Chapter 93: About Charlotte and Her

When we returned that day, the blue-haired group that had been standing in front of the inn was already gone.

According to Reynard, they left immediately after realizing we weren’t around. It was a relief nothing had happened.

Still, if we’d come out the front, who knows what might have happened? I’m glad we took precautions.

Today, we’ve been summoned by Trishel and are on our way to the Crimson Bell’s clan house. As we walk, I’m still wrestling with the aftereffects of the recent incident.

“…Ah!”

“Hey, you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Even just making eye contact is too much? No—sorry, that was out of line. Forgive me.”

“It’s fine. Actually… you’re right.”

Even meeting a passerby’s gaze was enough to make my heart cry out for help. That dreamlike town. Those nightmare people. Because of them, I’ve been living with constant paranoia.

I first noticed it when walking back with Riven. Even being brushed past makes my body tense. I hear phantom voices. And more. Without Riven beside me, my mind might have already unraveled.

Until I recover a little, I probably can’t go out alone. Not that I ever really wanted to wander by myself anyway.

“You know, we could’ve called her to meet us instead.”

“But she said it needed to be private. I’m guessing it’s about the People of White or something similar.”

“Still…”

“I can’t just turn a blind eye anymore.”

Back when it happened with Salem, I had no idea what was going on. I didn’t even try to understand what she was saying. If it had ended with just that one time, maybe I could have left it alone. But now it’s happened again.

And both times, it must have been because I’m the princess of the People of White. If I keep averting my eyes, it’ll only happen again—dragging others into it, centering on me. First Riven, now Trishel. People close to me are being hurt, one after another.

Who’s next? The thought alone terrifies me. I have to end this—by finding out what’s really going on. I honestly don’t care about the People of White or any of that. What matters is stopping this from hurting the people around me.

I need to stamp out the cause. And for that, I need to hear the full story from Trishel.

“…We’re here.”

“Thank you.”

I really am glad Riven is with me. Having him by my side makes me feel safe. I opened the clan house door. A familiar face greeted us.

“Welcome, you two.”

“Reynard.”

The bright young man with hair like unclouded gold—Reynard. He was dressed casually. He, too, was here to join today’s discussion.

“Please, come in.”

“Yes, thank you.”

I glanced back, sensing eyes from beyond the closing door. But it must have been my imagination—no one was there to meet my gaze.

“Hey! Sorry our Trishel gave you trouble!”

“Reynard, make sure to scold her properly!”

“That lazy girl—whenever she does decide to move, it’s never for anything good…”

On the way to Trishel’s room, the clan members called out to us. I brushed it off with a polite smile, but I noticed something: not one of them was truly angry.

…This clan really is warm.

“Trishel, we’re coming in.”

“Okay~”

A reply came after my knock, so we entered. Inside, Trishel was waiting, her complexion fully recovered, with enough chairs prepared for all of us.

Once we were inside and the door closed, she snapped her fingers with a click. At the sound, a staff—the same one she’d used during the incident with Salem—flew into her hand from the back of the room.

“Everyone, have a seat.”

Prompted, we sat down. Around the round table, Trishel and I faced each other, with Riven on my left and Reynard on my right.

“Good. Everyone’s seated.”

Trishel nodded in satisfaction, then let her expression turn serious.

“Well then, let’s begin—the truth about this town.”

The story began with great weight, and it wasn’t mere intimidation. It carried substance worthy of such a heavy prelude.

The first to raise a hand was Riven.

“Before you start, may I ask a question?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Whose side are you on?”

The air grew sharp and tense. Depending on her answer, Riven was ready to strike at Trishel.

“Do you really need that answer?”

“What was that?”

“H-Hey, calm down.”

Despite the tension, Trishel’s face stayed light and easygoing. In the end, she even threw both hands up in an exaggerated gesture.

Riven shot to his feet, but I quickly moved to calm him.

“Asking a stray dog who its current master is after its old one’s gone… that’s a pretty harsh question, don’t you think?”

“…Forgive me.”

“It’s fine. It’s something you need to worry about, so I won’t be angry.”

