my best with the cards I have.”

Fear, tension, and urgency began to overwhelm Sistine’s body.

This had happened before. Being called upon by Albert for assistance—

Back then, my body trembled, I cried and screamed, completely unable to move…

But now.

“…Th-There’s something I can do…?”

“That’s right.”

“Then…! Got it… I’ll do it! Whatever I can…!”

Even as her knees shook uncontrollably, Sistine looked straight into Albert’s eyes… and declared so with a trembling voice.

“‘When parting for three days, one should meet again with fresh eyes’—an Eastern proverb… but indeed, it holds true.”

Albert, with his usual icy expression that seemed to reject all others, softened just the slightest bit for that moment… before turning on his heel and heading toward the venue.

“…Let’s go. Follow me.”

“Albert-san!? W-Wait, what am I supposed to do…!?”

Sistine hurriedly chased after his back.

“Fibel. You can dance the eighth movement of the Sylph Waltz, can’t you?”

“…Huh? The Sylph Waltz… eighth movement…?”

At Albert’s utterly incomprehensible words, Sistine blinked in confusion.

The conductor’s baton swayed gently.

In harmony, the orchestra played with fervent focus.

And tonight, all the attendees were dancing.

Gracefully, fluidly—

Lightly, airily, they danced what was meant to be the final dance of the evening—

It must have been the lingering, overflowing atmosphere that caused it.

While watching Glenn and Rumia’s dance intently… everyone in the venue, without any cue, naturally began taking the hands of those nearby… one pair after another, starting to dance.

Now, every single person in the venue was holding hands, dancing together.

Guests, staff, everyone without exception, surrendered to the music and danced.

All of them, swaying as if in a trance, giving themselves to the rhythm.

What comfort, what unity.

It was as if the hearts of everyone in the venue had melted into one.

Tonight—was undoubtedly.

For every participant, surely the greatest night of their lives—

(…Something’s off.)

While leading Rumia in the dance, Glenn felt a faint alarm bell ringing deep within his heart.

(…Something… is wrong…)

When had it started to take hold of Glenn’s mind?

It felt recent, very recent. If he thought hard, it might have been since the moment this ball began.

A sensation as if a thin veil had been draped over his consciousness. A dreamlike haze, as if feverish.

It was so comfortable… that his thoughts were clouded.

Yet the music dominating the venue sank deeply, profoundly into Glenn’s heart—

(…What exactly is wrong…? I can’t figure it out… but something’s definitely off… What is it…?)

Following the choreography, Glenn smoothly drew Rumia closer.

Rumia, leaning into Glenn, wore a melted, dreamy expression.

And Rumia, in the traditional [Robe de la Fae] attire—was truly as beautiful as a dream.

(…Whatever… it doesn’t matter…)

He was probably just drunk.

Drunk on the atmosphere of this venue. On the music and dance that ruled it.

And—on the beautiful girl in his arms.

Everyone, every single person, was equally intoxicated.

After all, this place was like a paradise straight out of a dream—

He wanted to surrender to this warm, sunlit world forever.

To sink deeper and deeper into it.

Despite the alarm bells in the depths of his heart, that feeling naturally welled up…

And as Glenn was about to cast aside all thought and give himself to this world…

That moment.

Crack.

At the edge of his vision, something unpleasant pierced Glenn’s hazy consciousness.

A silver gleam, far away yet burning intensely at the corner of his sight—

“…?”

Glenn turned toward the source of that discomfort.

At the end of his gaze—in a corner of the venue.

For some reason, Sistine and Albert—were holding hands, dancing.

That sight stirred an odd unease in Glenn’s heart.

It was like a splash of cold water on his heart, which had been soaking in pleasant warmth.

After all—

(You two… why the hell are you dancing the eighth movement of the Sylph Waltz…?)

Exactly. The venue was currently dominated by [Sylphid Symphony, Seventh Movement].

The dance to match it should naturally be the seventh movement of the Sylph Waltz.

Thus, the dissonance of Sistine and Albert’s movements was jarring, to say the least.

