Night fell. Rain poured over the courtyard like a waterfall, clouds pressed low and the wind howled. Inside, the lights were as dim as beans, flickering unsteadily.
Before the workbench, Touko Aozaki carefully pieced together the scattered puppet debris and the unrecognizable fragments of runes. Even when she restored something resembling their original form, the moment she lifted her fingers, the cracked creation collapsed instantly like a sandcastle washed by seawater, leaving only wreckage behind.
The orange-haired, orange-eyed girl remained silent for a long while before finally lowering her futile hands. The wavering lamplight fell across her bowed face, revealing a shadow of pent-up gloom and desolation.
"What, still can't figure it out?"
Just as Touko Aozaki was sinking into despair, a gentle whisper reached her ear. The workshop's sole remaining puppet arm handed her a dry towel and a cup of warm black tea.
"I just think... I'm a failure."
The girl cradled the hot tea on the table, nodded, and stared blankly at the steam rising from the cup as she murmured in a low voice.
"Born amid praise, burdened with the halo of a genius, entrusted with my family's hopes... I spent sixteen years and achieved nothing. It's pathetic..."
"That's only because you chose the wrong Racetrack!"
Before she could finish that self-deprecating assessment, Samael, leaning against the edge of the table, extended the puppet arm on his right, gleaming like ivory, and gave Touko Aozaki's shoulder a heavy pat.
The wrong... Racetrack?
Touko Aozaki froze slightly, unable to understand. She lifted her head in surprise and looked at the mysterious man before her.
Seeing her expression, Samael simply dragged over a chair and sat down with his legs spread wide, laying bare the crux of the matter.
"Though you only have twenty-three Magic Circuits, their quality