The dreary weather continued from the morning.
The damp snow falling from the low-hanging clouds muddied the streets of Coachman’s Lodge even after noon. There were few people on the street, and those who were there walked briskly.
Even on such a day, Izakaya Nobu was busy preparing to open.
With Eva and Hermina taking a break, only Shinobu and Nobuyuki were working inside the restaurant.
If that was all, it would be like going back to the beginning of the year when the restaurant first opened, but Ingrid was also there.
She seemed to have been out drinking last night, and had passed out and was resting here since morning.
She was slumped over the table in the back, apparently suffering from a terrible hangover, but when Shinobu brought her a small plate of pudding to check if she was still alive, her mouth was moving, so she didn’t seem to be dead.
Camilla, who had come to check on her, said that the witch uproar had taken a considerable toll on her.
It wasn’t as if Ingrid was to blame for this incident, but she had even considered moving at one point.
Shinobu was gazing blankly at Nobuyuki, who was peeling daikon for tomorrow’s furofuki, when the street outside the restaurant suddenly became noisy. She could hear the neighing of horses along with the sound of a carriage running.
Translator’s Note
Furofuki daikon is a dish of daikon simmered in dashi broth.
The sound of the carriage gradually approaching, then quietly stopped in front of the restaurant.
An unpleasant sweat trickled down Shinobu’s back.
None of Izakaya Nobu’s regular customers would come to the restaurant in a carriage. She had a bad feeling about this.
Ingrid, who had woken up at the sound of the carriage, stretched. She was dressed in a black robe today.
She heard that witches in the old city’s folklore also wore all black. If the carriage was for a witch hunt, things might not go well.
She couldn’t let her escape through the back door, and while she was thinking about this, there was a violent knock on the glass door.
“W-Welcome!”
“…Welcome.”
Unlike Shinobu, who greeted them a semitone higher than usual, Nobuyuki was calm.
However, it was a relief to see that he was ready to move in the counter in case something happened.
The door was slightly opened, and the customer pushed his way in.
No, to be precise, he was not a customer. It was a face Shinobu did not want to see.
“Well, well, everyone at Izakaya Nobu. How have you been?”
Damian.
He was the petty villain who had been sneaking around with Backeshoff when Izakaya Nobu’s beer was suspected of being a prohibited lager. He was supposed to be a wanted man, so she didn’t expect to see him again so soon.
“What can I do for you?”
“Since I’ve come to an izakaya, I’d like to ask for some sake and a good snack, but I can’t. I’m not alone today. Archbishop, this way, please.”
Saying this, he opened the door further with a theatrical gesture.
A large man dressed in a monk’s robe entered the restaurant, bowing his head.
He must have been over fifty, but his plump skin was firm and he looked younger than his age.
His monk’s robe, though, was somewhat better tailored than the one Edwin wore, embroidered with silver thread on pure white silk. It was an appearance befitting a high-ranking clergyman.
“I see. This is quite an exotic restaurant.”
Rubbing his plump, baby-like palms together, the Archbishop took a seat at the nearest table with the ease of someone used to being invited to dinner. Seeing Ingrid in the back, he smiled and gave a small bow. He looked like a refined customer. But this, too, might be a deception.
Out of long habit, Shinobu gently offered a hand towel to the customer who had taken his seat at the table.
The Archbishop, who received it, seemed momentarily surprised by its warmth, but then he narrowed his eyes happily, cooled it down a little in the manner of a beanbag, and wiped his hands.
Damian, who had been watching the scene with a bitter look on his face, cleared his throat loudly once.
“I have brought the Archbishop here today for no other reason. There is a suspicion that this Izakaya Nobu is a witch’s den. This is for the judgment.”
A witch hunt, after all.
She was a little surprised that Damian was involved in this incident, but on second thought, it was not so surprising.
It must be a retaliation against Izakaya Nobu. He must be the kind of man who would do something like that without a second thought.
