FT: The Phantom Dragon Slayer Chapter 105: The Witch Who Erases Memories, a Promise Beneath the Full Moon (2)

Chapter 105: The Witch Who Erases Memories, a Promise Beneath the Full Moon (2)

After a seven-hour train ride from Magnolia Station,

we finally arrived at Licorice Village in the afternoon.

As expected of a hidden gem, the train station wasn’t directly connected to the village—we had to get off one stop earlier, at Mandrami Station, and walk the rest of the way.

It was tiring, but the sight that awaited us in the distance made it all worth it.

Mist drifted softly above the lake that cradled the village.

Through the haze, crimson lanterns glowed faintly, and the red buildings—built in an eastern architectural style—blended beautifully with the rocky hills rising from the water.

The entire village shimmered with a quiet, red-tinged light—an enchanting scene.

“Wow~! So this is Licorice Village! Totally worth the trip~!”

“I agree. I think coming here was the right choice.”

“That must be the entrance over there! Come on, let’s go~!!”

“Mira, don’t run like that—you’ll trip.”

Seeing Mirajane run ahead, beaming with childlike joy,

reminded me of when she was younger—those few times I’d accompanied her as her guardian on jobs,

when she’d smiled with that same innocent brightness.

The memory made the corners of my lips lift without realizing it.

And again, my heart trembled.

The same sensation I once felt when I looked at Sorano washed over me once more.

“…Through this trip, will I finally find where these feelings in my heart are leading…? Will I be able to let go of this hesitation…?”

I placed a hand over my chest, lost in thought.

This journey’s true purpose—was to find the answer to the feelings I held for Mirajane.

During a quiet talk with Nightwalker, I’d come to realize I thought of her as someone special.

Yet, though not bound by blood, we were still family.

Phoenixia once teased me, saying that humans often fall in love or even marry their kin.

But such stories, I know, rarely end well.

It wouldn’t matter if tragedy came for me—but I couldn’t bear to see her suffer.

All I wanted… was for her to be happy.

“Ciel~! What are you doing~? Hurry up!”

“My, my… you look just like that mischievous girl from years ago.”

“Who are you calling mischievous~?”

“Why, you, of course.”

“Th-that was a long time ago! I was young and full of energy! I was perfectly well-behaved around you, though!”

“Was that so? All I remember is being punched in the face. Kufufufu…”

“Y-you’re seriously bringing that up now?!”

“Yes, yes~ come on, let’s go.”

Crossing the red bridge that connected to the village,

we arrived at Licorice’s gate—marked by a striking crimson door.

As soon as we stepped into the village, the still, misty air filled with life. From within the quiet buildings, people emerged with bright, welcoming smiles.

“Oh my, how many years has it been since we’ve had tourists?!”

“Hey, everyone, come look! We’ve got visitors in the village!”

“Wow~ It’s been ages since outsiders came here.”

“Tourists, huh? Welcome, welcome to Licorice Village!”

Contrary to its serene atmosphere, the villagers showed no hint of suspicion toward strangers.

Instead, they greeted us with heartfelt enthusiasm.

Normally, a village would have guards posted at the gate—but here, there wasn’t a single soldier in sight.

Everyone looked like merchants or craftspeople, dressed in ordinary clothes, surrounding us with curious yet delighted gazes—almost as if they were seeing something out of a dream.

“Huh… It’s not even festival season, yet they’re this happy to see tourists. That’s a first.”

“I agree.”

“Well, that’s because it’s been two years since we’ve had visitors.”

“…And you are?”

The voice that answered came from somewhere beyond the crowd—soft and languid, yet somehow commanding.

The villagers parted as a woman stepped forward.

Her long, jet-black hair fell to her waist, gleaming like silk under the faint light. Her skin was a warm bronze tone, and her golden-amber eyes shone like gems against the dusk.

Dressed in a backless black gown, she was so strikingly beautiful that the word temptation itself seemed made for her.

“I am Suika, the head of this village. Things sounded lively outside, so I came to see what was happening—and it seems we’ve been blessed with visitors.”

“Yes. We came after seeing the paintings of this village in a travel book. It’s truly a charming place.”

I greeted her with the courtesy of a nobleman. She returned the gesture gracefully, introducing herself as the village chief.

Hearing my words, she covered her mouth with one hand and let out a small, elegant laugh.

“My, such kind words. As the chief, I’m honored.”

“But isn’t the title ‘mayor’ more common?”

“It used to be, yes. But Licorice is a very small, secluded place. Outsiders almost never visit, and royal envoys only come about once every ten years. So we’ve grown accustomed to using the term village chief instead.”

