TRL 69

Chapter 69

When Rita took the book, Olivia pulled the box on the table closer.

“And take this too.”

“What’s this?”

“This is…”

Olivia started to explain but suddenly narrowed her eyes and held out her hand to Rita.

“Hand over the gun you’re using.”

“…Why, all of a sudden?”

“Why? Do you feel guilty or something? Don’t tell me, since you didn’t have a magic gun, you did something weird with an old-fashioned one?”

“No, I didn’t do anything. Just broke it in a little.”

“Then why are you reacting like that?”

“It’s just a reflex, okay? You always scold me when you check my guns.”

“Have I ever gotten mad for no reason? Damn it, Rita Pascal only gets scolded when she deserves it. If you’ve got nothing to hide, then what’s the problem? Hand it over.”

“I get it, I get it… Who said I wouldn’t give it to you?”

Grumbling, Rita lifted her dress and pulled the Silver Grace from the holster strapped to her thigh and handed it over.

Watching this, Olivia slapped her forehead.

“…Forget a magic gun, I need to get you a proper holster first.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think, you idiot friend of mine…”

So people don’t go insane in all sorts of ways from seeing this. Olivia didn’t say it aloud, but thought it.

It would have been a problem even in her old body, but with the current Lillietta, that issue had amplified tenfold. Even Olivia, who was also a woman and her friend, found herself momentarily entranced and unable to look away—how much worse would it be for others?

Not bothering to hide her annoyed and exasperated look, Olivia took the revolver from Rita.

Lillietta frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that. Just say it.”

“There are problems in this world that can’t be solved with words.”

Olivia gave a half-hearted answer and began carefully inspecting the Silver Grace. Rita, watching her for a moment, then opened the book she had just received.

There was nothing written on the leather-bound cover, but when she turned the page, she saw a title written in Olivia’s handwriting:

“What Pascal Knows as History”

That must’ve been what it meant. Rita flipped to the next page.

‘She said she transcribed this herself, and there’s even a table of contents.’

There were quite a few entries. The table of contents alone spanned two pages.

From the current year, 1770, to 1780, each year had one chapter—10 chapters. Then, from 1780 onward, it was divided into 20-year spans, also 10 chapters, totaling 20 chapters. The final year listed was 1980.

‘She memorized and wrote all this down? Olivia’s not just a genius—she’s not even human sometimes.’

The first 10 chapters, divided year by year, were marked off with bold lines and had attached notes.

‘Improvement Targets, huh…’

That part was written not in Olivia’s but Gide’s handwriting. It was likely that Gide recorded the goals the Beacon squad set during their meetings using this book.

There was also a note in Gide’s handwriting at the final year of the table of contents, 1980:

“The year mass production of Pascal’s child began.”

‘So this is when what we call the “Ash World”—or maybe the “Ash Era”—began. Over 200 years from now…’

That much time was more than enough for the world to change so completely that it could be mistaken for another. Even a simple 200-year span would cause dramatic changes—but on top of that, a calamity occurred, and magical beasts ran rampant.

Rita, feeling uneasy, stared at the 1980 entry before turning to the next page.

“Huh?”

Her eyes widened instinctively. Under a section titled Hero Chronicles, scrawled with what was clearly a familiar hand, were listed names:

Gideon El Ledert Kairam
Seraphina Shadeya
Olivia Den Luna Blen
Isaiah Courtbane
Lucas Den Meyer Winterfield
Ghost
Rita? Lillietta Del Nisa Lascaille

They were apparently the real names of the returning Beacon squad members. Just from the names, she could guess who was who. Her own name had a correction mark—likely Olivia changed it after confirming her return.

‘So when Pascal named us, he just shortened or simplified our real names. But why is Ethan listed as “Ghost”? Did he go down in history only under that nickname?’

That was fascinating. During the Ash Era, Ethan was indeed known by the nickname “Ghost” within the Beacon squad.

