Dominic was tense as he sat across the table from Thelo. They had gone to a tea house, and the young master had ordered a private room for them to converse in. It was a good deal to be provided with fresh clothes, and an even better deal to get a grasp at where he was by asking the very nobles that ruled the region, but he hadn't the slightest clue why he’d been invited in the first place. Perhaps the Church had contacted them to help search for their lost surveying ship? But they hadn't been anywhere near land when they’d sunk, and there was no way they would've found him this quickly.

Thelo picked up his tea and elegantly took a sip. He glanced over at him over the rim of his cup.

“You must have a lot of questions,” he commented, setting it down. “I apologize for asking this of you so suddenly after you arrived here.”

“…It’s fine,” Dominic replied. “I’m thankful for your generosity.”

He had already changed into his new clothes—similar to the robes that many people seemed to be wearing. It was leagues more comfortable than the shredded, salt-ridden set he’d had before.

“What got you so injured?” Thelo asked. “Your wounds were quite severe.”

Dominic glanced up at him with a slightly suspicious look.

“…Did you see me?” he replied.

The noble chuckled, though it wasn't convincing at all.

“Aha, I heard from others.”

“…I see.”

“So what happened?”

“I was shipwrecked,” Dominic finally answered.

“…Shipwrecked?”

“Yes…?”

Thelo scrutinized him carefully as if it wasn't something that made sense.

“I see, your boat must have capsized,” he surmised. “Did you get washed out to sea?”

“I suppose?”

He felt like the noble wasn't quite understanding him, but he wasn't wrong.

“And you healed yourself after stumbling back,” he concluded.

“That’s correct,” Dominic affirmed. He frowned slightly. Thelo definitely had to have been watching him all this time in order to know that.

He glanced over, their eyes meeting across the table.

“Young Master, may I ask why you called for me?” he asked.

Thelo gave him a cordial but calculating smile.

“I wanted to talk with you because I heard rumors that somebody had come out of the fog,” he explained. “I was curious, so I went. However, when you turned out to be a healer, my interest was piqued.”

Dominic pursed his lips. Indeed, healers were rare among mages. Healers that could heal wounds so completely were even rarer.

“Do you need to be healed?” he asked. “I’d be willing to help, to pay you back for the clothes and the tea.”

He didn't like doing official healing work, especially for nobles, but in this case it wouldn't be bad to return the favor and then cut their connection off cleanly.

“I don't,” Thelo replied, crushing that hope. “My father is the one who requires treatment. However…”

He glanced away, an insidious, slightly smug smile creeping across his lips.

“…Well, it’s a complicated situation. It’d be a bit awkward to explain it to you in full right now, so we should get to know each other a bit better first.”

He leaned his chin on his hands.

“First, we should get introductions out of the way. As I said, I’m Thelo Helwin, heir to the Helwin Viscounty.”

“…I’m Dominic.”

“Family name?”

“None.”

“Surprising, for a mage of your caliber. How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“Oh?” Thelo looked more surprised by that. “So you're human.”

Dominic’s brow furrowed at the seemingly offhand remark.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

“By what?” Thelo responded.

“Saying I’m human.”

He tilted his head as if not exactly sure what Dominic was asking.

“Well, you look your age?” he replied vaguely. “You’re that strong of a healer, and you're twenty, so you can't be a demon.”

The explanation only made him frown deeper.

“…A demon?” he repeated.

Thelo was looking at him in confusion. A few seconds later, though, his expression seemed to clear up as he finally understood.

“I see…” he said. “You lost your memories, didn't you? I overheard you and the slum child talking about it, but I didn't think it would be this bad.”

That really wasn't the case, but at this point he was willing to go along with it for convenience’s sake.

“Have you forgotten what a demon is?” Thelo asked.

“Yes, I think I might have,” Dominic answered.

“How do I explain this? Even babies understand…”

He put a hand to his chin as he thought.

“Well, first of all, I am a demon,” he said. “Demons and humans are just two races, and we all live here. Demons tend to age more slowly, especially ones with strong magic, so that’s why I mentioned you had to be human.”

He pointed at Dominic.

“You look your age.”