They were an eyesore. And Sistine’s silver hair stood out too much to ignore.

They were a cancer, eroding and destroying this perfect, unified world—

(Stop it… stop! Don’t ruin this comfortable world… this unified world… Stop it… I’m begging you—)

But.

(—No… that’s not it… That’s not right, Glenn Radars…!)

Glenn’s consciousness, sinking into a sea of haze, faintly surfaced at that dissonance.

He looked closely at Rumia. Her cheeks were flushed, a gentle smile on her face… but her consciousness was completely absent, her heart elsewhere.

Looking around, everyone in the venue was the same.

The people dancing fervently, the orchestra playing their instruments with zeal.

Something… was definitely off.

(…Think… I need to think… What’s wrong…? Damn it, I don’t know… We’re just enjoying the ball, aren’t we…? The music and dance created this perfect night, this unity… So what’s wrong…?)

—Surely, the [Robe de la Fae] will become her beautiful death shroud—

Suddenly, Eleanor’s words resurfaced in his mind.

(That’s right… what did she mean by that…?)

Come to think of it, that line itself had been strange from the start.

(…Why would the [Robe de la Fae] become Rumia’s death shroud? For Rumia to wear the [Robe de la Fae], she’d have to win the final match… In other words, the ball would need to be nearing its end… Until then, Rumia wouldn’t be in the [Robe de la Fae]…!)

That meant, until then, she was safe… There was no plan to ‘assassinate’ Rumia.

What, then? The start and end of the ball. What was different between those two?

If it was about ‘assassination,’ any moment should have been fine.

In fact, the end of the ball would be the most guarded, the hardest time to pull off an ‘assassination.’

Why wait deliberately until the ball was nearly over?

(The biggest difference between the start and end… is the atmosphere…)

This unprecedented success, even in the history of the Magic Academy.

That atmosphere had been cultivated endlessly as the ball began and time passed.

So, what had created that atmosphere—?

—The fate of the princess lies in… “When seen with eyes, it is roughly five steps; when closed, roughly eight steps. Running alongside it, its mystical grandeur will greatly stir one’s emotions”… What does this mean—?

(…No… way…?)

Suddenly, a single answer sparked like a flash in the corner of Glenn’s mind.

Unbelievable. Unbelievable, but… it had to be.

(Then… that’s why they’re deliberately dancing the dissonant eighth movement—!)

The moment Glenn realized the message hidden behind the eighth movement of the Sylph Waltz.

The conductor—raised their baton high.

In response, the orchestra played with fierce vigor, elevating the performance.

It was the boundary of the music’s tempo. The calm atmosphere shifted, the melody swelling dramatically—the venue’s atmosphere transformed.

(—!?)

Suddenly, Glenn felt his body being yanked.

As if invisible threads had bound him tightly, pulling and manipulating him, forcing him to dance fervently, joyfully, without realizing it—an unsettling sensation. That was—the true nature of the unease Glenn had felt.

Had he not seen Albert and Sistine’s eighth movement, he would have been swept away by the venue’s atmosphere and mood, never noticing the truth—

(—Damn it…!)

Even now, fully aware, the comfortable impulse to surrender to this atmosphere was overwhelming.

(…Please… Sera…! Lend me your strength…!)

Tap, tap-tap, tap.

Suddenly, Glenn shifted from the seventh movement of the Sylph Waltz, beginning a different step.

The unique steps, taught to him by Sera Silvers《The Wind Warmaiden》, closely resembling the eighth movement of the Sylph Waltz—

But suddenly, Rumia yanked Glenn fiercely, throwing off his steps.

(Wha—!?)

Rumia was still calmly dancing the seventh movement of the Sylph Waltz.

When Glenn tried a different step, their movements naturally clashed, and Rumia, dancing in sync, ended up pulling him—

But Rumia’s strength was unnatural.

Glenn, a grown man, was completely overpowered by the delicate girl Rumia was supposed to be.

