“She’s the same as ever. Can’t even come up with a proper insult, just bluntly says nasty things! And yet she acts so high and mighty—how utterly adorable.”
Laughing haughtily, Annamaria returned to her room and pulled out the enchanted wood she had stuffed into her bodice, carefully arranging the precious branches on her dresser.
Not a single branch of the rare magic tree was to be wasted.
“There’s no way she could beat me with insults!”
Hands on her hips, she snorted and spat the words out toward the window.
From the bed where he was sitting, Galileo regarded her with an exasperated expression.
“Is that really something to be proud of?”
“If I can beat her at anything, it doesn’t matter what—whether it’s the number of acorns collected or who has the better digestion, anything will do.”
“Your competitive streak is seriously twisted.”
“Well, I’d better get the Poison Serpent ready, just like I promised.”
Annamaria eagerly approached the table where skulls and bottles filled with mysterious liquids were lined up.
Galileo’s eyes widened in alarm.
“You’re actually planning to send the Poison Serpent?”
“But I promised.”
“Intent on murder, huh!?”
“I’m not going to kill anyone, no matter what. I’ll just create an illusion of the Poison Serpent using magic and send it to scare her.”
“Oh, oh, good. Glad to know you’re still somewhat sane.”
“For a Magic Beast, you’re pretty sensible.”
“That’s because I have high intelligence. Don’t lump me together with the ordinary beasts.”
The silver-gray Cat Dragon stretched its small wings on its back and flapped them, flying clumsily over to perch on Annamaria’s shoulder.
Even with such tiny wings shaped like twin leaves, it could fly—though its flight was rather pathetic and frail.
The Cat Dragon was a unique Magic Beast native to the Padova Mountains, but few magicians could bind one as a familiar.
After all, it was originally a Magic Beast.
Most magicians contracted with animals like owls, cats, dogs, or crows to serve as their familiars.
Magic Beasts, however, rarely entered into contracts.
They would only become familiars if they recognized the magician as their master.
Gaining such recognition involved various means: doing favors, discovering weaknesses, or otherwise winning them over.
Annamaria’s previous familiar had been an owl, inherited from her late mother.
But six years ago, when she was eleven, the owl wanted to retire, claiming it could no longer keep up with age, and introduced Galileo as her successor.
Supposedly, he was a distant relative of the owl.
Although it was odd that a Magic Beast, especially a Cat Dragon, would be related to an owl, the owl had served Annamaria and her mother faithfully and was trustworthy.
Taking Galileo as her familiar based on the owl’s recommendation seemed fine.
“I need to make the Poison Serpent now~”
Humming, Annamaria opened small bottles on the table, releasing various colored smoke—red, white, and yellow—into the air.
Straightening her back, she extended both hands forward.
“Light and shadow. Take shape, bring forth the weight of falsehood, and become the touch of deception.”
Drawn by her words, the red, white, and yellow smoke swirled together between her palms.
The softly mingled smoke became a marbled mass of three colors.
She gently cupped the smoky orb with her hands and smiled.
“Poison Serpent.”
Quietly speaking the word, the smoke suddenly condensed, dropping heavily onto the table.
Slipping into a gap between stacked books, it revealed itself as a Poison Serpent with red, white, and yellow blotches on its body.
Raising its sickle-shaped head, it looked up at Annamaria and flicked its red tongue.
“Excellent. You’re so skilled every time.” Galileo praised her from her shoulder, adding with a smirk, “Though your magic tends to be pretty lowbrow.”
Annamaria ignored the comment.
“Just sending this to the bed wouldn’t be interesting.”
“Huh?” Galileo blinked.
“If I can’t see Rosaria’s shocked face, it’s no fun.”
“You’re a demon.”
Ignoring the Magic Beast’s retort, Annamaria pulled out a chair by the table and sat down.
“I’m going to transfer my consciousness into this Poison Serpent and go scare Rosaria. That way, I can see her surprised face. My body will be empty for a while. Galileo, keep watch so nothing weird gets inside while I’m gone.”
“Is that fun? Seriously, what kind of enjoyment do you find in these things?”
Galileo shook his head as if there was no saving her.
“Say what you want.”
Closing her eyes, she murmured a spell under her breath.
“My flesh, loosen the bonds that tether my soul.”
Feeling her entire body lift, she continued, “I enter the form of deception.”
Immediately, she felt a strong pull forward and a constricting pressure, as if her body was shrinking.
Opening her eyes, Annamaria saw herself sitting in the chair with her eyes closed.
‘Perfect.’ In a rough, serpentine voice, Annamaria muttered.
Galileo, perched on the shoulder of her chair-sitting form, looked utterly disgusted.
“The color pattern on that Poison Serpent is really gross. Those dark green heart shapes on its back are just tasteless.”
‘Really!? I’m glad!’ The snake’s voice bounced excitedly.
‘The grosser, the better.’
“…Yeah. Right. I won’t stop you anymore. Have fun, Annamaria.”
‘I’m off!’
The Poison Serpent Annamaria boldly slithered out of the manor.
***
Annamaria knew the interior of Count Romano’s mansion well.
After all, from when she became aware of the world until she was ten, she had spent nearly every day visiting back and forth with Rosaria.
Crossing the garden and climbing the marble walls, a wave of nostalgia washed over her.
‘Oh, this wall. Rosaria and I covered it in massive graffiti and got scolded heavily by our fathers.’
Looking back, it seemed as if it had been decided from birth—no, even before birth—that Annamaria and Rosaria would become as close as sisters.
The current Count Romano, Piccolo Romano, father of Rosaria, and the current Count Furlanetto, Achille Furlanetto, father of Annamaria, were childhood friends close in age and remained close to this day.
Their wives, Carlotta and Sara, naturally became friends through their husbands’ friendship.
By coincidence, both women became pregnant at the same time and gave birth to daughters simultaneously.
Then, tragically, both wives died around the same time from an infectious disease.
Piccolo and Achille comforted each other, lamenting that their wives had to go together like that.
Their friendship grew even stronger after overcoming that loss.
The two young ladies, living reminders of their wives and best friends, had grown up with each other so close that it was natural to be side by side from the moment they became aware.
Until that day, when they were ten.