In an instant, his smile turned upside down, and the color drained from his face.
“…? What’s inside?”
From where I stood, I eyed the contents.
The case did not contain a single coin.
Instead, it was packed full of slips of paper.
Papers from friends, relatives, inns, liquor stores, meat shops, and greengrocers. They detailed every bit of money his father had borrowed, including the deadlines for repayment, and even the names of guarantors, all meticulously recorded. The case was stuffed full of them, as well as a brief memo.
Dear son, take care of these for me, will ya? —Dad
“Of all the…unbelievable…! This can’t be happening…! Old maaaaaaaan!”
Then he ripped every piece of paper out of the case and tossed it aside. Invoice after invoice went fluttering away on the breeze.
Among them was a single letter. He seemed to throw it away without noticing.
The letter read:
Sorry. The “buried treasure” thing was a lie. I was never actually some legendary gambler. Sure, things were going well at first, but eventually I stopped winning. I’m just a terrible father who fell deep into debt. Please find it in your heart to forgive your no-good dad somehow. And while you’re at it, it’d be great if you could settle my debts. I’ve explained everything to the lenders. They should be waiting for you to get the money together. I’m counting on you.
It really was an incredible setup. The father had been such a scumbag that it was almost refreshingly honest.
“Old maaaaaaaan!!”
As I looked at the man with pity, I could think only one thing:
I guess the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.
CHAPTER 8
The Country of Truth Tellers
“…The Country of Truth Tellers?”
As I stood before the gate of a small country near the coast, I puzzled over the strange name the guard had said.
“That’s right! Our country is called the Country of Truth Tellers. As the name states, there are no liars here! And boy, does this place suck!”
“…Huh.”
“The moment a person passes through this gate and enters our territory, they lose the ability to lie. It doesn’t matter who they are—even if they’re a witch.”
Contrary to my expectations, I felt a small surge of interest.
“Exactly how does that work?”
“The magic sword in our king’s possession has some mysterious power and apparently blankets the whole country with a net of honesty. Oh dear, I suppose that sounds very fishy, but that’s how it works.”
“……”
“So, Madam Witch, what do you think? Will you enter our country?”
To that, I gave my response.
I requested a three-day, two-night stay and passed through the gate.
As I entered, the faint scent of the ocean wafted in on a cool, early summer breeze.
The seaside townscape was vibrant. The houses lined up along the road were painted blue, red, yellow, green, purple, and other bright shades. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason. But the mismatched colors worked together somehow.
The whole atmosphere in this country was nice.
“Miss Witch! Come buy our bread! It’s not that delicious, and it’s been out for a while, so it’s getting a little stale. Oh, and the bread at the very front of the store is leftover from two days ago, but we’re selling it at regular price anyway! Buy it!”
“…Um, who would intentionally buy garbage?”
An unbelievable voice had come from a stall that I passed by, and without thinking, I had made a jab at the speaker.
For some reason, what came out of my mouth was about 20 percent meaner than usual. Is it because I can’t lie?
“How could you?! Obviously, the taste and quality go down because we’ve left it out for a long time! But it’s not inedible! Buy it!”
“……”
For a moment, it seemed like the very first thing I would do after entering the Country of Truth Tellers would be to get in a fight with a random shopkeeper. But apparently everyone here was used to that sort of interaction.
“Oh, Miss Witch! You’re so cute it’s sickening! By the way, I’ve made a new perfume recently. Won’t you buy some? I don’t really want to sell it to a cute young lady like you, but I am running a business here, after all.”
“Oh, hello there. Honestly, you’re not really my type, and you’re far too young, and worst of all, your chest is way too small, but right now I’m practically starved for female attention. If you like, we could go get some tea over there—Oh, no?”
Everyone was so brutally honest, it made me want to give them a piece of my mind, like “To be perfectly blunt, are you all stupid?”
Their inappropriate comments gave the whole country a vaguely sinister air.
“Bald as ever, huh?”
“Yup, and you’re fat as always.”
“I’ve thought this for a while, but your breath reeks.”
“Yup, and your body odor makes me want to gag.”
“…Ha-ha-ha.”
“…Ha-ha-ha.”
The combative natures of people were being forcibly brought to the surface, since they were unable to conceal their true selves.
…What on earth could that king have been thinking when he made the country this way?
I wandered through the town until I eventually caught sight of the castle.
“As of today, it has been half a year since we abolished lies from our country! What do you think, everyone?! Isn’t it wonderful to have a country without dishonesty?!”
The young king was in the middle of delivering a spirited speech.
In his hand, he held an elaborately decorated sword. The thing was so gaudy that, if anyone had asked me, I wouldn’t have been able to keep myself from remarking that the king suffered from a serious case of bad taste.
The crowd before the king roared, holding up signs:
YOU’RE THE BEST, SIRE!
THANK YOU FOR OUR WONDERFUL COUNTRY WITHOUT LIES!
I GOT A GIRLFRIEND THANKS TO YOU!
LONG LIVE THE KING!