Riven quietly sat back down. To ease the heavy mood, Trishel deliberately brightened her tone.

“Now then, where should I start? About the People of White? About why this town was born? Or about the truth of the dungeon?”

She could answer any of them. No—surely we’d need to hear all of them eventually.

But one question lingered.

“Is it really okay for Reynard to hear all this?”

Reynard was more of an outsider. Riven and I were directly involved, but he wasn’t nearly as entangled. Was it really fine for him to be told these things?

“It’s not just okay—it has to be told. She said she wanted to leave the clan. And since I refused, I felt the risk of keeping her here needed to be made clear. That’s why she’ll hear everything this time.”

“I see.”

That was just like Reynard. Once he let someone in, he wouldn’t let go easily. This was the man who accepted me when I was treated like a curse—he was on another level.

“Then first… could you tell me about the White Clan? About me?”

Saying that, I dispelled the magic woven into my hair. In that moment, the pigment drained away, revealing my pure white hair.

Dungeon-made dye had this convenience—it was pricey, but I bought it because it didn’t damage hair. I still had some left at home, so I could recolor it later.

Reynard’s eyes widened in surprise. This was his first time seeing it.

“This white-haired clan… within it, what exactly am I?”

Trishel closed her eyes in thought, then looked straight at me as she spoke.

“The White Clan. That’s the name for beings who wield powers tied to life itself.”

“Powers tied… to life?”

“They’re said to be closer to pure souls than humans are. They hold the ability to freely alter the state of living beings.”

The state of living beings… alter it? What did that even mean?

“For example, they could give a dog wings so it could fly. They could grant people supernatural abilities. And—they could take what’s been lost and knit it back together, restoring it to what it should be.”

“Then… that means…”

“Yes. What you think of as Charlotte’s healing magic is actually the power of the White Clan. It only manifested imperfectly, and you mistook it for healing.”

“Wait… then what I was using wasn’t healing magic?”

If that’s true—no, maybe that’s exactly why.

When Salem stole Riven’s eyes, I couldn’t heal him. But later, when something inside me surged awake, I could.

Was that the moment everything changed?

“On top of that—Charlotte, you’re not just any member of the White Clan.”

“Salem… and you too. You both called me princess, didn’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“What does that mean? What makes a ‘princess’ different?”

That was the heart of it.

Salem had been obsessed with the princess. She hadn’t treated me as just another White Clan member on equal ground—she’d seen me as something above her.

She’d even said not to let me be lost again. As if… I had been lost once before.

Then what am I, really? What is a princess of the White Clan?

“In the White Clan, the one called princess… Charlotte, you’re essentially the heart of the entire race.”

“…Huh?”

“To put it bluntly—without a princess for too long, the White Clan dies out.”

“…What?”

The truth was far too heavy to accept right away.

Not just me—even Riven’s eyes widened in shock. Reynard alone had closed his eyes, as if silently turning the words over.

“W-Wait, that doesn’t make sense! The order’s all wrong! I was only born a little over ten years ago, but the White Clan existed long before that!”

“The princess is reborn after she’s lost. No one knows where, or from whom, or why. But it always happens. She always returns.”

What?

The first image that came to mind was a beehive—a queen bee. When a hive loses its queen, the workers create another.

But even then, a queen can only be raised under strict conditions. And the White Clan’s princess… she wasn’t bound by anything like that.

So what does that even mean?

“…Sorry, but I don’t know the finer details either. What I do know is this—the White Clan treasures their princess above all else. For her sake, they’d gladly throw away their own lives.”

“Throw them away…? To that extent?”

“Think back to Salem. She lost her former princess. That’s why she went mad.”

Yeah… she had been insane.

Her hatred and obsession toward the Black Clan, toward Riven and the others—it consumed her until she broke.

If losing a princess can twist someone into that… then just how important is this role?

And me—what does that make me?

“Charlotte. You are the princess of the White Clan in this era. The one who wields its greatest power, and the one with the right to rule them all.”

The truth hurled at me was far too immense to accept so easily.