I was bored.

Somehow, it felt nostalgic; like long gone summer breaks with nothing to do. Or rather, there were plenty of things to do, but none of them felt interesting to me.

I helped run an antique shop. We have all sorts of items on display; from old furniture to swords, books to the very first phone models to hit the market. If it's old, we have it. I heard the oldest thing we have in the store are some old books, supposedly from the 14th century. I have an interest in them, but the owner won't let me near them.

The owner, Richard Bloom, took very good care of each of the artifacts in the store. So much so, he didn't truly wish to sell them. He had another job as an appraiser of jewels, antiques, as well as other valuable items to keep his finances stable. His "store," Relics, was mostly just for show. A museum, really. He loved to talk about the large collection he had acquired over the course of his three decades in the business, so he'd proudly mention every single detail he knew about the item that had picked the "buyer's" (no one ever got to buy something) interest. When no one visited the store, it'd become my questionable honor to listen to him for the entirety of my shift. I wasn't truly upset by it. I enjoyed the stories, though the part I enjoyed was how he got his hands on the stuff.

For example, I particularly liked the story of how he obtained an old French riffle. He basically got it for free, he told me.

—Now, I didn't mean to scam the old doofus. In fact, I tried to tell him, several times, that what he had was worth much more than fifty dollars, but he would have none of it. "I know about antiques, kid," he told me. Ha!—he cheerily told me—Sure, the poor thing was not in the best of shapes, but it was an honest to goodness Boutet!—I never knew who this "Boutet" person was, the old man never bothered to tell me, nor did I bother to look it up, but I knew one thing: the weapon was truly beautiful. Also, the old man never failed to laugh when he told the story, so I assume it was an absolute steal.

—I restored her myself—Richard used the female pronoun for all of his weapons, as well as for his vehicles. Apparently, "they're obviously girls," he told me the one time I asked him—with much love, let me tell you. It was tough, since I didn't wish to replace the parts. I had to be very careful with the entire process.

He had similar stories for all sorts of things. He had been in all sorts of places, too. He had been to the entirety of Europe (which I found difficult to believe) as well as most of Africa (which was even more unbelievable because even if it wasn't "the

entirety," of Africa, "most of" was still impressive considering how large the continent is). For Asian nations, he admitted to have focused his search of rarities on Chinese soil, but he had spent some months in Japan as well. It was there he found his two most precious blades. He had to bargain pretty hard with another collector, losing two old muskets in the process, but, overall, he believed he had won the trade.

—You see, I believe they were part of someone's personal collection—he muttered to me, as if conspiring—Curious blades, I tell you. I found five of them in total, but I could only put my hands on three of them.

He'd set the three blades on the store's counter. They were, according to him, the most unique blades he had ever seen (he had seen lots of blades, so that meant something).

The first one was, perhaps, my favorite. I love The Princess Bride. Inigo's fight with Westley is one of the biggest reasons why I love the movie, which inspired me to buy my very first book (The Princess Bride, William Goldman's version) when I was ten. Later on, it inspired me to learn fencing, an art I still practice. This first sword of the three was very similar to the sword Inigo used in the movie, except for one little detail. A little detail shared by all five of the blades Richard found odd enough to develop his own little theories about them. A Moonstone, otherwise known as an hecatolite, had been embedded into the blade in such fashion you could see it on both sides of it.

The second blade was also my second favorite, because Japanese swords will always be high on the coolness scale. Also, if The Princess Bride was the reason why I liked the first sword, then Rurōni Kenshin is the reason why I liked the second one so much. I never had the chance to practice Kendō like I did fencing, but it sure as hell didn't stop me from picking up random sticks to toy with. In my mind, they were Kenshin's Sakabatō, so I all but shouted the names of the techniques of the Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū. I did it so much, it got in the way of fencing due to muscle memory forcing me into battōjutsu's forms, as well as two-handed sword stances.

It was fun, though. I scored some wins using it because none of my practice partners expected to be hit by the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki.

The final blade Richard had was… well, I have no story for it. It was an old, fancy-looking dagger. The other two swords were currently owned by other collectors Richard knew. One of them was an incredibly well-maintained Longsword,

while the other one was something called "Khopesh,"which is an old "C" shaped Egyptian sword. All five swords had three things in common.

1: The Moonstone.

2: How old they were.

3: All of them were odd somehow.

—These three details are all very odd, you see. First off is the Moonstone. Now, it wasn't all that unusual for people to decorate their swords, especially if they were high-ranking officers or nobility, but usually they'd go for different kinds of gems. Additionally, the jewels would go on the guard, not in the blade itself—I kind of wondered how true that was. Surely, it couldn't be all that strange, right? The skeptical part of me was silently contemplating the veracity of Richard's words, but I had no counter-argument. All the swords I had ever seen, even the fancy ones I had the chance to see because Richard either showed them to me or took me to see them had their jewels in the guard, some on the handle, while others had them hanging from the bottom tip of the handle, tied by rope.

"Moreover, they were all made—here he paused, as if he wanted to add to the suspense—around the same time period! Five-hundred years ago!

Now, I could understand why this was shocking. It wasn't so shocking for three of these blades, seeing how the Japanese sword we know today was invented in the 15th century. The Longsword was invented in the 14th century. Daggers, on the other hand, have been there since forever. An eternity ago, back when humans were not yet humans, surely, daggers were already around, although much more unrefined than their modern counterparts or the one set on the table. The rapier was supposedly designed in the 15th century. The weird one was the Khopesh, which was the oldest, but someone could've made one in the 15th century. So, why is it weird?

As if sensing my question, he told me—Look at them.

So I did. I saw nothing wrong with them. The three blades in front of me were in perfect shape, almost. But the "almost" wasn't because of time leaving marks on them. The blades themselves looked new.

