"...?"

Faust tilted her head, caught off guard by the sudden display. The girl sitting in front of her was unmistakably Dorothy, the same apprentice the Witch of Midnight had introduced to her a century ago.

The only difference was that the little girl from back then had grown into a beautiful woman.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"T-The tent...! Because of my current financial troubles... I had to give up the workshop..."

"Ah...?"

Only then did Faust take a proper look around.

Now that she noticed it, everything was different. The atmosphere felt familiar, but the structure itself was not.

Back then, this had been a proper building. Now, however, it was nothing more than a makeshift tent.

"What happened? And where is your master? Why are you the only one handling the finances?"

At that, Dorothy’s expression darkened. Her gaze fell, and she could no longer meet Faust’s eyes.

"...Master is... missing..."

"Huh?"

"It’s been eighty years since I last saw her... I still don’t know what to do..."

"Melissa is...? Seriously?"

"...Yes."

"It’s been eighty years since I last saw her... I still don’t know what to do..."

"Melissa is... missing? Seriously?"

"...Yes."

When a witch took on an apprentice, it was her responsibility to ensure they were raised properly and guided through their education.

And most importantly, Faust knew Melissa, the Witch of Midnight. She was not the kind of person who would simply disappear and leave her apprentice behind, especially not someone as cute as Dorothy.

"Do you have any idea what she was doing before she disappeared?"

"No... I don’t remember much... but back then, Master used to meet with these strange people. She would speak to them in private and send me out of the workshop..."

"Strange people?"

"Yes."

"What did they look like? Wait... if this was eighty years ago, they might already be dead. Were they witches?"

"No... as far as I can recall, they were ordinary humans..."

"Ah, then it’s safe to say they’re either dead or terribly old by now." Faust turned to the man seated beside her. "No offense, Lancel."

"...?"

Lancel said nothing. He simply looked at her with a flat expression.

"Are you not going to introduce me?"

"Oh. Right. My apologies."

The news of her old friend’s disappearance had clearly thrown her off. For a moment, Faust had completely forgotten Lancel was there.

"Dorothy, this is Lancel, my companion. Lancel, this is Dorothy. She’s the apprentice of my friend, the Witch of Midnight, Melissa."

"...Nice to meet you," Dorothy said. She gave a small, hurried nod, as if unsure whether she should bow again.

"Likewise."

Silence followed.

Dorothy’s gaze lingered on him for a moment too long before she quickly looked away, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

Lancel, on the other hand, didn’t know where to look. The tent was too small, and for some reason, the situation felt far more uncomfortable than it should have.

"Ahem." Faust cleared her throat. "Then what about her last whereabouts? Is there anything I should know?"

"Anything you should know...?" Dorothy hesitated. "Are you going to look for her, Miss Faust?"

"I might as well." Faust turned slightly toward Lancel. "You don’t mind, do you?"

"I’ll help."

"Thank you." Faust gave a small nod. "To be honest, I only came to greet an old friend. I’m glad I did. If I had known, I would’ve started looking for Melissa a long time ago."

"There’s not much to go on..." Dorothy said. "I’ve spent all these years trying to find Master... and I found nothing..."

"Not even with your abilities?"

"...Master didn’t have the chance to teach me much before she disappeared."

"I see... Then... shall we give it a try?"

* * *

The Witch of Midnight.

To most, her magic would seem like nothing more than a party trick. Especially to the newer generation of witches, who had grown accustomed to more direct and overwhelming displays of power.

Tarot readings, in comparison, felt vague, unreliable, and easy to dismiss.

But to those who knew better, it was anything but that.

If Melissa, the Witch of Midnight, didn’t feel like scamming the other party, then what she practiced was closer to prophecy.

The problem was interpretation. And unfortunately, the newer generation’s attention span was alarming.

Faust rested her chin lightly on her hand as her gaze shifted to Dorothy.

"If you’ve inherited even a fraction of Melissa’s craft," she said, "then we might still have a trail to follow."

Dorothy hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table.

"...I’ve tried this too, Miss Faust. But my ability is limited. At best, I can only manage vague tarot readings..."

"I’ll help you," Faust said. "There’s no one who knows your master better than I do. I’m familiar with the process. We worked together often back in our apprentice days."

"Ah..."