Without realizing it, Shinobu’s expression became grim.
In this kind of situation, it was better for Shinobu to be in front than Nobuyuki. Nobuyuki was not a very good talker, and he might be taken advantage of.
“This is just an izakaya. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Of course, I hope that is the case, for the sake of the Old City.”
With a sarcastic smile plastered on his lips, Damian continued.
“But we can’t just say that. Don’t you have any idea what I’m talking about?”
“No. We are just running an izakaya in a healthy way.”
“Oh, in a healthy way. I see.”
The Archbishop said nothing. He was just watching the proceedings with interest.
Perhaps it was Damian who was actually carrying out the witch hunt.
“It is said that witches are familiar with the ancient spirits, the Elves (Aarv), and befriend white-haired snow foxes. There are voices that have seen foxes coming and going in this restaurant. What about that?”
“…Foxes?”
For a moment, she glanced toward the kamidana. They enshrined Inari here, but they didn’t actually keep foxes. Surely, it would not sneak out and play pranks.
Sometimes, the aburaage and inarizushi that were offered were missing. But Shinobu understood that Nobuyuki was picking at them.
“It’s no use playing dumb. You’d better tell the truth.”
“No, I really don’t know. Anything.”
Damian shrugged slightly. His face said that she was being stubborn, but she didn’t know what she didn’t know.
The interrogation seemed to continue. Damian took out a folded piece of parchment, licked his finger, and flipped it over.
The high-handed questioning was not very pleasant. Moreover, the other party was that Damian.
She wanted it to end quickly, but the other party was trying to trick her. She could not let her guard down.
“Then what about mushrooms? Mushrooms are a symbol of witches. Because of the memory of the witch hunts of the past, it is also an ingredient that is not eaten much in the Old City. I hear that Izakaya Nobu uses them abundantly.”
“I heard that young people don’t care much about it.”
“There is a big difference between not caring and not having a custom. Some of the older people still live without eating mushrooms.”
“That’s because we came from somewhere else…”
Damian’s eyes glowed strangely. The expression on his face, laughing with only one cheek, gave a sticky, unpleasant feeling.
“From somewhere else. Yes, this Izakaya Nobu came from somewhere else. Food I’ve never seen before, a restaurant I’ve never heard of. Cool in summer, and somehow warm in winter. It is truly wonderful. It is no wonder that everyone likes it.”
The way he spoke with gestures was like a clown or something.
“Then, from where?”
Shinobu was at a loss for words to answer the piercing question.
She couldn’t answer. There was no way she could answer. There was no way they would believe her if she said she came from another world.
Would she be treated as a witch if she couldn’t explain where she came from?
She didn’t know much about it, but the other party was Damian. Ambiguous parts would be good prey.
“Can’t you answer? There’s no way you can answer. The very existence of this restaurant is the work of a witch, isn’t it?”
Just as Damian finished his assertion, a chuckle echoed from the table in the back.
It was Ingrid.
The laughter gradually grew louder, and even Damian was about to be overwhelmed.
“That’s a pretty interesting story, but it’s a pretty unreasonable one, isn’t it?”
“…Who are you?”
“I’m Ingrid, a regular at this restaurant.”
Stepping forward in front of a suspicious Damian, Ingrid smiled with her usual nonchalance.
However, her eyes looked somewhat lonely and full of determination.
The amulet hanging from her neck was still filled with blue light.
“If you mean you don’t know where you came from, most people don’t, do they?”
“I didn’t come here to have a philosophical or theological debate.”
“Oh my. A witch trial is the ultimate theological debate.”
With a chuckle, Ingrid continued.
“For example, the Marquis of Sachsenburg is from a very old family, but his origins before he followed the Imperial family are unknown. There is talk that he was a fortune-teller, a wanderer, a bandit, or a pirate. All we know is that he came from the north. Everyone is an outsider at first.”
“So what?”
