"Yes, it seems she really *is* a spirit summoner," confirmed Ethelid, a mage from the Marigold Guild.
"Really?" Juliet asked quietly.
Only mages could verify Dolores's strange claims. That was precisely why Juliet had brought her to the Count Montague estate.
The empty mansion had been temporarily loaned to Ethelid and his colleagues—a wise decision that had helped earn the favor of the mages.
"Yes. Albeit faintly, I sense a distinctive flow of magical energy. Undoubtedly!" Ethelid declared.
"Fascinating! I've only read about this in books before!" The other mages nodded enthusiastically.
They surrounded Dolores with such fervor that they seemed slightly unhinged.
Ethelid's colleagues—who had recently observed both the young dragon and the manifestation of spiritual entities—now regarded Juliet with considerably more respect.
"Wouldn't the Countess like to keep mages nearby? It would be profitable, don't you think?" one of them remarked casually.
But Juliet, who knew precisely how expensive a mage's services were, only smiled politely.
"I can't afford to hire mages."
"Ah, I see... pity. It would have been quite entertaining if all manner of miraculous phenomena kept occurring around the Countess."
Without wondering whether it was a joke or a subtle hint, Juliet turned her attention back to Dolores.
"But she doesn't even know what spirit she summoned."
"What?"
"Is that even possible?"
"Sounds highly suspicious..."
The mages once again surrounded Dolores in a tight circle.
"What's the matter? She can't *see* it?"
"Perhaps it's a transparent-type spirit?" one suggested.
The mages' eyes lit up, and they began studying Dolores with renewed, almost fevered interest.
"D-Dolores didn't see the spirit with her own eyes..." she stammered, repeating the same story she had already told Juliet.
"Dolores was blindfolded."
"Wait—is it even *possible* to perform a summoning when your eyes are closed?"
"Dolores isn't very knowledgeable about such complicated matters... but other subordinates of the Marquis of Guinness—also spirit summoners—said she really *did* summon someone."
Juliet listened calmly. She had heard this version before and felt no particular emotion. But the mages grew increasingly serious.
"How could you not see what you summoned? Is that even acceptable?"
"Can you control it? Where is it now?"
"You fell asleep during the summoning? How can you possibly control a spirit you've never even seen?"
"You can't control something you can't *communicate* with!"
The conversation among the mages grew more animated, each vying to voice their theories.
"Perhaps she was merely used as a *conduit* for the summoning? A simple tool?"
Finally, they arrived at a tentative conclusion:
"Summoners' abilities manifest differently for everyone."
"It's strange, yes. But not impossible. Spirits come in all varieties. Perhaps hers is one of the rarer types."
"And this Marquis of Guinness of yours—he sounds like a shady character."
"Exactly. I've heard that name somewhere before..."
While the capital buzzed with rumors about Guinness, the mages seemed utterly uninterested in anything happening outside the realm of magic.
Fortunately, Ethelid—unlike the others—knew precisely who Guinness was. He turned to Juliet with a serious expression.
"Can this woman be trusted if she's his wife or daughter?"
"Dolores was only doing what the Marquis ordered!" Dolores cried out before Juliet could respond. "He adopted me, yes—but only because someone *paid* him to. He was never kind to me!"
Dolores spoke breathlessly, as though she had been holding it in for far too long.
"He has so many treasures, and he wouldn't even let me take a pretty hairpin. But *that woman*—he let her do anything!"
"That woman?"
"Yes!"
"Who is she?"
"I don't know... I only remember she was young. Always dressed in white. The Marquis spoke to her politely and gave her the best room..."
*A white dress.*
Juliet's thoughts sharpened.
Priestesses also wore white.
"What is her name?"
"Her name is... um..."
Dolores hesitated, her brow furrowing.
"It's strange... I was certain I knew... I'll remember in a moment!"
She winced, clearly straining—but still couldn't recall.
Juliet watched her in silence.
Then, suddenly, she said:
"Dahlia."
"Hm?"
"Isn't it Dahlia?"
"I... I'm not sure. It seems right. But also... not? I'm sorry..."
Dolores lowered her head in confusion, apologizing. The mages exchanged bewildered glances.
"Wait—you *heard* the name, but you don't remember if it's correct or not?"
"What's wrong with her memory? Perhaps her cognitive functions were damaged during the summoning experiment?"
"Remarkable... is it even possible to be a functional summoner if one's memory is impaired?"
While they debated, Juliet quietly tapped her fingers on the table and called Ethelid aside.
