It was a frantic Monday morning.

The officials could do little more than sigh and stare blankly into the middle distance. They were sure they had come into the office over the weekend, so how could there possibly be this much work? Or perhaps, was it only this much because they had? A group of them were gathered around a table, but they only sipped their coffee in silence, as if even the most trivial conversation was an unaffordable luxury.

“Ah. There he is.”

Someone muttered, turning their head to the left. It was the Minister of Magic, Ian Hielo. He must have just arrived at the palace, as he was still in his traveling clothes, a retinue of mages trailing in his wake. They had been wondering where, precisely, it had all gone so wrong. Seeing his face, they were beginning to have an idea.

“It’s Ian Hielo.”

“Ever since he returned, the palace has been… strange. My department head, who used to barely glance at documents before approving them, is now combing through them as if he’s hunting for lice.”

“Do you see this?” another lamented, pointing to his thinning hair. “I’m losing it by the handful.”

“Haa, that Minister of Magic. He’s young, so he can pull all-nighters without a thought. But for us old folks, isn’t this workload a bit excessive?”

“Old folks? I’m only five years older than Lord Ian.”

“…Speaking of which, the Minister has been going out quite frequently these days.”

A brief, awkward silence followed the retort, but the subject of conversation shifted smoothly. One of the men stretched his arms wide.

“He established that weapons manufacturing facility on the land near the palace, didn’t he? I hear he brought in that mole tribe to run it. They say he goes back and forth three or four times a day just to check on their progress.”

“Honestly, the Ministry of Magic in the defense business.”

“Well, he did take the land directly from the Hollins. I also heard he’s conducting a new quality inspection of their conventional weapons. If they don’t pass, he’s threatened to re-examine their business rights entirely.”

“What? If they fail that as well, won’t House Hollin be completely ruined? That would mean the next empress will almost certainly come from the Davion side.”

Davion. It wasn’t a bad choice. If that house were to gain power, it would undoubtedly strengthen the officials’ own faction. Wouldn’t their treatment improve? Though they were officials of the empire, a rank to be envied, the recent, exponential increase in their workload had sown new seeds of discontent. In truth, their work hadn’t increased so much as it had simply returned to what it should have been, but no one seemed to remember that.

“It also seemed the Ministry believes Davion to be more beneficial than Hollin. At the conference, they even offered to help the Davions if they were to file a formal complaint against the Hollins.”

“That was a smokescreen. Didn’t you know? I heard he washed his hands of the matter during the land acquisition process. And more importantly, if he were truly supporting Davion, he never would have mentioned that damned evaluation system.”

“That is also true.”

“Whoever becomes Empress, I just hope it’s someone who has some regard for human rights.”

“Oh, please.”

Trickle. The officials took long swallows of coffee, trying to pry their heavy eyelids open.

As they sat there, another group was seen following in Ian’s wake. They, too, were wearing the uniform of the Ministry of Magic, but there was something peculiar about their attire.

“Huh? What’s that?”

“It seems the mages from Clifford have arrived.”

“Looks like the Ministry of Magic is finally at full strength.”

Thump-thump-thump! The robes of the mages billowed behind them as they ran excitedly toward the main building. The officials could only watch, their faces ashen with exhaustion, and let out a collective, deep sigh. The Ministry of Magic, whole once more. They were already struggling to keep up. How much more difficult would things become now? It was a thought they didn’t dare to entertain.

***

Knock, knock.

“Lord Ian.”

“Speak,” Ian said, his eyes never leaving the document he was reviewing.

From the side, where he was assisting with the work, Romandro looked up to see a mage peeking through the crack in the door, his face flushed with excitement.

“The mages who went down to Clifford have returned.”

“Oh, have they? Have they all entered the palace?”

“Yes, Lord Romandro. They’re in front of the Ministry building now. They apparently flew ahead of their carriages.”