Seeing the Hero Chronicles section, it seemed this was the record of their lives as remembered in Pascal’s version of history. Her curiosity piqued, Rita eagerly flipped through the pages.

Then a knock echoed from the drawing room door.

Rita immediately tossed the book aside, snatched Silver Grace from Olivia’s hands, shoved her behind her back, and aimed the gun at the door.

‘They got all the way to the door without me noticing.’

Every nerve was on edge.

Even while talking with Olivia, Rita had kept her Aude wide open to sense anyone approaching the drawing room—because it wasn’t a conversation others should overhear.

Olivia, being a battle-hardened mage, had also cast soundproofing and detection spells upon arriving in the room. These were standard spells she always deployed at Beacon camps, and Rita had sensed them and accepted them as normal.

So whoever had just knocked had casually entered through Olivia’s magical barriers and walked right into the magical gun’s detection range.

If they hadn’t knocked, they might have entered the room without either of them noticing.

Something only a ghost could do.

‘The only person who could manage that is… oh no.’

No way.

Rita narrowed her eyes, not lowering her gun.

* * *

Hannah was carefully walking while holding a tray with a beautifully arranged dessert and tea set. It was for the young lady and her friend, who were meeting in the drawing room.

As she entered the corridor leading to the drawing room, she spotted a man perched on the windowsill.

‘W-what? A thief—wait, no?’

Just as she was about to scream, Hannah recognized the man’s face and swallowed her cry.

It was Footman Ethan.

With pale skin and a lazy expression, he had a strangely dangerous air that made the maids compare him to a rogue prince or a decadent artist.

‘But… what’s with his hair? And his eyes… the color…’

The Ethan she had once harbored a secret crush on had tousled golden-brown curls and murky bluish-gray eyes.

But the “Ethan” now sitting on the windowsill, staring vacantly at the drawing room door, had stark white hair like an old man and crimson eyes like drops of blood. His skin, so pale it looked bloodless, made him look like a ghost—unreal.

He resembled a cracked marble statue. So still, staring at one spot, he looked like he might shatter if touched.

‘Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve seen Ethan not smiling.’

What shocked her more than him sitting on the second-floor window like a thief was his changed appearance and eerie aura.

‘Oh, right—Ethan went on leave. Right after the yacht incident… Said he was going home. Did something happen there?’

While Hannah stood dazed, trembling slightly, the tea set on her tray clattered. The sound drew Ethan’s gaze sharply in her direction.

Their eyes met. Hannah awkwardly smiled in greeting—but Ethan didn’t smile back. He simply scanned her up and down with a blank face.

He used to beam at her the moment he saw her. Lately, he had seemed oddly cold, but he’d still greet her with a smile in passing.

‘Is it… someone else?’

Just as Hannah, growing uneasy, began to retreat, Ethan hopped down from the window and strode over to her.

“You were bringing this to the drawing room, right?”

“Huh? Y-yeah, but… are you really Ethan?”

“I am.”

“Your hair and eye color, why are they…”

“Oh.”

Ethan grabbed a strand of his pale hair and replied.

“This is my natural color.”

“Huh? Then before…”

“I used a tool to change the color.”

“Why…?”

“Why? Isn’t it obvious? The original colors are creepy and monstrous.”

“U-uh… I’m not so sure…”

“You’re not sure?”

He leaned down suddenly, face drawing close.

His crimson eyes—so red they looked like blood—came right up to her nose. On closer inspection, the red was from visible blood vessels in his transparent irises.

Like a ghost, a spirit, or a demon.

Hannah realized for the first time that the color white could feel so ominous. Not a holy, pure white—but the color of dried bones.

It sent chills down her spine.

As she flinched and avoided his gaze, Ethan straightened up and stepped back.

“See now? Creepy, right?”

“…”

He stared at her lowered eyes for a moment, then smiled slightly as he grabbed the tray from her hands.

“I’ll take this from here.”