The afternoon supplementary lesson ended.
A private lesson in magic output control. It was time the professor had arranged separately. After Isabel’s output had shown a 27 percent increase compared to the beginning of the semester, an additional guidance schedule had been set. Minjun classified that time as overtime. Overtime under company orders. The kind you could neither blame the company for nor refuse.
In today’s lesson, the professor said Isabel’s method of mana control was unusual. That it differed from the methods of ordinary noble mages. Her output was high and stable, but it was difficult to explain where that fuel came from. Minjun thought inwardly, “It’s deadline concentration,” and naturally did not say it out loud.
When he came out after the lesson, the campus was already empty.
It was late afternoon. The sun had tilted westward, laying long golden light across the entire campus. Within that light, the trees were quiet. There were things one could only see when no one was on campus. The angle of the light, the temperature of the air, the sound of gravel crunching underfoot.
Minjun walked.
Toward the dormitory. Along the route guided by Isabel’s memories. The path from the classroom building back to the dormitory. There were several routes, and he chose one of them. The one with many trees. He chose that path for no particular reason.
‘On the way home after overtime, sometimes you need ventilation more than the shortest route.’
Slanting sunlight fell through the leaves. With each step, light and shadow passed alternately over his face. That light settled over Isabel’s silver hair, then disappeared, then settled again.
He heard footsteps.
---
They were footsteps coming from behind.
The interval of those footsteps was—an interval he knew. Before he could think where he had heard it, his body recognized it first. It was not Isabel’s physical memory. It was Minjun’s own memory. The footsteps he had heard in the corridor after class in Episode 12, in the library in Episode 13, and in the practical training hall in Episode 14.
Minjun did not stop walking.
If he stopped, it would mean he had been waiting.
“Lady Ester.”
It was Chloe Armand.
Minjun kept walking and only turned his head. Chloe was walking up from behind. Her pace was not fast. She had not run over. And yet she was here.
‘Is running into her here a coincidence or not?’
“Did you have an supplementary lesson?”
Chloe came up beside him. Close enough to walk side by side. At exactly the distance where their shoulders might or might not touch.
“Yes.”
“I finished late today too.”
He could not tell whether those words were an explanation or an excuse. They simply—stated the fact that she had finished late today. The reason she was on this route at this hour.
Minjun decided not to judge whether that reason served as an explanation or not.
The two of them walked.
Chloe’s bag hung from one shoulder. Each time she walked, the shoulder pressed down by the bag strap and the opposite shoulder reacted in turn. The shoulder seam of her uniform shifted minutely with the movement. Her gait was regular. Her stride was even. Why was he only noticing now that this person walked in such a regular way?
‘How many times have we walked side by side now? Shouldn’t I be getting used to it by this point?’
He was not getting used to it.
---
The afternoon light slanted obliquely.
The light coming from the west passed through the trees on campus and made long, narrow lines on the ground. As they walked, they stepped over those lines, then entered the light again. Light and shadow alternated.
Chloe’s profile caught the light.
Minjun was looking ahead, but at the edge of his vision was Chloe’s side profile. He tried not to look. But his field of vision could not be controlled. There was no way to stop something from entering it. This was not a matter of training. Twelve years of company life had not been able to train his field of vision.
Chloe’s profile was bathed in light.
The line of her forehead, the line of her nose, the line of her lips, the line of her jaw. Those lines grew distinct within the light. Her golden eyes absorbed the light, then reflected it. They were eyes whose gold looked different depending on the angle. From this angle, it was a gold close to green. A color that deepened when there was less light. Minjun knew, with unnecessary precision, how the color of those eyes changed when they entered the shade of the trees. During the walk along this path today.
‘I know what you can see from that angle.’
Minjun looked ahead.
Chloe touched the collar of her uniform with her hand. Today had been a day with many classes. The weather was warm. Her neck must have felt warm inside the collar. Chloe tugged the collar slightly looser. It was a natural movement. It was clear it was not a movement made with Minjun in mind. If she had been conscious of him, she would not have done it like that.
As the collar lowered, the line of her neck changed.
The upper part of Chloe’s collarbone was revealed. The line that ran from her neck to her shoulder. The slanting light passed over that line. Light pooled in the hollow of her collarbone. The afternoon light was low-angled, so it showed the depth of that hollow more clearly. With each breath, that depth changed very slightly. A different depth when she inhaled and when she exhaled.
