Chapter 1
By the time the afternoon schedule had ended, the coachman came up to my laboratory.
He said a guest had arrived at the townhouse and had come to fetch me.
The moment I heard the guest’s name, my voice rose without me realizing it.
“Celesto? Why him?”
But the coachman looked just as clueless.
I did not ask further and left the laboratory. It must have been the first time my laboratory door had closed this early, because the servant sweeping the floor stared with wide eyes.
When I went down to the ground level, a carriage without even a single crest attached to it was waiting. The moment I took my seat, the coachman set the horses in motion.
I sat there and stared out the window. It had been so long since I had ridden in a carriage without collapsing from exhaustion. I had no idea what one was even supposed to do inside a carriage.
Eventually, I began thinking about the man who would be waiting for me at the townhouse.
Celesto Castenor came to see me? Why?
Honestly, I was confused. It was not so much anything specific as the entire situation itself that made no sense.
Celesto and I could be called friends. But it had been at least five years since we had regarded each other that way.
There had not been any particular incident that drove us apart. That made it all the more awkward.
If there had at least been some decisive falling-out, I could have offered an apology.
Instead, it had been a one-sided estrangement, with me being the one shut out. That was why I had no idea why he had come to see me now.
Before long, the carriage came to a stop. The moment the door opened, I jumped down. I went straight up to the second floor, changed my clothes, and then headed to the drawing room with a maid.
And there—Celesto Castenor was sitting.
What, it’s really Celesto?
I thought as I took a seat across from him on the guest sofa.
The way he had to fold himself into the single armchair, the neatly groomed golden hair—it was exactly the Celesto I remembered.
If there was anything different, it was that his face seemed oddly flushed.
Well, now that I had seen Celesto sitting in my drawing room with my own two eyes, there was no point in doubting his presence any further.
I squeezed out what little social grace I possessed and greeted my oldest former friend.
“Uh… it’s been a while?”
At my half-hearted greeting, the maid’s shoulders gave a small twitch. It seemed she had never imagined I would treat even the second son of the Castenor family so carelessly.
But there was nothing to be done about it. If I tried to be formal, it would only grow more awkward.
Perhaps thinking the same, Celesto returned an equally perfunctory greeting.
“…It has been a while.”
That might be a bit too perfunctory, though?
In any case, I decided to wait until Celesto spoke first. Fortunately, the drawing room of I, Roarna Balseren, was always well stocked with refreshments.
Even while I steadily worked my way through the sweets, Celesto did not utter a single word.
It was not the reaction of someone who had nothing to say, but of someone who did not know where to begin.
To think I still remember something like that.
As I brushed the crumbs from my hands, the thought crossed my mind—along with the realization that we really had been old friends.
No matter how awkward we were now, there had once been a time when we were extremely close. Our personalities were completely different, but we had shared one very important trait.
We both lacked the social skills to abandon the childhood friend we had known since birth and make new ones.
Of course, I’m better at it than he is.
Even now, unlike me trying to ease the awkwardness by snacking on refreshments, Celesto just kept his mouth firmly shut.
Still, Celesto may lack social skills, but he’s not stupid. He soon realized that maintaining the silence was pointless and picked up his teacup. It was a signal that he was going to wet his throat and then start talking.
I sent the maid out. Only then did Celesto bring up his business.
“There’s something I want you to help me with.”
As soon as I heard that, I unconsciously furrowed my brow. Seeing that Celesto, who is usually direct, was asking for understanding rather than stating the matter outright, it seemed the request was quite difficult.
“Coming to me so suddenly like this? And asking me of all people?”
“…It’s about a curse.”
“Oh… Well, that’s a different story then.”
I immediately straightened my posture.
It’s not like there was some huge dramatic reason why Celesto and I grew apart, but there were plenty of trivial triggers. Among them, the biggest influence was my major.
Ever since my academy days, I’ve majored in Taboo Studies. Curses, sorcery, extinct rituals, ancient texts, etc. I’ve researched all kinds of magic that people shy away from.
Being friends with someone who specializes in this kind of thing was awkward. On top of that, Celesto had been raised a devout believer, following the traditions of the Castenor family. That we had been close until five years ago was even more surprising.
In that sense, if the reason he had come to see me was because of a “curse,” then it all made sense. The only people worth asking about a curse were a curse practitioner or a scholar of forbidden studies.
Moreover, for Celesto to come to me, it must be a troublesome curse. At this point, I had to admit it was honestly intriguing.
Leaning forward, I began asking him everything I was curious about, in the typical bold manner of a scholar.
“Related to a curse, you say? Have you found any relevant literatures? Or do you need a ritual? Did someone cast this curse on you?”
“…I was cursed.”
“By whom?”
“By me.”
How fascinating!
I squeezed out the last of my social composure to suppress the surge of excitement.
Cursed? Celesto Castenor himself? The son of a family whose inherited “blessing” alone was stronger than most protective spells?
In order not to provoke Celesto’s temper, I phrased my next questions as calmly and steadily as possible.
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