*Creeeak…* The door at the far end of the great hall slowly swung open. I—Ushiromiya Battler—held my breath. Without thinking, I clenched the red-lettered card I'd shoved into my pocket during the last tale. A soft flutter. A single golden butterfly slipped through the gap in the door. Then two, then three. In the blink of an eye, the ceiling of the great hall was filled with golden wings. It was like golden snow falling only inside this room. (…She's here.) Bathed in the chandelier's light, the butterflies glittered and sparkled. And then— *Click, click, click.* Footsteps. Golden drill curls swayed gently. A deep blue dress. A golden butterfly brooch gleaming at her chest. Her ever-present fan in hand. "[laughing]Oooh-ho-ho-ho! You've been kept waiting, you useless Battler!" Beatrice, the witch who had lived a thousand years, swept in with an arrogant laugh. I snorted and slammed the card onto the table. "[angry]You damn witch! What the hell is this about?!" Beatrice snapped her fan shut and narrowed her eyes with a mean-spirited look. "Whatever do you mean? I merely wished to have tea with you." "Liar! This card's written in red letters, isn't it?! 'Find the secret hidden behind the smile'—this is a game, isn't it?!" "[sarcastic]Hmm. So you noticed. Though, you were a bit slow on the uptake." The witch lounged back in her chair and crossed her legs. Another butterfly fluttered out from the hem of her dress. "Anyway, what's this 'secret behind the smile' supposed to be?! With you, there's nothing *but* behind the smile!" "What did you say?" "Front or back, it's all malice with you!" "[cold]Do you understand what happens when you anger me?" Our gazes clashed in midair, sparks flying. But… What was this feeling? Arguing with the witch like this after so long made something deep in my chest itch. It was just too damn entertaining. (It's not like I didn't want to see her…) Not that I'd ever say that out loud. "—Well, no matter." Beatrice suddenly stood up. "[gentle]It's a tea party, after all. First, allow me to brew you some tea." "Huh?" My eyes went wide. *Her? Herself? Tea?* "Wh-what's with that face? I have lived for a thousand years. Something of this level is naturally—" The witch lifted her chin haughtily and stood before the tea set on its silver tray. But her hands stopped immediately. She picked up the tin of tea leaves and stared at it intently. "…Hmm." She opened the lid and peered inside at the leaves. "…Hmm?" This time she opened the teapot's lid and peered inside the pot. "[whispers]…How does one warm this pot?" "Not natural at all!" I couldn't help but retort. I mean, seriously. A witch who's lived a thousand years doesn't know how to warm a teapot?! "[angry]Sh-shut up! Just wait a moment!" Beatrice's ears turned red. In the end, the witch boiled the water with magic. With a snap of her fingers, the water inside the pot began to bubble and boil. Magic sure is convenient. But then, her hands stopped again as she tried to measure the tea leaves. Teaspoon in hand, she furrowed her brow in distress. Her profile looked like a completely different person from the usual arrogant witch. (…What the hell.) She's kind of cute. No, I absolutely must not think the witch is cute. Eventually, Beatrice finished pouring the tea into the cups. "[serious]Now, drink. It is tea brewed personally by me. You should feel honored." The teacup she handed me was hot and smelled of roses. (Looks like normal tea.) Cautiously, I took a sip. —*Pffft!!* "B-bitterrrrrrrrr!!!" I spat it out without thinking. My mouth was filled with a numbing bitterness. The astringency clung to my tongue; it was a disaster. Beatrice's face turned a furious shade of crimson. "[angry]Wh-wh-what kind of reaction is that?!" "B-because this! Did you put sand in it or something?! My mouth's turned into a desert!" "[angry]How rude! This is the finest quality, shipped directly from Ceylon—" The witch cut herself off mid-sentence. Then, she folded her arms with a sulky look. "…This is not how I brew it." "Huh?" "[angry]I was simply off my game today! When I brew it seriously, it is nothing like this! Who do you think I am, having lived for a thousand years!" "No, your excuses are pretty childish, you know." "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut uuup!" Beatrice covered her ears and turned away with a huff. That arrogant, perfect witch did. I— "*Pfft!