“I see.”

“Hehe~ to think such a young and beautiful woman would be the village chief! What a wonderful place this is~!”

“Oh, you flatter me. You’re quite the beauty yourself. But unlike me—an old spinster—you’ve come here with such a handsome lover. It’s a luxury to envy others when you’re already so lucky.”

“L-lover…?!”

At her teasing remark, Mirajane’s face turned red. She fidgeted, sidled closer to me, and pinched my sleeve in embarrassment.

Watching her reaction, Suika smiled faintly, her voice like honey.

“Welcome to Licorice Village. Since you’ve come for sightseeing, please enjoy your time here at your own pace.”

“We’re grateful for your warm hospitality, Chief Suika.”

“How long will you be staying?”

“We plan to rest here for about two days before heading back.”

“In that case, would you care to stay at my home? That large building you see over there—that’s where I live.”

She turned her head slightly and pointed toward a tall crimson building standing proudly in the center of the village.

The structure—with its red pillars and black-tiled roof—had a distinct eastern design, far more striking than anything else in the area.

“But... suddenly showing up and staying at your home might be a bit too forward of us…”

“It’s fine,” she said gently. “We rarely have visitors, and since there are no inns or lodgings in the village, I’d be glad if you stayed without feeling burdened. It’s been so long since we’ve had guests.”

“Ciel, what should we do?”

“She offered herself, so it would be rude to decline. Very well. We’ll look around the village a bit first and then come by.”

“Of course. Then, please enjoy your time here.”

After exchanging a few words, Suika gave a graceful nod and walked away toward her home.

Once she left, the villagers who had gathered to greet us offered brief bows before returning to their work, leaving the streets peaceful once more.

As the quiet settled back in, Mirajane tugged at my sleeve. She stared off in the direction Suika had gone, her expression dazed.

“She really was beautiful… Don’t you think so, Ciel?”

“Kufufufu… Have a little confidence. You’re just as beautiful as that chief—perhaps even more so. If Fiore’s most adored beauty starts losing confidence in a small village like this, your fans would be heartbroken.”

“Th-then… between me and Suika… who do you think is prettier?”

Her cheeks flushed bright red like pomegranate seeds as she glanced up at me.

Smiling softly, I reached out and patted her head.

“To my eyes, you’re far more beautiful.”

“R-really…?”

“Yes. Unlike her, you have an adorable charm as well.”

“…Saying things like that here… you’re embarrassing me~.”

“I’m only speaking my honest opinion.”

“Fine! Then let’s go look around the village! I’m in a good mood now~!!”

Laughing brightly, she grabbed my hand and pulled me forward with surprising enthusiasm.

Her joy made me smile too.

Once, when we were younger, I used to hold her hand and lead her.

Now, it was the other way around.

She’d really grown up.

“Let’s check out that shop first~!”

“We have plenty of time. No need to rush.”

“Hehe~ but it’s just us two right now!”

And so, hand in hand, I followed wherever Mirajane wished to go.

At least for now, I wanted to let her do as she pleased.

.....

Meanwhile, on the train from Magnolia Station, Erza, Wendy, and Levy sat with serious expressions, the rhythmic sound of the train filling the silence between them.

“This situation… is bigger than I thought,” Erza murmured.

“Do you think Mr. Ciel and Miss Mirajane will be alright?” Wendy asked anxiously.

“They’re two of Fairy Tail’s strongest wizards—Mirajane was once even my rival. They won’t fall easily.”

“I hope you’re right…” Levy muttered, closing the book she’d been studying.

Erza’s thoughts drifted back to what Master Makarov had told her earlier.

“So… the witch who steals memories. It seems this is more serious than we imagined.”

“Master, what do you mean?”

“I know a few things about that witch.”

“You do?!”

When Erza left the infirmary, she found Master Makarov waiting outside and immediately told him everything the boy had said.

As he listened, Makarov fell silent, his brows furrowing, eyes sharpening with deep concern. Then he spoke in a grave tone.

“It reminds me of a fairy tale I used to read to Laxus when he was little. Long ago, there was a kingdom drowned in sorrow—its people wept every day without knowing why. The king, desperate to end the grief, announced that whoever could rid his land of sadness would be greatly rewarded. Many from neighboring nations came, each trying to bring peace to the kingdom’s hearts, yet all failed. When the people despaired that they would live forever in tears… a witch appeared before the king.”

“A witch…?” Erza repeated.

