Once upon a time in Siberia, there lived a lonely girl, who was born in a poor family of seven brothers and sisters, yet was shunned by all. Day and night, she used to sit in the winter cold, as the snow used to fall with matchboxes in her hand, to get the day's due or else her family left her out for the night.

One day, she didn't get any customer. When the night drew near and the last man, a bit pale in skin, but fair in hands, reeking of unlot noble riches, walked by, she grabbed his leg with a striking alacrity.

She begged and begged, holding his leg as he tried to shake her off, to take one matchbox. But the obstinate man continued to refuse, and when his patience had finally worn thin, he kicked her away, with callousness in his eyes to the nearby street post. The blood trickled down from the girl's back, as her head lopsided. She screamed and writhed, yet in vain, for no one could hear a things under the strong winter cold.

Neither the daily passer-by of the street nor her family cared to or ever found her body, which was dragged away by the hungry wolves for their fine meal. But though the flesh was devoured, the soul lingered, wandering aimlessly until it crossed the boundaries of the mortal world, landing in a place unknown, in a new body.

And now, though the other souls burned brightly with benevolence and grace, she found no comfort and peace. For her only clear memory being of that agonizing past, since no one else could speak her language.

And she wandered...and wandered from body to body....from world to next...yet continued to suffer, finding none who could understand her words.

.......................

Inana woke up with a jolt, with only her legs under the sheet, as her head collided against the rough roof.

"Ow!" She winced in pain, as she cursed herself for umpteenth time, for having forgotten the small size of house.

What a weird dream. It was akin to the old tales that her mother used to tell her when she was the child. Of course, after that, she could hardly ever fall asleep but that was a secret she never let her mom found out.

In any case, the sun rays had already started to peep in through the small window so she could no longer afford to stay in bed. Her bed, a stack of wooden box wasn't exactly comfortable but desperate time called for desperate measures.

Nearly a week had passed now since she had arrived in this world and followed those children into this settlement. Seeing the huts, she had thought that it was going to be very dingy and poverty-ridden village, but the magic seems to have played an important role in casting such an illusion.

Each hut was surprisingly spacious and crafted with the precision of a proper home, reminiscent of her previous world. Instead of coals, a delicate, glowing magical inscription, etched under the chimney, controlled the fire. The intricate lines of the inscription shimmered with a soft, ethereal light, illuminating the hearth with a gentle warmth. When activated, the fire burst to life with a radiant glow, dancing in the air as if fuelled by an unseen force. The duration and intensity of the fire depended on the strength of the magic embedded within the inscription.

The sparse settlements were probably also designed to avoid the chain-destruction in case of failure of some magic circuit or application.

What was more surprising was the fact that she was not only allowed into this settlement , even in her attire, but had been enjoying kind hospitality from family of mole-fested boy , in whose hand she had first saw the saving grace of white sheet.

Though, she understood it well that the situation wasn't all sunny and rainbows. Ever since she had come to the settlement, she could hear little murmurs among the other settlers. She generally used to stay inside offered home only, but whenever she used to take one step outside, all eyes used to stop, gazes narrowing at her as if she was some kind of anomaly who shouldn't be here.

It didn't require her to learn their language, to infer the obvious fact that even among the family that had been sheltering her, there was a sharp split over her stay, with the husband in favour and wife opposed to the idea.

She couldn't blame them. After all, she was an alien to the village, whom they didn't know and couldn't even communicate with. Plus, as per the pictures she had seen, etched on the inside walls, it seemed like they had some kind of myth about people with a woman with red hair. So that also made her stand out unnecessarily.

But even beside language, there was another pertinent concern that vexed her mind: time. Inana Kawashikaze had always been proud of being able to accomplish hardest of tasks given to her within time, punctuality being one of her many trademarks.

Even if she was bedridden or down with illness, she used to suffer herself to get the assignment over with, within constraints of time. For such a feat, her watch had become her natural accessory and friend but now in this old medieval-like world, there was no way for her to ascertain time.

Not that she had some deadline to meet any longer but the habit ingrained over years, could hardly leave her behind so easily. The ghost of her previous corporate life would take its sweet time to pass over to afterlife.

