WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 177: Won’t You Save Me?
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[So this fog is a remnant of the Great London Barrier created during the Demon God War?]
“Rather than a remnant, it’s closer to a side effect... Well, they’re similar enough, so just think of it that way.”
[Hearing you say that only makes me more curious why it’s closer to a side effect.]
“It’s nothing much. Ghosts sometimes appear in this fog. A few people disappear without a trace every day, too.”
[That’s more than enough to count as something?!]
Yoo Na-gyeong, who had recoiled in horror at Rimon’s words, suddenly tilted her head.
[No, wait. The Demon God War happened shortly after World War II ended, right? But the effects of the barrier cast back then are still around?]
“Yes, and they’ll remain for another thousand years.”
[...]
[Does that even make sense?]
“The deeper magic is, the stronger it becomes. And the heavier it is, the greater the aftermath it leaves behind.”
Yoo Na-gyeong looked beyond the observation deck again.
Seeing the sea of fog still rolling through London, she made a sickened face.
The fog blanketing all of London was so thick and heavy that it seemed doubtful even hundreds of Players using the 『Climate Alteration』 Skill together could disperse it.
Yet this was only a trace left by magic used decades ago.
Had Rimon not been the one telling her this, she never would have believed it.
[...]
[This is different from what I heard. Movies and textbooks just say witches appeared, cast a barrier with a flourish, and stopped the Demon God.]
“Of course they do.”
[Because their historical accuracy is poor?]
“Because every country works itself to death advertising its good points while trying to cover up its flaws and dangers as much as possible.”
[That’s even sadder because I can’t deny it.]
Rimon snorted as he watched Yoo Na-gyeong speak blankly, looking shaken.
After the Demon God War, the British Empire had made its status as the only nation to stop the Demon God into a point of pride and seized hegemony over Europe.
There was no way they would have allowed the rumor, “The Demon God was stopped, but London was cursed instead,” to spread.
Perhaps London’s absurd transformation was also part of a policy meant to suppress such rumors.
Those dazzled by London’s theme park-like appearance would, like Yoo Na-gyeong, misunderstand the real reason it was called the City of Magic.
[Anyway, if that’s true, I understand why you’re looking for a Magic Hall of the Twenty-Seven Lineages of Magic, Team Leader.]
Yoo Na-gyeong murmured suddenly.
The twenty-seven witches who had cast the Great London Barrier.
A Magic Hall from one of the Twenty-Seven Lineages of Magic descended from them would surely be on another level from the ordinary Magic Halls scattered about the streets.
The problem was that every one of those Magic Halls of the Twenty-Seven Lineages had become a chain store.
That was why Rimon frowned.
“...
I still don’t understand it.”
[Huh? What do you mean?]
“That places like that are doing business under the banner of the Twenty-Seven Lineages of Magic.”
[Well... couldn’t that happen? This is an age where even history and tradition are used to make money.]
“That’s why I don’t understand it. It might make sense elsewhere, but in London, that modern age nonsense doesn’t apply when it comes to magic.”
[...]
“Besides, making money or whatever, a true Magic Hall doesn’t do business like that.”
[What does that even mean?]
“For example... hm?”
Just as Rimon opened his mouth to explain to Yoo Na-gyeong, who had tilted her head at his cryptic words, he raised his brows.
He turned toward the inside of the clock tower.
A very faint scent of magic, slightly different from the magical aura originating from the fog, had passed beneath his nose.
Using a Sword Master’s senses, he traced the scent’s source through the clock tower.
After slowly approaching the transparent clock face that also served as a window, Rimon checked the position of the hands and smiled strangely.
“I was wondering where all the real Magic Halls had gone. So they hid an entrance in a place like this.”
To place a door that opened only during the Misty Hour in a spot overlooking every kind of fake Magic Hall.
If it was intentional, it was quite an amusing prank.
In any event, it would save them the needless trouble of searching on foot. As Rimon murmured under his breath, Yoo Na-gyeong looked puzzled.
[A door?]
“Na-gyeong, doesn’t this clock face look strange to you?”
[...]
[It doesn’t look strange at all?]
Yoo Na-gyeong was baffled by Rimon’s question.
The clock face he indicated showed the time perfectly normally. There was nothing odd about it no matter where she looked.
Weiling, who had silently followed Rimon, spoke in her place.
“The clock face is reversed.”
[What do you mean, reversed? It just looks like an ordinary clock... oh?]
Yoo Na-gyeong’s eyes widened.
Only then did she realize that the very fact that the clock looked ordinary was strange.
[No, wait. What’s wrong with this clock face? It looked normal from outside, so it should look reversed from inside!]
They were inside the clock tower.
If the clock face looked normal from the outside, it should look backward from within.
So why did it look normal both outside and inside?
Rimon spoke calmly to the bewildered Yoo Na-gyeong.
“It’s nothing to be surprised by. It’s merely a signpost.”
[...]
[A signpost?]
“Yes. And a key.”
Rimon folded his arms.
He fell into thought as he looked at the clock face, which was turned over yet not turned over.
‘A clock, so Sena the Reverser?’
‘No. Then the clock should be running backward.’
‘Upside down, opposite, reverse side. I see. It’s from Eureka the Inverter’s lineage.’
‘Eureka always liked turning everything inside out. Then the door must be...’
