Muyoku no Seijo wa Okane ni Tokimeku

- I wonder what our dedication has been.

A pompous tear fell over a note spelling out the letters.

- I just wanted to be useful. I wanted to see a full smile on everyone's face.

There was no such thing as a dirty feeling in the name of the Spirit.

She stops.

Thus he stared at the unreliably shaking flame of the candlestick placed on the crude desk.

It is a simple space.

Rubbed carpet in a narrow building made up of trees alone. On a small sleeping table, a simple made desk and chair.

The desk only has an old glass poured with candlesticks and water.

The windows were hung with thick spiritual cloths that combined windscreen and cold protection, which was the only colour of this room.

She looked down at her own hands.

At one point they were all covered in pen ink, and at one point they were buried in powder to bake bread, the workers' hands.

That hand, which was white and beautiful as a daughter, is now only a little dryness becoming more noticeable.

Eventually, she brutally wiped her eyes with both hands and held her pen again.

- No, really, maybe he wanted to be recognized.

So right now, I can't help but feel this sadness that my chest is about to rip open and the urge not to look beyond.

Yes, she nodded one thing.

I don't deserve a mentor anymore.

- Anger, arrogance, greed. I no longer deserve to live like this, having put together all three of the vices that the Spirit hates.

So, I...

"I dedicate myself to the Spirit of Fire..."

The pompous grunt sounded sneaky in the deserted room.

She chanted it over and over again, with those little lips, to bite the words.

I dedicate myself to the Spirit of Fire. I dedicate myself to the Spirit of Fire.

To the Spirit of Fire, I dedicate this self.

Then strangely, in the glass that was placed on my desk, the surface of the water swayed quietly.

It was as if, bewildered by her proclamation, the water was shaking itself.

Noticing the movement of the water, she lowered her brow sadly and gently stroked the edge of the glass.

And so, in a quiet voice,

"I'm sorry."

whispered. When I leaned down, my golden brown hair, which remained down, became clear from my shoulder.

- A powerful flame will surely burn my soul, disgrace me, and train me.

I believe that one day I will be reborn and see you again.

She put a lot of effort into the hand holding the pen and increased the speed of writing.

- I love you. My cute little brother. I'm not asking you to forgive my stupid sister for leaving you.

But please, don't resent people in need.

And please, on my behalf, live the name of the Lady of the Lake, and shatter her heart so that her sperm may go to the people.

I entrust her name to you.

The name of my friend, the Spirit of the Lake, is...

When she finished writing the letter to the end, she gained momentum.

"-... Come on!"

Talk to yourself with an irresistible and flamboyant voice, as if you won't even allow your voice to tremble.

"No more tears, Christine!

That's how I twirl my heels back, without even looking back, just squeezing the letter and walking away from the room.

On the desk left, until earlier, the water that should indeed have been poured out of the glass disappeared, and instead, the flame of the candlestick, which had enlarged its contour, stretched its red body violently from left to right.

The flame melted the candle as it repeatedly stretched, and its large, swollen tip ripped off a piece of the desk - eventually conveying the rest of the note that had been left behind and quietly began to spread throughout the desk.

1008 calendar year of the Weitz Empire.

It was about the 5th of the Snowflake month, when only a few signs of spring began to hide in the sky that had been painted into thick snowclouds.