"These grandchildren... would you happen to know their names?" Dryzza ventured, her gaze fixed on the grimoire resting on the mistress’s lap.
Despite her concentration, the grimoire remained elusive to her mind, its pages barely visible as if teasing her imagination to construct its appearance before she could fully comprehend it.
The mistress might be even doing on purpose. A test? Who'd know? Definitely not her.
She felt a pull toward it, as though the secrets contained within were playing tricks on her senses, demanding her attention even as the conversation continued.
"I most certainly do," the mistress replied after a moment’s pause, her voice calm, almost nonchalant, as if the matter were of no great consequence to her. Yet, Dryzza sensed a deeper tension beneath her composed exterior.
"Samantha and Agatha, was it?" The mistress’s smile was faint as her fingers traced invisible patterns across the grimoire’s pages, her attention briefly drifting before she turned her eyes back to Dryzza.
“I know I said I wouldn’t question your mission,” she began, her tone deliberate and calm, “but there is something I must ask.”
Dryzza felt a flicker of dread, her instincts warning her that this moment had been inevitable. Despite her preparations, the directness of the question unsettled her, pulling her focus sharply to the weight of her mission.
The mistress’s gaze did not waver as she continued, “Are my sister’s grandchildren the reason you traveled back here?”
The question pierced through Dryzza’s thoughts, and for a moment, she hesitated. She knew that withholding the truth could compromise the fragile trust she was attempting to build. But giving too much away felt equally dangerous.
The fine line between honesty and secrecy had never seemed so precarious. After a pause that felt like an eternity, the words slipped from her mouth.
“No,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but I trust you won’t do anything that could alter the future.”
There was a faint tremor in her voice, an unspoken plea for reassurance, but she pushed forward, hoping that transparency would not undo her.
The mistress’s expression softened into a knowing smile. “Everything lies with you, my dear,” she said, her voice carrying a note of quiet wisdom. “You are the one who has stepped outside of your own time. The power to alter the future belongs to you, not to me.”
There was something disconcerting about the way she spoke, as though the mistress understood far more than she was letting on.
Dryzza tried to grasp the full meaning of her words, but uncertainty clouded her thoughts. Did the mistress imply that simply revealing the truth could irrevocably change the course of events? Or was there an even deeper layer to this, something more dangerous, more profound?
It took Dryzza a long moment to summon the courage to speak again. Her voice was softer now, more uncertain.
“The young master of this m-manor, T-Takumi?” She began, almost tentatively, “and the grandchildren of your sister... their fates might be entwined."
The more she spoke, the less confident she felt in her own conclusions.
"Is it the curse?" The mistress asked as though it's the most normal thing to open up, but after all the bizarre things she had encounter, Dryzza no longer compares reality to myths and legends.
“It’s possible,” she added, her tone faltering. “I’m not entirely certain, but Agatha disappeared years before I came to know Samantha. And somehow, the young master, Takumi, was involved.”
The mistress’s face remained impassive, but her eyes revealed a flicker of recognition. “It is the curse,” she said, her words calm yet weighty. “I won’t go into the specifics, but it is true that this family has survived through the devil's mercy—what you see here is preserved because of the young master’s unintentional intervention. However, the curse still lingers. It binds them all, just as it bound those before them.”
There was no malice in her words, yet they struck Dryzza with the force of revelation. In that moment, Dryzza realized she had unwittingly confirmed what the mistress had already known, or perhaps foreseen.
As the mistress spoke, she closed the grimoire in her lap, revealing the entirety of its cover. Dryzza’s breath caught. This was the object, the very reason she had been sent back in time, the crux of her mission.
She had known of its importance, but now, seeing it in the flesh, the weight of her task slapped on her face more than ever. The universe had conspired to place her here, in this moment, in front of the one person who could lend her a hand.
The mistress’s gaze returned to Dryzza, her expression contemplative. “I anticipated your arrival,” she said softly, her voice steady. “Thus, I have seen how this manor will fall, how it will eventually succumb to the forces of darkness. But I cannot, and will not, interfere with what is to come. I will, however, do what I can to salvage what remains.”
Dryzza’s heart sank at the mistress’s words. There was no saving this place, only the possibility of minimizing the damage. However, if her appearance in such a time won't do even a single difference, the mistress will fall with this very manor.
