*
A few days after taking Erika on as my assistant.
I celebrated my twelfth birthday.
— “Happy birthday, Yulian!”
With congratulations bursting out from every direction, the birthday party passed like a storm.
The mountain of gift boxes sent by the Mercure Trading Company.
Father’s ridiculous fussing as he wiped away tears, saying, “Our Yulian is already twelve!”
And even Freyja, who awkwardly congratulated me and handed me a handkerchief.
After the chaotic party ended, and dinner was finished as well.
I had just returned to my room and was about to check the gifts.
Knock, knock.
When I opened the door at the sound of knocking, Mother was standing there.
For a moment, I thought she was a ghost.
In the middle of the night, when everyone was asleep, she had come in person—not a servant or a maid.
“Yulian, come to the study for a moment.”
Even her face was terribly serious when she spoke.
I grew tense and followed Mother without even asking why.
‘What is it? What on earth is going on?’
The atmosphere in front of the study was menacing in all sorts of ways.
Guards stationed on both sides of the corridor.
On top of that, there were two more on either side of the study door.
The corridor that would normally have had only one person guarding it was filled with four, and without realizing it, my body stiffened.
As Mother and I passed by, the guards bowed their heads and said nothing.
Since they were the sort who would normally greet me warmly, it made the matter feel extremely serious.
Creak—
The guard silently opened the door.
The door opened.
Father was waiting inside.
The door closed behind me, and Mother locked it from the inside.
“Sit down, Yulian.”
Father gestured to the sofa.
The atmosphere was incredibly heavy.
To the point that it wouldn’t have been strange if some secret of my birth came flying out at any moment.
Don’t tell me, I wasn’t adopted but an illegitimate child?
‘As if.’
The two of them just stared at me without saying anything, so I got so nervous I started being ridiculous by myself.
At last, breaking the silence, Father opened his mouth.
“You are twelve now.”
“Yes. Thanks to you, I was able to grow up safely.”
“That is not something someone your age should… Haa. Never mind.”
The family head let out a sigh.
“It was not something we could say at the birthday party, so we called you here like this. Under imperial law, one may learn magic upon turning twelve. Do you know that?”
“Yes, I know.”
There were broadly two abilities needed to handle magic.
The minimum cognitive ability to understand the world,
and the bodily sense to feel mana.
And these two elements were generally considered to meet the minimum requirements at the age of twelve.
Father nodded, saying it was good that I understood quickly.
“So it is about time you learned how to become a noble.”
How to become a noble.
The moment I heard that, I understood why the atmosphere was so severe.
Magic was the minimum condition for becoming a noble.
Not every magician became a noble, but every noble had to know how to handle magic.
Only then could they fulfill a noble’s duty.
‘So that was the reason.’
Only then did I understand this strict atmosphere.
The transmission of magic was a major affair for a family.
Depending on who learned it, one could infer the next successor, and depending on what magic they learned, one could predict to some extent the future course of that family.
Because of that, there was nothing good about letting outsiders know.
“Good. I will tell you your schedule from here on.”
It went without saying, but magic also had an order in which it had to be learned.
Just like basic education had elementary, middle, and high school courses.
“First, you will learn the basics from a private tutor.”
A private tutor taught only the basics of magic, exactly as the name suggested.
The nature of magic, basic formulas, principles of activation. And finding out what types of magic I had aptitude for, and so on.
However, beyond that, they would not teach anything no matter what.
Because once a magician had established their basics to a certain degree, from that point on, they had to walk their own path.
If the path they intended to take was similar to the private tutor’s, the connection might continue, but usually one parted ways with the tutor there and moved on to the next stage.
But Father held back from speaking about that part.
“What comes after that is still a distant matter, so let us discuss it later. Even the private tutor course usually takes three years.”
Mother, who had been listening quietly beside Father, smiled gently.
“Do not push yourself too hard, and learn slowly.”
Facing that smile, I could not bring myself to say it.
That it probably wouldn’t take even a few months.
*
Three months later.
“…Does this make any sense?”
Teacher Schmidt, my private tutor, muttered with a dazed expression.
He was someone Mother had called in, and apparently he was the number-one instructor for the home education of nobles.
He really did teach well, too.
“I have been teaching for over thirty years, but this is the first time I have seen such a case.”
“It is because you taught me well, Teacher.”