Amidst her thoughts, she heard a knock outside the door. Removing the sheet quickly from her legs, she straightened her night gown (which was more like an actual dress) firmly to her toes.

"Yes?" Inana spoke by a force of habit as she opened the door as a thin lipped woman with several freckles, especially around her nose, came into her sight. She had as usual, a sour expression on her face.

"......" Inana couldn't comprehend any of her words but followed her hand gestures with eyes, which seem to be pointing towards the living room, the plates already set on table.

"Thank you. I will be right there." Inana smiled, bowing gracefully, while wondering in her mind as to what could have been in breakfast.

The woman squinted her eyes, leaning closer to Inana but then abruptly stopped and left without a word, grumbling in distance.

Inana titled her head to side innocuously but then shook her head. No point in thinking about each and everything. A strong gleam entered her eyes as she thought of bath. Though she had seen her fair share of hot bath in Japan, she wasn't ever allowed to go, as her father being of Chinese descent wasn't fond of the custom.

Here, not only there was a hot bath in backward of each hut, a boundary wall running around the house on all four sides, but as with chimney, bath's temperature could be controlled by magic. It had to be magic, as Inana had seen the same inscription mark pasted there.

Were these marks self-created or commercialised? Of that, she could only know if she could ever learn to communicate.

...............

After Few Minutes (At Dining Table)

The family of three - Samael, his mother and father and now- Inana, sat down at table, with food spread on paper plates, before them and closed their eyes. The couple had been apprehensive of performing their ritual prayer before Inana, for in their eyes, she was simply an evil witch which had forgotten her memory and could awaken at any displeasure.

But Samael's mind unbeknownst to such logic, did it anyway against his father's advice, prompting Inana to return the same gesture and with a sense of momentary shock, relief spread throughout the family.

Inana was more than happy to join the family in their prayers, one of the few commonalities she could find in alien world. Though she herself had never been a devout, she always used to accompany her parents to the old shrines across Hokkaido.

In back of the mind, she hoped that they were aware of the real God that she had met and not praying to some petty moron like Angel Syleaz.

After a minute or two, her eyes darted around the dishes on table: a sweet potato stew, mashed potato, garlic potato....

Huh! This family really loves eating potato.

Inana wasn't complaining type, much less about people who had given her shelter, but it was certainly odd that for past six days, they had only been eating potato. In her past life, she had never liked potato, a fact which remained unchanged even here.

Maybe, when she would learn to communicate, she could make them taste some real food, rather than this oval trash vegetable.

As Inana started to scoop up her stew, drinking it little by little, she noticed the pair of eyes that were gawking at her intently. Samael who generally was a fast eater, was deliberately taking small bites, so as to prolong his stay at the table.

As the mother got up, heading towards the kitchen, a grin appeared on Samael's face, like a leopard who had been waiting silently for the opportune moment. Standing up from his chair with an excited passion in his eyes, Samael placed his hands on the table as he peered into Inana's eyes.

"WenVaNaRinLan FiLunMiMi-MeLiLun, WenFiKeNiaSe YúFiKe NiaVaMoMi NaFi MeMiMi PaYú LunMiWen MeReMiNiaNia HoLiTiaVaLiNaVaFiLun? Va LanLiHoMi RinTiaMiLiNaMiSe VaNa VaLun YúFiKeTia LunLiPaMi?

(Witch Onee-san, would you like to see my new spell variation? I have created it in your name?)

Inana exhaled slowly, her exasperation unmistakable to miss. How many times she had been through this? At this point, she could no longer muster courage to explain even by her hand gestures that she couldn't understand him.

Samael's father seemed to be reprimanding him in turn. His words, though still unintelligible to Inana, carried a sharp, commanding tone. Her whole life seemed headed towards a situation where she had to be with foreigners, unable to bridge the gap of language and understanding.

The realization cast a shadow of gloominess over her eyes, as she rested her head on the table. Their conversation felt like a jumbled mix of sounds, each syllable an impenetrable wall that separated her from their world. The room, despite its magical warmth, suddenly felt colder and more isolating.