—So you see?—Richard inquiered, his tone excited. He was always excited when he spoke of these blades. However, this is the first time he asked me this question.

I tried very hard, but all I could come up with were their oddities.

—Besides the shape, I see nothing wrong. They look brand new. Cheers to whoever restored these.

—They've never been restored.

Huh?

Now that's bullshit.

—Then they're not as old as you claim.

Richard smacked me on the side of the head. He was quite old, near his seventy-nine birthday, so I barely felt it. I was only mildly annoyed by this.

—You think I didn't have them tested? If you don't trust me, then trust carbon 14!

—Sure, sure.

I still wasn't buying it. No matter how you spin them, these are brand new. If they were never restored, then they're not 500 years old, simple as that. Alternatively, they were kept under extremely good care for no less than five centuries.

Richard huffed, miffed—Then there's the shape. All five are odd, right? Even you can tell that, you skeptic!

—Yes.

Of the three blades he had, none of them were normal. Setting aside the stone embedded in the blade, all three had peculiarities. For example, the rapier-looking one was thick. The length was normal, but it was broader than normal ones. This was an extreme error in its design, since the additional weight was not what you'd want on your single-handed sword. Moreover, the thing was heavy. Heavier than it should be, even if you account for how broad it is. So this thing could be used like other espadas roperas.

The Japanese sword, well, I have good reasons to call it Japanese sword instead of Katana. Though it certainly shares traits with the more traditional Katana, it was longer. Not quite as long as the Tachi, but longer. Plus it was more curved than either of the previously mentioned types of Japanese blades, though only

, it was double-edged, which is abnormal in this kind of blade. The sword, however, was splendid nonetheless.

The dagger was odd by virtue of looking like something straight out of Final Fantasy. It was styled after an owl, but it wasn't only that. It was beautifully designed while keeping practicality in mind. None of the wing pieces that jutted out of the handle felt uncomfortable in one's hand (as long as you gripped it right). Actually, they kind of worked like the guards of normal swords. The blade was single-edged, curved upwards, the Moonstone is placed where the eyes of the owl would be, so when you hold it in front of you, it looks like the owl is looking to the sky. I personally think this is the prettiest one. If only the main character of an old show used daggers, tne, this would've been my favorite out of the three Odd Moons, as I secretly call them.

—Finally—Richard said, sounding strangely somber—both the Longsword and the Khopesh were both stolen recently.

I quirk an eyebrow the moment I hear that.

—I, of course, have kept in contact with the collectors who had the other two blades. I've been negotiating with them for years. All three of us have been trying to obtain the full collection for ourselves for over the last two decades. So, imagine my surprise when, in our latest call, I hear that theirs were stolen…

In spite of the news, Richard didn't seem crestfallen. In fact, he was smiling so widely you could feel the joy in his face.

—It's truly mysterious!—he shouted—The Longsword was in The United Kingdom! The Khopesh was in Egypt! However, they were both stolen almost simultaneously!—he laughed. In good nature, excitedly, as if he was back to being young, nothing but one little kid dreaming of adventure—Truly one for Sir Connan Doyle's books, don't you think? HAHAHAHA!

I felt like, somewhere along the line, we forgot the point of the conversation. We spent the whole evening discussing our theories about the swords. We discussed who could've made them, why, how, for whom, who could've stolen them, as well as all sorts of other things when we got sidetracked by another related topic, such as Sir Doyle's books.

I "worked" in Relics. My job was merely to talk to customers (which we rarely received), as well as to tidy up the place, but in truth, I believe old man Richard just hired me because he wanted someone to talk to about his collection. We never

discussed our personal lives beyond some funny stories like his journeys, or my rare tales about something random that happened on that day. Of course, my payment wasn't all that good. I only work in his shop during the evenings, from 16:00 to 20:30. I was the only employee there. I had another job in the mornings which, in all honesty, was enough to pay the bills, but I liked working in Relics. I liked my conversations with Richard. More importantly, I didn't want to be in my house. Being alone with nothing to do was bad for my mind, so I happily worked in Relics for almost four years.

Richard Bloom died on November 16, 2023. He died in his sleep, peacefully.

—You know how he was—Mary, his maid, told me—He was too absorbed in his hobbies. He never had time for women—she spoke between little sobs as well as little giggles, as if the happy memories fought the pain she felt. She promised she'd talk to me soon, though I heavily doubted I'd see her again.

I was surprised to find out people knew who I was. Apparently, Richard spoke about me often.

—So you're the famous mister Nightingale!—an old, wrinkled man greeted me. He was forcing his smile. His eyes were red—I'm surprised you lasted so long in that "shop" of his! You must love old junk just as much as he did!—I was offended, to be honest. Somehow, hearing Mr. Bloom's antiques being called "junk" felt like he had slapped me in the face.

—Your brain must be junk if you think Mr. Richard's collection could be called "junk"—I immediately regretted those words. I really shouldn't pick up fights here. The old man laughed, though. Strangely enough, he laughed pretty hard, as did the people overhearing the conversation.

—I think we have another Richard Bloom here, guys!

Apparently, this was an exchange this person, Mister Albert, had with Richard quite often.

—He spoke of you often—this time, the one to approach me was someone named Sarah. Besides myself, she seemed to be the youngest person here. Though, of course, I didn't ask her age, but I assumed she must've been somewhere between thirty to the later forties. She was an incredibly beautiful person.

—He said you brought good luck! Like you were some kind of amulet!—I had heard him say so, too. Though that was simply because my surname is Nightingale. The

day after he hired me, he managed to buy the very first edition of Florence Nightingale's Notes on Nursing: What Nursing Is, What Nursing Is Not.

—He said:

—"As long as you're around, obtaining one of Florence Nightingale's personal belongings is not impossible."