The explanation seemed simple, but Dominic’s mind was spinning. He had never heard of anything like this before in his life. Aging being slowed because of magic power? That was the stuff of fairytales.

“We look a little different too,” Thelo continued. “For most people, though, it’s hard to tell.”

Dominic glanced up, eyeing the horn ornaments the noble was wearing. He had seen quite a few people in the streets with varying types as well. And he was starting to suspect that perhaps they weren't ornaments.

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“…Does it have anything to do with those?” he asked.

Thelo raised an eyebrow, then laughed.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said. “Yes, demons can have horns. We’re a minority, though. It’s more common among nobles.”

Dominic scrunched his nose, trying to relieve some of the pressure building up in his head. Vaguely, he had already guessed that the horns were real, living things—exuding mana, blood pumping through them, fully connected to Thelo’s existence. But believing it was a completely different matter. He had started to wonder if perhaps he had truly died when the ship sunk and dropped into some kind of underworld.

“You look like you're still confused,” Thelo said. “If you have any questions, I’ll do my best to fill in the gaps in your memory.”

Dominic hesitated for a moment, but regardless of the noble’s cloudy intentions, he really did need to know what was going on.

“Where are we right now?” he asked. “I was told ‘Helwin’ in ‘Hesia.’”

“That’s correct.”

“Where is ‘Hesia?’”

Thelo tilted his head as if he wasn't sure how to respond.

“It’s here?” he replied. “Hm, I suppose to someone who’s lost their memory…”

He put a hand to his chin as he thought.

“Helwin is at roughly latitude -21, longitude 17.”

That, Dominic could understand. He had been working on a ship for the past month. He placed it in his head, but then only became more confused. That location was in the middle of the southeastern desert—thousands of miles away from where they had wrecked. And he obviously was not in a desert right now.

“Um, are you sure those are the coordinates?” he pressed.

Thelo raised an eyebrow.

“I’m absolutely sure.”

He studied Dominic’s worsening expression.

“Maybe it would help to see a map?” he suggested.

Dominic brightened up at that idea.

“Yes, that would be good.”

“I don't have one with me, but there are plenty in the castle,” he said. “In order to bring you there, though, I’ll have to explain why I’m interested in your healing powers. Did you have any other questions, before that?”

“Have you heard of a place called Vaine?”

“Vaine?” Thelo seemed to take a moment to think back. “Ah, you mean the Lost Continent. Yes, I’ve heard of it.”

That cleared up the maelstrom in his mind slightly. He hadn't gone to anything like a land of the dead—Vaine still existed. He was just ‘someplace else.’ He’d have to wait until he got ahold of a map to figure out where exactly it was.

“Were you curious about anything else?” Thelo asked.

“Yes,” Dominic responded. “Why do you smell like poison?”

The noble’s eyes widened slightly as he was caught off guard by the question. It certainly wasn't something to bring up to a noble so directly, but as Dominic had expected, instead of being offended, a lazy smile slowly began to spread across his face.

“Good question,” he said. “I told you: I work with it from time to time.”

“Are you on the giving or the receiving end?” Dominic asked.

“Ha! You don't seem to have much of an instinct for self-preservation, do you, Dominic?”

He spoke as if chiding him, but he was grinning in amusement the entire time.

“Did losing your memories make you more brazen?”

“I just thought you wouldn't care, Young Master.”

“And I know you don't either, Dominic.”

Thelo chuckled to himself for a second longer, then looked back across the table.

“To answer your question—I’m on both ends,” he said. “I told you the situation is a little complicated. Are you willing to hear it now?”

Dominic shrugged.

“Sure.”

He leaned forward, the curved horns on his head glinting in the room’s low light.

“My father is ill,” he said. “I made him that way.”

Dominic narrowed his eyes as he waited for him to elaborate.

“The reason I smell like poison to you is because he fed me much of the same.”

Thelo smiled dryly.

“He hates his kids, you see. He’s got this thing where he refuses to let anyone rule the viscounty but himself, yet he can't stop making kids either.”

He twirled one finger in the air, then drew a line over his throat.

