Petra spent the night happily selling candy behind her little stall.
After the auction, her small purse was basically empty, so now she had no choice but to work extra hard to refill it. Someone in the family had to handle the family finances, and that someone was apparently the unfortunate little her.
She molded another candy creature while chatting with a young man in front of her.
He was a local, maybe sixteen or seventeen, and he had come out with his younger brother to enjoy the festival night.
Both were bunny Beastmen, with floppy ears, twitchy noses, and soft white tufts, that kind of bunny. They were a little naive, but Petra found them kind of cute, er, no, very cute…
She glanced to the side.
Apparently, she wasn't the only one who thought so, because the four busty bunnies beside her were practically melting over the younger brother.
The cute little boy, maybe twelve at the most, was sitting right on top of one of their laps, half-buried in soft warmth while the other maids kept feeding him different candies.
The boy's face was bright red, his little nose twitching as he tried to talk between bites. His words came out in squeaks and stutters, which only made the maids giggle harder.
Petra was seeing a whole new side to the four bunnies who she had only thought of as warriors before.
Petra rolled her eyes and turned back, accepting the payment from the older brother. After he paid, he was suddenly stuck.
Petra was just about to take the next order when a loud crash shook the whole line of stalls.
A massive bald man stumbled into her candy stall specifically, slamming into it and knocking it over completely.
Petra's eyelid twitched.
She was still sitting on her stool, holding a half-finished candy sculpture, now covered in sticky sugar dust. For a moment, she just stared at the wrecked stand, her jaw tightening as a flicker of 'Petra level wrath' deeply flashed in her eyes.
Her fingers twitched, fighting back the urge to melt this guy.
The large man grunted and pushed himself off the ground. His movements were rough, unsteady, but not from drunkenness. Instead, something else was off about him. His dull black eyes scanned around, alert and tense, like he expected something to attack him.
Then, suddenly, he froze.
Petra noticed his gaze had locked onto her instantly.
Their eyes met.
The bald man's pupils shrank slightly, his body stiffening as if struck by lightning. He stared for a long time, but Petra had a strange feeling. She almost felt as if he were looking through her, not at her.
Before she could say anything, the man reached into his coat, pulled out a handful of coins, and tossed them onto the ground in front of her.
Without another word, he turned and bolted down the street, disappearing into the crowd.
Petra blinked.
"…What the fuck?"
A moment later, two city guards came rushing over. They took one look at the knocked-over candy stall and then at Petra.
Petra pointed. "That way."
The guards nodded and dashed off without another word.
It was definitely the way he went.
Petra snorted softly, then crouched down to scoop up the scattered coins, shoving them into her pocket. She gave the broken stall a small kick before her eyes reddened.
From the side, Mell called out, "What a rude guy!"
Petra agreed. "Yeah! It doesn't matter how unlucky you are, that's no excuse to smash this young master's candy stand, hump!"
"Unlucky?" Mell tilted her head.
"The demons," Petra said casually.
"Demon?!" the young bunny boy gasped, eyes wide.
Petra froze.
Oh. Right. That was probably a taboo word around here, right?
Without missing a beat, she grabbed one of the surviving candy sticks and stuffed it right into the boy's mouth. "Shhh, be good! Eat."
After the chaos settled, Petra started fixing up the stall.
She checked the frame, the trays, and her small portable candy oven. It was worse than she thought. The runes within the magic oven were cracked, one of the wheels was broken, and half the candy molds that she had quickly bought were bent out of shape.
She sighed again, pushing the cart back up. "Guess we'll have to close up early ahhh! That's so unfair!"
She glanced at her coin pouch, slightly dejected. It didn't look much heavier than before. "Ugh… I don't think we made back our money, not even for the candy cart."
Her shoulders slumped. Being poor was too painful.
Life on the road sounded so much easier sometimes. No stalls, no ovens, no worrying about money, just the freedom to rob whoever you wanted.
Petra stared at the broken oven in sadness, muttering under her breath, "Please, just let me find a space ring already…"
* * *
Passing by Petra's small candy stand, Rolilly walked down the crowded night street, trailed by one knight and an elderly maid.
Her plump, proud face was half-hidden behind an exaggeratedly fluffy white scarf, and her long hair shimmered faintly under the lantern light.
Every step she took was deliberate, steady, her crystal heels clicking softly against the white cobblestone.
Her gaze swept lazily across the street stalls one by one, almost as if she were inspecting them rather than browsing.
She spoke in a slightly condescending tone.
"How did the Sailors Guild respond?"
The old maid bowed her head slightly before answering. "The Sailors Guild sent us a perfunctory reply, Your Highness. They seem to be stalling for time. We suspect one of your sisters has already contacted them."
Rolilly frowned. Her lips tightened slightly into a sneer as she walked.
"Tsk, I doubt Rotell would think of the Sailors Guild first," she said. "That sounds more like Rorall. Rotell's too dense to plan that far ahead."
As they passed another row of stalls, Rolilly stopped briefly to glance at a merchant selling fine silks. She picked up a roll of bright blue cloth, rubbed the fabric between her fingers, and set it down again without saying a word.