Shoulders heavy with resignation, she muttered, “I’m sorry,” her eyes drifting downward to the cold stone floor.
“Do not apologize,” she said gently. “Time has its own course. All I can do is guide what little I can, but I will not alter the flow of events. Now, about the grimoire.” She paused, lifting the book beside her head, its cover gleaming faintly in the dim light. “This is something I cannot lend to you. I must ask, what do you intend to use it for? Are you planning to use it against my sister?”
"N-No, I’m not entirely certain," Dryzza stammered, her voice wavering. "I was told to seek out 'The Good Witch’s Grimoire,' but I had no way of recognizing it. I had no idea what form it would take or even if it still existed."
The mistress’s eyes narrowed slightly as she leaned forward. “Who tasked you with this pursuit?” she inquired, her voice calm yet edged with curiosity.
“The man in my dreams,” Dryzza admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment as she spoke. “I know it sounds absurd, but the fact that this grimoire is real—here, in front of me—it means it holds some key to our salvation. It will help them... and us.”
The mistress regarded her in silence, her expression inscrutable. For a moment, Dryzza could not discern what the old woman was thinking. There was no immediate judgment in her eyes, but a quiet, calculating suspicion lingered in the air, as though the mistress was weighing the implications of Dryzza's words.
Who was this man? The question seemed to hover unspoken between them, as if the answer itself was elusive, and yet of great importance.
Breaking the silence, the mistress rested the grimoire on her lap and leaned closer to Dryzza.
“Give me your hand,” she requested, her voice soft but commanding.
Dryzza hesitated, the sudden intimacy of the gesture unsettling. Still, she extended her arm, placing her hand in the mistress’s. In an instant, the old woman’s eyes widened in shock, her gaze locking onto Dryzza’s with a newfound intensity.
"It was a devil who showed itself to you."
Dryzza nearly choked on the Mistress’s words, a revelation so stark yet delivered with an air that was not entirely alarming. In fact, there was an undercurrent of intrigue, as though the Mistress found the revelation fascinating rather than terrifying.
Dryzza, still reeling from the statement, tried to steady herself. "A devil?" she echoed, her voice faint with disbelief.
The Mistress nodded, gently releasing her hand but still watching her with an expression of surprise that hadn't quite faded.
Settling back into her seat, Dryzza felt her thoughts whirl, but she found herself unable to ask the question that hung at the edge of her mind: What did you see?
Yet, the Mistress seemed in no rush to explain further. Instead, she allowed a brief silence to stretch between them, a space that Dryzza was unwilling to fill with questions. She didn’t need to—there was something in the way the Mistress smiled now, a look of contentment that softened the gravity of the situation.
"I am glad to have met you, darling," the Mistress finally said, her voice warm with unexpected affection. "At least now I can be at peace, no matter what the future holds."
Dryzza offered a weak smile in return, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was smiling about.
There was a strange comfort in the Mistress’s words, a reassurance that things might unfold as they must, despite the uncertainties of the future. And then the conversation shifted once more.
"Now, about my grimoire," the Mistress said, this time holding the book closer to Dryzza. The object suddenly appeared far more imposing, as if its proximity magnified its power.
For the first time, Dryzza could truly see it—a large, ancient tome, its cover intertwined with seals that resembled old, gnarled vines. At the center, an emerald gemstone gleamed faintly, as though it held a secret all its own. The vines seemed to pulse with age-old magic, like roots that had burrowed deep into the soil of forgotten times.
"I have no idea where this will end up after the manor’s fall," the Mistress continued, her tone sobering. "But I have placed a seal on it, one that only the young master can break when the time is right."
Dryzza blinked, realization dawning on her like a slow sunrise. So this is what it's all been about. The man in her dreams—whoever he was—was the one who sent her back in time for this.
The grimoire was never hers to keep or use; it was for Takumi. Dryzza almost laughed at the absurdity of it. All this time, she had been a pawn in someone else’s plan, pushed through time and space to serve a purpose she hadn’t even understood.
She shook her head slightly, a bemused smile playing on her lips.
"We—I! I have been running around like a fool, and it’s all for Takumi," she thought with an internal chuckle. All of her struggles, the risks she had taken—it had been about him— or maybe also for them, but not quite.
"Do you have any idea where I could find this in the future?" Dryzza finally asked, her voice filled with a mixture of apprehension and urgency. The weight of the moment pressed heavily upon her, but it was the only question that came to her mind.