We said in unison, smiling slightly. Of course, it never happened. Though we did come across more of her books, we never found something as rare as the first one.

I continued talking with people for two more hours. I felt they went by really fast.

It wasn't until his funeral that I learned that he had no family. His maid, to whom he had left his own house, as well as much of his money, told me he had never married. He had no kids, no siblings, no nothing. He only had his friends, of which he had plenty. His funeral was crowded, noisy, tearful, yet somehow joyful. I felt like his friends, with heavy tears running down their cheeks, were not just mourning his death; they were also celebrating his life. In there, smiles mixed with tears as we bid him farewell.

I was envious of him, to be honest. I knew I would never have such an amazing send-off. Feeling bittersweet, I allowed myself to cry. They were manly tears, though. Each one of them had so much testosterone in them that instead of tear trails, they left vertical facial hair!

I wasn't sure why I was crying. Sure, I liked Mr. Bloom. He had always been nice, but I wouldn't say we were close. I was sad he was gone, of course. But I had lost people before. I was acquainted with death, so I knew the worst of it hits you in the ensuing weeks. When you think of calling them, only to think "Oh, right…" before lowering your phone. The hurt of losing someone only truly hits you when you stroll by the place you expect them to be, only to think "Ah… right…"

Those were the moments when your eyes burnt. I had never cried before those moments. Heck, I didn't even cry in those moments. I would normally switch to another train of thought, but here, with everyone telling stories of Mr. Bloom, thinking of other stuff was an uphill battle.

Eventually, one by one, we walked out of the cemetery. It was an incredibly beautiful afternoon. Crepuscular rays shone through the clouds gentle drizzle fell down on all the flowers people brought to Mr. Bloom. The smell of the flowers mixed

with the petrichor… I felt like Mr. Bloom would've enjoyed it very much. With this thought, I went home, thinking of old conversations I had with Mr. Bloom.

The very next evening, Mary called me. She told me to come to the shop. Since I had nothing better to do other than to look for something to do, I decided to go.

The path there was different somehow. Even though the general landscape was the same, something was off. The drizzle from yesterday was still present, so were the usual people I'd run into while on the usual amble to Relics. The usual walk took around 45 minutes, but since I was going leisurely, it took me over an hour.

Once I was there, I second-guessed myself. Do I really want to go inside? To the Relics Shop where Mr. Bloom won't be?

I knew it'd hurt. The moment I'd set foot inside, I'll expect to be greeted by Mr. Bloom's old, husky voice. "Good evening, Mr. Nightingale," he'd say, then I would reply with "Good evening, Mr. Bloom." Those kinds of simple things were the ones you'd miss the most. The lost routine, the lost familiarity of those simple exchanges were the worst.

Some other times, when he found something noteworthy, he'd skipped the greeting entirely. "Luke, my boy, hurry up! You have to see this!" Then I would be forced to listen to the entire story of his newest discovery. Well, "forced" was the wrong word. I worked in Relics precisely because of these kinds of things. He'd tell the story, then I'd raise my hand when I had questions and he'd happily answer. His smile grew bigger as his eyes seemed to shine whenever I did ask something.

The exterior of the shop was the same; an old fashioned two-stories building with ample space. The architecture of Relics was designed to look old, like European buildings of the 18th century. The outside was usually decorated with flowers of several types. "Flowers are nice," Mr. Bloom had told me. "They soothe people's minds by reminding them of the world's beauty, or so I've been told," he'd say. However, it's winter right now, so there were no flowers to be seen. Instead, I had the cool wind, as well as the gentle drizzle, to cool my head. I was there because I was curious. I had honestly expected to never see Mary again. To begin with, I had never seen her before the funeral, but she promised we'd see each other again. This was enough to pique my interest when I received her call. Plus, I was already here, so I might as well enter, right? I have nothing better to do, anyways.

I entered the shop.

It was the same as before. The stuff was separated into sections, protected by reinforced glass. On the front, right by the entrance, we had jewelry. This wasn't special to Mr. Bloom, so we sold those frequently. The important jewelry, the stuff with history, was kept inside the safe on the second floor, hidden under Mr. Bloom's desk. Mary was by the counter, where all sorts of things were put on display. Of course, Mr. Bloom never had the intention to sell those. They were simply there to pique people's interest, which allowed Mr. Bloom to tell them all about them. He would keep his lecture even when the "customers" were regretting entering the shop. If someone wished to buy one of those objects, they'd have to listen to the whole history of the object, then they'd have to pay huge numbers. Other collectors would usually buy them, so we did have some clientele. The stuff Mr. Bloom would not sell was kept in the storage room, outside of the customers' eyes. That's where the three Odd Moons were kept.

—Mr. Nightingale! It's so good to see you!—Mary smiled, as if relieved.

Smiling, I replied in kind. However, I didn't wish to dwell on pleasantries with someone I barely know, so—Why did you call me here?—was simply the first question to pop up. The "how" was simple enough. Richard must've had my contact information somewhere she could find.

She smiled softly, then she retrieved an envelope from her pocket.

—From Richard.

Curiosity piqued, I took the envelope, opened it right there.

The contents of the letter were surprising, to say the least.

"I think we've known each other for long enough for me to understand how you think, so I'll answer your questions in the order I believe you'd ask them.

First off, this store is now yours"

I opened my eyes wide in disbelief. I was so shocked, I couldn't quite process the words written in the letter, so I had to read them twice, then thrice for the meaning to sink in. For starters, is this even possible? I mean, can I legally just inherit something from someone who's not even my relative?

"I took care of all the legal stuff already, so you don't have to worry."

Darn… He read me so well.

"The second question I'm sure you have is why I would do this, huh? Well, it's pretty simple. I had lots of employees in the shop before you, but they all quit

within the first few months. Unlike them, you understand the value of the things I so lovingly collected over the years, so I know they're in good hands as long as

they're with you.