"Eshel, come here for a moment."
"Of course."
He took the hint and followed her from the room.
---
## — The Nature of Demons —
"What do you think?" Juliet asked once they were alone.
"We are accustomed to generalizing all such beings under the term *spirits*. But in truth, not all of them are benevolent."
"Yes, I know. Most people think of adorable little fairies when they hear the word. But reality is far more complex."
Many of the entities summoned from other dimensions bore little resemblance to fairies—and were certainly not benevolent. Simply put, they were beings from another world.
"Perhaps it would be more accurate to call them *the summoned*. And those they bring forth..."
"Demons?" Juliet said with a faint smile.
"That's one term for them."
"Because you never truly know *what* you'll summon from beyond the veil of reality."
Ethelid had warned Juliet more than once: her butterflies weren't mere magical creatures. They were something far more powerful. Their nature was closer to demons than spirits.
These beings came to this world to gain form and sustenance. And to do so, they required a *contractor*.
Spirit summoners were rare individuals. Their magical frequency was so unique that even modest magical potential allowed them to open gateways to other dimensions. They didn't need immense power—being a conduit was enough.
Contractors, also called summoners, served as both the bridge and the energy source for these creatures.
"I understand," Juliet said, nodding.
Her butterflies operated in precisely the same manner. The seemingly delicate creatures here, on the other side of the veil, were dangerous, alien forms—the mere sight of which could drive a person mad.
Juliet guessed what Ethelid was driving at.
"Their abilities vary greatly as well."
"Yes. Precisely."
Nature spirits could summon rain, ignite flames, and stir hurricanes. Some possessed healing powers; others were monsters of unimaginable size. But the most dangerous were those who could penetrate a person's *mind*.
"And the more they affect the mind, the more dangerous they are—correct?"
Ethelid shrugged.
"Well... you understand."
"In simple terms: demons."
"I wouldn't phrase it quite that way."
"But that's the essence."
Ethelid clearly wanted to warn Juliet once more about the nature of her butterflies—but she was already contemplating something else.
"Tell me, Eshel," she began slowly. "What if there exists a being from the mental plane—a particularly powerful one... whether spirit or demon..."
"Yes?"
"Could it... *manipulate* a person's memories?"
Ethelid frowned. But Juliet only smiled mysteriously.
Only she knew: Lennox had suddenly begun to remember things that, in theory, only *she* should recall—events from her life before her "return."
But the more Juliet thought about it, the more she felt it:
Some of her memories seemed *distorted*.
As though someone else had intervened—subtly, imperceptibly. Piece by piece. In small, nearly invisible ways.
---
## — Fragments of Truth —
The next morning, Juliet sat in the reception room, gracefully penning a letter to be sent east.
When she finished, she set down her pen, slowly snapped her fingers—and immediately, a pair of butterflies drifted silently to her hand.
**(Marquis. South. Territory.)**
**(Punishment. Property. Confiscation.)**
Words didn't come easily to them; the butterflies couldn't hold full conversations. But the meaning was clear enough.
These were the very same butterflies Juliet had secretly left in the palace during her last visit. Their task was simple: capture and relay fragments of overheard conversations.
Though the information arrived in scattered pieces, Juliet understood it without difficulty.
"So they're going to confiscate the Marquis's lands and property?"
She frowned slightly.
*Why do those arrogant aristocrats need that southern territory?*
Juliet had no interest in it herself—neither its strategic importance nor its utility. But she was struck by the brazenness with which they suddenly reached for it.
When the Marquis of Guinness's soldiers had marched against the Imperial Palace, it had been the knights of the Duchy of Carlisle who were first to defend the capital. And those nobles? They had sat quietly, hidden behind others' backs. Now that everything was over, they strutted forward to claim their spoils.
Juliet had merely settled a score with the Marquis. *He* had been the first to challenge her. And along the way, other suspicious details had surfaced.
Dolores had mentioned a woman standing behind the Marquis. Juliet was certain it was Dahlia.
*The Marquis's estate has likely already been ransacked by Carlisle's forces. It's hard to believe Dahlia is still there.*
*So then... what was her purpose?*
One thing was clear: Dahlia, like the Marquis, had planned something to ensnare Juliet.
*But what exactly?*
"Perhaps they intended to manipulate my mind, just as the Marquis tried," she murmured.
And then—suddenly—something strange occurred to her.
"Wait..."
Juliet's breath caught.
"I met Dahlia every time... *before* something dangerous happened."
---