“No. I only did what I always do. You may be proud of that part.”
When he put it that way, it was too embarrassing.
“Especially in the field of alchemy, there is nothing for me to teach you. Your understanding of the structure and transformation of matter is…”
“I was somewhat familiar with that part.”
“You were familiar with it?”
“There are circumstances behind that…”
I couldn’t say, “Because I’m a director of a pharmaceutical trading company,” so I smiled and brushed it off.
I packaged it as simply having a great deal of interest in that field.
At that, the teacher did not ask in detail and nodded.
“I believe you should proceed into the field of alchemy, young master.”
Yes. I already am.
I even have a company. It’s huge. It was promoted to a rank-two trading company this time, too.
“…”
“…”
After finishing his words, the teacher closed his mouth.
He looked like he clearly had something to say, no matter who saw him.
But he held his tongue and bade me farewell.
“It was a pleasure teaching you, Student Yulian. If we have the chance later, I would like to meet you again.”
“I am also grateful for these past three months.”
“Not at all. It has been a pleasant time, and for the first time in a while, I felt the reward of teaching. Thank you.”
The teacher left the room with a gentle smile.
As soon as I saw him off, I confirmed that no one was around and approached the bed.
And then,
I buried my face in my pillow and let out a groan.
“Guuuuuh…”
It had been hard pretending to be fine on the outside.
I thought I’d be able to coast by with twenty-first-century scientific knowledge.
After all, even among twenty-first-century science types, I had been on a course I could pride myself on as fairly elite.
I thought I’d complete the entire curriculum in three months, and at the end,
‘Ah, is this all there is to this world’s magic? It is so boring I want to die.’
I thought I’d be able to do something like that.
But life wasn’t easy.
The scientific principles were the same.
The problem was that there wasn’t ‘only’ science.
I had to know folklore, mythology, and even religion and philosophical symbolism.
‘Why is salt a “symbol” that drives away evil spirits?’
‘Why is silver an “inhibitor” for werewolves?’
‘Why is lead a “catalyst” that traps souls?’
I don’t know. It’s just because they say so.
In this world, those laws are simply gravity and electromagnetism.
‘And what the hell is with the caster’s mindset?’
Symbols, inhibition, catalysts, mindset, faith, intent…
With scientific knowledge added on top.
Magic was a field with far too many superstitious variables for a rational and intellectual twenty-first-century surgeon to understand.
That said, as someone pursuing the image of a genius, I couldn’t allow myself to fumble during class.
So every day, I previewed the lesson the day before, then acted like a genius who understood everything instantly the next day.
‘This damn genius concept… I can’t keep doing this.’
But if I left things like this, I felt like the concept would break.
So I had to make a fuss inwardly at regular intervals.
Wow, finishing it in three months? Insane. Absolutely insane.
…Damn it.
A crow-tit trying to walk like a stork—no wonder my legs are killing me.
‘I shouldn’t have made finishing within three months my goal…’
Still, I couldn’t compromise.
It would be a bit much if a genius protagonist spent the full three years learning magic for a three-year course.
So I studied with the mindset of doing a speedrun.
This was not something a person should do.
Thanks to that, after twenty-five years, I got to taste what it felt like to be a South Korean exam student again.
Exam students, stay strong. You guys must have it rough.
But you’ll have to keep studying even after you get into university anyway. Poor things.
‘In other works, they learn it with a single click.’
Wasn’t magic in other works not in this kind of position?
Like, you open your eyes and it’s already engraved in your body, or a skill window appears while you’re asleep.
At the very least, since it’s a fantasy world, learning each thing one by one should be exciting enough to give you dopamine or something.
What the hell. Give me that kind of free ride, too.
‘…Well, anyway, it’s over, so that’s fine.’
All that’s left is to wait.
If I put in this much effort, the rest should be taken care of by the Authority of Misunderstanding.
***
At that time, while Yulian was burying his face in his bamboo forest—his pillow—and pouring out his emotions,
Teacher Schmidt visited the study to report his final results.
“So, what is it you wish to say, Teacher?”
Yulian’s guardian, Hendel, asked.
Across the desk, Schmidt let out a heavy sigh.
The gentle smile he had shown Yulian just moments ago was nowhere to be seen.
“…Baron. May I speak honestly?”
“Do so.”
At last, Teacher Schmidt carefully opened his mouth.