Although, just in case, I promise I will haunt you if you just sell them, you hear?! These treasures are worth more than money!"

He got me wrong there. It's not like I saw these things as valuable. In my opinion, these things should be sold. Relics is supposed to be an antique shop, so its purpose should be to sell the items it holds. The motive I was here was simply to kill time. However, he would haunt me if could. This I know for sure.

"I also have one request for you. It's about the Moonstone Blades. Ideally, I'd like to solve their mystery before I'm gone, but if my time comes before that, then I'd

like to ask you to solve it for me.

The reason why you kept coming to this store was because you had nothing better to do, right? You once told me so. Guess what, Luke? You now have something very

interesting to do! You have an adventure with your name written all over it!"

I sighed. To be honest, this task is not my kind of thing. Moreover, we did some research on the Odd Moons, but we came up empty-handed. We searched everywhere. Old documents. The history of old historical figures from all over the world. Legends, books, even children's story books, but we found exactly zilch. How can I alone do something we couldn't do together?

"Finally, I'd like to apologize."

Huh?

"I knew something was troubling you, but I never tried to talk about it. I didn't wish to pry. I had hoped you'd tell me on your own one day, once you were ready, but I

guess we didn't have enough time, huh, my boy?

I don't know what's the problem, but I can promise you one thing. I speak from experience, so listen well!

No matter how bad things are, keep moving forwards. Set yourself goals, then chase after them as if nothing else mattered. Don't think, act. Don't complain about

how difficult things are, just think of solutions.

A Grand Adventure awaits you, kid. I know it does, so from one old traveler to someone who will begin his own journey, I wish you the best of luck.

Richard Harrison Bloom.

I hope that wasn't too cheesy…"

I… didn't know how to feel. These were Mr. Bloom's final words for me, his final guidance…

But, it felt so cheesy. I'm sorry Mr. Bloom, but those final lines were too cheesy!

To be honest, selling all of this stuff is probably the right thing to do, but…

It'd be boring, wouldn't it? To begin with, even if I had all the money in the world, there's nothing I particularly wish for.

On another note, this letter is extremely underwhelming. I cared about him, I really did, so I should feel sad now, right? I should be crying or something, but I know, even if I can't see it, that my expression is the deadpan to end all deadpans. I even wonder if there's something wrong with me for having this kind of reaction.

One thing is true, though.

I am bored. Without Richard's stories, without this place, I have nothing better to do. And when I have nothing to do, I do stupid things I later regret. So…

The mission is simple enough. Look for the truth behind the Odd Moons. I have three of them, two are missing, I have no information about them, nor do I have anything even remotely resembling clues… There are some simple explanations we thought of, but those are mere theories. The task is to confirm the truth of something that happened 500 years ago, with little to nothing to help me out…

—So?—Mary asked—What does it say?

Still holding the letter, I gesticulate while I speak—Basically? Do the impossible. Cheers up, you downer. The store is mine. Motivational speech—I pause mid-sentence—also, he, apparently, could read my mind to some degree.

Mary's expression is complicated, but she asks the million dollar question.

—So what are you going to do now?

Expressionless, I answer swiftly—I will go adventuring.

—Huh?

She cutely tilted her head to one side, utterly confused.

In another world, one petite girl resists the urge to fidget. On the outside, she's the very definition of calm, but on the inside, she's screaming in abject terror.

She paces around her room, constantly going from one wall to another, unconsciously gripping her wand so hard her knuckles turn white. She knows, beyond all doubt, that today is the day. Today she either succeeds, proving her worth to her peers, or she fails miserably in front of everyone. "No big deal, Louise. Everything is going to be fine," she tells herself once, twice, thrice. She loses count after the hundredth time.

She quickens her pace. Soon, it'll be the time. She moves so fast her long, wavy pink hair sways in every direction. She would count the minutes, but her pocket watch had been blown to smithereens in one of her little big accidents, which usually involve the complete destruction of whatever unfortunate thing happens to be in front of her, behind her, on her sides, well, basically everything near her, including herself.

—But not today—she told herself, full of confidence she did not feel—Today, nothing will explode. Today I will summon the most majestic familiar ever summoned—this, by the way, was technically blasphemy, as such an incredibly bold statement would imply she is claiming to be able to summon something even better than The Founder's legendary familiars, but, for once, she didn't care. Or rather, she was so focused on hyping herself up she didn't even register the faux pas.

Before she realized, she was already thinking up excuses to skip class. She could say she was feeling unwell, but no, no she couldn't. The Familiar Summoning Ritual was considered sacred. As long as you could hold your wand, you had to go.

Louise briefly considered blowing up her own hands, but no, she couldn't. She couldn't because then she wouldn't just be an unprecedented failure, she'd also be crippled for life. If she couldn't do magic, then she was as good as your average commoner. Commoners had to do manual labor, something she wouldn't be able to do if she lacked the necessary appendages.

In the end, she just prayed. She prayed as hard as she could. As she exited her room, ambling towards the dinner hall, she had only one thing in mind: begging God for success.

She was so focused she ignored the usual bullying she received, which had gotten increasingly worse over time. She ignored Kirche, she ignored the school's staff, the food on her plate plus everything else in order to ask for one, just one wish she hoped reached the ears of God. "Please, just this once, let the spell work. Let my hard work be worth something." She didn't even realize how close to tears she was until she noticed she was really feeling sick. Her eyes were burning, her fingers were numb, her mouth tasted like iron. The stress was killing her slowly but surely.

Kirche's sudden arrival didn't help. The petite girl tensed on reflex. Lately, Louise had even lost the will to talk back to her, which frustrated the Germanian girl to no end. So, she insulted her more. She humiliated her to the point where Louise was truly on the verge of crying, but luckily, Professor Colbert, Allfather bless his soul, had heard some of the poisonous words Louise was on the receiving end of.

