I and the Witch of Time Who Seeks the Past

Preparation (1)

After the Old Mansion Incident

Back at the hotel, I lay the sleeping Lijedahl gently on the bed and took the sofa for myself.

After such a long day, I didn’t have the energy to think about anything more. I drifted off instantly.

December 4, 2030 – 6:30 AM

The night had been unusually quiet. My prophetic dreams were gone.

Though I felt relief at no longer being haunted by those troubling visions, the absence left me strangely uneasy.

But other questions lingered — pressing, insistent.

Lijedahl…

What is she? What happened to her? Are the legends true? Is she truly a witch? What were those strange events yesterday? If she wields such overwhelming magic, why has she remained in that old mansion all this time?

These doubts all crashed in on me that morning.

I looked over at her. She was still in that same black robe, sleeping soundly on the bed, her expression peaceful.

…Forget it. A shower first.

I rose and prepared to bathe.

I’ve always been an early riser. Even after only five hours of sleep, I still felt surprisingly alert.

After washing up, I changed into a black suit. At the same time, she stirred awake.

…Or rather, I had probably woken her.

Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, and the robe had slipped from her shoulder, baring her left side.

It felt improper to look at her that way, so I turned aside and asked,

“Did you sleep well? How do you feel?”

“Mm…?”

Her voice was faint and unclear — she wasn’t fully awake.

But now that she was up, there wasn’t much point in going back to sleep.

“Since you’re awake, you should wash up too. Afterward, I’ll head out and buy you some clothes.”

She looked dazed for a moment, then murmured,

"Oh, right."

Slowly, she got up from the bed.

Ah — I had overlooked a problem.

I couldn’t just walk her outside like this. She had no shoes, and her robe was tattered. We’d probably be stopped by the police if we walked down the street like that.

So I asked,

“Um, Miss Lijedahl, what kind of clothes would you like?”

I turned back to face her — and noticed, for the first time, that her eyes were a deep black.

“…”

She seemed to be lost in thought, though her robe was still slipping out of place.

I sighed and tugged it back into order, covering her more properly.

…Was I her guardian now, fussing over her like a child?

She scratched at her already-messy hair, making it look even more disheveled.

“I don’t know.”

Good grief. She’d been thinking that long, just for that?

I couldn’t help but laugh helplessly.

“Well then…”

I pulled out my phone and searched for clothing styles suitable for girls her age.

I glanced at her — about 160 centimeters tall, long black hair, delicate and pretty features. So…

“What about this one?”

I showed her a few examples of modern women’s clothing. Maybe, despite being from another time, she’d take an interest?

She looked at them, then back at me, and said flatly:

“I don’t understand.”

…Of course.

What else could I do? I knew next to nothing about women’s fashion, and I had no idea what shops even sold.

“Uh… sorry, Miss Lijedahl. I really don’t know what kind of clothes to find for you. But what you’re wearing now isn’t suitable for going out. I’ll just have to do my best.”

She thought for a moment, then said:

“It’s fine. You don’t need to apologize. Whatever clothes you give me, I’ll wear them.”

Her face looked expressionless—perhaps it was just her nature—but somehow I couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t entirely satisfied.

“Well then… do you know how to use the bathroom?”

She glanced inside, then looked back at me and shook her head.

I figured as much.

“By the way… what year is it now?”

“Ah…”

As I expected—she really was from the past.

“Miss Lijedahl, do you remember what time it was when you were sealed inside that old mansion?”

“At that time the Church’s control was chaotic. Different sects were fighting each other, plague spread everywhere, and many countries were at war. Eventually, I heard that there were places where witches were no longer hunted… but in the end, it was all in vain.”

So… religious wars? No, wait… the Thirty Years’ War?

“It’s been over four hundred years since then.”

“…! Oh…”

That must have been a cruel and painful era.

I looked at her. A shadow had fallen across her face, and her eyes seemed to shift into a shade of blue.

I decided not to press further.

“By the way.”

She spoke slowly, almost lazily.

“I think your outfit looks rather nice.”

Huh? What does that mean?

“Miss Lijedahl, do you want clothes like this suit?”

“No, not that.”

She folded her hands behind her back and bit her lip.

“Forget it. Anything’s fine.”

That was her reply.

…Was that little gesture just now something she does when she’s conflicted?

Well, I had no idea what else to ask anyway.

After teaching her the basics of how to use the household appliances, I headed out.

Half an hour later.

I was walking down the street with an umbrella in hand. England’s damp climate made rain a common sight.

And here I was, still agonizing over what to buy.

“I’m really not good at this kind of thing,” I muttered to myself.

Choosing shoes, picking clothes—once I actually tried doing it, I realized how difficult it was. I didn’t even know her size. I came out without checking her shoe size at all. Honestly, I hadn’t thought any of this through.