“Please do not misunderstand what I am about to say, and listen carefully. The young master’s talent for keeping up is more outstanding than anyone’s. In terms of theory, I can say he is superior to any student I have ever taught.”
After saying that, Teacher Schmidt paused for a moment.
Countless worries swirled inside his head.
Would it really be all right to tell them this as it was?
It was news that, if handled poorly, might make the family head throw an ashtray at his head on the spot.
He had actually met many such nobles before.
However, Schmidt soon steeled himself and opened his mouth.
“But the dream of becoming a mage… I believe it would be best to set it aside.”
“…What do you mean by that?”
At Linie’s question, the teacher hurriedly lowered his head.
He had wrapped his words carefully, but in terms of meaning, it was an incredibly rude statement.
If interpreted, it meant: your son has no talent for actual practice.
He should just do research.
That was roughly what it meant.
Beside Hendel, Linie’s hand stopped over her teacup as she listened to the explanation.
“Could you explain in more detail what you mean, Teacher?”
“Yes, madam. In the latter half of the lessons, we held practical examinations.”
Teacher Schmidt counted on his fingers.
It was to list the subjects they had covered in class.
“His theory was perfect. Freezing, lightning, flame, alchemy… Ordinary young masters tend to show talent in one field, but the young master had mastered every field. He completely understands the principles of spell formulas.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“Although he understands the theory, he cannot actually activate them.”
Hendel’s brow narrowed.
“Not even one?”
“Yes. Not even one.”
Schmidt let out a sigh.
“Baron, Baroness. In magic, theory and practice are different.”
Schmidt wrote letters in the air with his finger.
It was a basic conditional statement from workbooks, one that nobles memorized like a formula.
“In theory, you begin by assuming conditions, do you not? ‘You wish to activate magic in an environment at 32 degrees Celsius and 85% humidity.’ Like that.”
“That is so.”
“Under those assumptions, the young master constructs spell formulas perfectly. The problem is…”
Schmidt trailed off.
“In actual practice, no one tells you those conditions.”
“…”
“One place is 30 degrees, another is 14 degrees. The humidity changes in real time, and once you activate magic, the conditions change again. On top of that, the symbolism imbued in each location is different as well.”
Understanding what Teacher Schmidt was trying to say, Linie asked carefully.
“Don’t tell me Yulian cannot sense symbolism?”
“Yes.”
In contrast, Hendel, who lacked knowledge in this area, crossed his arms and demanded a more detailed explanation.
“Explain a little more. I am a layman in this field. What about symbolism?”
“I will use freezing as an example.”
Schmidt spread out his palm and created a small piece of ice above it.
“To activate freezing here and now, one must first grasp the temperature and humidity through the skin. At the same time, one must read the ‘energy of stillness and oblivion’ imbued in this space.”
“Mmm…”
“In the case of lightning, in addition to ‘the sense to read differences in electric potential and atmospheric conditions,’ one also needs ‘the sense to locate where the energies of rage and arrogance gather.’”
“Are you saying he lacks that?”
“Yes. The young master lacks both magical bodily sense and sensitivity.”
At those words, Rinie set down her teacup and nodded.
“Indeed, that sort of thing is not something that can be taught.”
Schmidt bowed his head.
“The young master understands it perfectly in his mind. His body simply cannot keep up.”
Silence fell.
Hendel broke that silence and spoke.
“…So what is your conclusion?”
“Among nobles, people like the young master are called ‘fireflies of twilight.’”
Fireflies of twilight.
Hendel knew the metaphor as well.
They glittered briefly at sunset, only to vanish when night came.
It referred to young lords or young ladies who shone dazzlingly in childhood, but who, upon reaching adulthood, could not even enter the ranks of the nobility.
“Are you certain, Teacher?”
Hendel’s brow furrowed at the comparison.
Schmidt nodded.
“I believe the young master has no choice but to walk the path of a magician.”
A magician.
Those who merely researched formulas, or who had to draw formulas in advance, or who could barely use magic with the aid of magical tools.
It was not impossible for them to become nobles, but they were the sort for whom it was extremely difficult.
“Then are you saying a mage is truly out of reach?”
“A mage is…”
A mage was one who could freely wield magic on the spot, so long as they had a magic staff.
Naturally, such elites had little difficulty becoming nobles.