—You're not just useless—she had told her—you're an active danger to everyone around you. Honestly, we would all be better off if you just exploded your own head!—she had crossed several lines there. She had been crossing lines pretty much every single time she spoke to the smaller girl. Even Kirche knew she had crossed some lines she truly shouldn't have crossed, but the venom got out from her mouth before she could stop herself. She was too frustrated with how things ended up being. Louise was someone who should have been her rival; their families had always had that kind of relationship. She expected better of her, but all she got was this meek girl who was nothing like the Louise she had once known.

Unknown to her, though, such conduct had inspired other students to give Louise similar abuse. By that point, everyone except for the school staff spoke to Louise as if she was trash or worse. She deeply missed the good old times when people called her "The Zero," for it was much more subtle than the things she was called these days.

—Miss Zerbst!—Mr. Colbert's voice boomed in the dinner hall, silencing everyone—How dare you! Such kind of vicious words should never be spoken to one of your fellow classmates, nor to anyone else!

Colbert's lecture kept going for ten minutes. Ten minutes Louise spent frozen on the spot, unable to move. She knew people were going to bully her even more now. Unlike her, Kirche was popular. She was talented, beautiful. She was everything nobles should be (except for her immodest behavior, of course). But it was Kirche's immodest behavior that made her popular with the male students; students she knew were going to be especially cruel to her today.

On the outside, she looked calm. Only if you looked closely you'd notice how pale she was, or how red her eyes were. Only up close, people would notice her slight trembling, but even if they did notice, no one would help her. No one could.

The rest of the morning was much like she expected. Students who could use Earth Magic would throw mud at her. Others would throw pebbles. They had enough good sense to not dirty her clothes too much, for then it'd be obvious they were tormenting her. Neither did the pebbles hit too hard, at least not the ones aimed at places not covered by her clothing. Her back was full of bruises though, as were her legs and arms.

"Payback," they'd call it. Payback for every time their own clothes were ruined by her explosive failures. Payback for every time they had been bruised because of her. Those who could use Water Magic would use it in several methods, but the most common one was to throw water at her feet. Her shoes had been ruined weeks ago. But the annoying part was how itchy her feet were afterwards. She'd have to keep her wet socks on for the entire day, too; because they threatened to do worse if she didn't.

Wind Magic users would shame her by lifting her skirt with their spells, then they'd comment on how "lacking" she was in all fronts. "Huh, I pity the man engaged to her," they'd whisper between them, "she literally has nothing."

She tried to fight back the first few times, but it was her against every single other student in the school. If she tried to use her own magic, then it would explode. It was much more noticeable than the things they were doing to her. She was already the school's failure. She had caused damage to school property on several occasions. She knew no small number of her professors wanted an excuse to expel her, to get rid of her for good, so if she fought back, she'd give them the excuse they craved. If she complained to the professors, then almost all other students would be on the bullies' side, so her teachers would not believe her.

They did as she imagined the moment breakfast was over. They threw pebbles at her back, splashed her shoes with water and flipped her skirt. This was her everyday life in this school. This had become Louise's normal life.

She tried to hurry to professor Colbert. Usually, if she was close enough to him, then they'd tsk'd, thinking it'd be too risky to mess with her if she was too close to the one professor who did not see her for the pest they believed her to be. So, they took countermeasures for this.

Several students surrounded Colbert, conversing amicably with him, leaving no room for Louise to squeeze herself in. The students behind her kept messing with her for all they were worth until they "finally," thought Louise, reached the place where the ceremony would take place. This was do or die for her. If she succeeded, then she could still hope things would change. Fixing her relationship with her fellow students was impossible. They hated her too much. If she was honest with herself, she hated them even more. But if she could successfully cast this one spell, then, perhaps, she could successfully cast another. Then another. Until one day, even if she wasn't the greatest mage to ever walk the world, she at the very least wouldn't be Louise The Failure or Louise The Trash or some of the other, much more rude monikers they had given her. Not anymore.

Louise The Meh was her goal. She wanted to reach the "meh" level. Not good, but not downright terrible. Like, she'd cast her spell, then someone would say "Oh, that was pretty meh." She could comfortably settle with that. Being mediocre was better than being trash, so all she wanted, all she prayed for, was to be mediocre. That's all she had been asking of The Founder as of late. "Please, please, just let me rank up to mediocrity!" was her sincere, heartfelt wish.

The preparations for the ritual were simple enough. Colbert swiftly prepared the sigil with the confidence of someone who had done it countless times. A large circle with the Pentagon representing the five elements was drawn on the ground in mere seconds. Once done, Colbert instructed everyone to stand around the circle, leaving some good space for the Summoning Ritual to be performed without issue.

—Now—Colbert smiled—who wants to go first?

"Not me," Louise thought. The other students were quick to raise their hands, though. Everyone, with the exception of Louise, seemed more than eager to summon their familiars. She internally wished they'd all summon something either ridiculous enough everyone would mock them for it, or something hungry which would much rather have them for lunch than as its Master.

Louise had actually memorized an entire list of familiars that had been summoned in the past. The book she had read divided them by tiers going from "F", the lowest, to "A", the highest. An F tier familiar would be something small, like common birds or rats. "A" tiers were amazing beings such as Gryphons. However, the "E" tiers, also known as Eldritch-type, were unique in the sense that they're all dangerous, mindless fiends who need to be put down the moment they're summoned. Such as the Phillis Mortis, an undead creature known to spread curses, poisons, all the nasty stuff, just by existing. Now, she hoped no one summoned one of those, but another "E" tier would be fine. "As long as I can outrun it, of course," she thought to herself.