“It’s been far too long. Ian, let’s go and greet them. They will be happy to see you.”

The Bariel mages who had been held up in Clifford had finally come home. Ian set down his pen and nodded.

“Most of them are mages originally from Ruswena, are they not?”

“The majority, yes. When Jaira announced she was going, nearly all the mages who had defected from Ruswena volunteered to go with her. There are a few from Bariel mixed in, of course.”

Unlike the original Ministry members who had struggled alongside Ian since his arrival from the borderlands, this group was still somewhat distant. The bonds of camaraderie had not yet fully formed.

As Ian stepped outside, he saw them gathered in small groups on the stairs below. They were being welcomed warmly by the other Ministry members, exchanging greetings and asking after one another’s well-being. Several of them spotted Ian and called out.

“Oh, Minister Ian!”

“The news was true! You have returned safely! What a relief.”

Ian quieted the boisterous reunion with a smile and offered his own words of welcome. “You have all worked hard, coming such a long way.”

“Not at all, sir. To be honest, the journey was far easier than the departure. Ugh, the king was so relentlessly clingy.”

“Hahaha! We heard about that. Something about a carriage wheel going missing?”

“Just in case, the moment the return order came through, we sent the carriages off separately and just flew here ourselves.”

“I’m dead tired. Yawn.”

“Don’t say that so loudly around here. You never know where Captain Akorella might be listening.”

“Hey! Over here, everyone! Lord Ian is here!”

Amidst the chaotic throng, Ian’s eyes found Jaira at once. The same short ponytail, the same glasses that covered half her face. She had become a woman in the intervening years, and much had changed, but the features of her youth were still there.

Jaira, who had been laughing and joking with the other mages, looked up toward the top of the stairs, and her eyes widened.

“…Lord Ian.”

“Oh? Lord Ian!”

“It’s really you! It didn’t feel real, just reading it in the dispatches!”

“We’re back! Both you, Lord Ian, and us!”

“Wow, seeing you like this… it reminds me of the old days. Right, Jaira?” It reminded them of the moment they had first met, on a battlefield.

Instead of answering, Jaira ran up the stairs, closing the distance to Ian in a few bounds. A surprised Romandro stepped back, but Ian simply held his ground, a gentle smile on his face as he met Jaira’s intense gaze.

“You seem to have been well, Jaira.”

“…Lord Ian. The Abyss… you came back from the Abyss.”

“I did.”

Jaira’s voice trembled slightly as she asked, “Um, I know… I’m sorry to ask this the moment I see you, but…”

“I did not see your grandmother.”

“….”

Her inner turmoil was so transparent, her jumbled thoughts of what to ask and how to ask it were plain to see. Ian delivered the news calmly and watched as the hope visibly drained from the young woman’s face.

“But do not be disappointed,” Ian added quickly. “Because of the time difference between that place and this, I was not there for as long as you might think. But of one thing I am certain: in the Abyss, your grandmother is still alive.” Though she is endlessly reliving the moment of her death, that is another matter.

Jaira rubbed her forehead in frustration. Ian spoke again, his voice even. “If you wish to meet her, the most certain method is to go to the Abyss yourself. But I would advise against it. I cannot help you with the path of return.” After all, his own return had been thanks to the intervention of a god.

But that didn’t mean there was no other way. The Gypsy Who Ate Secrets, Melania, and Clark had all found another path back. If one were to search, a way could be found. However…

If Jaira wishes to bring her grandmother out of the Abyss, that becomes a problem.

Had he not faced the exact same dilemma with Naum? He had desperately wanted to save his friend from that endless cycle of death, but he could not be certain what effect his return to Gaia would have on the world. For the sake of a stable Bariel, for the sake of Gaia itself, those who were submerged in death within the Abyss had to be left there.

“Why can’t you help?” Jaira’s voice was tight with emotion. You, who returned yourself. And in the very form you had before. Aren’t you living proof that my grandmother can also return whole? There was, of course, a great difference between falling into the Abyss and being cast into it for using forbidden magic, but still.