Meanwhile, the venue’s atmosphere continued to erode Glenn’s heart—

He was on the verge of throwing everything away, surrendering to this meltingly comfortable atmosphere—

(Damn it—!)

—Holding back at the very last step, Glenn forcibly pulled Rumia close, swinging her around to forcefully follow Sera’s steps.

That moment—

“…!? S-Sensei!?”

Rumia, snapping back to herself, stared at Glenn in shock.

“Just follow my movements! Got it!?”

Ignoring Rumia’s confusion, Glenn continued stepping, unfolding a unique dance.

An irregular dance carved by Glenn in a venue perfected by the seventh movement of the Sylph Waltz.

It became a barrier, protecting Glenn and the others from the otherworldly realm firmly constructed in the venue—

And then—

(Make it… in time…!)

—.

“Haa…! Haa…! Haa…! Haa…!”

The lively clamor from moments ago was gone.

In the venue, now silent as if doused with water, Glenn’s ragged breathing echoed.

Glenn, collapsed on one knee, utterly exhausted, looked around…

As the music ended, everyone struck their final poses, frozen like statues, not moving an inch.

The orchestra. The staff serving drinks. The people chatting.

Every single person present was still, as if time itself had stopped.

All of them, with vacant eyes that lacked focus—

“…Huh? W-What… is this…?”

Rumia paled at the abnormal, eerie scene and atmosphere.

“Rumia! Are you okay!? Are you fully conscious!?”

Sistine rushed to Rumia’s side, breathless.

“Haa—… Haa—… That was close… When did it start…? When did I fall under this spell…?”

“…From the beginning.”

Albert, approaching, said irritably.

“We were in the mastermind’s trap from the start. It looked like Eve had seen through their methods… but we were being used.”

“Damn it…! Me, of all people…!”

Glenn spat venomously, slamming his fist into the floor.

“Still, you noticed well, Glenn. You’re oddly sharp in a pinch, but honestly, I thought the odds were slim this time.”

“…Yeah, well. I had a few hints beforehand…”

It’s represented on paper as a five-line staff, with fundamentally eight tones.

In other words, seen with eyes, five steps. Closed, eight steps.

That is—music. The performance that had dominated this venue since the ball began was the enemy’s greatest trap—

“S-Sensei… what is this…? What’s happening…?”

Rumia, unable to grasp the situation, looked between Glenn and Albert in a panic.

“…Stay back, Rumia.”

Glenn staggered to his feet, shaking off the discomfort in his mind, and turned toward the orchestra.

“Now that it’s come to this, the most suspicious one’s you, isn’t it…?”

At the end of Glenn’s piercing gaze, the conductor stood with their back exposed.

The conductor, holding their baton aloft, was frozen—but unlike the others, their stillness wasn’t the lifeless rigidity of a statue.

It was the stillness of someone who had finished their performance, basking in its afterglow.

“Time to end this farce, huh? The true mastermind behind this assassination plot—probably the real Zayd the《Demon’s Right Hand》…!”

Then.

The conductor slowly lowered the baton in their right hand…

“…Well done, escaping my《Right Hand》.”

They turned slowly toward Glenn and the others.

An older man with distinctive curled hair, every bit the musician, glared at Glenn and the others with eyes as cold as ice.

“Your dance that broke through the secret depths of my《Right Hand》—the eighth movement of the [Dance of the Great Wind Spirit]… To think there was a dancer who could perform it…”

“A spirit dance from a certain nomadic tribe, meant to ward off evil and protect one’s heart. If the trap set in this venue was a mind-control spell… I figured it’d be especially effective.”

“Hmph. I deliberately omitted the eighth movement from the arranged [Sylphid Symphony] to avoid this very risk—but to think you’d bring out the original.”

In a venue where every human stood rigid, as if their souls had been stolen.

The true mastermind—Zayd the《Demon’s Right Hand》—and Glenn’s group faced off.

“Haha… it’s all coming together now. Rize mentioned it, didn’t she…? The sheet music used for this ball… it was arranged, right…? You tampered with that arrangement with some kind of magic… You were the arranger, weren’t you!? What did you—?”