The first student to go was one of the few she didn't downright despise. Sure, they were not friends, but Kieran Windhaven, third son of Baron Windhaven, never bothered her. He never bullied her. Of course, he did nothing to help her, either, but he also didn't go out of his way to make her miserable. In Louise's personal opinion, he should summon something on the upper tiers just because of that.

He was lucky. He summoned an impressive, large crow with feathers as dark as the night itself. It was large enough he could probably ride it. She recognized the creature, its species was in the book: it's called Raum. Upper B tier, almost A tier. Raums were unruly, enormous magical birds. Very loyal to their Masters, but kind of aggressive to everything else. Usually, they'd keep to themselves as long as no one provoked them, much like Kieran himself; who was known for being meek until you irked him enough. There were some funny stories about times he had lost his cool she could remember, one of them involving Kirche. Louise decided Kieran deserved an A tier just because of that one story. A Dragon, minimum, but oh well. The Raum was still quite something.

The next one, on the other hand, was Gabrielle Irina Velvet, one of Louise's main bullies. She was the water mage who kept splashing her feet with cold water. The Zero rushed through the list of Eldritch monsters she knew of, trying to decide which one would suit her. King of the Swamp would be nice. Those nasty fiends fused with their victims, often forming even more terrifying monsters. They were rare, of course. The menace they represented was so immense every single kingdom dispatched entire platoons to exterminate those wicked things two hundred years ago. Currently, they are considered extinct, but one could hope…

Louise tsk'd. She summoned something on the upper levels of the D tier. A Flying Whale. They were large enough to ride, but they were slow. Plus, while they could fly, they couldn't fly too high. Hovering Whale would be the more accurate name, but it's too late to change it now. On another note, they require large amounts of

water in order to survive. Overall? Cute pet. Kind of useless though. Kieran's Raum could demolish the oversized fish. Heck, commoners could kill those. They were scrumptious if well-prepared.

The rest were nothing worth nothing. Most of her class had summoned their familiars by now, the only ones left were Kirche, who deserved to summon an Eldritch monstrosity in Louise's opinion, Tabitha and Louise herself.

She had hoped Guiche de Gramont summoned something good. He wasn't kind to her, nor was he like Kieran who never mocked her, but Guiche never went beyond calling her Louise The Zero. He had also stopped spells directed towards her whenever he spotted someone trying to cause her harm, going as far as to admonish the perpetrators. She couldn't help but to question why he'd help her. In reply, he sighed, smiling to her as if she was six. "Principles," was the answer she got, then he walked off.

Louise assumed he must've been referring to the principles nobles are sworn to, Noblesse Oblige, to help those in need. (Guiche was referring to something else, though. However, Louise wouldn't know the truth until much, much later). If he wasn't the most notorious womanizer in the school, then he would have become someone Louise could respect or even admire.

She knew he was an Earth Mage, so she hoped he'd summon the best possible familiar for his brand of magic: the A Tier Gnome. Gnomes were amazing for manipulating earth, they were capable of strengthening their Masters' Earth Magic, especially constructs such as Guiche's Walkures, but…

He got an enormous earth mole, which he called Verðandi. He seemed quite pleased with her…

"Well, as long as he is happy," thought Louise, who allowed herself to smile for once. The smile died the moment she heard Kirche's voice, though.

The redhead was chanting. The holy words of the summoning ritual felt like curses when she spoke them. A few months ago, Louise, in spite of how much he despised Kirche, would never have wished her harm, but now? A Phillis Mortis would fit her. Those things were as vicious as she was.

But nope.

—Fuck—she cussed, her voice low. Kirche had summoned an impressive lizard with crimson scales. Upper B Tier: Salamander. A fire-breathing lizard, distantly related

to Dragons. The one Kirche had summoned was still small, but those things grew to be very large; the older ones were as big as Louise's classroom.

People cheered. Louise sulked. Next one was Tabitha. Now, Tabitha had never bothered her personally, but she was friends with Kirche, so Louise's opinion of her wasn't good.

And she summoned the highest possible tier. Upper A Rank: A Dragon. No explanation needed there. No one needed to be told how amazing Dragons were. They were Dragons, for crying out loud. To top it all off, it wasn't an "ordinary" Dragon (there was no such thing as ordinary Dragons) it was an extremely rare variety of them called Rhyme Dragon. Tabitha had summoned something that was simply peerless.

And now, she was the only one who was yet to summon.

Louise's knees were shaking. "How am I supposed to go after that?!" she shouted in her mind. She'd look simply awful even if she summoned something like Kieran's Raum, not like she even entertained the thought of calling forth something even remotely as good as the large crow.

—Miss Vallière, if you would…

Professor Colbert gestured for her to approach the sigil, an encouraging smile on his face.

"This is it," she took the deepest breath of her life before moving on trembling legs towards the magic circle. She could listen to her classmates' comments, their insults. They echoed her own thoughts.

—She's going to fail.

"I'm going to fail."

—She's trash, after all.

"I'm trash, after all."

—If she can't even do this, then she'll be expelled.

"I will be expelled."

—Will the Vallière family even take her back, though?

"Will they? Mother loathes weak, useless people. And I am…"

She did her best to keep those thoughts off her mind. She was now inside the Summoning Ritual's magic circle. "I can do this," she told herself. "I will succeed!" With those thoughts, she pointed her wand to the center of the Pentagon. Still praying to The Founder, she commenced the spell.

—I, Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, in the name of the great Five Pentagon Powers, following my fate, summon a familiar.

In response to her words, the circle glowed with white light. Hope filled Louise. "It's working!" She thought to herself, however, slowly, the light turned dimmer. With no signs of something showing up, the circle's light completely faded.

Louise was crushed.

The expected mockery had begun, but she couldn't listen to it. All she could hear was her inner-voice, wondering "Why?" She had worked so hard for this, endured so much for this once chance to redeem herself, "Why didn't it work?"