Samael, noticing it, urged to his father once again (A/N: translated already)

"Father, come on. Don't we have some way to communicate with the witch lady" Wanting to make a new friend and to uncover more about the fables, he tugged at his father's sleeves. "She seems like she want to as well..."

"Hmm. I can't think of any ..." Father reclined back in his chair, with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, there is one way. But I highly doubt..."

"ALRIGHT! Let's hurry then "Samael's face wore a triumphant expression, conveniently omitting the last part from memory.

Inana, still resting her face in same position, lazily observed the father disappear into a small room and then return with a large brown leaf , an ink box and quilt in his hand. Just what exactly were these two planning now?

Father took a deep breath, as he reposed himself in chair and forwarded the leaf towards Inana who raised her head, with intrigue.

Were they expecting her to write something in it? But then how would they translate it? Looking at their confounded faces, she realized that both hadn't thought into the idea far enough. But in any case, the idea wasn't without its merit. Maybe she could use that method but it could only work for specific objects in theory.

Her eyes were drawn to the cup of water that was kept on table. She swiftly grabbed it with her right hand and pointed the quilt into the water. Without waiting for their response, she adjusted the quilt in her hand, dipping it in ink and got to work.

It wasn't that hard to write with quilt, for she had practiced it quite a bit as her hobby before learning calligraphy. With neat and consistent pattern, she imprinted the fine letters on top of brown leaf and forwarded it back to the father-son duo, who had been following her movements as if she was doing something extraordinary. The leaf read simply but neatly.

Water

Inana wasn't much hopeful about this method. After all, despite the word she had been hearing seem to match with English, there was no guarantee, that it could be read by them who weren't aware of such similarity. At least her handwriting hadn't gone bad, if that counted as a silver lining here.

Meanwhile, Samael's father could hardly contain his surprise. Writing without magic to aid, so easily and effortlessly, was a trait only attributable to the Nobles who lived inside the wall. Was the witch formerly a noble who had been banished to Ardania? Maybe that would explain as to why she wasn't wreaking havoc or her complete blankness regarding language.

"Water...! " The man rubbed his temple. He had never heard of such a term before. In any case, she was certainly referring to the liquid in cup only. He followed the suit, chanting the magic spell to make the quilt move and write the name.

Inana didn't wait to receive the leaf, for what she had theorized was already confirmed and simply pointed towards the table itself, giving the man a sharp stare , who understood the gesture at once.

By the time, man used to complete his chant, Inana used to already choose next definable object to spell out. After ten minutes or so and 11 items sequentially in the list, the leaf was thrust into Inana's hands. The large brown leaf, now filled with neatly written words in a strange script, seemed to pulse with a faint glow, a testament to the magic used to inscribe it.

She had more brewing in her mind, but seeing the exhaustion on the man's face, which had grown pale from the effort, and the little boy gently assuaging his father, she had to relent.

The list read out the things plain and simple, as she recalled the order in which she had gestured to various things in the living room.

1. Water: WenLiNaMiTia

2. Table: NaLiNoNiaMi

3. Chair: RinLanLiVaTia

4. Wall: WenLiNiaNia

5. Floor: KiNiaFiFiTia

6. Hand: LanLiLunSe

7. Plate: ReNiaLiNaMi

8. Cup: RinKeRe

9. Cloth: RinNiaFiNaLan

10. Quilt: SunKeVaNiaNa

11. Leaf: NiaMiLiKi

Inana's smile continued to fade, as she looked at the words one by one, until it vanished into frustration.

Damn it, god! This was too hard to decipher, even in a million years.

As she looked up from the leaf, she caught Samael's hopeful gaze, smiling around in fantasy as if all was solved. He continued to speak with same passion as ever, unmindful of fact that she was still as illiterate as she had been prior to this. 

But this time, his voice didn't feel so irritating.

Ah! What was she getting upset over? She had only tried it once and that too with 12 words after all. Being from a historian family, she should know better than anyone, all undecipherable things can be understood, as long as you have enough data and time – both that seemed to be in abundance.

A faint smile grew on her lips, as she looked at Samael's hopeful eyes again with simple goal in her head.

Let's crack it