“Sensei! It’s got to be a [Magic Melody]!”

Sistine, her forehead slick with nervous sweat, cut in.

“…[Magic Melody]?”

“Yes! I read about it in Professor Fossil’s magical archaeology paper the other day! Using the pitch of sound… in other words, a magical formula converted into music to seize control of others’ minds and manipulate them—an ancient magic. It’s intangible, but it’s a legitimate magical artifact!”

“…A magical artifact!?”

The magical artifact [Magic Melody]. In other words, a sheet music artifact that activates a special spell through music.

It sounds far-fetched, but it’s not entirely implausible.

After all, magic is a technique that alters the deep subconscious field through a language resonating with the [Original Melody], using sound to influence one’s own heart and intervene in the laws of reality. A spell that manipulates minds through music is far closer to the essence of magic than ordinary spells—a truly magical magic.

“The [Cursed Songs] of the Nangenn nomadic tribe are part of that lineage! The paper said that [Magic Melodies] always contain a specific tone and rhythm… and the arranged sheet music definitely had that [Magic Rhythm] in it!”

“…Seriously…?”

“B-But… to activate a [Magic Melody], just like regular spells require specific incantation techniques… it should require a special performance method. Simply playing the score as written shouldn’t activate the [Magic Melody]…”

To Sistine, speaking uncertainly.

“…That’s where the《Demon’s Right Hand》comes in.”

Albert confirmed her words.

“Zayd the《Demon’s Right Hand》… With that right hand’s baton, he conducts the orchestra, likely making them play that special performance method unconsciously. Whether it’s suggestion, hypnosis, or the baton itself being some kind of magical device, I don’t know.”

Then, Zayd’s shoulders shook with a chuckle as he began to speak smugly.

“My family has secretly passed down the art of the [Magic Melody], etched into stone as a magical artifact… Even if we don’t understand the magical theory behind it, its usage and application have been thoroughly studied.”

Despite having his methods completely exposed, Zayd wore a confident smile.

“If you trace my family back to ancient civilizations… perhaps we were court musicians for some dynasty. Well, the rest is more or less as you’ve imagined.”

Spreading both arms wide, Zayd declares boldly.

“By playing the seven [Demonic Melodies] I can seize control of the consciousness and memories of every single person present! Completely, without exception! With that, no matter how skilled a bodyguard might be, it’s irrelevant! An ‘assassination’ becomes effortless! Isn’t that right!?”

Glenn could only stand there, utterly dumbfounded.

Well, that’s certainly true.

If, at the moment of assassination, the victim and everyone else present have their consciousness and memories dominated by the [Demonic Melodies], then the assassin can do whatever they please. Even committing an assassination in broad daylight would go unnoticed by anyone.

The enigmatic assassination technique of  the《Demon’s Right Hand》, carried out unnoticed before a crowd.

Its true nature was—

“Hahaha… No one would ever figure it out… To think such a brazen ‘assassination’ existed…!? If that moment goes unrecognized and unremembered by anyone, it’s truly a flawless ‘assassination’! And if the target is a product of Ancient Magic, it wouldn’t even register on Modern Magic detection!”

Once the spell takes hold, the rest is child’s play. Whether you make the dominated people do the deed or finish it yourself depends entirely on the situation.

That’s precisely why Zayd’s assassination methods and the victims’ causes of death are never consistent.

Assassination is typically a covert act, done in secrecy, striking at a moment of vulnerability.

This was a daring move that completely overturned such common sense and preconceptions.

“But the trick to your magic has been revealed,  the《Demon’s Right Hand》.”

Leaving the shaken Glenn and others behind, Albert, already in combat stance, turns to face Zayd.

“Surrender quietly, and we’ll settle this peacefully. Resist, and I’ll take you down without mercy.”

“Hmph… Fool.”

Unfazed, Zayd raises his conductor’s baton. Instantly, the orchestra, frozen behind him, springs to life like mechanical puppets, resuming their performance—

At that exact moment.