She could've found her answer in 2005's Japan. Hiraga Saito, the person who should've answered her call, noticed the portal opening in front of him soon enough to sidestep it. Understandably wary of it, he quickly distanced himself from the strange thing in front of him, as did every other single person on the sidewalk. He stared at it until it was gone.

Worry not, though. Saito eventually starred in an average slice-of-life romantic comedy centered around his school life, so things went well for him. Rie Kugimiya even voiced his main love interest, so all in all, he did pretty well.

But returning to Louise… She wasn't doing so well. Her classmates (soon-to-be former classmates, she figured) did not all back on their comments of her failure. They were loud, cruel and unbridled. Not even Colbert's words could stop them this time. The only ones not joining in on the "fun" were Kieran, Guiche, Tabitha and Kirche, the latter of the four not even bothering to look in her direction anymore.

However, soon, her classmates' voices transformed into someone else's voice.

—Why did you come back?—her mother's stern tone replaced her classmates' mocking voices—You have no place here, Louise. Leave.

—B-But mother!

—Do not call me mother, failure!

She couldn't believe her own ears. Sure, her mother did despise useless people, but…!

—Are your ears useless as well, Louise?—this time, it was her big sister Eleonor—We don't need someone like you in this house! You will only continue to tarnish the family's name if we let you in!

—Le-Leonore…

—Louise…

No… No! No, please no!

—Please don't keep embarrassing yourself.

—Big sister… Cattleya…

One by one, her entire family turned their backs on her. Their expressions were the definition of "hate," an expression she was now all too familiar with. Her father didn't even believe her worthy of his breath, choosing to simply leave her where she stood without offering as much as one single word for his daughter.

Of course, the Princess, as well as Lord Wardes, left her alone, too, as did everyone else.

Her eyes were dead. She was barely aware of where she was, but she knew one thing. She had to do something. If she did not succeed, then she'd be all alone. All the people she cared about would simply ditch her like the trash she is. Louise The Trash. Between her countless new, more offensive monikers, "The Trash" seemed to be the most fitting for her, or so her troubled mind believed.

"I know," she thought. "I need to summon my familiar, that's all I need." She points her wand towards the Summoning Circle, once more, very slowly. She resists the urge lick her lips. Her mouth feels dry, so even if she did she probably would not even moisten her lips.

She notices Colbert is telling her something, but she isn't listening.

There's only one thing in her mind in those moments prior to the summoning, "A familiar can't leave you." Louise had but one wish then, one single, simple yet seemingly impossible desire: "I don't want to be alone."

She had studied every single version of the Summoning Spell, so she was prepared to try them all, but "Nothing ever works for me, so…"

She poured her entire being into her wish. Every single ounce of willpower she could muster, all of her work, as well as her poor, broken heart was used to perform this one spell. She even thought she wouldn't mind it if she could never use magic again as long as this one spell worked.

In response, words sprouted from the deepest crevices of her soul.

—My name is Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière—talking feels so odd to her now. It's been months since she spoke out loud, so she figured it was to be expected—Pentagon of Power, Five Elements, spin once, twince, thrice. Spin. Spin. Spin, following destiny's decree—the Summoning Circle responded once more, shining much brighter than ever before—I hereby declare to be all of the Virtues of Heaven, to be the Judge of all of the World's Evils…

Colbert, as well as the people listening to Louise's words, raised their eyebrows in confusion. Then, Colbert's jaw fell in utter disbelief.

—Those… are the wrong words—Tabitha spoke, suddenly on edge. Like Colbert, but unlike the rest of the students, she noticed the tremendous energy following unbridled from Louise's petite form.

—The sigil… is changing! Miss Vallière! Stop!

When one uses the Familiar Summoning Spell, the magic circle on the floor will shine. Such had been the case for every single summon Colbert had overseen in his long career. Every single one of the other twenty-eight summons performed here today had been the same, but Louise's was different.

Small spheres of iridescent light popped up from the circle's rim, then, together with the Pentagon, they spinned, picking up speed little by little until all you could see was the colorful blur caused by their rapid movement.

—Stop, Louise!

With his words unheard, he tried to grab her by the shoulder, but he couldn't reach her. She was right there in front of him, within arms' reach, but regardless of how much he pushed forwards, he never seemed to close the distance. It was as if she was in another world, completely cut off from the one he was in.

—Your blade will carve my destiny. Your flesh will serve under me. If the Rainbow Bridge carries over this voice to where you are, then come forth in the name of the covenant!

Louise was engulfed in light. On that day, Halkeginia's sky was pierced by light of seven different colors.

—Motherfucker—I whispered, annoyed.

It's been three weeks since Mr. Bloom's death. The store is doing well enough in spite of his absence. As per his wishes, I only sold the stuff he considered "boring," such as jewelry with no real history behind them.

The Moonstone Blades, or the Odd Moons if you prefer, were difficult to research. But I did. I had clues I could follow; clues I'm sure Mr. Bloom knew of, too, but chose to ignore due to how boring the end result had turned out to be. If I were to guess, he had solved the mystery long ago, but chose to ignore the obvious solution to the mystery due to how utterly unsatisfying it felt.

Simply put, the mystery couldn't be solved.

The three "Odd Moons," now four, 'cuz I happened to run into the sixth one by chance (yes, the sixth one. Not even Mr. Bloom knew there were more than five) all had one more oddity in common besides the Moonstone. They all have something written on them; the signature of whomever forged them, I believe. Someone from Yale University will be coming some time this week to confirm our suspicions, but everyone involved in this all firmly believes there is no other answer.

The swords, as well as the sixth Odd Moon (which is even odder than the blades), are all related to the damn Voynich manuscript. The inscriptions in the blades all fit the unknown text of the old codex, if you add to that to how all these objects seem to be from the same time period, well, two plus two equals four.