Minjun looked ahead.
‘I didn’t look. I am currently looking five meters forward. I am checking the campus route.’
His heart was beating fast because of the physical exertion after the supplementary lesson. Definitely.
---
Chloe spoke.
“Do you often take this route, Lady Ester?”
“……Sometimes.”
“I sometimes come this way too. Because of the trees.”
“I see.”
It was a short conversation. And yet it did not break off. The silence between conversations was not uncomfortable. The fact that it was not uncomfortable was, rather, strange. That someone walking beside Isabel von Ester would not be uncomfortable in silence. The people in Isabel’s memories had tried to keep the conversation from cutting off when they walked with her. When silence came, they hurried to fill it. Because they were afraid Isabel might feel uncomfortable.
Chloe did not do that.
Even when silence came, Chloe did not try to fill it. She simply walked. And when she wanted to speak, she spoke.
Chloe’s shoulder touched Minjun’s arm.
It was only for a very brief moment. Their steps had gone slightly out of sync. It was something that happened when passing through a part where the path narrowed and the distance with the person beside you shrank.
They touched, then separated.
Chloe said nothing.
Minjun said nothing either.
Their steps continued.
‘This is nothing. Shoulders touching on a narrow path is because of the limitations of physical space. It’s not labor law, and it’s not the Occupational Safety and Health Act. It’s just a spatial issue.’
Five seconds later, Chloe’s shoulder touched him again.
They had already passed the narrowed section of the path.
‘…….’
The duration of the contact was longer than the first time.
Minjun knew that the problem was himself for having measured it. Who measured the amount of time shoulders stayed in contact? In thirty-seven years of life, he had never made such a measurement. But he had done it just now.
‘This is an analytical instinct. Data collection. An occupational disease.’
Minjun looked ahead.
---
The sun sank lower.
The light came in at an angle close to horizontal. Within that light, Chloe’s profile caught the light again. This time, it was redder. Late afternoon light. That light settled over her golden hair, turning all of it a reddish gold.
That color—was a color that lingered long in Isabel’s eyes.
‘In thirty-seven years, I never once knew what it would feel like to have someone like this beside me on the way home from work.’
That thought arose, then was soon processed.
He thought it had been processed.
But it remained somewhere, unprocessed.
For thirty-seven years, his way home from work had always been alone. The subway or the bus. With earphones in, sorting out work or running through tomorrow’s to-do list in his head. He had never thought about someone walking beside him. Going home from work was something you did alone. Going to work was something you did alone too. For twelve years, that had been natural.
But right now, it was not natural.
Chloe touched her collar again. It was a warm day. This time, she lowered the collar more. More of the line from her neck to her shoulder was revealed. The sinking sunlight settled over that line.
‘I didn’t look.’
He had tried not to look, but he had already seen it. Only after seeing it did he realize he should not have.
The area below her collarbone. What was revealed by the lowered collar. How it changed each time she breathed. The light upon it.
Minjun turned his gaze completely forward.
‘My heart is beating fast because I moved around a lot after the supplementary lesson. Because of the remaining magic output. There is no other reason.’
---
They reached the fork in the path toward the dormitory.
Chloe slowed her steps a little.
“Lady Ester.”
“…….”
“Will you be coming this way tomorrow too?”
Minjun heard the question.
The question hung in the air. Unwithdrawn. Chloe waited. Without hurrying.
Will you be coming this way tomorrow too?
This was the first time Isabel had taken this route. Whether Chloe knew that or not. She probably did not. She had simply asked.
She had simply asked—and yet why did that question feel so heavy?
Minjun did not answer.
But he did not slow his steps either.
Chloe walked beside Minjun at the same pace.
They passed the fork. Toward the dormitory.
Chloe was going in the same direction.
The two of them kept walking.
The question was still in the air.
Walking without answering—that this in itself was already doing something, Minjun knew and yet pretended not to. Not answering was not a refusal. If it had been a refusal, he would have quickened his pace. He would have changed the subject. In Isabel’s cold voice, he would have said, “That question is not appropriate.”
But he did not.
The light stained Chloe’s profile red one last time, then disappeared as they entered the shade of the trees.
Chloe’s shoulder touched Minjun’s arm again.
This time, the path was not narrow.