Secrets of the silent wi.., p.1
Secrets of the Silent Witch, Vol. 3, page 1
Copyright
SECRETS OF THE SILENT WITCH III
Matsuri Isora
Translation by Alice Prowse
Cover art by Nanna Fujimi
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
SILENT • WITCH Vol.3 CHINMOKU NO MAJO NO KAKUSHIGOTO
©Matsuri Isora, Nanna Fujimi 2022
First published in Japan in 2022 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.
English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo, through TUTTLE-MORI AGENCY, INC., Tokyo.
English translation © 2023 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Isora, Matsuri, author. | Fujimi, Nanna, illustrator. | Prowse, Alice, translator.
Title: Secrets of the Silent Witch / Matsuri Isora ; illustration by Nanna Fujimi ; translation by Alice Prowse.
Other titles: Sairento uicchi. English
Description: First Yen On edition. | New York, NY : Yen On, 2022.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022020923 | ISBN 9781975347802 (v. 1 ; trade paperback) | ISBN 9781975347826 (v. 2 ; trade paperback) | ISBN 9781975351694 (v. 3 ; trade paperback)
Subjects: CYAC: Fantasy. | Witches—Fiction. | Magic—Fiction. | Bashfulness—Fiction. | LCGFT: Fantasy fiction. | Witch fiction. | Light novels.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.I877 Se 2022 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022020923
ISBNs: 978-1-9753-5169-4
978-1-975-35170-0 (ebook)
E3-20230221-JV-NF-ORI
Contents
COVER
INSERT
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
PROLOGUE: Bernie Jones and Everett the Mute
CHAPTER 1: I Don’t Need a Reason
CHAPTER 2: Upstart
CHAPTER 3: A Love Triangle Is a Thing of Beauty
CHAPTER 4: My Friend
CHAPTER 5: Disguised Malice
CHAPTER 6: To Engrave My Name in History
CHAPTER 7: The Starseer Witch Mary Harvey’s Heart-Pounding Reading
CHAPTER 8: Monica Becomes a Delinquent
CHAPTER 9: A Kind Ghost
CHAPTER 10: A Little Squirrel Soaring Through the Night Sky
CHAPTER 11: A Book’s Worth
EPILOGUE: Always Put a Ribbon on Your Kitten
SECRET EPISODE: In the North
CHARACTERS SO FAR
AFTERWORD
YEN NEWSLETTER
PROLOGUE
Bernie Jones and Everett the Mute
Bernie Jones was the second son of Count Ambard, a noble renowned in the Kingdom of Ridill.
In aristocratic society, any sons past the first were treated as spare children. And while Bernie’s older brother may have been incompetent, he’d still be the one to inherit the family headship.
That, however, was no reason for Bernie to sulk and abandon his studies. If a second son couldn’t succeed his father, then he need only make a name for himself in other ways. So Bernie had studied like mad, eventually enrolling in Minerva’s, the top institution for up-and-coming mages, at the age of ten.
His goal was to become a high mage—and not just any high mage. He wanted to be one of the Seven Sages, the greatest mages in the kingdom. Becoming a Sage would earn him the title of count of magic, equal in rank to a normal count. A count of magic, however, had even more influence; they were said to serve as aides to the king himself. That would put even his older brother to shame.
His ferocious studies bore fruit, and within half a year of his enrollment, his grades stood at the very top of the student body.
I’m not like my brother. I have talent.
Even a second son had ways of moving up in the world. Back then, he never doubted for a moment that one’s path in life could be carved out through effort alone.
When Bernie was thirteen, something happened.
He’d just returned to his own classroom after attending a lesson held in a separate room when he noticed a few boys standing in the corner, surrounding someone.
In the middle of their group was a petite female student who had only recently transferred in. Her name was Monica Everett; they’d nicknamed her Everett the Mute.
She was a plain, boring, gloomy girl who always had her eyes trained on her feet. She almost never spoke in front of other people, and even when called on during class, she’d just mumble, unable to answer. Basically, she was the type to quickly get left behind and drop out.
It seemed like the boys were playing a game to see who could get her to speak. One of them picked up a spider from the windowsill and brought it to Monica’s face.
“Hey, someone pry her mouth open!” he called out. “We’ll shove this in! That’ll make her scream!” Another boy forced Monica’s mouth open while the first carried the spider even closer.
Bernie could no longer stand by and watch this happen. He pointed his index finger at the group and uttered a short chant. His spell created a small flame, about the size of a fingernail, which scorched the sleeve of one of the boys harassing Monica.
“Gyah!” the boy cried out in surprise. “That’s hot!”