"Since that's the case," she said emotionlessly, "just destroy them. We don't need to second guess our allies. If they've already chosen sides, then they've made their decision."
The knight bowed. "Understood."
He stepped away silently, disappearing into the crowd. A few seconds later, another guard, identical in uniform and demeanor, took his place beside Rolilly as if he had always been there.
They continued walking.
"How is the Mercenary Alliance responding?" Rolilly asked.
"The Mercenary Alliance seems satisfied, Your Highness. The price you offered far exceeded their bottom line."
Rolilly nodded slightly, pleased. "Good."
They stopped at another stall, this one was a large flower stand.
The vendor, an old woman, had arranged hundreds of luminous night-blooming flowers into rows. The petals shimmered faintly, reflecting light like little stars scattered across the ground.
Rolilly crouched down, her scarf brushing the edge of the wooden table.
She reached out and lightly touched a pot containing a small purple flower.
She spoke to the old maid.
"I heard Father intends to send my second sister across the sea before the third calamity begins. Is that true?"
The old maid hesitated before answering, "Yes, Princess. Preparations have already begun. His Majesty fears that the second calamity may engulf the Cross Continent entirely. He wishes to ensure at least one heir survives."
Rolilly chuckled softly. The sound was elegant and soft, but terrifyingly cold.
"That's not a bad assumption. But you're missing the point. My dear father probably thinks my first sister will make herself useful in the second calamity. Perhaps, as the Hero's fiancée, she'll be pushed towards the throne by the masses, even if she doesn't want it."
Her voice grew quieter, thinner, and hollow.
Rolilly pinched one of the petals between her slender fingers, pressing down until the delicate surface tore. A faint scent rose from it before it crumbled to dust.
"My father hates me that much, hm? He'd rather force my first sister onto the throne than even consider me."
Her emotions bubbled violently beneath the surface, pride, bitterness, and a delicate yet very dangerous fury rippled out, but before they could explode, she exhaled and straightened her back. Her expression relaxed to its usual cold state.
She turned away from the stall.
Behind her, the purple flower she had touched continued to blacken, its stem curling until it withered completely.
Rolilly took a few more steps before pausing. Her head tilted slightly.
"…Hm?"
"Princess?" the maid asked.
Rolilly didn't respond. She simply stared off toward a side street, where the lanterns flickered faintly in the distance.
That led to the central square.
After a few seconds, she began walking again, but this time, toward the source of her curiosity.
* * *
Through some unknown quirk of fate, every group that had been wandering around the festival somehow ended up gathering in the same place at the same time.
The heroes, the royals, the merchants, and the demons in disguise, even the angels and the commoners, all unknowingly moved in the same direction.
Their paths weaved together until they surrounded a single spot, and at the center of all the intersecting threads stood a large stage.
It was strange.
No one could remember seeing this stage being built, but at the same time, no one questioned it.
It wasn't part of the festival, nor had it been prepared by the organizers. Yet, there it was, solid, ancient, and strangely familiar, almost as if it had always been there.
An unusual aura radiated out from the stage.
It was made of dark, smooth stone with faint runes carved into its side that flickered under the lanternlight with a timeless air. The surface was polished yet worn-down, like something that had been rebuilt again and again, repeating this many times throughout history, taking on new meanings each time, yet still somehow unrecorded and forgotten. It looked like a quiet relic of the city that had somehow attached itself perfectly to tonight's festival, as though something had rearranged the streets just to make room for it.
Conveniently, those on the tower who knew the truth were not here, they had all been drawn away by one thing or another.
Upon that mysterious stage stood a single man.
He was dressed in flowing white robes with a black inner lining. The long white cape of a performer fluttered lightly behind him, as its hem swayed like a banner in the night breeze.
Pinned to his chest was a symbol, a white serpent curled into a ring, eating its own tail.
The man lifted his arms wide, his voice loud and echoing as the murmuring crowd went silent.
A smile spread across his face as the lanterns above flickered unnaturally.
When he spoke, his tone was calm yet clear, carrying something heavy beneath, something that demanded attention, a professional sort of aura.
"Allow me to tell you all a story!" he said, his voice spreading out like a wave. "A tale older than the continents themselves! A story that cannot be found in any history book!"
The crowd stirred.
Children leaned forward, while the nobles frowned in curiosity. Even the angels and demons who had been hunting one another paused for just a moment, drawn in by his unnatural voice.
Petra looked up from her stall.
Rolilly stopped mid-step.
Gallion froze in the alleyway's shadow.
And even Arthur, Kilemin, and Rotell, all of them turned toward that mysterious man on the stage.
Elena's eyes flickered with killing intent…
The storyteller smiled again, his eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness.
"Now then," he said softly, "let us begin."
* * *
He spoke softly, his voice trembling like the mortal flame of a candle.
"There was once a girl," he began, "who could turn back time~"
-
At first, she used her gift to mend small things, a broken vase, a lost dog, a hurt knee…
But the more she changed, the more she saw what was wrong with the world.
