I and the Witch of Time Who Seeks the Past

Preparation (2)

About ten minutes later.

I returned to the hotel. The walk back had been uneventful, and soon I was standing at the door of the room I’d booked. Cautious as ever, I knocked.

Before long, I heard the door open.

It was Lijedahl. Her eyes now looked a pale yellow.

“You’re back?”

Her tone sounded faintly cheerful.

“Yes.”

I smiled at her—thankfully, nothing had happened on the way.

When I stepped inside, I noticed water on the floor. It looked like she had just bathed.

“Did you only just finish washing up?”

“Mhm! Things in this era are so amazing.”

She actually looked happy. Normally, she wore a blank expression, but when she was in a good mood, she became lively—almost childlike.

Steam still rose faintly from her, the scent of shampoo lingering strongly in the air. She was still wrapped in that old robe.

“Did you use too much shampoo? And… did you stay in there too long?”

"Did I?"

Her hair was still damp.

Ah, right—I almost forgot about this.

I hung my hat and umbrella on the rack by the door, shut it, and walked over to the cabinet by the bed. Taking out a hair dryer, I said:

“Miss Lijedahl, you’ll need to dry your hair.”

Her eyes shifted to a pale green. She asked, “What is that?”

“This? It blows out warm air—it’s for drying your hair. Since you’ve just bathed, leaving your hair wet won’t feel comfortable.”

She touched her hair lightly.

“Oh… I see.”

I had her sit with her back to me while I stood to the side, gently brushing as I ran the dryer.

It was my first time drying a girl’s hair, so I tried to be as careful as I could.

“How… how does it feel?”

Her eyes closed, and she said softly, “Warm wind… it feels nice.”

Hearing that, I was relieved. For some reason, seeing her like this filled me with a strange sense of accomplishment.

“That’s good.”

While drying her hair, I took the chance to ask something I’d been wondering for a while.

“Miss Lijedahl, why do your eyes keep… changing?”

“Oh, that’s because of magic.”

“Magic?”

“Magic shifts with one’s emotions. My eyes resonate with magic very strongly, so the changes you see are because of magic."

So… basically tied to her emotions. At least now I knew why.

“And what exactly is magic?”

She glanced at her hand.

“Everyone has a little magic. The difference is whether they can use it or not.”

She reached out, and a slip of paper floated from the table into her palm.

“There are countless types of magic. Different people can only use the ones suited to them. If someone forces themselves to use a magic that doesn’t match their affinity, the body rejects that magic violently.”

“Then… what about you, Miss Lijedahl? What kind of magic can you use?”

“I… I’m a little special. I could use every kind of magic. That was in the past, though. Now I can only use two, and I have very little magic.”

Even just two sounded far stronger than normal people.

“Specifically?”

“Air magic and time magic.”

She paused, then went on:

“At present, my air magic can only make objects float. Anything more is beyond me—my magic is too restricted.”

“And… time magic?”

“That… requires the Chronomantic Clock.”

“The Chronomantic Clock? You mean that massive clock in the mansion?”

“Yes. And then…”

I listened closely as she explained.

“I named that house the Woodland Manor.”

“Oh! Sorry.”

A little rude of me.

“All right — one more question. How did you survive in there for nearly four hundred years? And you can float, right? Why didn’t you just leave?”

I fired the questions in a rush and waited. She let out a long breath.

“Because I was sealed. I was cursed. My sisters were sealed too. Those seals block our magic — like birds trapped in cages.”

“Ah…”

“As for how I survived: before they sealed me, I used up nearly all my magic to protect myself. See — after so many years, when I was finally freed, almost all my power was gone.”

She faced away from me, but I could tell she was sad.

“Miss Lijedahl… should we try to find them?”

“No. They’re all dead.”

Her words made my chest ache.

“How… how do you know?”

“Sisters can sense one another through a unique bond. Even with very little power, we can feel each other. Over these four hundred years, I… gradually felt nothing. First one, then another — four times I lost the feeling, until finally there was nothing left.”

She kept her head bowed. I reached out and stroked her hair gently.

“Miss Lijedahl, your hair is dry now.”

“Mm.”

She turned, tears at the corners of her eyes, yet a faint smile on her lips.

“Thank you — for everything.”

“Miss Lijedahl…”

“Hm?”

She wiped her eyes and looked at me. “How was your seal broken?”

I shouldn’t have asked, but I wanted to know.

“Because you are the fated one.”

There it was again: “the fated one.”

“But I don’t know any magic. I don’t know any of this.”

“You have prophetic dreams, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That was my plea for help — the last spell I cast before the seal. Its purpose was to… save me.”

I fell silent and listened.

“I knew what being sealed would mean, so I reserved some of my magic and left it to be carried to someone who could bear it. I sealed my cry for help inside a dream. A seal is easy to break from the outside but not from the inside — like a lock.”

“But few can bear my magic; fewer still would seek me out. If a generation dies off, the magic will look for a new host, and after such a long chain of handoffs…” She pointed at me. “You are the only one who found me and freed me.”

She smiled at me.

“So… this makes me your… ‘fated one’?”

The revelation stunned me.

“My sisters, of course, never found theirs,” she said, closing her eyes. “I am fortunate. I’m grateful. Dreams wear away over the years — they get damaged and fragmented — and yet you still found me.”

“Ah… so when I slipped into that underground chamber, the seal was broken.”

“Yes. It seems our fates have intertwined.”

Lijedahl no longer looked like the sleepy, bewildered girl I first met; now she seemed wise and composed.

“Miss Lijedahl… you—” I began.

“No,” she cut me off. “Don’t be so sad. And just call me Lijedahl.”

“All right. Lijedahl.”

She nodded gently.

“Oh — and the clothes I promised you are there. You can try them on.”

She walked over and opened the wrapped package.

“Wow!”

She breathed out in surprise. I noticed her eyes had taken on a pale yellow-green shimmer.

“Thank you, Will.”

She slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.

I was glad she genuinely liked the outfit.

But… where had I actually bought it?

…Perhaps that didn’t matter.

I found myself musing over what she’d said earlier.

“Fate is strange…”

I couldn’t help the whisper.

At the same time, a cold foreboding gnawed at me. After a moment’s thought, she called out cheerfully,

“Will!”

I walked over.

“What is it?”

“Look.”

She had already put on the clothes.

I was left speechless. It fit her unexpectedly well, and she looked—stunning and dashing at once.

“Wow.”

I couldn’t help exclaiming.

"You look... just incredible, beyond my imagination."

I had never pictured a girl like this would be standing before me; it felt more impressive than anything on television. I watched her smile—the very same smile that had carried me through the sky that night.

It was captivating..

“Ahem.”

Lijedahl cleared her throat softly.

“You’ve been staring at me for quite a while.”

“Ah…!”

I did it again..

“This… this is rude of me.”

“It’s fine.”

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door.

Knock, knock.

I turned toward the sound.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” a voice called from outside.

I was about to open the door when Lijedahl grabbed my arm.

“Will, there is a very strong magical presence outside.”

What?!

In an instant, Finiel’s words flashed through my mind. Could it be—?

I looked at Lijedahl. Her face had grown serious; her eyes had darkened to gray.

Who... is outside the door...?