“Yes. She claimed she could remove their sorrow. Confidently, she went beyond the castle walls and took from every person in the land… their memories.

By stealing all recollection of sadness, she freed the kingdom from despair—or so the tale says.”

“But that’s… just a story, isn’t it?”

“The problem,” Makarov said darkly, “is that the fairy tale was based on something real.”

“…Meaning?”

“That kingdom truly existed. But unlike the story, the reality was far darker. The witch didn’t simply remove sorrow—she erased everything. Their memories, their names, their lives. They became her slaves, living out their days in blank obedience until death. That truth was buried beneath the guise of a children’s tale.”

“That’s impossible…!” Erza breathed.

Understanding how serious the situation was, Makarov knew he couldn’t allow Erza to go alone. He worried about Ciel and Mirajane, but sending only Erza was just as dangerous.

They knew nothing about the enemy—nor the current state of the village. Charging in recklessly would be suicide.

However, with most guild members away on S-Class promotion missions, only Lucy, Levy, Wendy, and Carla were left.

Lucy, bound by her celestial contracts, could only summon non-combat spirits that day—making her unsuited for battle.

So Makarov ordered Wendy, Levy, and Charle to form a temporary team with Erza and depart for Licorice Village immediately.

....

“About that witch Master mentioned,” Levy said after some time, flipping through an ancient book she’d brought. “There’s a record of her here too.”

“Is that true?” Erza asked.

Levy nodded slowly but didn’t look up. Her eyes scanned the faded text, her expression darkening.

“Levy, what’s wrong?” Wendy asked softly.

“Your face… doesn’t look good,” Charle added.

“Is there a problem?” Erza pressed.

Levy hesitated, then finally spoke, disbelief trembling in her voice.

“It’s true—there are records of a witch who steals memories… but what’s written here doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“This manuscript is over three hundred years old. If this is the same witch… it means she’s been alive all this time. If what that boy said is true, then how can a human live for three centuries—without aging?”

“…You’re saying…”

“That the witch we’re going to face… might not be human at all?”

“No way…” Wendy whispered.

At Levy’s words, Erza, Wendy, and Charle fell silent. The weight of dread pressed down on them as the train thundered toward Licorice Village—and in their minds, a single terrifying question echoed:

What kind of being were they about to confront?

....

After touring the village for a while, we stepped into the huge, palace-like house at the center of town.

As promised, Suika welcomed us into her home with the utmost hospitality. We bathed in the large communal bath, and she lent us the village’s traditional garments.

We were treated to a feast of local delicacies—and even served their specialty liquor, Blood-Flower Wine (a liquor distilled from the mountain’s red flowers and aged for thirty years). It was an extravagant welcome.

After dinner, I carried the drunken Mirajane to a room and laid her down, then went to the room where I would be staying.

Mirajane, drunk and acting like a child, clung to me and babied for attention. I couldn’t help but smile at her tipsy antics, and indulged her as I led her to the bedroom.

I’m not especially tolerant of alcohol myself, so I felt my senses dulling a little. Still, a slight lightheadedness didn’t bother me in the warm, quiet time alone with Mirajane.

When I entered my room, Suika was there by the window, burning a candle.

“Oh—my apologies. I must have come to the wrong room.” she said.

“No — this is the guest room,” she replied. “I only stopped by to light a candle that will help you sleep peacefully.”

“A candle…?”

True to her word, the scent drifting from the smoke calmed and soothed my mind. It had a noticeably relaxing effect.

As I loosened up slightly, she approached me with a languid expression.

“You seem to like the fragrance,” she observed.

“A subtle, sweet scent… it does calm the mind. But—”

I formed a spear of mist in my hand and leveled its tip at the nape of her neck.

“Guest…?” she murmured.

“You cannot hide your hostility from me.”

“What do you mean…?” she asked, eyes widening in surprise as the spear pointed toward her.

I stared at Suika with every ounce of vigilance I could muster. From the moment I’d first met her at the village gate I’d sensed a sinister aura—an unmistakable stench of death that clung to her like perfume.

No matter how well she fooled the townsfolk, she could never fool me. That intoxicating, unforgettable scent—the same scent I could never forget—proved she was not human.

“You may be able to fool these villagers, but you cannot fool me. From the first moment I met you I sensed that cursed aura, and now the reek of death that surrounds you confirms it. Whatever you are that gives off that unforgettable scent—no mere human could possess it. A human bearing the smell of that man cannot exist.”

“Isn’t that right… Book of Zeref’s demon?”

I flipped the being who called herself Suika onto the bed and pressed the mist spear to the hollow of its neck.