Wars, hunger, grief, all of it became a sin in her pure innocence.
So, she went back again, back to the start. Again, and again, and again. Each return took something from her, a memory, a smile, a piece of herself, and after a thousand lives, she no longer knew what peace looked like.
Her eyes carried centuries, and her words, too much truth.
People began to whisper, how could one so young know so much?
They called her a Witch.
They feared her, hunted her!
And when the flames rose around her, she smiled for the first time in ages. Because finally, at last, time would soon stop.
This is the story of the White Witch…
* * *
As the man began his story, time did not stop.
Two great mages, Tower Teachers from the Sky Tower, watched quietly from the side.
"Should we let him continue?" one of them asked.
"It should be fine," the other replied. "He's just a storyteller. The people from that cult won't act unless everything is ready."
The first mage turned his gaze toward the storyteller, studying him for a long time.
"Then what should we do about that stage?"
"We'll just remove it after the performance, just like before," the other said calmly.
The stage itself sat directly in the center of the street, as if it had always been there. In truth, it had appeared only recently, a few minutes before he began speaking. It had not been built or carried in by anyone, it simply appeared, almost like it had been teleported there.
But that was the strange part.
No one seemed to notice, not the guards, not the crowd, not even the merchants whose stalls had been pushed aside to make room for it.
If it had been teleportation, the ripples caused by the shift in space would have been felt instantly. Every mage in Imai would have sensed it for something of this size.
For a stage this size to exist and to appear out of nowhere without any spatial ripples was something far beyond ordinary magic.
It was unnatural, especially here, in Imai, where the entire city was filled with layers of spatial stabilization.
Something about it was wrong, deeply wrong, and yet, the man on that unfathomable stage kept speaking, his words drawing the crowd closer, as if the story itself carried a spell of its own.
* * *
When the crowd gathered around the central stage, drawn in by the strange storyteller, Petra was packing up with the girls, ready to head home for the night.
The smell of fried sweets and the sound of laughter drifted through the air.
Just as she finished fixing the last bag, a small group approached her and the beast girls, four people.
Nellio, Dilan, and the two Azurefell girls, the same pair Petra had once sold information to, about the twins and where she had last seen them.
Dilan was clearly drunk, half leaning on one of the girl's shoulders, muttering something that didn't make much sense.
Nellio followed behind them, shaking his head with a helpless sigh.
The two girls spotted Petra and smiled brightly, waving as they came closer, almost like old friends.
"Little girl, long time no see!" one of them called out cheerfully.
Petra blinked repeatedly, tilting her head in an innocent the naive way. "Do I know this big sister?"
The girl grinned, placing her hands on her hips. "We met in the north about a year ago. You gave me a hint that helped me find a clue to my missing family, remember?"
"Ah!" Petra clapped her hands together, her face lighting up in realization.
"You're the really pretty big sisters from the cliff!"
"That's us!" The girl laughed. "You seem to be doing well."
Petra smiled back. "Did you find the person you were looking for?"
The woman's smile faltered. She shook her head softly.
"Unfortunately, not. My family's still worried, but we're sure they're fine for now."
"That's good," Petra said warmly. "I wish you luck, big sister!"
"Thank you. Have a good night, little one."
They waved and started to walk away.
Petra stood there smiling, waving until they disappeared into the crowd.
-
When they had walked a fair distance, Dilan mumbled under his breath, "How did you meet her again?"
Nellio looked at him. "She sold them a lead about the twins. Why, didn't you hear?"
Dilan frowned, blinking as if trying to sober up. "That girl gives me the chills."
"What do you mean?" Nellio asked.
Dilan rubbed his temples, staring back towards the market. "She's too fake. It's like… looking at a doll pretending to be human. Something about her doesn't feel right."
One of the Azurefell girls snorted. "Bah! You're just drunk."
Dilan didn't answer right away.
His voice dropped low.
"I get the same feeling from her that I do when I visit my grandfather. Like there's something sleeping inside, something old, dangerous, just waiting for a chance to wake up and go on a rampage."
"The little girl?" Nellio raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Dilan muttered. "I can't even explain it."
The first girl hesitated. "She told us she saw the twins, even gave us torn and discarded clothes that belonged to them. That clue really did help us, though."
The other one frowned slightly. "Do you think… She's the one protecting them?"
"It's a child," Nellio said flatly. "Dilan, your drunk."
"Mmm… maybe…" Dilan slurred, his head wobbling before he suddenly dropped with a thud. "Heh… kinda… ah…" He was out cold.
The two girls laughed softly.
"Do you really think that little girl's a hidden expert?" one of them joked.
"Nah," the other replied, grinning. "What kind of master sells candy in a night market?"
They both burst out laughing as they disappeared down the street.
-
From her stall, Petra watched them go, her large eyes glittering under the lantern light.
When the last flicker of the festival faded, the night ended in a quiet sputter.
The laughter and music was swallowed by the soft hum of the cooling city. Night swept in, and people began to sleep.