CH1327 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1327: Scroll’s New Clothes

With everyone’s eyes on her, Scroll took fifteen minutes longer than before to quiet her mind and catch hold of that faint, hazy fluctuation of magic. When she opened her eyes, she was already inside the cramped Archives.

Phyllis materialized beside her in the appearance of a young witch. Centuries had left no mark on her body, and though Phyllis had lived far longer, standing there she looked like Scroll’s junior.

“What should we do next?” Scroll asked.

“Leave it to me.” Phyllis gave a confident smile, pushed open the iron door, and walked out.

Scroll followed.

The raucous, magnificent city opened before her again.

Phyllis scanned their surroundings and quickly fixed her gaze on a young man walking toward them. She took Scroll’s hand, crossed the distance in a few strides, and stepped into his path.

“Hello.”

He stopped. He had been looking at a small rectangular device in his hand; now he raised his head in confusion. When their eyes met, confusion became open shock. “Er—um, can I help you?”

“Sorry, I’ve lost my phone and can’t reach my friend. Could you—”

“I get it. Is a hundred dollars enough?” He had already fished his wallet from his coat pocket and was holding out a red bill, his voice carrying a note of sympathy. “I don’t mind being scammed, but whoever put you up to this—” he glanced at their clothes—“made quite an effort.”

Phyllis’s smile froze. “I just want to borrow your phone to make a call.”

He stood there for a moment. Comprehension, then embarrassment. He held out the small device, apologizing in a rush.

Phyllis shrugged and dialed.

Scroll did not know what to say. She had no clear picture of what was happening—only that the street pressed against her from all sides with its strangeness, a wall of it. Several people nearby had already noticed them and were staring openly, some of them with something that was not mere curiosity. It brought back a particular kind of memory: her sisters, exposed in public during the years of the Witch Cooperation Association.

“Don’t worry.” Phyllis had noticed. “All they can do is watch. Stare back and they’ll look away faster than you’d believe.”

At that moment, the small device beeped.

“Hello, is this Phyllis?”

Roland’s voice.

The pressure in Scroll’s chest released at once. This was still the Dream World. He was not far from them. The strangeness remained, but it no longer pressed. Even the stares lost their teeth.

She drew a slow breath and looked back at the onlookers. They glanced away immediately, suddenly interested in other directions.

The street seemed to start moving again.

“Yes, it’s me. Miss Scroll is right here.” Phyllis spoke into the phone, consulting something on the screen as she did. “The address is—yes, that’s what the map shows. Only two kilometers from your estate? Good. I’ll wait here, Your M—Brother.” She ended the call and tossed the device back to its owner. “Thanks.”

“N-no problem.” He hesitated, then, with the tentative air of someone taking a gamble: “Um—could I add you as a friend?”

Phyllis produced a string of numbers without apparent thought.

He recorded them as though she’d handed him something precious. Face lit, he bowed a farewell and left.

“That small device you borrowed,” Scroll said. “Could that be the wireless telephone—the one that can carry a voice over thousands of kilometers—that His Majesty often misses?”

“Yes. In this world, technology has advanced to the point where everyone carries one. You can speak to others on it, locate yourself, search for any information you need—it’s become nearly impossible to do without.” Phyllis glanced at her. “It’s also why remembering someone’s number is enough to reach them at any time. If there’s a person you’d rather not speak to, you refuse the call—or give them a wrong number.”

“I see.” The things His Majesty had said came back to her with new clarity. No wonder he had claimed that if they were both in the Dream World, finding each other would be simple.

“You adjusted more quickly than I expected.” Phyllis’s smile carried a hint of approval. “As expected of the Witch Union’s mentor.”

Scroll shook her head and said nothing.

She knew where her steadiness had come from.

He was already clearly a king, and he still talked about protecting his subordinates—as though that were the natural order of things, as though a king’s protection of those beneath him was simply what kings did. How long before he becomes a proper king? The thought moved through her with a kind of helpless fondness.

She had told herself, since the Witch Cooperation Association came under protection, that she ought to be the one standing in front, shielding the King. And yet here she was, still on the receiving end of that protection. Not much of a record.

But if everyone was this way—if no one outran the others—perhaps that was not the worst arrangement.

Let’s maintain the status quo a little while longer.

“Hey, look at those two.”

“That’s a medieval robe, aren’t they cosplaying?”

“They’re quite pretty, actually.”

“Celebrity level, easily—”

The whispers rose and faded around them. Scroll found she no longer minded them.

About ten minutes later, a smooth, rounded vehicle—white, low, built in a shape that had nothing in common with anything Scroll could name—pulled to the curb before them.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Roland leaned out from the driver’s window.

“Get in.” Phyllis opened the door and drew Scroll in after her.

The car slid into traffic and vanished, leaving a cluster of staring onlookers behind.

“Our luck is good.” Ling turned from the passenger seat to face them. “If Your Excellency’s territory’s link with the Dream World is only two blocks from the apartment, Faldi’s flying insects can put that whole area under continuous surveillance.”

Faldi nodded. “I swept the site already—no new signs of Fallen Evil activity. Safety can be assumed for now.”

“Good.” Roland’s voice was easy. “Then, Scroll—as the first witch to enter the Dream World under her own power—how does it feel?”

Scroll ran a hand along the seat behind her, then tapped the window. “So this is what a car is like in the Dream World.” The glass was smooth and cool. “The seat is softer than a couch. It’s so fast and so quiet—hundreds of times better than a steam-powered truck. If only we could build something like this…”

She noticed, belatedly, that Roland’s smile had gone slightly rigid. The three God’s Punishment Witches had pressed their lips together in identical expressions of restrained amusement.

“Um—did I say something wrong?”

“No, ahem—that day will certainly come.” Roland cleared his throat. “Anyway. Your Majesty, where are we going?” Scroll watched the city slide past the glass. “Weren’t we going to test the Realm of Mind?”

“We can do that later. Haven’t you noticed?” He did not turn his head. “The clothes you’re both wearing are drawing rather a lot of attention. Phyllis has a change in the back—she can manage. But we don’t have anything for you yet.” A beat. “The most important task right now is getting you a proper outfit.”

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