As I was brooding and about to head back, something on the ground caught my attention.

“…What’s this?”

I stepped closer and saw a line of hoofprints—like those of a deer—suddenly appearing on the street, leading into an alley to my left.

At the same time, I noticed a shop inside the alley. Warm, amber-colored light glowed from within.

Looking closer, I saw a sign hanging above the entrance:

“Eternal Light.”

Such an elegant name. Coupled with the strange sight I’d just witnessed, it carried a certain mysterious allure.

So I went in to take a look.

The moment I stepped into the alley, the store’s true appearance became clearer.

It was a clothing shop. Amber lights illuminated displays of classical garments.

The storefront had a dignified, old-fashioned design, almost medieval in style.

No—more accurately, it looked exactly like the kind of mysterious shop you’d expect to find in a fantasy novel.

At that moment, I understood—this probably wasn’t mere coincidence.

Even so, I pushed open the soft, polished wooden door. A bell tied to the frame chimed gently as it swung open.

“Welcome.”

Inside, I finally got a good look.

A counter. Rows upon rows of clothing, each unique, none repeated. Classical, gothic, lolita, even traditional Eastern styles.

The interior was lavish and elegant, making me feel completely out of place.

As for the clothes themselves… there was every kind imaginable, though my knowledge was limited—I could only recognize a few.

The woman behind the counter was elegant, dressed like a noblewoman from the Middle Ages. White accents highlighted her graceful figure; a rose was pinned to her hat. She was beautiful and composed, and she regarded me with calm confidence.

“We seldom get customers. Welcome—what sort of clothing are you looking for?”

I was taken aback by her appearance, but recovered quickly and asked cautiously, “Do you have something that would make a lady look elegant and dashing?”

“Oh, of course, sir. What style do you have in mind?”

I thought for a moment. “Something mature.”

“How about gothic?”

“Sounds good.”

Okay, let's switch gears.

 “I also need a pair of shoes.”

“All right. She’s about 1.62 meters tall, yes?”

Her casual accuracy made my eyes widen. She half-turned to me and said, “I know a great many things, so…”

I couldn’t read her face, but I could see a smile that suggested she’d seen everything.

“No need to be wary. Eternal Light provides only clothing — we don’t pry into other matters.”

I wasn’t surprised, though it was a little unnerving that she’d known I’d come out shopping.

“You don’t seem very surprised, Mr. Will?” she observed, smiling faintly. Something about it sent a shiver through me.

“I am surprised,” I said calmly.

“But I understand quickly enough — though I’m not sure how you knew.”

She laughed softly. “You’re an interesting man. As I said—don’t be guarded. I bear you no ill will regarding the Witch of Time.”

The Witch of Time? Lijedahl?

No, it's too early to jump to conclusions.

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Ah…” She turned toward the racks of clothes. “Then there’s nothing more I need say. She’ll tell you herself.”

With a snap of her fingers the garments seemed to come alive: they lifted from their hangers and spun around us in an orderly, air-borne swirl.

“Well? Pick one.”

I was astonished, but forced myself to remain composed. “This is… surprising.”

“You’re an ordinary person; you don’t understand magic, do you?” she teased.

“No…”

“Hmm.” She chuckled. “Made your choice yet?”

“Ah — right.” I reminded myself of my purpose and began to choose seriously.

“These clothes have been tailored to her measurements and then cleaned; don’t worry about sizes.”

I scanned the elegant array and tried to imagine what she might want. Then I saw a set that caught me — and I remembered her earlier comment about liking my suit.

I pointed. “I think she would like this.”

The woman’s face showed mild surprise. “Oh? She’s taken to androgynous styles now?”

“To be honest, I can’t be sure. But I have a feeling this is what she’d choose.”

The outfit had a suiting vibe with a gothic edge: a black coat embroidered with roses wrapped over a black long-sleeve shirt; short black stockings paired with tailored black trousers trimmed in white curved patterns; a pair of modest black height-increasing shoes; and a set of black gloves.

“After all this time, her taste has shifted,” the shopkeeper murmured, amused.

“Are you acquainted with Miss Lijedahl, then?”

She glanced at me. “Once I was. Now I don’t know whether she remembers me.”

“Then what should I call you?”

“Call me Finiel.”

“All right, Miss Finiel.”

By the time I finished speaking, the outfit had been wrapped and floated before me.

“I hope everything goes well for you and her, sir.”

What did she mean by that?

I was about to ask when she cut me off: “Consider it a gift for an old friend.”

With another snap, everything vanished. The shop dissolved from sight.

“Magic..”

That was magic — but what did she mean by “gift for an old friend”?

A bad thought crossed my mind. I gripped the wrapped outfit and ran back toward the hotel.