The cold sea breeze hit me straight in the face. I—Ushiromiya Battler—leaned against the deck railing and stared once more at the card in my hand. Thick, cream-colored paper. Delicate gold foil lined the edges, and when I opened it, a faint scent of roses drifted up. But the contents couldn't have been further from that elegance. *"Witches who fight, furniture, humans—none of that matters. A laid-back tea gathering. You're invited. I'll be waiting on Rokkenjima. —Beatrice"* "[sarcastic]A laid-back tea gathering, huh... You've got some nerve saying that." My mouth twisted before I could stop it. That arrogant, pride-filled Golden Witch, of all people, saying "laid-back"? I've fought that woman—Beatrice—more times than I can count. It's like a brawl of reasoning and magic, in a place called the "game board." Picture a king and queen glaring at each other across a chessboard—that's close enough. I deny the witch's magic with human logic. The witch shatters my reasoning with the red truth. We've been repeating that over and over. For that witch to host some soft, fluffy event like a middle school girl—no matter how you look at it, it's absurd. (*She's definitely plotting something...*) I muttered that in my mind and pressed my thumb hard against my temple. Experience told me this was, ten times out of ten—no, ninety-nine times out of a hundred—some nasty game or malicious scheme. But. "...Well, I've been called, so I'm going." I murmured quietly and shoved the card into my chest pocket. If I hadn't been invited, I'd probably be annoyed in a different way. Realizing that about myself pissed me off a little. The boat would reach Rokkenjima soon. This island is far south of Tokyo, at what feels like the edge of the Izu sea. A small, isolated island about ten kilometers around, owned by our family—the Ushiromiyas. No ordinary person ever comes here, there's no regular ferry—it's what you'd call a "closed island." The air changed. Something fundamentally different from the lukewarm, vaguely chaotic-smelling wind of the mainland. Mist crept along the sea's surface, clinging to the hull. The October ocean was cold, and gray clouds covered the sky. I straightened the collar of my white shirt and unconsciously checked the position of the one-winged eagle engraved on my tie—our family crest. My sleeves were rolled up as usual. It's not about looking cool; I just can't seem to settle down otherwise. Before long, the silhouette of the pier emerged from the mist. When I stepped ashore, an especially strong gust of wind blew through. "So cold..." I shivered involuntarily. The island in October was far colder than I'd expected. And then— Flutter. "Huh?" A single butterfly appeared before my eyes. Golden, with wings that seemed almost transparent. It fluttered slowly, crossing right in front of me. There's no way a butterfly should be here in this chilly weather. The butterfly drifted softly toward the gravel path, as if saying, "Follow me." "...Beatrice." Is there anyone in the world who could swear this isn't the witch's magic? A bad feeling and an itching curiosity mixed strangely in my chest. "[angry]Bring it on!" As if chasing the butterfly, I started down the gravel path with crunching steps. Along the way, the sense of wrongness only grew stronger. The light filtering through the mist had an unnatural golden tinge. A thick scent of roses tickled my nose, even though there was no wind. "Beatrice's rose garden" should still be far away. This wasn't a normal place. The entire island was already filled with that witch's magic. I knew it instinctively. "Anti-magic"—the power to deny magic exists, from the bottom of your heart. Because I possess that, I can feel it on my skin all the more when it *does* exist. I passed through the massive gate of the grandiose Western mansion—the Ushiromiya main house—and stood before the heavy front door. There, the butterfly melted softly away, as if dissolving. "...I'm coming in." I declared it to no one in particular, gripped the cold metal doorknob, and pushed the door open with force. The great hall. The moment I stepped into the room, I couldn't help but catch my breath. A chandelier hung from the high ceiling, blazing with an absurdly gaudy golden light. In the center of the room was a large oval table that could easily seat ten people. Spread across it was a perfectly arranged tea party setting. A tea set of thin white porcelain. Each piece was delicately traced with gold lines depicting the one-winged eagle—*our family crest*. On a three-tiered cake stand, macarons, scones, and fruit tarts were arranged as beautifully as jewels. I'd heard the rules for this tea party before. "Everyone is equal." Meaning that here, witches, humans, and even beings called "furniture" who aren't even human—all of them would drink tea on the same footing. An outrageous rule. For a witch to propose something like that... yeah, something's definitely wrong. "No one's here?" Silence. My voice echoed faintly through the empty hall. Feeling a tension as if some invisible presence was watching me, I approached the table. The teacups hadn't been filled yet. The scones hadn't been touched by anyone. It was as if time had stopped. And then, in the very center of the table. I noticed a single card propped up on a small silver stand. It had a distinctly different air from the rose-scented invitation I'd just tucked into my chest pocket. Something more... ominous. I reached out and picked up the card. A white card. But the moment I saw the letters written on it, I felt every pore on my body contract. —The letters were red. The "red truth." In the witch's world, those red letters are used when speaking only the truth, with absolutely no lies allowed. This is what it said: *"This is a game."* *"There is one rule. Find the secret hidden behind the smile."* *"If you cannot find it, I will take one thing precious to you."* *"—Beatrice"* "......" I clenched the card. The paper crinkled with a crumpling sound. This isn't just some "laid-back tea party." I knew it. This is a witch's game. *"The secret hidden behind the smile."* *"I will take one thing precious to you."* Anger slowly boiled up from the pit of my stomach. At the same time, my competitive spirit reared its head. "[angry]You've gotta be kidding me...!" The words spilled out before I could stop them. But wait. *"The secret hidden behind the smile"?* I pictured that arrogant witch's face again—the one who always laughs haughtily. Beatrice isn't the type of woman to prepare a polite tea party like this. She'd flip the table and go BOOM with magic. And yet, this rose-scented invitation. The perfectly prepared tea setting. And a "secret" behind a "smile." The anti-magic inside me sensed something—not in my head, but somewhere else... probably somewhere behind my heart. This isn't just a game to decide who wins or loses. It's something else, something... "...I don't get it." I let out my honest thought and shoved the red-lettered card into my pocket. I looked around the empty great hall. The Wedgwood-style tea set. The gold leaf of the one-winged eagle. The sweets waiting to be touched. Did that witch really prepare all of this? That selfish, overbearing woman who always ends up in huge fights? It was a strange feeling. "...I'm not losing." I swore it, not caring if anyone heard. Whatever "game" this is, I'll take it on. That's my role. That was the moment. Creeeak... The heavy door at the back of the room moved, just slightly. "!" I held my breath. Someone's coming. Is it that witch? I braced myself, my fists clenching naturally. The air in the great hall grew taut. In the silence, the approaching presence felt unnervingly loud. The tea party was about to begin.