The Hand That Reached Out

— Year 380 of the Esria Kingdom Calendar, Late Autumn —

“Are you hungry?”

Resting her elbow on the ground, Noi Galenée lay flat, her long white hair spread across the floor as she reached under the table.

“If you are, then you shouldn’t stay there. To eat properly, you have to come out into the light, sit down, and say ‘let’s eat.’”

Noi’s home was small and overflowing with all manner of things.

Being the lazy sort, she had crammed unused tools and empty boxes haphazardly beneath the table, making it difficult even to spot the little apprentice who had crawled deep underneath.

“…”

The small child, no older than six, crouched in the dark clutching their thin body.

Through the tangled strands of greasy, matted black hair, a pair of faintly glowing red eyes peered out. A sour, stale odor rose from the child, who clearly hadn’t bathed in a long time.

As if coaxing a frightened kitten with its fur standing on end, Noi narrowed her peppermint-colored eyes, speaking softly and patiently.

“Come now. I’m absolutely starving.”

But her gentle plea went unanswered. The child remained silent and motionless.

For at least three hours now, Noi and her newly taken apprentice had repeated this same exchange.

—Four hours earlier.

The child had been brought to Noi’s secluded mountain home by the crown prince of Esria, Fengalow.

“Noi Galenée—Magus of this kingdom—by royal decree, you are to serve as the warden of the Demon King.”

Arriving right at midday, Fengalow had declared this without wavering, even as Noi sat before him, chewing on a roasted pheasant.

Noi blinked once, her long lashes fluttering. She exuded a feminine grace and soft allure—but the bone-in meat she was biting into hardly matched that image.

With fingers slick from pheasant grease, she pointed toward the chair across from her.

The two guards standing behind Fengalow stiffened at the casual gesture, but the prince sat down without changing expression.

Fengalow, twenty-six years old, was two years her senior—but Noi had always been this way.

“Want some?”

She offered him half of the roasted pheasant, and for the first time, his expression shifted.

“If you intend to serve a guest, you could at least bring out a plate.”

“First you barge in without warning, flying in on a Zephyrai—and now you complain? If you’re going to grumble, then forget it.”

Glancing toward the window, where the winged lion-like magical beast hovered, Noi pulled the pheasant back. Fengalow extended his arm and snatched the roast away.

Then, looking past her toward the tall cupboard, he raised a hand.

“For a woman living alone, that shelf must be inconveniently high.”

At his words, one of the guards stepped forward, but Noi only snorted with amusement.

“There’s nothing inconvenient for someone like me.”

She twitched her fingers ever so slightly, weaving a magic circle. Her speed far surpassed that of any ordinary mage.

With a rush of air, the cupboard doors burst open. Plates rose swiftly into the air, and one plate shot out, flying straight to the prince’s side with incredible precision. The cupboard slammed shut with a loud bang just as the plate landed neatly on the table.

The guards could only stare, dumbfounded.

A mage used magic.

To cast a spell, one must weave a magic circle—and even the smallest magic requires a certain amount of time.

Noi had accomplished it in mere moments, using only the faintest motion of her fingers.

Before the astonished guards, Fengalow’s lips curled in pride.

Noi glared up at him. She disliked being treated as a spectacle.

“So? It’s rare for you to come asking favors. I haven’t seen your face once in the two years since I rejected your proposal.”

The guards went pale at her words, armor clattering in disarray.

“It was… a childish game, nothing more than a jest.”

Fengalow croaked, sounding as though he’d been wrung like a wet rag.

“If you want to insist on that, you should at least say it with a straight face.”

Swinging the bone between her fingers, Noi’s voice dripped with teasing reproach.

“Then what, by bringing that up, are you saying your feelings have changed?”

He retorted quickly.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“It’s not?”

He sighed, setting the pheasant on the plate and propping his elbow on the table. Noi continued to chew leisurely, watching him.

Though she cared for Fengalow deeply—as a fellow apprentice, almost like family—she wasn’t cheap enough to sell herself for the sake of his political footing.

By the time she had gnawed every scrap of meat from the bone, he finally spoke again, his face solemn.

“The Starseer has read the heavens. The Demon King is soon to be reborn.”

Noi placed the bone onto the plate.

She had assumed there must be an important reason for the crown prince—her fellow disciple—to visit personally, but this was more serious than expected.

The Starseer was a title given to the greatest diviner of the realm, a mage whose astrology could see beyond the veil of time.

Their predictions were never wrong—whether for minor incidents or world-shaking upheavals.

The crown placed immense faith in them; it was said the late king had even chosen his heir based on the Starseer’s prophecy.

And now that same Starseer had foreseen the Demon King—the ruler of darkness destined to destroy the world. This was not a vague possibility; it was an inevitable fate.

—The Demon King.

The dark ruler who had plunged the world into terror two thousand years ago.

It was said his overwhelming magic had caused half the world to collapse.

So impossible was the tale that most dismissed it as a mere fairy story—until now.

“And the one who shall defeat the Demon King,” Fengalow continued bitterly, “is said to be the kingdom’s greatest mage—Noi Galenée.”

He looked pained as he said it.

No doubt he had resisted the prophecy to the very end.

Though renowned as the kingdom’s finest mage, Noi was still a young woman of twenty-four. Trustworthy as her power was, entrusting her with the fate of the world was another matter.

(He’s as overprotective as ever.)

Noi crossed her long, slender legs, her white hair rippling down her back.

Ever since childhood, she had often been the target of unfair accusations.

And every time, it had been Fengalow who used his authority to shield her.

He could never forget the sight of a little girl crying after being pelted with stones. Even now, as adults, he couldn’t stop worrying about her.

Of course, he didn’t know that the tears had been fake—merely a ploy to lower the guards of her bullying senior apprentices. To him, she was still that adorable, helpless girl.

Suppressing a faint, wistful smile, Noi pushed back her chair and stood. She laced her fingers together, lifted them slightly, and bowed.

“I accept the charge.”

Her white hair flowed down like silk. Fengalow exhaled heavily and leaned back in his chair.

“I’ll ask again—”

“Yes?”

“Will you not become my bride?”

When Noi laughed softly and said, “You really don’t give up easily,” Fengalow groaned, clutching his head.

Perhaps he thought that if her title changed from “the kingdom’s greatest mage” to “the crown prince’s consort,” fate itself might change.

This was not something a crown prince should be doing. He could have stayed in the palace, sitting on his throne, and simply awaited the outcome—yet here he was, deep in the mountains, with only a few guards. Likely, he intended to give her a chance to flee if things went wrong.

(…Am I going to die?)

The Starseer’s prophecies never failed. Perhaps the words “at the cost of her own life” were part of it.

To face the Demon King required resolve—more than anyone could ever prepare for.