Without hesitation, Albert activates a pre-chanted [Lightning Pierce] with a delayed trigger.

His arm whips around like a lash, his fingertips flashing as a bolt of lightning surges forth—

“…!?”

No, Albert didn’t fire. With his finger still pointed at Zayd, he stops at the last second, canceling the spell he had begun to unleash.

“Ho… A sharp one, aren’t you…”

Zayd sneers chillingly as the demonic performance once again dominates the entire venue…

“H-Hey… Albert, what are you doing!? Just shoot him already…!”

“Impossible. In that brief moment, my deep subconscious field, which governs magical control, was instantly hijacked by the ‘Demonic Melodies’.”

To Glenn’s furious shout, Albert responds calmly, his voice cold and detached.

“What!? In that split second of music!?”

“In this state, using magic could lead to unpredictable misfires. If the caster self-destructs from the backlash, that’s the least of our worries. But if it harms innocent bystanders around us, the consequences would be catastrophic.”

“…Exactly.”

Waving his baton, Zayd resumes the performance with leisurely confidence as he speaks.

“From the very start of this social ball, all of you have been listening to my [Demonic Melodies] to varying degrees, and have been gradually eroded by them. Even Glenn Radars, who partially escaped the melodies’ control with the eighth movement of ‘Baile del Viento’, or the Special Missions Annex members who hastily erected mental defenses—it’s all the same. While I may not control your surface consciousness, I’ve already seized your deep subconscious fields!”

Glaring down at a pale Glenn and an Albert whose gaze could kill, Zayd proclaims with unshakable confidence.

“In other words—as long as these ‘Demonic Melodies’ play, you can no longer wield magic! And before my performance, every human will bow! This is my secret art, the esoteric ritual that dominates the human heart and body through music—my Original Magic [Cursed Night Orchestra]! Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to my concert! Fuhahahahahahaha—!”

“Damn it, this rip-off jerk… Doing something so similar to someone else…!?”

Glenn’s snarky retort was all he could muster as cold sweat poured down his face like a waterfall.

And then… the humans in the venue, dominated by the Demonic Melodies, began to move.

All with vacant, hollow eyes… they shambled forward, surrounding Glenn and the other three…

“Let me make this clear: trying to escape the ‘Demonic Melodies’ by deafening yourself is futile. My melodies resonate directly in the mind. And every other person in this venue is already under my control.”

The orchestra rises unsteadily, continuing their performance while forming a protective ring around Zayd.

“Now, prepare yourselves. In a few minutes, the people in this venue will snap back to their senses, only to be horrified… by the four corpses that have inexplicably appeared among them… completely unaware that they themselves created them…!”

“You bastard…!?”

Glenn raises his fists, warily scanning his surroundings. Among those encircling them, controlled by the [Demonic Melodies] were familiar faces… students from Glenn’s own class.

(Damn it… Magic or no magic, it doesn’t matter! How am I supposed to fight back in a situation like this!?)

“A… Ah… N-No way…!? Everyone… because of me…!?”

Behind Glenn, a deathly pale Rumia stands frozen in shock.

Even the ever-resilient Rumia is visibly shaken, her composure crumbling in this moment.

It’s no wonder. The joyful social ball has turned into a hellish nightmare in an instant. And this, right after she finally donned the long-awaited [Robe de la Fae]. The shock must be immeasurable.

As the academy students close in, step by step…

“Hmph.”

Albert silently draws a knife, facing the students with it raised.

The blade gleams ominously under the chandelier’s light, reflecting a sinister glow…

“Stop it!”

Instantly, Glenn grabs Albert’s knife-wielding arm.

“…Still so naive. Is this really the time for that?”

To Albert’s icy retort, Glenn pleads desperately.

“I get it, okay!? But please, I’m begging you! Don’t do it! Not them…!”

Glenn knows full well he’s spouting idealistic nonsense.

The situation is already checkmate. There’s no way out. They’ve been completely outmaneuvered.

His own softness has led to this worst-case scenario.

