Sometimes, feelings are like the summer rain, coming out of nowhere and catching you unprepared. A nostalgic summer story set in the age of aristocrats begins right here.
"Do witches trade their brains for mighty magic? I can't get through to her at all..."
Dietrich thought to himself as he followed the golden-haired maiden, who rambled on about something or another.
"Ah, don't say that! If my sister heard you, she would be most angry." Magdalene said this in a quiet voice as she looked at Dietrich.
"Woof, woof, woof, woof?" Well, you needn't tell her, do you... Wait, how did you know what I was thinking?
"Ah... But. It. Is. Too. Late. Now."
Dietrich lifted his head in alarm at the rising pressure above him—
Her expression had not changed at all...
But even so...
He knew that the girl before him was now changed.
"It seems that your nightmare has been of some use — for your memory, at least. But as I see it, you are still far from adequate." That proud, cold voice from on high — yes, surely this was Nottfriga.
"well then, I suppose I shall leave the Essence of the Inmost Heart inside you."
What on earth was the "Essence of the Inmost Heart"...
Wait, no. Magdalene had mentioned just such a thing.
"Don't worry! The nightmare from before was a falsehood. My sister placed the Essence of the Inmost Heart into you, and it can see your fears. That is why you dreamed of the things you fear most."
"But I think that my sister must've done it for your good. She is, after all, a most gentle soul."
...
Dietrich's fur stood on end, and he trembled as he peeked at Nottfriga, banishing any other thoughts from his mind.
"Hah, it seems that my teachings have been quite useful indeed. Well then, let us be on our way." Dietrich's frightened appearance pleased his master, the witch.