Chapter 108: Maboro-san and Sazarei-san

Somehow, I had thought I wouldn’t die.

That arrogant assumption was shattered only after I had died.

Tsurushima Gyges (24) was a magician known by the title “Illusion Magician.”

His given name—a so-called yōkai name—made him stand out all through his school years, and he resented his parents for it. But now, he had accepted it.

After all, having a name that automatically sparked conversation was one of the rare perks of a yōkai name. And ever since he joined the Ministry of Defense, everyone had simply called him by his title.

In the deep countryside, there are still regions that believe touching an elemental or magician will turn you into a monster. So, for his parents—who cheerfully raised a transparent baby like him—it was only fair to accept that they had gotten a little carried away with the naming.

In truth, the one who had gotten carried away was himself—as the Illusion Magician came to realize during his very first Class-A1 monster battle.

Like most transcendents, the Illusion Magician had an extraordinarily resilient body. Even though he was invisible, his physical strength was on par with any other transcendent. Most spells felt like nothing more than a poke. Even spells that would instantly kill a regular person only left him with scratches or bruises.

He had learned about the horror of dynamite in university combat classes. He had even hunted a Class-A3 monster for his graduation test. But he had never once felt danger to his life. He’d always vaguely believed that death was something far removed from him.

That all changed during an emergency deployment to confront the Class-A1 monsters “Tiamat the Four-Headed Dragon” and “Gazer the Evil Eye.”

The Illusion Magician died in an accident so tragic it made you want to cover your eyes.

He had helped Tiamat based on false information—and was then crushed to death by the enormous body of Gazer, who had been blown away by Tiamat.

It was his mistake to turn his back on the battlefield and run when the retreat order came.

It was also a mistake to hesitate and try to cast a defensive spell when he heard the explosion and turned around to see Gazer bearing down on him. He should’ve used an emergency shield spell. But having faced too few real life-or-death scenarios, his mind went blank and he failed to act in time.

Even transcendent beings—those who surpass humanity—can die in an instant.

The Illusion Magician had signed up as a postmortem donor.

He had heard of the resurrection magic research led by the Blue Witch, but resurrection magic sounded as mythical as the tale of humanity once standing on the moon. His family had wanted a hana-sō (a floral funeral by the Alraune clan), but skipping it for the donor registry made for better optics when joining the Ministry of Defense.

It had been nearly 90 years since magic was introduced to humanity. No resurrection spell had ever been discovered.

So believing it never would be discovered was only common sense.

But the Blue Witch, a breaker of conventions, had discovered resurrection magic—thus overturning common sense—and the Illusion Magician was brought back to life.

That said, being on the donor registry backfired.

The Magic Medicine and Mutation Departments of Tokyo Magic University used his corpse like a toy—studying it obsessively under the pretext of scientific inquiry. (There’s even a non-zero chance they literally licked it.) Only three days postmortem did they finally attempt the resurrection spell as part of an experiment to see whether the Eleven Ritual Implements could be used in ritual magic to bring someone back.

Even after his miraculous revival, they continued to poke, prod, and examine his body relentlessly for two more days before finally allowing him to return home.

The professors from the Mutation Department, wearing slimy smiles, seemed to know his resurrected body more intimately than the Illusion Magician himself—and it sent a chill down his spine. He had come back from the dead, and yet it felt like something inside him had been defiled.

Perhaps in sympathy for the humiliation he suffered at the hands of those mad scientists, the Ministry of Defense granted him a two-week leave of absence.

Currently, the Ministry was in chaos due to its forced investigation of Kuranom Corp, which had illegally been breeding Tiamat on Izu Ōshima. The incident had escalated into a major international diplomatic issue, possibly even nearing military conflict. Despite the pressure, his superior had personally come to visit, bearing a box of sweets.

The superior had deeply bowed, taking responsibility: “It was my oversight. I gave orders based on faulty intel.”

Having feared he’d become a laughingstock in the Ministry for dying in such a stupid accident after being hired with so much fanfare, the Illusion Magician actually felt somewhat relieved.