The Mistress regarded her thoughtfully, her gaze contemplative as she drew her hand toward the hidden pocket where she had previously stored the grimoire.
"As much as I have seen from your interaction with that man, even I cannot clearly discern where the grimoire will end up," she began slowly, her tone laced with both mystery and assurance. Then, as though recalling a forgotten solution, she pulled out a small object and extended her hand toward Dryzza. "But... this charm will guide you."
Dryzza's eyes fell on the ruby necklace the Mistress handed her. The gleaming stone nestled within the pendant sparked something in Dryzza's memory, a flicker of recognition.
She stared at it for a long moment, her mind racing to place it, and then the realization hit her like a wave. Samantha's necklace... she muttered under her breath, her thoughts turning to the documents from Samantha’s case that she had studied so carefully.
The ruby necklace was identical to the one that had once belonged to Samantha—a relic tied to her enigmatic disappearance.
The Mistress didn’t seem to notice Dryzza’s whispered revelation, quietly placing the necklace directly into Dryzza's palm.
"Is it truly all right to possess an item from the past?" Dryzza asked, her gaze still fixed on the charm, its deep red hue pulsing with an ancient energy. The very idea of holding onto an object from a time long gone unsettled her, yet it also filled her with a strange sense of purpose.
"The charm will disappear once it has served its purpose," the Mistress replied with a calm certainty. Dryzza nodded slowly, letting the words sink in.
"Then I suppose, I'm all set." She tucked the necklace into her clothing, feeling its warmth settle against her chest like a silent promise. Both women rose from their seats, a quiet understanding passing between them.
But just as Dryzza prepared to take her leave, not knowing where to go to be exact, the Mistress added one last warning.
"Just one thing," the Mistress said, her voice taking on an edge of caution.
Dryzza paused mid-step and turned to face her. "Yes?"
"Never look the young master directly in the eyes," the Mistress said softly, her voice carrying the weight of an ancient secret. "For that is where the curse resides."
The words leaped in the air, chilling Dryzza to her core. She hesitated for a moment before offering a slow nod. The Mistress smiled faintly, then deftly placed the grimoire back into its secret pocket.
"And where were we?" The Mistress asked with a playful lilt, as though to lighten the mood. Before Dryzza could even begin to respond, the Mistress chuckled, recalling the previous conversation.
"Ah yes, you were holding your breath." She smiled knowingly, and just as she finished speaking, the world around Dryzza began to shift.
In an instant, everything darkened, the room's warmth replaced by an icy cold that wrapped itself around her like a shroud. The very air she breathed felt heavy, dense, suffocating. Shadows consumed her vision, and all sound seemed to disappear into the void.
It was as though time itself had collapsed around her, pulling her from one reality and thrusting her back into another. The sensation was disorienting, as if she were tumbling through an endless expanse of nothingness.
"DRYZZA!! DRYZZA, BREATHE!!"
A distant voice echoed, frantic and laced with panic, cutting through the darkness.
"DRYZZA!!!"
She gasped, her lungs burning as she fought for air. The world around her spun wildly before finally settling into focus.
"Holy shit! What happened to you?!" Sai's panicked voice pierced through the haze in Dryzza’s mind as she slowly came to her senses.
Turning to her right, she saw him wide-eyed, his face contorted in worry, while beside him stood Esmeralda, her expression somewhere between frustration and concern.
"W-What happened?" Dryzza stammered, still disoriented, her breath ragged as she tried to make sense of her surroundings.
"YOU TELL US!" Sai nearly shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. "You were gone for more than five minutes! We had to check on you, only to find you standing here, staring at the ceiling, not breathing at all!" His voice cracked, the panic unmistakable.
Dryzza blinked, utterly confused, her mind racing as she tried to piece together what had just occurred.
"So... everything happened within a short period of time?" Dryzza muttered, more to herself than anyone else.
Her heart raced as the memories of her journey through time resurfaced, vivid and clear. She could still feel the warm of the manor it used to be, the weight of the Mistress’s words, the eerie chill of being transported back.
And then it hit her like a punch to the gut—the necklace. Dryzza gasped, her eyes snapping down to her hand, where the ruby necklace rested against her palm, its red gleam still pulsing faintly.
"Holy fucking shit!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of disbelief and awe as she stared at the impossible item in her hand.