*" I burst out laughing. "[laughing]Y-you can make a face like that too, huh?! A thousand years old and you can't even brew a decent cup of tea!" "[angry]I told you, that's not it!!" "Oooh-ho-ho-ho!" "Don't imitate me—!!" Laughing out loud, shouting at each other. But it was strange. The tension from earlier seemed to melt smoothly away. I remembered the card in my breast pocket. That was a game. But—right now. "…Well, still." I took another sip of the tea. Bitter. Yeah, incredibly bitter. But somehow, that made me want to laugh. "It's not bad. Something like this." Beatrice glanced softly at me. "…Truly?" "But you never need to brew it again." "[angry]Why youuuuu!!" The witch raised her fan. But I noticed the corners of her mouth loosen just a little. After that, a volley of bickering continued for a while. "You've got no talent for making cookies either, right?" "Wh-why would you—no, I know nothing of it! There is no such thing!" "Bullseye!" While we were exchanging such silly talk, Beatrice suddenly looked out the window. Toward the rose garden. Her profile was— (…Huh?) Beatrice's eyes, just for an instant, sank into a deep blue. The usual arrogant light vanished, and she was gazing at something. Her eyes looked like she was searching for something she'd left behind long ago. A sharp pang struck my chest. "Hey." When I called out, the witch looked up with a start. "[laughing]What is it? Were you captivated by my beauty?" She immediately returned to her usual tone. "No way." But— (What was that just now…?) A small, nagging feeling remained in my chest. As if to change the subject, Beatrice clapped her hands sharply. "[serious]Now then, it is time to declare the rules of the tea party." "Rules?" "First. At today's tea party, everyone is equal. Humans, witches, furniture—all shall drink tea on the same standing." "…Huh." I'd heard that before. But when the witch declared it anew, it carried a different weight. "Second. All acts of combat are strictly forbidden. The Seven Sisters of Purgatory will not bare their fangs today." "Third. Monopolizing the sweets is not permitted. If you eat all the macarons by yourself, that alone will be a penalty game." "Fourth. You must not leave your seat until the very end." Beatrice laid down the rules slowly, raising a finger for each one. I folded my arms. (These rules…) Aren't they a bit too strict? For just a tea party, they're too constructed. It's as if this place alone is cut off from the outside world, a special place. "[surprised]Hey, is this—" "And as for the penalty," Beatrice ignored my words and raised her final finger. "Whoever breaks the rules—shall not be allowed to eat any sweets!" "Are you a childdddddd!!" I screamed. "[laughing]Oooh-ho-ho-ho! More painful than any punishment, is it not?" "Well, sure, not being able to eat macarons right in front of you would be tough, but still!" We started arguing again. But in my heart, I was thinking something else. (This game… it's not just for fun.) Behind these strict rules, there's something. The secret behind the smile. Until I find it, this absolutely cannot end. I swore that to myself. That's when it happened. *Thud, thud, thud.* From the distance, the sound of multiple footsteps walking along the ground could be heard. "…What's that noise?" From beyond the corridor, boisterous voices drew closer. "Hah?! I'll be the one to give greetings first! You lot stay back!" "Oh my, as the eldest sister, it's only natural that I go first." "Wait, wait, everyone let's calm down~" What sounded like an incredible argument reached my ears. Beatrice smiled happily. "[gentle]It seems the next guests have arrived." That smile— It was different from the lonely face she'd shown earlier while looking out the window. But mixed within it was a shade of something like *relief*. As if she was reassured that she was no longer alone. "You, just now—" "[excited]The Seven Sisters of Purgatory! I have called them to serve today. Now, do come in!" Beatrice flung the doors of the great hall wide open. Instantly, a chorus of female voices flooded in. """Excuse us!!""" I held my head in my hands. (…This is going to get really noisy.) It definitely won't be a peaceful tea party. But, even so— I stole a glance at Beatrice's profile. The corners of her mouth were turned up, just a little. (Well… fine.) I took another sip of the bitter tea. The tea party had only just begun.