However,
“I am sorry.”
Yulian was not one of them.
Schmidt did not go out of his way to explain that.
Even without hearing it to the end, Hendel understood what it meant.
“I see.”
Hendel’s voice sank.
In the Empire, a magician was merely a technical specialist, not regarded as a mage capable of maintaining a title.
If one were to borrow Yulian’s way of putting it, what Teacher Schmidt was saying in this situation was this:
—Your son likely won’t be able to get into medical school, so you would do well to look for another talent.
That was all.
It was not that he had no talent.
It was simply that his talent did not lie in a socially convenient direction.
Yulian himself would not think much of it, but from a parent’s perspective, it struck somewhat differently.
“Teacher. Tell me only this. Do you think Yulian can inherit a noble title?”
To nobles, magic was a weapon and a means of rising in the world before it was an academic discipline.
Their privileges stemmed from the martial power that allowed them to fight the magical beasts beyond the wall.
Thus, Hendel’s concern was valid.
No matter how outstanding his talent was, if Yulian could not become a mage…
He would most likely be the first to be pushed out of the food chain of noble society.
“Tell me without reservation, Teacher.”
“He may succeed as a magician or as a scholar. But as a noble or a mage…”
Schmidt trailed off.
A look of pain flickered through Hendel’s eyes.
For he knew better than anyone how merciless this ecosystem was.
But only for a moment. Hendel nodded.
“I understand. Thank you for telling me.”
“Then I shall take my leave, Baron.”
After Teacher Schmidt left.
A heavy silence settled over the study.
By the time the steam rising from the teacups had faded.
Hendel was the first to break the silence.
“My lady.”
“Yes.”
“I was a dullard.”
Rinie turned her head.
“What are you saying all of a sudden?”
“I was born slow-witted, and it took me five years just to get through the basics of magic. Even then, I only barely managed to learn it with my body.”
Hendel looked out the window.
“But that was all right. My body kept up. Even if your mind is slow, as long as you have the sense for it, magic can somehow be managed.”
Rinie did not answer.
“But Yulian is the opposite. His mind is ten times better than mine, yet they say his body won’t keep up.”
“…Yes.”
“Isn’t that even crueler?”
Rinie’s hand clenched the hem of her skirt.
Cruel. It was true.
To understand, yet be unable to do it.
Rinie knew better than anyone how frustrating that was.
It was also the reason the Nihirit family had been forced to take Hendel as a son-in-law.
“Hoo… Let us not tell Yulian unnecessarily.”
Hendel said.
“I do not think there is anything good in him knowing.”
“…All right.”
Rinie also nodded.
But one corner of her heart felt heavy.
Falling from the nobility.
That meant more than a simple change in status.
‘This world has no mercy for those who fall.’
Rinie recalled the words her mother had told her when she was young.
Those above would trample your wings so you could never climb back up.
Those below would tear off your limbs to make a ladder.
And those even lower would hack apart what remained, simply to vent their resentment.
That was why the people of the Empire struggled so desperately.
Not to rise higher, but to avoid falling.
“I had hoped Yulian would not experience what I did…”
Rinie covered her face with both hands.
Before meeting her husband, how painful and anxious had the time she endured been?
Hendel knew that well, and so he embraced her.
“It will be all right, my lady.”
Hendel felt as though his own chest were being torn apart.
Yet at the same time, he did not let go of the thread of hope.
“Is he not a child who has worked miracles?”
For he knew well what miracles Yulian had brought about through effort.
“If it is that child, he will be all right.”
As one who had watched that fact from the closest place of all, he believed in Yulian.
Though he knew how arduous that path would be.
As a parent, all he could do was cheer him on along that path.
*
And at that very moment.
In the laboratory.
“Hehe.”
Yulian looked into a flask and let out a foolish little laugh.
‘I should have learned magic ages ago.’
Yulian already knew better than anyone that he could not become a mage.
But that fact did not lead to despair.
Because in this genre, common sense dictated that when one route was blocked, an unofficial route opened.
‘This is basically telling me to go into alchemy.’
He grinned foolishly as he looked at the pig intestines bubbling inside the flask.
‘Is there any need to become a mage at all? I can regulate the temperature just fine with daily-life magic.’
In any case, as the protagonist of a misunderstanding story, the fact that he could not become a mage was of little importance to him.