After his superior left, the Illusion Magician let out a long sigh and resolved to enjoy his well-earned break.

He was now one of the extremely rare few who had experienced resurrection magic. Had he not been living in the Ministry’s staff quarters, the media would have swarmed him, making rest impossible. Luckily, so many big stories were unfolding at once that public attention on him remained relatively minor.

He brewed a cup of coffee, sat on the couch, and spread out some info magazines from the campus store across the table.

Even five days after the incident, the Class-A1 monster crisis still dominated the headlines.

The front pages of the national papers debated where Class-A1 Gazer would be relocated.

So far, candidates included the mountains of Chichibu, the Izu Peninsula, or Cape Chōshi. People were uneasy about keeping Gazer in a major city—but they also wanted him close enough to respond quickly if another Class-A1 monster showed up. A highly convenient contradiction.

Perhaps as part of information control, the articles referred to Gazer affectionately as “Gazer-kun.” But for someone who died being crushed by “Gazer-kun,” the term left a bitter taste.

The economic papers were all about Kuranom Corp, now disgraced.

Its stock had plummeted, and bankruptcy was virtually certain. Other companies in the United Kingdom of Ireland were suffering fallout as well.

On the flip side, companies dealing in magical beast husbandry were surging. Firms focusing on new magical beast training methods were getting the most attention—especially those working on the cultivation and stable supply of phantom gremlins, now considered vital.

As expected, the magical publications were obsessed with resurrection magic.

Experts offered lengthy commentary on its significance, potential, limitations, and fears of monopolization. A large portion of the space was devoted to messages like: “Private research into resurrection magic is underway” and “Please refrain from rash action.”

It was unclear how much chaos those warnings and press releases would actually prevent—but better than nothing.

The tabloids were the most carefree—half of their pages were devoted to love affair rumors about the Blue Witch.

Even though she had been absent from Tokyo for long periods, her popularity remained strong. Manga series like Blue Witch and Red Witch and Elegy of the Beasts—set in the post-Gremlin Disaster era—were still ongoing, keeping her image fresh in the public’s mind.

Some magazines joked about a celebrity who had a mental breakdown after heartbreak from the Blue Witch’s rumored relationship, while the identity of the mysterious man who made the Blue Witch “show her womanly side” remained unusually concealed—suggesting pressure from high places.

Even the Illusion Magician’s boss had warned him to stay quiet on the matter.

Given all the hints, it wasn’t hard to guess who the mysterious man was.

Just like the President or the precognitive clans—it’s understood that such people exist. They may walk among the public. But stalking them or tracking their movements is strictly off-limits. Anyone who bypasses their security will be removed. Simple as that.

Having skimmed the newspapers and caught up on the world’s events during his death, the Phantom Magician checked the clock and saw it was already dinner time.

He drained the rest of his coffee, grabbed a snack from the campus store, and headed to his workshop.

It was really just a hobby room. Shelves of manga, novels, and figures lined the walls, and posters adorned the ceiling.

He slumped into a chair, sighed at the blank manuscript still sitting on his desk, and for the first time in seven days, reactivated his familiar—a floating eyeball.

“Hello? Sazarei-san?”

After a brief silence, a flat, emotionless female voice responded.

“Maboro-san. Long time.”

“Long time. Anything happen while I was gone?”

“No. Been working on my manuscript. First time in seven days. What happened? Work keeping you busy?”

“Pretty much.”

They both knew each other’s true identities. Even so, Sazarei-san asked in a deliberately bland, formal tone, and the Illusion magician answered with a small smile.

The first time the phantom magician met Sazarei-san was five years ago, at the Winter Comiket.

They were both publishing doujinshi, and their booths were next to each other. Sazarei-san wasn’t even trying to hide her magic power, and her pen name was so on-the-nose that it barely served as a pseudonym. It didn’t take long to figure out who she was.

Likewise, the Illusion magician also wasn’t hiding his magic power and was using a similarly blatant pen name. He really couldn’t talk.

“You should just quit your job. Come be a NEET with me, Maboro-san.”