There wasn’t a single person shouting a coherent sentence. They were all just cheering and hooting in incomprehensible garbles.
The king nodded at his citizens, evidently satisfied, and pointed the sword toward the heavens.
“Lies are evil! We must hold them in contempt! I swear on this sword: Our country will continue to be a noble and righteous land with absolutely no falsehood!”
I’LL FOLLOW YOU FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!
I LOVE THE KING!
INCREDIBLE! SLEEP WITH ME!
LONG LIVE THE KING!
LONG LIVE THE KING!
“From words without lies, and from honesty without deception, come real, trusting relationships! By pitting truth against truth, let us lead this country down the path of righteousness!”
……
As I watched from a distance, filled with feelings about the strange spectacle that I hesitated to say in public, someone suddenly tapped my shoulder.
When I turned around, there stood a witch in an earthy-brown robe and pointy hat. She looked to be in her early twenties and had disheveled, mud-colored hair.
“…What is it?”
Wearing an elated expression, she silently held up a sketchbook with the words You’re the witch who was dispatched from the United Magic Association, right? written on a page.
“……?” I tilted my head in confusion. “No, I’m not.”
Oh, the United Magic Association was the organization that held the apprentice witch advancement exams, resolved any magical incidents, and researched new types of magic. To put it simply, they were a mysterious organization that wanted to have a hand in all things magic.
“You should know, members of the United Magic Association wear moon-shaped brooches on their chests.” My brooch was star-shaped and served as proof of
my witchhood.
Once I had kindly explained that much, the girl seemed to realize her mistake—her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, and she began to run her pen around the page in a panicked rush.
I’m sorry, wrong person, please forget I said anything!
She held up the sketchbook again and, after bowing several times, ran off.
What on earth was that about?
“…Hmm?”
Come to think of it, why did she write everything down on paper? Does communicating nonverbally somehow exempt you from the truth-telling rule?
Doubts arose in me as I shifted my attention between the strange witch who didn’t speak and the mob of people gathered in front of the king.
Spoiler alert: The truth-telling rule does, in fact, apply to written words as well.
For example, a sign advertising a new type of treat at a shop read TRY OUR NEWEST BAKED GOODS! and after that was appended ACTUALLY, WE JUST ADDED A NEW INGREDIENT TO SOMETHING WE HAD ALREADY BEEN SELLING. At other shops—a candy store, a café, a bookstore, and others—generally speaking, the signs were a mess.
THE MANAGER’S SPECIAL! OUR HOT NEW ITEM ON THE MENU! THEY’RE DELICIOUS! THAT’S A LIE. THEY’RE TRASH. THEY’RE CRAP. IF YOU EAT THEM, YOU’LL DIE.
A DEBUT NOVEL WEAVES A TALE OF MYSTERY! EVEN BESTSELLING AUTHORS WERE SHOCKED! (AT HOW BAD IT WAS.)
THESE NEW PRODUCTS ARE FORTY PERCENT MORE EFFECTIVE THAN THE PREVIOUS ONES! WELL, YOU’LL AT LEAST THINK THEY ARE.
And so on.
The signs at every store all had sentences that could be taken as slander—added to the end of each statement. Never at the beginning, it seemed, but always tacked on after the pitch. On top of that, every advertisement and sign had marks like it had been dirtied on purpose with parts that were forcefully erased, and there was no ignoring the fact that they were hard to read.
Feeling bored with all the uncontrolled honesty, I stepped foot in an inn that had a blurred, dirty signboard standing next to it that read SUPERCHEAP INN! CHEAP BUT EXTREMELY CLEAN!
Since this is the Country of Truth Tellers, those words on the sign can’t possibly be a lie.
“……”
However, the room that was prepared for me was far from beautiful. It was trash. It was the worst. It looked like if I spent the night there, I would die.
Is this what passes for clean to the owner of the inn…? He must have vision problems.
I holed myself up in the room, feeling disappointed by cruel reality, and took a memo pad and pen out of my bag.
“…What should I write?”
I figured I might as well push the limits on this prohibition on lying.
I held the pen to my mouth for a little while, then hit upon the idea to try to write down what had happened that day.
And so I wrote. Fretting over it, remembering as I went, I pushed the pen over paper.
Now I could see that somehow or other, whenever I tried to write a lie, my hand would move on its own and write the truth instead. I thought I would try writing some noncommittal untruths, but despite my best efforts, after I finished writing, only facts were written on the page.
For example, when I tried to write the lie “I’m actually a man,” the letters on the page would spell out the opposite, and even when I tried to make the lie come out of my mouth, I would end up saying “I’m actually a woman” instead.
Amending it afterward also had no effect. When I tried to say “The previous statement was a lie,” both out loud and in writing, what I saw and heard instead was “The previous statement was true.” This was pointless.
Even when I got a new piece of paper or devised some new roundabout way to lie, it seemed I was unable to say or write any false words.
“…Hmm.”
It was a strange sensation.
Once I had familiarized myself with the feeling, I spent a while playing around, making my body do things that didn’t follow my intentions.