The situation has reached the point of choosing who to save and who to sacrifice—a choice Glenn has faced and been crushed by countless times during his days in the Imperial Court Mage Corps.

Albert has likely made the cold decision to prioritize saving Rumia, even if it means sacrificing others for the mission.

But what about Glenn? What will he do?

If he does nothing, Rumia and Sistine will die.

But if he fights to protect them, then most likely—

It’s impossible. He can’t do anything. In a situation like this, choosing someone to save is something Glenn simply can’t—

(Damn it…! I’ve killed countless strangers without a second thought, but when it comes to people I know, this is how I act…!? What a hypocrite I am…!)

But ignoring Glenn’s despair, Albert mutters quietly.

“…I told you. No easy compromises. I’ll do my utmost.”

“!”

“It’s not over yet. This level of crisis was anticipated. …Trust me.”

Albert’s resolute words carry an undeniable strength.

“Y-You…”

The moment Glenn instinctively releases Albert’s arm.

The students surge forward like a wave, attacking Glenn and the others—

In that fleeting instant, Albert’s arm blurs, and he hurls the knife.

The blade slices through the air, but it veers off in a completely different direction—flying high above the students’ heads—

Piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii—!

A piercing, high-pitched sound shrieks through the air.

(A throwing knife with a whistle built into the handle!? A signal!?)

The moment Glenn realizes the knife’s true purpose—

“Hmm? Alright, around there, huh? Got it, locked on.”

Click. Somewhere in the venue, the sound of a hammer being cocked echoes—

“Now, if this damned performance is invading the deep subconscious and preventing magical activation—then a spell established before hearing it should work just fine, right!?”

Gunshots. Gunshots. Gunshots. Gunshots.

Four explosive blasts of gunpowder reverberate from the venue’s entrance—

Thud! The students surrounding Glenn and the others suddenly collapse, as if heavy weights were placed on their shoulders, falling to their hands and knees.

Then, the clatter of discarded muskets hitting the floor rings out.

“Wha—!?”

With over half the venue’s people immobilized and kneeling, the view clears, and Glenn spots a trio near the entrance.

Their figures are—

“Old man!? Christoph!? Re=L!?”

“Now, Glenn-boy! Get over here! We’re escaping! Just as I planned, my special ‘Gravity Barrier Bullets’ are holding them down!”

“…Um, I’m the one who actually made those ‘Gravity Barrier Bullets’…”

Beside a smug Bernard, who’s brandishing a musket, Christoph lets out a small sigh.

It’s likely a gravity barrier designed for riot suppression. Upon impact, it deploys a circular barrier that pins down everything inside with intense gravity. It’s non-lethal… and perfect for restraining the students’ movements.

“But we’re surrounded by gravity barriers! Even if we’re trained to move under heavy gravity, there’s no way White Cat or Rumia can break through—”

“I’m fine, Sensei! I anticipated this and reduced my body weight to a tenth using Gravity Control magic before coming here! As for Rumia—”

Sistine shouts.

Re=L charges through the gravity field as if it’s nothing, barreling toward them alone.

“Rumia, I’m here to save you!”

“Ah…”

Re=L scoops Rumia up in her arms and spins around—

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah—!”

With a thunderous cry, she powers through the gravity field, sprinting back to the entrance. No tricks, no finesse—just sheer, brute-force breakthrough.

Sistine, who had preemptively lightened her weight, nimbly follows Re=L.

“…Haha, those guys are insane…”

Glenn lets out a wry chuckle, half in awe.

“We’re pulling back, Glenn. We’ll deal with Zayd, the《Demon’s Right Hand》, another time.”

“Y-Yeah…”

With the venue’s people crawling toward them through the gravity field, Glenn and Albert use specialized techniques to slip through the gaps between the barriers, escaping the venue—

“Hmph… They got away, huh.”

Despite letting his prey escape, Zayd remains unruffled.

“But there’s nowhere left to run… Every place where people gather is now my domain.”

Zayd raises his baton, pursuing Glenn and the others.

The orchestra follows behind like obedient slaves, their cursed performance intensifying as they march…