Ariana tilted her head after listening to Iain.
"Potion brewed from magical witches?"
Her brows drew together slightly. Her lips moved once or twice, as if she were trying to roll those unfamiliar words around in her head and make sense of them.
In the end, though, she gave up.
"Mother brews it from herbs, and lots of other ingredients. I don't think there's any wizard in it?" Ariana said that with her little face gone a bit pale.
At that, the wariness on Iain's face deflated like a punctured balloon. He hurried forward and stood in front of Ariana again.
"Oh, in that case, no problem. So you're just a succubus who's seriously ill. Looks like even demon communities have their own terminal diseases."
"That actually makes me feel a lot better. Everything really does get treated equally in the end."
Iain offered that as consolation. Perhaps only Ariana would feel that it genuinely counted as comfort.
She blinked.
Somewhere in there, she caught a trace of concern.
It was just wrapped in a rather strange package.
"But I don't want it to be like this. Because of me, Mother and my brothers have to keep watch over me all the time. I can't go anywhere."
Her voice was very soft, filled with guilt and self-reproach.
She felt she was dragging her family down.
"Don't give up hope. Even a succubus should keep her heart turned toward the light."
As he encouraged her, Iain stooped to pick up a broken piece of brick from the floor nearby.
Then he began carving into it with his fingernails.
The nails on Iain's current body were as hard as iron. As they scraped across the stone, they made a faint, gritty rasp, and tiny chips fell from between his fingers onto the ground.
"When medicine and magic both can't save you, then you need to try metaphysics."
His nails moved quickly. Before long, the little chunk of brick had been carved into a rough shape.
"Metaphysics?"
Ariana stood in the corridor, looking up at him rather curiously instead of rushing back to her room.
"Of course. You need to worship more gods."
Iain made the suggestion with complete seriousness.
"But Merlin won't do. I know exactly what sort of person Merlin was. He's dark. He even stained me black."
"The Muggles' God won't do either. Too many followers. He won't have time for you. Besides, lately He's been busy avoiding my edge, so He definitely can't spare the attention."
There was a certain Sherlock-Holmes confidence to the way he said it.
Ariana tilted her head again. She was not entirely sure she had heard him correctly when he said, "God's busy avoiding my edge," but she wisely chose not to ask.
Mr. Corpse's brain had definitely gone off in an unusual direction a long time ago. That much was perfectly reasonable.
"So you should do what I do."
Iain continued, his hands never stopping as he refined the little stone carving.
"You can worship a niche god."
By then they had returned to the burial chamber where Iain had originally lain. The stone coffin still sat where it had before, the lid tilted to one side, the velvet lining inside it gleaming dully in the dark.
"A niche god?"
Ariana asked, puzzled.
Iain nodded.
"I've worshipped Cthulhu since I was little, and my luck has been fantastic because of it. Recently I even started growing tentacles."
He lifted a hand and waggled it in front of Ariana.
His fingers flexed with unnatural agility.
"Okay, you can't see them right now. My tentacles are outside my body. Mage Hand. They're incredibly cool."
He sounded very proud of himself.
"Trust me. Worship the God of All Magic and it'll definitely work."
He turned the stone over and showed Ariana what he had carved.
On it was the shape of a tiny person.
A round head, one crooked eye, a slanted mouth, and a little hat balanced on top. The lines were rough, but the expression was vivid enough.
Anyone who had seen Iain's real face would recognize immediately who it was meant to be.
"The God of All Magic?" Sadly, Ariana had never seen Iain's true appearance, so all she could do was stare at the cross-eyed, crooked-mouthed little figure in confusion.
"Mm. This entire world is just a dream dreamt by Iain, God of All Magic. Since you're living in it, worshipping me... I mean worshipping him... makes perfect sense."
Iain nearly let the truth slip, but the logic still held together remarkably well.
"I see..."
Ariana's eyes flickered, as though she had realized something. She lowered her head to look at the crooked little figure, and a trace of hope appeared in her expression.
She tightened her fingers around the figurine and held it in her palm.
She remembered that every time she stayed near Iain, the pain inside her body would quiet down. Not because of potions, not because of treatment, but simply because he was there beside her. Maybe Mr. Corpse was right. Maybe worshipping him really would work.
"I'll try it," she said softly.
Then she reached up and removed the necklace from around her neck.
The chain was silver and very fine. The pendant was a tiny, irregular stone, smooth on the surface, gleaming faintly in the dim light.
Ariana held the necklace out toward Iain.
"I accepted your gift, so I should give you something in return. I don't really have many things that are mine, so I hope you won't mind that it isn't worth much."
Ariana looked at Iain nervously.
"Of course I won't mind. When I make friends, I never care whether they're rich or not. Either way, they're not richer than my ancestors."
Iain waved a hand with the easy swagger of a well-born heir.
"Mr. Corpse, the things you say are really strange, but I still like coming to see you. Thank you for helping me."
Ariana thanked him sincerely.
"It's nothing. And don't forget, I just saved your life too. So even if in this life you're already my exclusive succubus, in the next life you'll still have to serve me like an ox or a horse."
Iain had never been the sort of person to be modest about doing others a favor. Whenever he helped someone, he liked collecting on it in advance.
"That's fine."
Ariana agreed without hesitation.
Then, knowing it was getting late, she climbed back into the tunnel.
She disappeared from the burial chamber.
At the same time, back in her own room, she crawled up out of the tunnel beneath her bed.
"Mother isn't here yet."
Looking at her still-locked bedroom door, Ariana let out a soft breath of relief. Then she lowered her gaze to the little statue in her hand. The crooked-eyed, crooked-mouthed little Iain rested quietly in her palm.
The surface of the stone had already warmed from the heat of her skin.
She held it in both hands.
And something strange truly did happen. Even after leaving Mr. Corpse's side, the pain that should have come surging back like a tide was no longer nearly as sharp.
The pain inside her body really did seem a little lighter.
"It really works!"
Ariana was overjoyed.
In eyes that had been dim for years, an unprecedented hope suddenly flared to life, as if, for the first time in her dark life, she had finally seen a thread of light.
...
Time passed.
A few hours later, after exploring hundreds of corridors in the underground complex, weaving through countless maze-like side passages, Iain still had not found what he wanted.
"Damn it. Where did I hide the Ultramen?"
As unwilling as he was to admit defeat, time had run out. So Iain could only flop down on the spot and play dead.
His consciousness faded from the underground palace. When he awoke again, he was back in Dumbledore's old house. Outside the window, the world was still wrapped in dusk.
"Huh?"
Iain had the distinct feeling that he was holding something in his hand.
Before he could even light a lamp to check, something happened deep in his consciousness.
Among those ancient runes he had memorized before, the ones that had once moved only sluggishly through his mind, another section suddenly seemed to unlock, come alive, and begin to flow.
That was...
A new ancient spell had apparently awakened.