For a moment, he tapped his fingers as he recalled a short witch with cute freckles.
Then Rimon swept his gaze across the other side of the clock face.
He walked over to a full-length mirror sitting alone in one corner of the clock tower and flipped it completely around.
“‘Turn over, and it will be opened to you,’ is it?”
‘That repertoire hasn’t changed in centuries.’
Rimon gave a wry laugh as he looked at the inscription carved into the back of the mirror.
Then he dragged the full-length mirror across from the clock face and adjusted its angle until the clock face was reflected perfectly upside down.
He spoke casually.
“Now, let’s go in.”
[Go in where, exactlyeeee?!]
Yoo Na-gyeong, who had watched Rimon’s actions in confusion, cried out in horror.
The moment he took a long stride forward.
The surface of the full-length mirror rippled like water struck by a stone, naturally swallowing Rimon’s body.
Before Yoo Na-gyeong knew what was happening, she was drawn in with him.
When she regained her senses, Rimon and she had already crossed into the mirror... no, the world beyond the mirror.
[What is this?!]
Yoo Na-gyeong recoiled at the sight before her. From the clock face to the tower’s interior and even the view of London beyond the observation deck, everything was reversed left to right.
Unlike her, Weiling had calmly followed Rimon inside. Looking around, she asked quietly,
“So this is what you meant when you said it would be difficult to find a Magic Hall of the Twenty-Seven Lineages?”
“Yes. They don’t run Magic Halls to make money in the first place.”
Rimon answered with a sneer.
A street Magic Hall run by some half-trained spellcaster, selling trinkets and putting on shows, might be one thing.
But a true Magic Hall could not be found by anyone fate did not reach. Even if one found it, money could not buy so much as a single trinket.
[If they have no interest in making money, why do they run Magic Halls at all? Is it a hobby or something?]
“Who knows? If I had to say, it’s less a hobby than karmic retribution.”
[Karmic retribution?]
“Yes. True witches and magicians have no choice but to operate Magic Halls if they wish to keep using magic.”
[The more I hear, the less I understand what you mean.]
“Then accept it without understanding. That’s simply what magic is like.”
Having said so as if it were nothing, Rimon strolled out of the clock tower.
He headed into the streets of London, covered in fog just as dense as outside the mirror, yet far more dreamlike.
Flutter.
A softly glowing butterfly flew toward them as though it had been waiting.
“Is this a welcome? To think this generation’s Eureka has enough manners to provide a guide as well.”
Rimon followed the butterfly, which shone strangely clearly even amid the fog, without hesitation.
Thus Rimon, relaxed as ever, Yoo Na-gyeong, blankly looking around, and Weiling, silently following behind them, arrived at a Magic Hall.
It was none other than Orna the Unraveler’s Magic Hall, the one they had last visited outside the mirror.
“Hm?”
They had entered through Eureka’s door, so why was Orna’s Magic Hall here rather than Eureka the Inverter’s Magic Hall?
Rimon wondered for only a moment, then simply opened the door and entered.
[Huh?]
Yoo Na-gyeong went blank.
A world reversed left to right was already disorienting enough, but the interior of the Magic Hall was on an entirely different level.
The ceiling and floor were flipped completely opposite, as though gravity worked in reverse.
Dozens of doors, large and small, filled all six surfaces, including the ceiling, floor, and four walls.
Bird-shaped locks clicked inside birdcages, while bundles of keys clattered as they crawled across the walls.
The sight felt less like reality and more like a dream, leaving Yoo Na-gyeong’s beak hanging open.
But it was not the scenery that truly captured her attention.
It was a woman seated at a desk attached to the ceiling, resting her chin on her hand upside down as she looked down at them.
“Welcome.”
She wore a strangely old-fashioned black dress that exposed her arms, shoulders, and even the deep line of her chest.
Her dark crimson hair was as vivid as darkness, yet seemed to flicker like flames.
With gently curved eyes and a beauty mark beneath her left eye, she drew attention and set hearts pounding just by sitting still.
As Yoo Na-gyeong, and even Weiling, unconsciously swallowed dryly at the sight of her, Rimon spoke with a hard expression.
“...
Why are you here?”
“That’s awfully cold for a greeting after so long apart.”
“Forget the chatter and answer me first.”
“I’ll answer, so don’t draw that sword. A delicate witch like me gets too frightened to speak.”
The woman chuckled at Rimon, whose hand had somehow already settled on his sword hilt, poised as though he could draw it at any moment.
Resting her chin lazily on her interlaced fingers, she continued.
“The reason I’m here is because I was waiting for you.”
“For me? You? Why?”
Rimon looked suspicious.
Meeting her was not surprising in itself. He had expected it ever since hearing Ainsha’s precognition.
But he had never expected to meet her here, in this way.
This dark crimson-haired woman was someone who would hide no matter how relentlessly Rimon searched for her, not someone who would appear on her own.
Why had she done something so unusual?
Seeing Rimon’s open suspicion, the woman plainly stated her business.
“Won’t you save me, little one?”
“...
I told you not to call me little one, you old hag.”
“What can I do? It’s true that you look like a little one to me.”
If he wanted to stop being treated like a baby, he could come back after he was a thousand years old.
Watching one of the few women in the world older than himself speak with a warm smile, Rimon could only furrow his brow.
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