novelraw Chapter 99: A Single Black Hair
Chapter 99: A Single Black Hair
Hearing the girl's unwavering answer, Fischer returned to the bedside. He looked the "girl" up and down, gaze lingering for several seconds on the soft protrusion at her chest. Karo's cheeks flushed, and she snapped at him.
"What are you staring at?! My entire body has completely become female! Want a taste of an artificial Witch? Or are you actually some kind of Schwari homosexual?"
Fischer couldn't be bothered with his bluster. He sat down in the chair by the bed and addressed Karo.
"The deal can continue, but I need proof of your sincerity first. Give me the lead on the Undying Witch, or there's nothing to discuss."
Karo pressed his lips together, sighed, and agreed. As if recalling something, he spoke.
"The Witch Research Society has been chasing in the Mother Goddess's footsteps for a very long time. I once believed, like those fanatics, that the Witches' immense magical power was the only path to the Mother Goddess. So when they asked for human test subjects, I agreed in a moment of recklessness."
"Those defective artificial Witches — people like Bart — were all created by implanting pieces of my flesh into their bodies..."
At this point, Fischer frowned.
"Are you saying that simply transplanting your flesh into someone is enough to create an artificial Witch?"
"No, that's not how it works." Karo shook his head. "It's not a simple transplant — it's an extremely complex technique. I don't know exactly how they do it. What's grafted onto those people isn't just physical tissue; the mana circuits in that tissue are grafted as well, and they're made to integrate without rejection — becoming a brand-new part of the body.""I'm not sure how the Witch Research Society obtained this technique, but I can guarantee it came from outside the Society." Karo clenched his teeth. Beside him, his dislocated arm slowly reset itself on its own, accompanied by a searing wave of pain that creased his brow.
"Once you use that technique to implant Witch tissue, it genuinely creates a new Witch. They gain a unique trait all their own. So they locked me up and harvested my flesh around the clock, cultivating one artificial Witch after another..."
At the mention of this, a deep, hateful gleam passed through Karo's eyes.
"I became a Witch — their 'most perfect Witch,' they said — yet I never once felt the Mother Goddess's call. Not once! All I felt was the agony of having my flesh carved away! That's why I escaped — fled all the way to Naris."
"I'm not here for your sob story. I want the lead on the real Undying Witch."
Fischer's ill-timed reminder earned him a resentful glare from Karo, who then continued.
"I said before that I was also created using that technique — an artificial Witch. But the reason I turned out more successful, more different than the others, is that the tissue implanted in me came from a real Witch. That Witch was terrifying. Unlike the others, who developed entirely new traits, I inherited a portion of that Witch's original trait. That's how I can be certain: the owner of the part implanted in me is the real Undying Witch you're looking for."
"Where is this implanted part?"
Under Fischer's probing gaze, Karo gently lifted the brown locks from his forehead. There, amid a sea of brown, a single long strand of black hair had been embedded in the scalp. Strange as it was — a mere hair — Fischer's instincts told him at once that it did not belong to Karo. It looked utterly out of place.
"See it? That black hair. All they implanted was a single strand of hair, and it burrowed into my body like a parasite, rewriting everything. My sex, my mana circuits, even part of my thoughts — all invaded by one simple hair. In the beginning, I could constantly feel something from that strand. It was terrifying..."
"Feel something? What can a hair make you feel?"
"No — not the hair itself! Its owner's presence! I could sense that she had noticed me. I could feel her gaze — cold as ice. During that time I couldn't sleep at night. Every day I felt frozen, as if I were the only person in the entire world. That's how I know the owner of this hair is still alive. She must be the Undying Witch you're searching for."
Fischer stared at the strand of hair in silence for a long while before speaking again.
"Can you still feel that presence now?"
Fischer wanted to follow the connection between Karo and the Witch — trace the vine to find the melon, so to speak — and track down the Witch's whereabouts. He had a strong feeling that conventional magical analysis of the hair's owner would yield the same result as the Undoer had.
He wasn't sure he'd succeed, but it was worth a try.
Karo nodded and replied.
"Sometimes I still can, but it's getting more and more faint. I can't feel her coldness anymore. Maybe she's been in a better mood these past few years and couldn't be bothered to torment me, so the sensation isn't as clear."
"That hair was found when we — the Society — were excavating ancient ruins. I was there at the time. If you help me break free from the Pink Pavilion and the Witch Research Society, I'll tell you exactly where those ruins are. Or if you have some other tracking method — magic or whatever — I'll cooperate with you. How about it?"
Karo let his hair fall back into place and regarded the contemplative Fischer.
Fischer nodded. "Fine. I'll help you get out. For now, go back to the Pink Pavilion and act as though nothing happened. Our deal is a secret. If the Pavilion finds out, you're on your own. I'll relay the specifics of the plan later."
"How do I contact you?"
Fischer glanced at him, then picked up a sheet of writing paper from the nightstand and jotted down an address.
"Tomorrow afternoon, go to this location. I'll create a magical messenger for correspondence. Pick up the summoning item there tomorrow. When I have a message for you, the item will glow. If you need to tell me something, you can use it to summon the messenger."
Karo took the slip of paper and nodded, though he still eyed Fischer with suspicion. In his experience, this man was far too cunning — who knew what other tricks he might pull?
Fischer was mulling over the day's haul of information. Without even looking at Karo, he seemed to divine his concerns. He rose slowly and offered a reassurance.
"Relax. That Witch is far more important to me than you are. I have no reason to toy with the lead. Be careful when you go back. The Pink Pavilion isn't to be underestimated. If you slip up and they lock you away, I won't be able to save you."
"Hmph, don't worry. I'm not an idiot."
"Let's hope not."
This time Fischer truly was leaving. He set his gentleman's hat on his head, stepped out of the hotel room, paid for the stay, and merged into the bustling streets of Saint-Nazareth.
Not far from here, he could already see the establishment glowing with pink light, as though it had stained the very night sky an impure shade, lending the atmosphere an air of intimacy.
Fischer glanced in that direction and resolved to walk a good distance before hailing a carriage or tram.
Yet at this moment, drawing on the scraps of information he had gathered, Fischer thought of that single black hair — and a suspicion he had harbored long ago surged back to the surface.
'What if Renee is — and always has been — the Undying Witch I've been searching for? What if everything she told me was a lie, every word calculated to deceive me?'
'What if the Undying Witch I've been hunting across the world has been at my side all along? Her trait, her magical ability, all of it a fabrication — and she's been watching me stumble around blindly, finding the idea of me searching the world for the very person standing right next to me absolutely hilarious?'
The moment he recalled Renee's absolutely dreadful personality, Fischer thought it was entirely plausible.
There was another question, too: why would the Pink Pavilion assign Karo a mission as plainly impossible as assassinating a member of the Schwari diplomatic delegation?
Were they not aware of this artificial Witch's intelligence level?
Lost in thought, Fischer suddenly reached into the wallet inside his coat and produced a small photograph — black and white, its subject simple: a lark perched on the windowsill of his rental flat.
But it was actually a communication item Renee had left for him, enabling him to reach her when she was away.
Fischer gripped the photograph in one hand and extended the other toward the image. The photograph instantly flared with a deep violet radiance. Within that ethereal glow, his fingers closed around something solid. He drew it out — a purple lark materialized in his palm.
"Fischer! Fischer! Is there something Harte can do?"
Harte's voice rang out. Fischer stroked the bird's head and said.
"Go fetch Renee and tell her to come back. I have something I'd like to ask her."
"On it! On it!"
The lark tilted its tiny head. Rings of violet light rippled across its body, and its small form gradually faded, shooting straight up toward the clouds.