“There are a lot of people in the Old City who don’t know where they came from. Even if you don’t know where they came from, in a year they’ll be people of the Old City. If Izakaya Nobu is a witch’s den, then half of the people in the Old City have to be witches.”
“I’m not talking about such absurd things!”
“Yes, it’s an absurd story.”
Ingrid’s argument was rambling, as if she was avoiding the furious Damian’s nose.
Before she knew it, the flow of the conversation had shifted to a place that had nothing to do with Shinobu.
“No, it’s a witch. Izakaya Nobu is a witch’s den.”
“I don’t think you have enough material to make that claim, do you?”
“Who do you think you are! If you protect this Izakaya Nobu too much, depending on the circumstances, you too…”
Ingrid smiled brightly at Damian, who was spitting and yelling.
Translator’s Note
The word used was 嫣然 (Enzen) which means means “brightly and happily” as in a woman’s smiling face.
“Me? I’m a witch. A genuine one.”
“A genuine witch…?”
Damian’s face, which had been dumbfounded, changed from the red of anger to a pale blue.
He probably didn’t expect a real witch to come out. If he poked the bush, a snake might come out. He turned around to ask for help, but the Archbishop remained silent.
“Yes, a witch. The kind of witch you were talking about, who lives in the deep forest and heals people’s illnesses and injuries with medicine and magic. I haven’t seen any Elves (Aarv) yet, though.”
“D-Do you know what you’re saying?”
“I know. But I’m also a devout believer of the Holy Ministry of Doctrine. I have never missed a worship service, and I can recite the scriptures. It’s just that my way of life is that of a witch.”
Ingrid’s words, spoken eloquently, sounded more like those of a clergyman than a witch.
But her confident words seemed to further fuel Damian’s frustration at trying to belittle her.
“Don’t be ridiculous! I’ve never heard of a witch who is not an enemy of the faith.”
“Don’t say that when you’re ignorant and put your own lack of study on the back burner. There is no reason why a witch should not believe in God and Goddess. Conversely, there is no reason why a clergyman should not become a witch.”
“But, a witch!”
Damian’s voice was like a roar. He probably couldn’t stand being called ignorant. His face, which had been blue, was now reddish-black.
“A witch, a former clergyman. So how are you going to judge me? Tell me the basis.”
“I will judge you by the authority of the Archbishop. We cannot leave a person who has declared himself a witch alone. We will take you to a mansion in the suburbs right now, and burn you at the stake…”
“That’s enough.”
The one who interrupted was the Archbishop, who had been watching the proceedings all along.
“That’s enough, Damian. Your witch hunt is over.”
“Your Excellency, what do you mean by enough?”
“I mean exactly what I said. The witch you were looking for has been found.”
Ignoring Damian, who was stunned, the Archbishop walked over to Ingrid.
His face did not look like that of a clergyman who had found a witch to hunt down. Rather, it was filled with joy.
“It’s been a long time, Senior Ingrid. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”
“It’s not like I have any acquaintances of the Archbishop,” Ingrid replied, puzzled.
“Have you forgotten, Rodrigo? We were together at the Holy Ministry of Doctrine, ‘Chibi’ Rodrigo.”
The wrinkles etched on Ingrid’s brow as she rolled the name ‘Chibi’ Rodrigo on her tongue gradually unraveled, and her eyes widened in surprise.
“…Eh, that Rodrigo? But you, your height…”
“You’ve grown taller,” the Archbishop laughed. “To be honest, even I wasn’t sure at first that it was you, Senior Ingrid.”
Ingrid nodded in agreement. Her eyes were filled with surprise and joy.
With a small cracking sound, the amulet broke.
The piece of wood in which the blue jewel was set split in two, as if its role was over, and the jewel fell to the floor with a clatter.
“I’ve been looking for you ever since you left the Holy Ministry of Doctrine to become a witch.”
Ingrid’s expression turned to one of embarrassment. It was as if she had been caught doing something mischievous.