It had to be said. Faust and the Witch of Midnight, Melissa, had been close since their academy days.

In fact, Faust had been something of a notorious delinquent back then, part of a group of like-minded misfit witches. Among them had been figures like the now strict Countess Gretelle.

"Lancel, could you volunteer?" Faust asked.

"Sure. What do I need to do?"

"Just sit in front of her and follow the process," Faust said. "Dorothy is still inexperienced, so he needs proper immersion."

"...?"

Lancel still didn’t believe in tarot readings. Even so, if Faust was asking, he saw no reason to refuse.

He moved without further comment and took a seat across from Dorothy, while Faust stepped behind her, positioning herself just over her shoulder.

"Hoo..."

Dorothy drew in a quiet breath, steadying herself.

The earlier awkwardness lingered in her posture, but her hands moved with care as she gathered the scattered cards into a single deck.

"...Please place your hand on the table," she said.

Lancel did as told, resting his palm against the wooden surface.

Dorothy closed her eyes.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, the air shifted.

The candles flickered in unison. The faint fog that had filled the tent began to thicken once more, curling around the table, coiling between their fingers, then rising slowly as if responding to a call.

Dorothy’s fingers brushed against the deck.

One by one, she began to shuffle. The sound of the cards sliding against one another echoed unnaturally within the confined space."

"...Focus," Faust murmured behind her.

Dorothy swallowed, then nodded. "...State your intent."

"I want to know... where the Witch of Midnight is."

The moment the words left his mouth, the deck in Dorothy’s hands paused.

Silence followed.

The cards slipped.

Without her guiding them, several slid free from the deck and spread themselves across the table, forming a pattern neither random nor controlled.

The symbols etched onto their surfaces seemed to shift under the candlelight, moving in ways that were difficult to follow.

The fog pressed closer.

Lancel felt it now, a faint pressure against his chest, as if something had begun to observe him in return.

Dorothy reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned over the first card.

A blackened tower, split in half.

Her expression tightened.

"...This isn’t right..."

"Keep going," Faust encouraged.

The second card flipped.

A pair of eyes, closed, stitched shut with threads of gold.

The third.

A figure standing beneath a sky filled with countless stars... yet every star was falling.

Dorothy froze. "...Miss Faust..."

Faust narrowed her gaze. "...I see it."

The candles dimmed.

For a moment, the tent felt far too small.

Lancel frowned slightly, his eyes still on the cards as he opened his mouth.

"...What does it mean?"

Dorothy didn’t answer.

Because in the reflection of the final card, just for an instant, something moved.

"Can you interpret it, Dorothy?" Faust asked.

"I’ll try..."

This was not Dorothy’s first tarot reading.

As an inexperienced witch left behind by her master, it had become one of her few ways to earn a living, along with the occasional shift as a waitress at a nearby pub.

She genuinely loved tarot, but her skill with it was lacking. More often than not, her readings were dismissed as nonsense, with at least one in every five customers calling them outright bullshit.

It was sad, but there was nothing she could do but improve on her own. There was no other witch out there that practiced this type of witchcraft in the first place but her master, Melissa.

Dorothy exhaled slowly, forcing her hands to steady as her gaze returned to the cards.

"...The first card... It represents rebirth... About something beginning again... after it should have already ended..."

Her eyes lingered on it for a moment longer before moving on.

"The second... lingering regrets... Something unresolved... A past that refuses to leave, no matter how much time passes..."

Lancel tilted his head.

"And the third..." Dorothy hesitated. "...A curse... One placed by someone close... Someone who used to matter... It’s not something recent... It’s something that... persists... Something that transcends a single lifetime..."

Silence settled over the table.

Lancel frowned slightly, his expression unchanged, but that had definitely gotten his attention.

"...And?"

Dorothy didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes moved across the spread again.

"...That’s strange..."

"What is?" Faust asked.

Dorothy shook her head slowly.

"No... this isn’t right..."

The fog stirred again, pressing closer.

"This reading... it doesn’t align with the question..."

Faust’s expression hardened. "Explain."

Dorothy looked up, her gaze meeting Lancel’s instead of Faust’s.

"...This isn’t about Master."

"...."

"...It’s about you, Mister Lancel."

"...?"

This had to be bullshit, right?