“No way, I can’t do that.”

He gave a wry smile at Sazarei-san’s monotone yet completely serious invitation.

It was true that dying once had made him hesitant, but not enough to quit his job. It was his own decision to join the Ministry of Defense. No one forced him.

If he retired without accomplishing anything noteworthy, despite being hired as a Transcendent, he’d look pathetic. Far too disgraceful.

“Don’t be stubborn, just leech off the state already. Let’s increase our disposable time and do more fan activities. If you have a Transcendent ID, worst case you can get activity protection. I can even hook you up with a good real estate deal.”

“Oh wow, Sazarei-san, are you a Transcendent!?”

“…I’m a mysterious beautiful girl doujin artist. I have nothing to do with the Witch of Sazare Stone.”

“Thought so. Stop messing around and get back to your manuscript. How’s it going, anyway?”

“Progress is terrible. I accidentally fell into a new OTP rabbit hole and lost track of time.”

“That’s… not good!”

The Illusion magician was feeling anxious after losing six days, but it turned out Sazarei-san had also been slacking. As expected from a self-proclaimed (and widely accepted) hardcore NEET otaku—she had no hesitation about falling headfirst into a fandom.

Even if she’s about to miss a deadline, she dives straight into whatever catches her interest. It’s the kind of aggressive otaku spirit one doesn’t want to emulate… but kind of wants to anyway.

The joint doujinshi they planned to publish for Summer Comiket was fanfiction based on a blockbuster spring movie.

It was a romance set during the peak of the pre-modern era—an age of electricity and information. For the phantom magician, it had hit harder than anything in years. Sazarei-san had grumbled about historical inaccuracies, but she rated the story and characters highly.

For a while, the two of them quietly focused on their manuscripts.

The Illusion magician loved this time—taking a blank page and filling it with passion and interpretation through art.

Even from different places, sharing the same time with a much older friend made a time he already loved even more special.

The phantom magician managed to sketch two pages, but got stuck halfway through the third. After thinking a bit with no progress, he consulted the expert.

“Sazarei-san. May I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Can a refrigerator run on AA batteries?”

“Nope. Needs an outlet. Maybe battery-powered if it’s portable, I guess.”

“But non-otaku probably don’t even know batteries like that exist. Hmm. Maybe I’ll draw it to look like it runs on AAs and add a note saying ‘This is a battery pack’?”

“Why are young people so obsessed with AA batteries? They act like it’s some kind of infinite, all-purpose energy source.”

“I don’t think that, but isn’t that the common perception?”

To begin with, it’s normal to lack knowledge about electricity.

Anyone who’s seen electricity or lightning in person is either dead or a fossil. It’s only natural not to know much about it.

“Sigh, seriously. No wonder the quality of pre-modern settings in stories keeps dropping. You can tell the creators are lacking basic knowledge. The characters and story are good, but if you neglect the charm of the past while praising the present, it’s not complete. You agree, right, Maboro-san?”

“Whoa, calm down, grandma.”

“I’m a young lady, thank you very much. Watch your mouth, brat.”

Sensing a bit of anger in her otherwise flat tone, the Illusion magician laughed.

In fact, regardless of her actual age, the real-life Sazarei-san was undeniably a beautiful girl. Though her inorganic, artificial vibe made her more of a beautiful doll than a human girl—but that couldn’t be helped.

Sazarei-san was a life-sized, moving ball-jointed doll. She would be forever young, without a lifespan. Not immortal—she could still break—but she wouldn’t age.

When people think of ancient witches from the previous era, they often picture the Dragon Witch or the Blue Witch.

Those witches are known for their powerful, dramatic legends, but there are also quieter ones like Sazarei.

Well, Sazarei is a mysterious beautiful girl doujin artist, and clearly has no connection to the Witch of Sazare Stone.

She was just the Illusion magician’s fellow doujin creator. A friend he could share his passions with. That was more than enough.

The two doujin artists continued working on their manuscripts, chatting intermittently.

And so, the early summer night quietly wore on.

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