“…Huh?”
I soon realized something odd.
I realized that the residents of this country, who had forcibly become truth tellers, all had an unspoken agreement to keep their mouths shut.
I strolled around town the following day as well.
As I passed through the profusely colorful cityscape, I asked questions at the food stalls, like “Is this tasty?” “Is it fresh?” and made them tell the truth. I bought tons of fresh and tasty food without any doubts, humming as I went.
Since this was a seaside town, I could hear the sound of gently crashing waves as I went about my food tour.
It was a good feeling.
I knew this town had a good vibe.
“You jerk! I’ll kill ya! You bald bastard! Yer breath stinks!”
“Shut up, fatso! That’s big talk coming from someone with your BO!”
“Die!”
“You first!”
……
The pleasant atmosphere was immediately obliterated.
I turned to look, and in the direction I was headed, I saw two men hurling insults at each other as they grappled: a fat man who was so inflated that he looked like he would pop if stuck with a pin and a bald man whose head was giving off a dazzling sheen. Incidentally, they were surrounded by a miasma of body odor and bad breath.
…Actually, those are the two men I saw yesterday.
“…Wah!”
Caught up in their struggle, the two men didn’t pay any mind to the crowd forming around them. The people just watched. No one seemed to have any desire to intervene.
I mean, I did the same thing.
“Is it okay that no one’s stopping them?”
I posed the question to a nearby man. I knew it would be better to stop them, but since I didn’t want to do it myself, the next best thing was to get someone else to do it.
However…
“Hmm? Miss Witch, could it be that you’re not from around here?”
I nodded, and the man smiled.
“Arguments like that happen on a daily basis in our country. But watching other people fight is a great way to relieve stress, so no one ever intervenes.”
“……”
“We have so much pent-up rage thanks to that idiot king of ours, so this is a good way to blow off a little steam.”
What a strange thing to say.
“Trusting relationships will be born from struggle”—I could see that there was a hopelessly deep rift between the words of the king and the experiences of his subjects.
“Okay, stop iiiiiiiiiiiittt!”
Just then, I heard a voice so loud, it made me want to cover my ears from across the road.
When I looked in the direction of the voice, next to the two grappling men stood a lone witch, gripping her wand—using magic, she had forced them to stop just before they were about to get physical.
The witch wore a black robe adorned with both star and moon brooches. She had short, glossy black hair and seemed to be a bit younger than me. She glared at the two men who had been fighting.
“Enough with this senseless squabble. It’s the middle of the day! Can’t you see you’re bothering everyone around you?”
I recognized her face, and she wore a familiar pointy hat.
“And as for the rest of you! If you’ve got time to watch, then stop the fight. Why should a nobody like me have to step in when they’re surrounded by their own countrymen?”
She was absolutely fuming, with smoke coming out of her ears and all.
“……”
Long ago, I had given a girl a hat just like mine, and now here she stood before me.
“…What are you doing here, Saya?”
I pushed my way through the crowd until I was face-to-face with her.
She also noticed me.
“Ah…Elaina…?”
Her eyes went wide with surprise, and her limp mouth swung open. Her grip on her wand faltered, and the spell that was stopping the two men fizzled out.
Suddenly released from the grip of
her magic, the men regained their momentum and punched each other right in the face. They both collapsed.
“Oh, sorry.”
It was a very, very flimsy apology.
“I never thought I would meet you in a place like this, Elaina! Could this be fate? It’s fate, isn’t it? At this point, we have no choice but to get married!”
After the two men passed out, and we left them at the mercy of the crowd, we sauntered around town and spoke for the first time in ages.
“It really has been a while, hasn’t it? Have you been well?”
I pretended I hadn’t heard the last thing she said.
“Thanks to this hat, I’ve been extremely well! I made it. I became a witch.”
Saya gently stroked the pointy hat as she spoke.
The most important thing is that she’s taken a liking to it.
“What witch name did you take?”
“I’m the Charcoal Witch.”
“Huh… That’s pretty similar to mine…”
I’m the Ashen Witch. It’s almost exactly the same.
“I asked my teacher to choose a word that felt close to ashen.”
She puffed out her chest as she spoke. When she did, the two brooches on her chest bumped into each other and made a ringing sound.
There they were: the star-shaped brooch and the moon-shaped brooch.
“You joined the United Magic Association?”
She nodded. “I did. I thought it would be the easiest way to earn money while I traveled.”
When a person joins the United Magic Association, they are provided with a moon-shaped brooch and are eligible to receive commissions from any Association branches they visit. It seemed she was able to earn a stable living that way.
I see. In other words…
“You’re here on business?”
“That’s right. That’s why I would be grateful if you would tell me a little about this place. I don’t really know anything about this country.”
“You accepted a commission and entered the country without knowing much about it…?”
I’m sorry. Are you an idiot?
“Well, it’s just that, right now, I’m low on funds because of some expensive purchases… I took this commission blindly because it promised a hefty reward. That’s why I’m here.”
Wandering Witch: The Journey of Elaina, Vol. 2 Page 9