“I have no memory of how I returned. When I opened my eyes, I was near Mount Raza.”

“Ha, damn it.”

“Jaira, compose yourself. This is Lord Ian.”

“I know! I know that, but… it all just feels so strange.”

Her grandmother and Ian had both chosen to go to the Abyss, but only one had returned. She felt that if she could just break the shackles of the forbidden magic, she could find a way, but the reality of it, so close and yet so far, was maddening.

Ian gestured to the other mages, signaling that everything was fine. “It is understandable. I understand. Jaira, come to my office for a moment.”

At Ian’s command for the others to rest and recover from their journey, the mages stepped back. Jaira slowly ascended the remaining stairs.

Inside the Minister’s office, Ian sat on the sofa and gestured for Jaira to take the seat opposite him. “I thought we might have much to discuss.”

“My apologies, for what I said as soon as I saw you. I didn’t intend to bring it up like that.”

“Oh? So you have learned how to apologize.”

“Do you still think of me as nothing but a troublemaker?” Jaira pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I am truly happy that you have returned, Lord Ian. It is proof that the Abyss and this world are connected.”

“Jaira, allow me to ask you one thing first.”

“Please, speak.”

“You wish to bring your grandmother out of the Abyss, don’t you?”

Jaira simply blinked, as if Ian had asked the most obvious question in the world. She had not experienced that place herself, but she knew it was a torturous hell. She wanted to save her, as quickly as possible.

“I, too, have someone precious there,” Ian said quietly.

“You met them in that place?”

“I did. But I could not save them. No… it would be more accurate to say that I did not save them. I was afraid of the unpredictable chaos that a single person could unleash upon this world.”

“But I—!” Jaira shot to her feet, understanding what Ian was about to say. For ten years, she had lived with a singular mission: to save her grandmother. For Ian to tell her now that she shouldn’t… what was she supposed to do? And what of her grandmother?

“Calm yourself and hear me to the end. I did not save him from the Abyss, but I do not intend to leave him there forever, either.”

“…How?”

He would use time. He would allow the great cog of the world to turn, until a hundred years had passed, and he reached a future where Naum Ovia existed once more. But in Jaira’s case, she would have to travel to the past.

“King Damon holds the key, and Rutherford holds the lock that fits it.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You will, in time. Jaira, there is one thing I must impress upon you. If you wish to save your grandmother, you must change your method. For your own sake, and for the sake of the world.”

Jaira’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she finally confessed, her voice filled with frustration. “Lord Ian, I have come too far to change my method now. You have no idea what I have endured for the last ten years.”

Swish.

Jaira took two books from a nearby shelf and stacked them one on top of the other, tapping the cover of the top one.

“This is Gaia. The space between the cover and the first page is the rift, and the book below it is the Abyss. The worlds exist in distinct layers. This means that if one can simply break through the layers, it is possible to travel freely between the rift and the Abyss.” She was saying that since she knew the way down but not the way back, her only choice was to forge a path as she descended, like the hero of myth who entered the labyrinth with a red thread tied to his waist.

“The rift is the source of the demonic beasts, the very foundation of their existence. It would require far too much effort.”

“It won’t be as difficult as you think. Not if we have Idgal.”

“But—”

“And if it becomes unavoidable—”

“Jaira.” Ian’s voice was sharp, a clear warning to stop, to calm her racing thoughts.

Jaira forcibly erased the sentence that had just flashed through her mind.

‘If it becomes unavoidable, couldn’t I just create a small opening and let some of the monsters out?’

To have had the same thought as Rutherford… Jaira was horrified at herself. She clenched her fists beneath her own robes. Ian, sensing the sudden tension in her, gently placed a hand on hers.

“Jaira. Stop thinking, and breathe. In a state of agitation, one is easily consumed by oneself.”