“So he gets rid of them once they start to annoy him,” he said. “I’m the only one that’s survived.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Dominic asked. He had a sneaking suspicion already, though.

Thelo smiled coldly.

“I want you to kill him,” he answered bluntly.

“I think you've forgotten that I’m a healer.”

“Being a healer is exactly what I want. He’s desperate for one right now, so I can immediately place you within the castle with an official position.”

“I don't want a position.”

“Then what do you want? I’ll give you anything, as long as it’s within my power.”

Dominic frowned and let out an exasperated sigh. Thelo still wouldn't drop the proposition despite his resistance.

“Young Master, I'm not a killer,” he said.

Thelo raised an eyebrow.

“You're not?” he replied. “I thought you were.”

“…Excuse me?”

The noble smiled, leaning his chin on his hands.

“You're not the only one who’s got a good sense for mana,” Thelo remarked, tapping his nose. “You’re strong, Dominic. And sure, you’re a healer. But you're not clean.”

Dominic’s brow wrinkled.

“I used to do mercenary work, that’s all,” he said.

“Soldiers, assassins—what’s the difference?”

Thelo laughed.

“Well, one gets paid more.”

He seemed to understand that his reasoning wasn't going to get through, though, and decided to pull back a bit.

“How about this,” he said, “I won't ask you to do anything to my father. But, since your memories are currently a mess, you should need a place to stay, yes?”

Thelo watched him, waiting for a response. Dominic nodded reluctantly in affirmation.

“Good,” he continued. “Then I’ll give you a place as a healer in the castle. You can reside there until your memories return, or whenever you decide to leave. You don't even need to harm a single hair on that old bastard’s head.”

“And the catch?” Dominic asked.

Thelo smiled.

“There is no catch,” he replied. “Decide if you want to stay or go at your own will. Take your time to recover your memories.”

“You must want something, Young Master.”

“I do want something,” he said, “but I don't need to force you to do it. Because you see, I’m confident that once you meet that old bastard, you’ll come to the same conclusion I have of your own volition.”

His steely black eyes flicked up and met Dominic’s.

“That the son of a bitch needs to go.”

Dominic returned his gaze, then looked back down to the tea in front of him, which had long turned lukewarm.

“…Young Master, I can’t guarantee that will happen,” he responded.

“I can.”

Thelo smiled coldly.

“Anyway, that’s jumping too far ahead,” he said, letting out a sigh. “What I’m offering you doesn't have any downsides, so just accept it.”

As dark as the noble’s intentions were, it was a deal Dominic couldn't reject. He had washed up in an incomprehensible country with no money and no belongings.

“Okay,” he replied. “I’ll enter the castle.”

“Good.”

Thelo pushed himself up from the table and picked up the bamboo hat he had set aside.

“That old bastard’s always watching me, so I’ll head back now,” he said. “If you wait here, I’ll send someone to pick you up once the entry procedures are finished.”

He carefully put his hat back on, his horns protruding upwards through them. He took a step towards the door, then froze as he seemed to remember something.

“Ah, right.”

He turned back around, looking at Dominic.

“When we first met, you were about to go into the fog, weren't you?”

“Yes?”

He shook his head in concern.

“To think your memory was affected to this extent,” he mumbled. “You can't do that.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t go into the fog?”

He couldn't see why not. There might've been things to salvage on the shore.

“Of course you can't,” Thelo replied, strangely adamant about it. “The fog will kill you.”

Dominic froze.

“…What?”

“The fog will kill you,” he repeated. “It kills everyone it touches. You can't go, no matter what, no matter how curious you get.”

Thelo glared at him, trying to hit the point home.

“You can't kill my father if you die.”

“I will…keep that in mind.”

“Please do.”

He turned around and reached for the doorknob.

“If anyone asks, we didn't talk here today,” he said.

“I understand.”

“If you’ve got more questions, I’ll answer them if I’m still alive by then.”

Dominic nodded, ignoring how morbid it was.

“Alright,” he replied. “Good luck, Young Master.”

“Haha.”

Thelo chuckled as he pulled the door open and stood in the doorway.

“Sure,” he said. “And good luck to you, Dominic.”