Hisaya Amagishi

“Er, I...”

“So, um...”

They both broke the awkward silence at the same time, only to let it fall again. After a few seconds, it was Volf who again volunteered to revive the conversation.

“So...at the risk of sounding incredibly rude here, I have to ask you something. Are you expecting me to make a move? In that sense, I mean.”

“Not at all,” Dahlia answered immediately. She looked Volf in the eye and asked him a question in turn. “Are you expecting me to flirt with you?”

“No. I’m really, truly sorry I had to ask that question at all. I knew that wasn’t what you were after. I just couldn’t convince myself that a woman would invite me into her home without any other intentions.”

Volf removed his glasses briefly before sliding them back on again. Every time he looked at them, he was reminded of a certain magical toolmaker. The day he’d finally stumbled out of the forest after falling from the sky with the wyvern, he’d been saved by a young man who called himself “Dali.” The conversation they had was such a joy that Volf was left determined to see Dali again. His wish was soon granted, and the next time they met, they once again talked of magical swords and tools, enjoyed fine food, and raised many a glass to each other. Simply being in the company of that young woman—as she had turned out to be—was a genuine pleasure.

Dali—that is, Dahlia Rossetti—was a magical toolmaker. Volf had watched the sweat pour from her forehead like a waterfall as she’d enchanted the lenses in his glasses. As it had threatened to trickle into her eyes, she’d wiped it away with a sleeve, with no regard for gentility. Even as her makeup ran, her gaze never wavered from her work. Volf had been utterly captivated by the sight of her. Never in his life had he seen a woman look so earnest and so beautiful.

At the end of it, she had handed him these glasses. The lenses, enchanted with the magic of fairy glass, had shown Volf the world through the eyes of an ordinary man. They had allowed him, for the first time in his life, to blend into the streets of the royal capital. Though they had met only three times, Dahlia had changed his world. However, Volf desired nothing more from her than friendship. He wished only to remain by her side; to laugh and talk with her. He wanted to support her in all her toolmaking endeavors. Anything she desired, he wanted to give her. He was resolved to protect her from anything or anyone that would do her harm.

Volf removed his glasses briefly before sliding them back on again. Every time he looked at them, he was reminded of a certain magical toolmaker. The day he’d finally stumbled out of the forest after falling from the sky with the wyvern, he’d been saved by a young man who called himself “Dali.” The conversation they had was such a joy that Volf was left determined to see Dali again. His wish was soon granted, and the next time they met, they once again talked of magical swords and tools, enjoyed fine food, and raised many a glass to each other. Simply being in the company of that young woman—as she had turned out to be—was a genuine pleasure.

Dali—that is, Dahlia Rossetti—was a magical toolmaker. Volf had watched the sweat pour from her forehead like a waterfall as she’d enchanted the lenses in his glasses. As it had threatened to trickle into her eyes, she’d wiped it away with a sleeve, with no regard for gentility. Even as her makeup ran, her gaze never wavered from her work. Volf had been utterly captivated by the sight of her. Never in his life had he seen a woman look so earnest and so beautiful.

At the end of it, she had handed him these glasses. The lenses, enchanted with the magic of fairy glass, had shown Volf the world through the eyes of an ordinary man. They had allowed him, for the first time in his life, to blend into the streets of the royal capital. Though they had met only three times, Dahlia had changed his world. However, Volf desired nothing more from her than friendship. He wished only to remain by her side; to laugh and talk with her. He wanted to support her in all her toolmaking endeavors. Anything she desired, he wanted to give her. He was resolved to protect her from anything or anyone that would do her harm.

Volf desired nothing more from her than friendship. He wished only to remain by her side; to laugh and talk with her. He wanted to support her in all her toolmaking endeavors. Anything she desired, he wanted to give her. He was resolved to protect her from anything or anyone that would do her harm.

It was clear how happy he was to have met her, and he was firm in his conviction that they had built a strong friendship. However, a friendship between a young man and a young woman could easily transform into something more. If one happened to become attached to the other, everything could be turned on its head so quickly. Ah, but he was so young. He couldn’t see the way his eyes shone with happiness as he spoke of that woman he called a friend.

“You really are in love, aren’t you? With magical swords, I mean.”

Though Dahlia was none the wiser, as she spoke, Volf’s breathing stopped dead for just a moment. Right between her first sentence and her second, to be exact.

“First love is like the measles,” a song from an old opera went. “The older you get, the harder it grips you, and the harder it gets to let go.”

“This here is a grater. You hold the radish against it and scrape it like this. Just be sure to watch your fingers.”

“Right. I’ll give it a shot,” Volf replied as he rolled up his sleeves.

Dahlia failed to anticipate the strength and enthusiasm with which he’d approach the task. Within seconds, Volf’s fingertips were a hair’s breadth from the grater’s surface. He stopped in the nick of time, though his nails didn’t escape unscratched.

“There’s no need to do it so hard!”

“Dahlia, I can’t let you do this. These graters are dangerous. I should use my strengthening spell.”

“You don’t need a strengthening spell to grate a radish! Please don’t dig your fingers into it like that!”