When her eyelids finally fluttered open, the first thing Lina saw was the familiar, ribbed ceiling of a heavy-duty van. The interior air felt stagnant, clinging to her skin like lukewarm water. Still, given that she could have been left out in the winter chill to catch her death, complaining about poor ventilation felt like a luxury she couldn't afford.
In her half-awake state, Lina glanced left and right. There was no specific purpose to the movement, but as her consciousness cleared, a sense of wrongness began to swell within her.
(Something's not right...)
The moment she pinpointed the source of that unease, the last remnants of sleep vanished.
"Is... is nobody here?"
Fully awake now, she realized how impossible the situation was. While the vehicle was marketed as a high-end van that could "double as a camper," her team wasn't here on a holiday. They were a military unit. If an accident occurred, someone would have stepped out to investigate. And Lina being neutralized was a massive accident. It was only logical that personnel would be assigned to reconnaissance, support, or rescue.
Yet, it was inconceivable that the entire unit would simply abandon their post at the same time.
(But why?!)
They wouldn't have abandoned a mobile relay base of their own volition.
(Then who could have... wait!)
Struck by a sudden thought, Lina scrambled toward the console of the onboard information system. She remembered that the interior was constantly being recorded. She had always found the rule stifling, but now, those records were her only lifeline.
(I'll start by playing back the last ten minutes... Huh?)
Lina fumbled with the controls, but the display remained stubbornly blank.
(Did I press the wrong button?)
Aware of her own clumsiness with complex machinery, Lina carefully reset the playback to ten minutes prior. Still, nothing.
She switched the command to a four-times speed reverse-play. Then double speed. She tried starting the playback from one hour ago. Two hours. Three. The result was the same every time: the recording data had been purged.
(What about the other files?!)
Panicking, she checked every data sector beyond the internal monitors. Every storage drive was a void. Everything—including the vehicle's navigation and operating logs—had been systematically erased.
Lina, who had been hammering at the keys with a frantic expression, suddenly slammed her palms against the console. Her fingers throbbed with a dull, stinging pain, but she was too frustrated to care.
(Right. I have to report to the Control Room.)
Her frustration only spiraled further. The communication equipment had been expertly sabotaged—rendered useless in a way that was invisible from the outside.
(Why?! Why is this happening?!)
After striking the console a few more times, she slumped back into her seat, her strength failing her. Her hands were numb and radiating heat.
(What am I even doing...)
She raised her hands slowly, checking for injuries. Fortunately, she wasn't bleeding. To fall into hysterics and hurt herself would have been childish beyond words; she felt a flicker of relief that she hadn't exposed such a pathetic side of herself to anyone.
As her heart rate slowed, she noticed an even greater discrepancy.
"The injuries... there's no pain?"
She ran her hands over her thighs, then gingerly touched her shoulders. The wounds that had caused her such agony—the ones that had knocked her unconscious—were gone without a trace. It wasn't just that the flesh was healed; there weren't even holes in her clothes. No bloodstains. Nothing.
"How is this possible...?"
Lina felt her grip on reality slipping. How much of it had been real? Had she actually been wounded, or had she merely believed she was? And if so, what about her team...?
(Wait... Non-Systematic Magic? A mental strike?)
A chill ran down her spine.
(Could we have... been completely wrong about him? What if Tatsuya isn't a specialist in mass-energy conversion at all? What if he's a high-level Mental Interference Magician—a 'Master of Illusions'?)
The more she thought about it, the more the pieces seemed to fit her theory.
(It explains everything. His right arm being 'restored' makes sense if the original injury was just an illusion he forced me to see. If his aptitude for illusions is higher than mine, that would explain how he saw through 'Parade.' Even the way he neutralized 'Muspelheim'... if you can disrupt a magician's mind even slightly without them noticing, their sequences will collapse. It's far easier than trying to break the magic itself. Tatsuya is the disciple of a famous Ninjutsu master known for illusions... It's only logical to assume he's an Illusionist too.)
Lina's mind whirled through these frantic justifications... until a sudden thought hit her. If he had defeated her and brought her here, he must have carried her. Her face flushed a deep, embarrassed crimson at the realization.
Tatsuya, of course, had no way of knowing the elaborate web of misconceptions Lina was spinning. He had more pressing matters to attend to.
He had twenty minutes before it was time to pick up Miyuki. He wanted to finalize his arrangements before then.
"My, Tatsuya-dono. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Hayama-san. I apologize for the late hour."
Tatsuya sat in the back of an automated vehicle, speaking through a heavily encrypted voice channel. The man who answered was Hayama, the butler for the Yotsuba family—or more accurately, the personal aide to Maya Yotsuba. This line was Tatsuya's direct hotline to the head of the clan.
"It is not so late as to be an inconvenience, though I'm afraid Madame is currently indisposed with a matter that prevents her from coming to the phone."
"My apologies for the intrusion, then."
"No apology is necessary. To my recollection, this is the first time you have initiated contact through this line. I presume the situation is grave."
As Hayama noted, this was indeed the first time Tatsuya had opened the channel himself. To be honest, relying on the Yotsuba grated on his nerves; it was a path he preferred to avoid whenever possible. But now was not the time for pride.
Knowing that Hayama likely already had an inkling of the situation, Tatsuya began to explain the night's events. Since he was asking for their "cleanup" services, he felt it was only proper to provide the full context.
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