So, the mystery is solved. The mystery can't be solved, since Voynich's texts can't be deciphered. People from all over the world had tried to, but no one succeeded. Hence, the Odd Moon's mystery, if they're indeed linked to Voynich's book, can't be solved.

So now…

I'm bored.

There's nothing to do in this store now. With Mr. Bloom gone, there's no one to talk to. It's absolutely freezing outside, so I doubt we will be receiving customers. So…

When I'm bored, I do stupid things.

I stood up from where I was sitting, then I went to the storage room. If my memory is correct, we have some sword holsters in there.

I grinned like Cheshire. In life, Mr. Bloom never allowed me to play with the weapons we had in the store. However, the store is now mine. There are three interesting blades sitting around doing nothing, plus some other fun things we men can't not toy with.

I picked up one sword belt. This sword belt had room for two swords. Then I picked up an old drop leg holster before getting the Odd Moons, plus the Colt Frontier Six Shooter Revolver I've had my eye on since I was hired here.

I walked up to the full body mirror in Mr. Bloom's office.

Selfie time.

I took several photos, just 'cuz I believed I looked wicked cool with all these things on. Plus, the outfit I had on looked good with this. Classy, yet deadly. Usually, just the trench coat was enough for me to feel cool. I never knew medieval weaponry was the piece I was missing to feel like the absolute badass I always wished to be.

—Like, legit, this is the MC's drip I never knew I needed right here. John Wick's suits would be fluttering in insecurity. Damn.

Once I was done with the photos, I went to the backyard. The backyard was, like the front of the store, usually full of all kinds of flowers. However, December did not allow Mr. Bloom's flowers to bloom. I went there, in spite of the chilly weather, to

play with the Odd Moons. A boy such as myself simply could not help the burning desire to swing those valuable swords.

All the other places in the store were packed full of valuables, so, for safety reasons, I had to go to the backyard if I wished to properly play with the Odd Moons. I thought of shooting the Colt Frontier, too. I had the bullets for it, but I didn't wish to risk the neighbors calling the police. However, I decided to pick up some bullets. I was the kind of person who simply did as he pleased, so if I was tempted enough, I would definitely try out the old Revolver.

I knew Mr. Bloom would be shouting all sorts of curses if he knew I was doing this, but if he didn't want me to play with the weapons in the store, he shouldn't have given it to me. He knew, more than anyone, how much I liked weapons, especially swords. Guns, though? I wasn't too fond of them. My father loved them. He even owned some, but I dislike them. They were too loud. I hate the ringing they leave on my poor ears, so I knew I wouldn't use the Frontier even though I bothered to pick up some bullets for it.

The moment I set foot in the backyard, I was enveloped in iridescent lights. I felt myself fall slowly. In those moments, I felt weightless. I could see nothing beyond the curtain of lights which surrounded me.

I was, in all honesty, feeling an odd mix of worry and intrigue. On one side, the adventurous side of me felt thrilled. This was new, unknown territory. However, the more logical side of me was simply terrified. This was an unknown crisis I could not comprehend.

I was supposed to be in Relics's backyard. I was supposed to see snow. I was supposed to see gardening tools sprawled randomly all over the place, but the sight in front of me was much more than I could describe in my current state of mind. Even in my normal state of mind, I would've had trouble describing the things I saw in the scarce few seconds I had to view the things in front of me, slightly blurred by colorful lights.

Once all of it was done, I realized I was far from home.

Mr. Bloom had encouraged me to specialize in some fields of study. He was an expert of European things, as well as African things. So he told me to specialize in Asian things, since I preferred Japanese stuff over other things. I still learned some things from several other cultures.

The place I stood in was European, old European architecture to be precise. Actually, you did not need to study to figure it out, as the landscape in front of me all but yelled medieval Europe. The thing I was wondering was "where in Europe?"

The second thing I was wondering was "how the fuck did I end up here?" I would've asked. I noticed people standing around, but I simply didn't have the chance.

Two warm hands firmly touched my cheeks as if refusing to let go.

—My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière. I beg of this world to offer this being all of its blessings.

I barely had time to see the girl standing in front of me. All I could truly see were her pink eyes approaching me as her soft lips touched mine. I could tell how desperate her kiss was, even with the little experience I had with kissing. She pushed her lips on mine as if her life depended on it.

I can't say I enjoyed it. I was uncomfortable with other people's touch. If she hadn't held my face so firmly in her hands, I would've stepped back on reflex. Moreover, to me, kissing was reserved to very precious people, loved ones I had decided to entrust with my heart. This girl did not have the right to do this, but she did.

This kiss was short-lived, or I felt it was. Frankly, maybe she kissed me for entire minutes, but it felt fleeting.

The moment our lips separated, I experienced pain like I never felt before. Begging from my left hand, an intense burning sensation spread to the entirety of my body, coursing through every blood vessel, every nerve, for several agonizing moments. If I had to compare this pain to something else, I'd say it felt like someone poured fire on my tooth's exposed nerve, but the pain spread to every single inch of my body. This was, in all honesty, the single most painful experience I had the misfortune of going through.

I fell on my knees. I couldn't scream. This was the kind of pain that wouldn't even let you scream in pain. All I could do was tense up my entire body, mouth wide open as if trying to scream, but no sound would come out. I held my left hand tightly, as if doing so would someone lessen the pain.

The girl who kissed me fell on her knees, too. She was telling me something. I could see her small mouth move as if to speak, but my brain couldn't spare the resources to listen. I was conscious simply because the pain would not allow me to blackout, so the functions required to comprehend words simply refused to work.

As the pain slowly subsided, I lost consciousness in the girl's arms.

Intertwined Worlds: Chapter 1, end.