“What’s going on?!” exclaimed another. “Who did that?”
“What exactly are you all doing?” asked Bernie coldly.
The boys glared at him, disdain evident on their faces.
“We were just getting to the good part,” said one. “Stay out of our way, honors kid.”
Most students attending Minerva’s belonged to the aristocracy. These boys were no exception—they were nobles. The subject of their torture, on the other hand, was a commoner. At this academy, people like her had two choices: obey the nobles or endure their harassment.
Bernie, however, held different beliefs, and they led him to speak coldly to the male students. “Inflicting violence on the weak? You’re an embarrassment to the nobility. It’s disgraceful.”
His scathing words enraged the boys. Bernie snorted at them, then began quick-chanting as he pushed up the rim of his glasses. Arrows of fire rose near the bullies, surrounding them.
Quick-chanting was a difficult technique said to be a requirement for becoming a high mage. Bernie was the only one in his grade who could do it. What’s more, almost none of the students at the school—across all grade levels—was able to perform it without the use of a staff like he could.
As the boys backed away from this overwhelming display, Bernie snickered.
“Do you think you’re any match for me?” he taunted. “I have the best practical grades at school, remember?”
The boys swallowed their objections. Bitter looks on their faces, they walked past Bernie and left the classroom.
Bernie snapped his fingers to cancel out his fire arrows, then looked down at Monica, who was sitting on the floor.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
She didn’t answer him; instead, she simply looked down at the floor through her disheveled bangs. Her eyes were on the spider the boys had tossed aside a moment ago. Eventually, it scuttled out the window and escaped.
Awkwardly, Monica looked up at Bernie and mumbled, “Um, th-thank you…”
Her speech was stilted, but apparently Everett the Mute wasn’t mute after all. Privately surprised, he listened as she went on to say something that caught his attention.
“F-for saving, um, that s-spider.”
“Hold on a minute,” said Bernie. He hadn’t helped the spider—he’d helped Monica. Why did she feel the need to thank him for saving an insect? His eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he stared at the girl.
“Unfortunately,” he said, “I hate bugs. I didn’t save the spider. I saved you.”
Monica blinked slowly as her head tilted to the side in puzzlement. For a few moments, she seemed lost in thought, searching for the right words until eventually she began—very carefully—to speak.
“I’m not, er, scared of, um, spiders,” she said.
“What?” he asked, baffled.
Monica’s shoulders jolted. She looked down and started playing with her fingers.
The more Ber
Monica remained silent and expressionless for a few more moments but eventually began to mumble again, barely moving her lips. “But if the spider had gotten into my mouth, um, I would have felt really bad for it… I’m happy that you, um, saved it before th-that happened.”
“What kind of logic is that?” asked Bernie, scratching his cheek. Then he asked her something that had been on his mind. “And the way you talk is quite awkward. Did you come to this kingdom from somewhere else?”
Monica shook her head back and forth, face still expressionless. Apparently, she wasn’t a foreigner.
“I’m sorry…,” she muttered. “I did, um, practice speaking, but…” She trailed off, then took a big gulp of air before exhaling it again. It sounded like she had somehow forgotten to breathe. “There was a long, um, period of time when…well, I didn’t talk to anyone…so I’m, er, not really good at it…”
She’d gone a long time without talking to anyone. So she has a reason, thought Bernie. Judging by how thin she was—far too thin for a thirteen-year-old—and her awful complexion, he could hazard a guess that her circumstances had been less than ideal.
Bernie bent down before her and extended a hand. “Can you stand?”
Monica’s eyes widened as she looked at his outstretched palm. Then, abruptly, she clutched her uniform pocket. “Um, I don’t…I don’t have much, um, money…”
He hadn’t expected that. His mouth twitched.
“I hope you think a little more highly of me than that,” he said. “I am a proud member of House Ambard. I would never pester you for money.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.
Even then, she seemed somehow vacant—like a puppet being tugged around by a puppeteer. Bernie brushed off some of the dirt on her uniform, and her eyes widened a little more. The shift in her expression was infinitesimal, but it made him oddly happy to know he’d caused some sort of change.
“You’re really a piece of work, aren’t you?”
“…I’m, um, sorry…”
“Shouldn’t you be saying thank you instead?”
Monica’s lips squirmed a little. It was far too minuscule a movement to be considered a smile, but the corners of her mouth had definitely lifted.
“…Thank…you.”
When he heard those words, Bernie felt a faint sense of satisfaction in his heart.
“Bernie! Bernie, help meee!”
“What is it today?”
“This essay question on our history homework—I don’t understand it at all…,” said Monica, showing him the page in her textbook.
