Colmar sat before her dressing table, winding a lock of hair around her finger as she stared blankly at the pale yellow wallpaper.
Beneath her arm lay not cosmetics such as face powder or eye cream, but a heavy spellbook. It was open, revealing a yellowed parchment diagram tucked into an inner pocket.
A complex Magic Circle sketch had been drawn on the parchment. Red points of light slowly moved along the charcoal lines. It looked as though it had been operating for a long time; the crimson glow around those points had faded to its limit, nearly turning white.
"Buzz... buzz..."
An uneasy cry came from the Firefly Beetle Swarm hanging from the ceiling, like an old radio with poor reception. The unusual sound startled the witch from her thoughts.
She glanced up at the flickering lights overhead, looked around, and finally fixed her gaze on the dressing mirror before her.
"Entering a girl's bedroom without the owner's permission is extremely rude," Colmar said calmly to her own mirror.
The mirror did not move, as though it were nothing more than an ordinary mirror.
The witch ignored it. She reached behind her head, gathered her loose hair, and twisted it into a neat bun, revealing her fair, slender neck.
"Get in or get out. You have to choose one." The witch shot the dim mirror a slightly impatient look. "...Instead of staying hidden in the cracks of the Mirror World."
Her spellbook, resting on a pillow not far from the dressing table, trembled a few times and began to emit a faint glow, as though trying hard to attract its owner's attention.
Under these repeated warnings, the uninvited guest hiding in the mirror finally gave up pretending not to hear.
The mirror's surface trembled violently like boiling mercury, rippling