'What do fairies eat?'
'You don't know? Humans really haven't done their research, huh? Sitting at the top of the food chain, yet so ignorant.'
'Even though you were once human, you seem to be enjoying fairy life just fine. So, what's your food?'
'I won't tell you.'
'If I don't know, you'll be in trouble later.'
'I don't plan on being kept by you, so I won't teeeell you~'
She turned her face away with a hmph
, then silently smiled at me. It was terrifying.
I recalled this morning's conversation.
Judging by the boy's attitude, it seemed he had absolutely no intention of releasing me.
I've been here ever since I was caught three days ago. The bedroom and study are on the second floor of this house, so if he placed me by the window, I could spend the day gazing at the scenery or singing. But even distractions have their limits.
I was left in the bedroom, slumped inside a cage. Maybe because I'd been in this silver cage for so long, I was starting to feel lethargic.
As I was lost in thought, a faint cough sounded from somewhere.
A girl I didn't know was coughing. It came from a room some distance away. The cough was violent, clearly not a light one.
So, it wasn't just Styras living here. The moment that thought crossed my mind, a creeping unease settled in. Right now, this mansion probably only had me and that girl. The boy had gone to work. There was no one to take care of her.
Cough, cough.
The muffled sound from afar sounded utterly exhausted.
"…"
—Is anyone there?
I stood up and rattled the cage door, shaking it vigorously. But the silver only made my body feel heavier.
Memories of my human self flashed through my mind. Even when I caught a cold, even on holidays, my parents never took time off work.
—Styras, Styras.
I called for him silently, pleading for him to come back.
Styras was only eight years old, yet he was gone from morning till night for work. When he returned and carried me in my cage back to the study, I'd protest, "Let me out!" But he'd just keep his eyes on his book.
"Are you hungry?"
"Nope. Fairies only need to eat once a month."
By the way, we eat natural things like flowers and leaves. Stuff with high magical energy is best. I'd love to try the leaves of the World Tree someday.
But putting that aside—
"There's someone else in this house, right? A girl."
"Did you get out of the cage?"
"N-no, I can't get out."
Why was he making such a scary face?
"Then it's fine."
"It's *not* fine. I heard really bad coughing during the day. Isn't there anyone to take care of her? Any adults?"
He closed his book and walked over to the cage. He jiggled the door, *clank clank*, as if teasing me maliciously.
"There are no adults in this house. Just me and my sister."
"That's impossible."
"It *is* possible, so there's nothing to be done. Our parents died. No one took us in. We were left with the house, money, an eldest son who could work, and a sickly younger sister. That's all. This world's welfare system isn't as developed as Japan in our past lives. …Of course, it's not like there are *no* facilities at all. We did get offers for adoption. But I figured it'd be better for the two of us to live off the money our parents left rather than entrust it to someone else."
"But leaving a little girl alone all day—"
"Compared to children who don't even have homes, living this comfortably is nothing short of happiness."
How terrifying. This world isn't peaceful enough to leave a young girl home alone. Humans fight among themselves—there's kidnapping, robbery. And this is a world of swords and magic. It's fundamentally different from Japan, where just carrying a weapon is a crime.
I couldn't organize my thoughts. As I opened and closed my mouth, unsure what to say, he stuck his index finger into the cage. I gripped the bars, unmoving. I knew he didn't mean to attack.
"You're kind."
"I'm not kind. It's just common sense."
"If you're worried about humans you dislike, I think that's plenty kind."
That's only because I'm not *truly* a fairy at heart.
His finger stroked my head. That finger felt gentler than I'd ever been.
"My sister's name is Lumina. It's harsh to say, but she's used to catching colds. She understands why I have to work. She's a smart girl."
"You do know that intelligence and loneliness aren't related at all, right?"
"Of course."
That's why, lately, he'd been working tirelessly to wrap up his research as quickly as possible.
"Then, if I agree to be kept by you, can I take care of her?"
If he wasn't going to let me go anyway, doing some "good deeds" here would be better for my mental health. Far better than being stuck in a cage.
When I tried to convey that with my gaze, he smiled ambiguously. "That's a tempting offer."
He promised to let me meet his sister once he was mentally prepared. For me, I was ready anytime—so the one who needed preparation was probably Styras.
---
By the second week, my treatment had been upgraded from imprisonment to house arrest. Amazingly, he started letting me out of the cage.
Of course, I still couldn't leave the study.
If I touched the windows or doors, I'd get caught in some kind of barrier and writhe in pain as if electrocuted.
But so what? I was free !
Enjoying the long-missed freedom of movement, I perched lightly atop Styras's head as he diligently read today. Then I flitted about again—landing on the boy's shoulder, hopping around.
Even when he scolded me to settle down, I ignored him—until he silently left the room and returned with a rolled-up stack of paper, at which point I decided to behave.
Using his shoulder as my base, I peeked at a book titled Magical Psychology or something equally incomprehensible. I had no idea what any of it meant.
If he was here, that meant his sister must be asleep.
His lifestyle seemed to be: handle chores, take care of his sister, then come to the study once things settled down. He even brought me into the bedroom, so it was easy to mistake how much time we actually spent together. In reality, our interactions were surprisingly limited.
Come to think of it, I suddenly remembered—Eleanor (that's me) is actually a pretty strong fairy.
I only knew the male version, "Ellen," but Eleanor should have the same basic abilities. She's renowned as a high-performance support character who rarely lets her party down, with magic power far beyond ordinary fairies. There are even challenge playthrough videos titled "Clearing the Game Without Eleanor."
In other words, *I*, Eleanor, could be a powerhouse in this world.
So, naturally—
"I wanna try using magic."
"Denied."
"Why?!"
He shut me down without hesitation.
Finally looking up from his book, he stared at me. His expression was terrifyingly blank.
"If you learn magic, you'll run away, won't you?"
"More importantly, why won't you let me go? As long as you don't become the Demon King, even if I were sent to another world on an errand, it wouldn't matter, right?"
Currently, there is a Demon King (who knows which generation). If he leaves the evil deeds to that guy and lives a proper life, the future where he gets killed by heroes shouldn't happen.
Taking care of his sister was conditional on "if I can't escape." If I could escape, I'd be gone at the speed of sound.
"I have no intention of becoming the Demon King, but that's beside the point. You learning magic is a no. Letting you go would be a waste."
I shivered.
I'd recently realized that his gentle smile was just standard equipment. His smiles had variations—the genuinely loving ones usually appeared when talking about his sister. The pitch-black aura? That was usually when I insisted on *"wanting to escape."*
It was scary, but I couldn't give up on magic. Waiting for the icy atmosphere to fade, I hopped down from my "master's" shoulder—sarcasm, obviously—and landed on the desk.
"Styras, could you take out one book from that shelf?"
"Any one?"
"Any is fine. Ah—ah! Don't move! Stay right there!"
"…Haaah."
He seemed to have guessed what I wanted to do. Sitting back in his chair, he pointed at a bookshelf a few meters away. He picked a book, then curled his finger upward—a motion like hooking something in the air.
The book moved on its own, gliding smoothly from the shelf to his hand. The seamless control made me feel like I'd glimpsed his true skill.
"Will this do?"
He placed the book at my feet. The gentle levitation magic was likely wind-attribute.
This wasn't something an eight-year-old should be capable of.
—No doubt about it. His talent really *was* incredible.
"Did it not work?"
"Huh? N-no, it's not that. It's not that."
The book's title was Good Kids' Magic Dictionary .
…Maybe it was a failure.