Ever since rescuing her, Bernie had started helping her more frequently, and she’d come to rely on him. After all, she was a helplessly dull, clumsy girl who would trip over nothing, whose hair was constantly a mess, and who was always losing her possessions. There was certainly no shortage of things to help her with.
Although Monica’s grades rivaled Bernie’s in magic formulae and mathematics, her general-education grades were awful—history and linguistics in particular caused her no end of trouble.
“What am I going to do with you?” He sighed as he opened his notebook and began his explanation.
Once he’d finished, Monica muttered, “Bernie, you’re amazing.”
“This stuff is basic,” he replied casually, though he rather liked having Monica look at him with such respect.
Lately, Monica’s speech seemed to be growing more fluid and her face more expressive. When she was in trouble, she’d come crying to him, and whenever he taught her something, a little smile like a wildflower would bloom on her face.
This made Bernie feel good about himself. He’d brought about this change in her.
“Thanks, Bernie,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
Little exchanges like these never failed to fill him with pride.
…But the truth was, he knew what was going on. Faintly anyway.
He knew Monica’s hair was so messy because her classmates had cut it against her will. He knew she lost things so often because they stole and hid them from her.
Bernie pretended not to see any of it, though, and continued to help her. Unconsciously, perhaps, he wanted her to be isolated. For the more isolated she became, the more she would rely on him.
And as long as she relied on him, he could remain the ever-dependable honor student in her eyes.
As a school for mages-in-training, it stood to reason that Minerva’s taught practical magecraft. However, it forbade students from trying it until six months after they had enrolled. When misused or mishandled, a powerful art like magecraft could be disastrous and lead to all sorts of tragedies. Thus, students would study the basics for at least half a year before moving on to practice.
Bernie had been at Minerva’s for three years; he could use most intermediate-level spells and even a few higher-level ones. More importantly, though, he was the only one in his grade who had learned quick-chanting. Because of that, his practical scores were unrivaled.
Monica, on the other hand, was a relatively new student and had only recently begun practicing her fundamentals. Her understanding of magic formulae was incredibly high, and Bernie was convinced that as long as she could control her mana, she would catch up to him in a flash.
But on the first day of practice, Monica stood in front of the lectern and said nothing.
“When will you be starting, hmm?”
“…Ah… Um… Ummm…”
Macragan urged her on, but Monica’s lips only trembled. She looked like she was about to pass out.
Bernie had helped her practice before class. Her formula construction was perfect, and she had a solid grasp of the fundamentals of mana control. There was no way a beginner spell like this was beyond her abilities.
And yet class ended before she managed to chant a single word, much less cast the spell.
As their break began, Bernie approached Monica. “What was all that?!” he demanded. “Your theory was perfect before!”
Monica, on the verge of tears, hunched over and played with her fingers. “B-but there were so many people around, and, um, I’m scared…of talking…”
At last, it dawned on Bernie. While Monica had gotten better at speaking around him, she hardly said a word to anyone else.
“I’m really…really scared of talking…in front of people. I’m scared of them all looking at me the moment I say something… I’m scared of their eyes…”
“At this rate, though, you’ll never be able to use magecraft.”
Monica sniffled and hung her head. She must have been frustrated, too, just like he was. He’d seen up close how seriously she’d devoted herself to her studies.
I wish I could do something for her, he thought—and then a plan began to form in his head. “I know,” he said. “If you aren’t good at talking in front of people, you just have to reduce your chants.”
“…Huh?”
“I’ll teach you how to do quick-chanting. If you learn it, you’ll only need to speak for half as long. That’ll be easier for you, right?”
Monica’s gaze began to drift, and she fiddled with her fingers some more. “B-but…quick-chanting…is something used by high mages, right? Would I even…be able to do it?”
“I know you can,” he insisted. “Because I know how hard you’ve been studying the basics.”
She was treated like a dunce by her peers, but her understanding of magic formulae was the best he’d ever seen. With her intellect, she should be able to figure out even formulae used by high mages in the blink of an eye. Her talent could rival his own.
“I’m sure you’ll pick up quick-chanting in a flash,” continued Bernie, his tone more impassioned than usual.
Monica flushed. Then she grinned and said, “Okay… I’ll, um, do my best. Eh-heh-heh. You always know what to do, Bernie.”
“Hmph. Of course I do,” he replied, puffing out his chest. “I’m gonna be a Sage one day.”
Monica smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I know you will. You’re amazing, after all.”
Monica’s earnest praise tickled Bernie’s heart.
Bernie had never once doubted he had a bright future ahead of him.