“You didn’t have any clues…”
“I sent people to places with famous sake and sweets. And of course, to places with rumors of witches.”
Rodrigo’s story of searching for a witch was a laughing matter now, but it was a series of unbelievable hardships.
“I heard that there was a witch in the Forest of Brocéliande who loved pumpkin pie, so I sent people there, and when I heard that a witch who loved sake was coming to the hot springs in Alhenia for a hot-spring cure, I skipped a meeting and headed north…”
Since it was not an official job, he could not use regular subordinates. He learned to use some shady people for money, but Damian was quite unexpected in this case.
“You’ve always been the type to get so engrossed in something that you lose sight of everything else, but you have an incredible drive.”
“I had high hopes this time. I heard that there was an izakaya in this town that was a favorite of the late Emperor.”
“There’s no way you’d find me that way… How many years do you think it would take?”
“Yes, it has taken a long time.”
Only around the two of them, a different time was flowing. Neither Shinobu nor Nobuyuki could keep up with the change in the situation.
It wasn’t a witch hunt, but the Archbishop’s goal was to find a witch. And he was looking for only one person, Ingrid.
It was Damian who broke the peaceful atmosphere.
“So what! She called hermself a witch. In front of the Archbishop, no less. This restaurant, where witches come and go, is also guilty!”
While shouting, Damian kicked a chair.
However, he ended up holding his own leg, perhaps because he hit his shin. The Archbishop’s eyes, looking at Damian, were filled with pity.
“A witch. You and you and you are all witches! Izakaya Nobu is a witch’s restaurant! I’ll make it impossible for you to stay in the Old City. Even if you are not judged, you will live with the stigma of a witch for the rest of your life!”
“Are you satisfied now, Damian?”
“Your Excellency, please don’t stop me. Put the stigma of a witch on these people…”
“I can’t do that, and I have no intention of doing so. Times have changed since a hundred years ago.”
“Then why did you agree to the witch hunt!”
The Archbishop’s face, shaking his head at the question, was filled with a complex expression.
“I was just looking for a witch. It was Damian, you, who mistook it for a witch hunt.”
Damian began to tremble, and then he ran off like a frightened rabbit.
Nobuyuki stopped him from escaping through the entrance. Perhaps he gave up trying to get past Nobuyuki, who was holding a rolling pin in his hand, he quickly changed direction and ran to the back door.
“That way!”
Shinobu’s voice was in vain, and Damian disappeared somewhere through the back door.
With a creak, the back door closed on its own. The last thing Shinobu saw, having missed Damian’s hand, was not the familiar back alley of a Japanese shopping street, but something like a mountain path.
The door led not to the familiar back alley of the Old City.
Damian was walking along a stone-paved path in a dense forest.
If it were just a mountain path, it would not be so frightening. At most, bandits or highwaymen would come out, and he was used to dealing with such people.
The problem was that this mountain did not seem to be just any mountain.
Damian gently stroked the vermilion-lacquered wood. He did not know that this was called a torii.
Translator’s Note
A Torii is a traditional Japanese gate. It’s in a squared arch shape in reddish-orange and most commonly found at the entrance of or within a Shinto shrine, where it symbolically marks the transition from the mundane to the sacred.
This vermilion-lacquered structure, which seemed to be the gate guarding a pagan temple, dominated the mountain path.
Whether he looked forward or backward, a thousand or two thousand of them lined up, not letting Damian escape.
He had walked for a long time and reached a fork in the road, but all of them were covered with torii gates.
“…Where on earth am I?”
Damian muttered, squeezing out the words, and heard the cry of a fox.
Had he been tricked by a witch? Wiping the sweat from his brow, he glared in the direction of the voice. But he could not see anyone. His energy to move his legs had also waned, and he slumped down on the spot.
The voice of a fox, another one.
Damian, exhausted and completely unable to move, was found in a back alley of the Old City a few days later.