Magic.
The discipline of materializing mana—one of the fundamental forces that compose the world.
A fearsome field of study that can, at times, save lives; at other times, demonstrate a level of craft that surpasses all current civilization; or, at still other times, destroy everything, annihilate everything.
Perhaps today I'd caught the faintest glimpse of that latter possibility.
*Slap—*
"Ugh."
The cold, damp towel made contact with my skin, and my overheated flesh shuddered and flinched in response.
"Stop making weird noises and hold still."
Ross wrung the towel out in the basin with an irritated click of his tongue, then draped it across my back again.
"This is harder than I thought."
After dinner, I'd been dragged off by Elline once more and spent the entire session rolling around the training floor, blocking her spells with my whole body.
By the time the training hall doors closed behind us, I'd barely made it back to the dormitory before every muscle in my body started screaming.
The closest refuge had been Ross's room, and here I was, desperately applying cold compresses.
"Ugh."
"Get out."
"Sorry, I'm genuinely in pain."
Ross began muttering under his breath.
"Barging in on a perfectly good Saturday, showing off that you went on a date with your girlfriend—or whatever this is supposed to be—honestly, just…"
"I can hear you."
"I know. I said it so you would."
I turned my head to look at him, and he raised an eyebrow, making that particular face of his.
"…That's genuinely just to piss me off, isn't it?"
"Stop talking nonsense and turn back around. I'm putting it on again."
"Ugh."
Whether it was thanks to the cold compress or not, the throbbing in my muscles was gradually beginning to settle.
"So—about what Elline's been teaching you."
"Yeah."
"Blocking spells—isn't that more of a defense-branch thing? You're support."
I stared at the headboard and thought it over.
"Either way, what matters is reaction speed."
"Reaction speed?"
"Support magic is less about projecting direct spells and more about auxiliary functions."
"Right."
"So the core of it is sharpening your split-second judgment and reaction speed in any given situation…"
Support, to put it generously, was a peculiar classification. To put it less generously—it was a catch-all.
In the early days, when magic was studied not as an academic discipline but as a weapon, there had been only two branches: attack and defense.
But as the varieties of magic diversified and analysis grew more refined, roles emerged that were too ambiguous to call attack and too vague to call defense.
The field that swept all those spells under one roof came to be called support.
As a result, support was less about raw individual capability and more about the reciprocal function of assisting the other two branches.
Which meant that for support mages, split-second judgment and the ability to assess the right spell for any given moment had become paramount.
*Probably.*
Elline had been doing this to help me rapidly internalize how to read a spell, understand it, and respond to it.
"…"
I was grateful.
Of course, the more grateful I felt, the more a quiet ache settled in somewhere behind my ribs.
*Haa.*
And somehow, the more that guilt accumulated, the stronger my will to improve became.
"You going again tomorrow?"
"…No, Elline said she's busy tomorrow."
I remembered how she'd left earlier—telling me she had things to do tomorrow, so I should finish reading the book she'd given me.
"Of course she is. That's just how Elline is."
He said it offhandedly, already starting to tidy up the things on the table.
I turned to look, and there were some toys sitting there—childish little things that seemed out of place for Ross.
"A gift?"
"Going to give them tomorrow. My siblings like this kind of stuff."
"Siblings?"
I turned my head, and Ross answered without looking up, pressing the towel back onto my back.
"Tomorrow's visiting day."
"Ah."
The academy, by its nature, maintained strict control over magic, which meant outside access was heavily restricted. Visitors were only permitted on designated days—what everyone called visiting day.
*Not that it has anything to do with me.*
Visiting day had always been something that existed in a world entirely separate from mine.
The towel came down on my back again.
"Ugh."
"Hey, get out."
"…I'm telling you, it's because I'm actually in pain."
Ross leaned back in his chair and went back to tidying.
"But…"
He glanced over at me mid-sort, something shifting in his expression.
"Your family isn't coming this time either, right?"
My family's domain sat at the far edge of the western frontier.
It was a ten-day journey to the academy—not the kind of trip you made on a whim.
"It's pretty far from here, and… they're probably busy."
It's the season for sowing seeds and preparing the fields, so it would be difficult.
That was the surface-level reason, of course.
"You're something else, you know that. Doesn't it bother you?"
"If I let every little thing bother me, I'd lose my mind."
Maybe I said it too flatly.
Ross grimaced on my behalf—even though it had nothing to do with him—and clicked his tongue.
"…Well, if that's how you feel about it, I've got nothing more to say."
He packed up the little souvenirs and lifted the towel from my back.
"Go on, I need to get ready."
"Thanks."
I got up, and the relief was immediate and noticeable.
*I'll head back and read.*
Oh, right—there was something I didn't understand. I forgot to ask Elline about it today.
Then again, I'd been getting hit the whole time, so it's no wonder my head was elsewhere.
Ross watched me for a moment, then spoke.
"Hey, Rutess."
"Yeah?"
"Your eyes look different lately."
"…What are you talking about?"
"It's a compliment."
He waved me off toward the door.
"Hurry up and go. I need to get ready."
I left his cryptic words behind me and headed back to the dormitory.
Tonight's dorm supervisor was Yulian.
The moment I stepped into the first-floor lobby, there he was—a man whose sheer build alone set him apart from ordinary people—sitting in an apron printed with little bear faces.
Apparently it was in response to a suggestion box entry that read: *'Your expression is too scary.'*
If anything, the apron made it worse.
"Good work."
It was the weekend, so supervision wasn't particularly strict. I gave a light nod and headed for the stairs.
"Rutess."
He caught me before I could make my escape.
"Yes?"
"Come here."
"…?"
Out of nowhere?
I walked over without the faintest idea what was happening, and Yulian extended his hand toward me as if offering something.
My first instinct—honed by a year of his affectionately brutal physical training back in first year—was to brace for a club.
*I haven't done anything wrong, have I?*
I flinched reflexively at his outstretched hand, but what he held out wasn't a club. It was a small slip of paper.
"…?"
"Take it. It's yours."
Not a club—a relief. But what was this paper?
He shook his hand impatiently, urging me to take it, so I did, and looked it over.
"Don't be late. Don't keep them waiting."
…
*What is this?*
I started reading it slowly as I climbed the stairs.
And then I stopped and stared, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me.
「Rutess Liperto — Visitor Authorization Certificate issued upon approved visitation request.」
「Number of registered visitors: one.」
…?
A visitor?
*Since when?*
I was thrown.
Two years. Not so much as a glimpse of anyone—and now, out of nowhere, someone was coming to visit?
…
I went into my room and sat down quietly.
I lit the lamp, and the darkness inside began to recede. I read through it again.
The words weren't going to change or disappear on me. The contents were the same.
Someone was coming to visit tomorrow.
I didn't remember the exact academy regulations, but I was fairly certain the permitted range was immediate family, or someone vouched for by immediate family.
The academy's security was thorough.
*Friends… were allowed too, weren't they.*
A few faces from the village back home drifted through my mind—kids I used to play with in the domain—but after exchanging a couple of letters when I first enrolled, contact had naturally faded away.
They were adults now too. They'd be busy.
…
My chest didn't tighten. Nothing ached.
But a question surfaced.
*Why?*
Why were they coming?
It was unexpected.
Since arriving at the academy, the sum total of our communication had been one letter from my mother in first year and one in second year.
Both had been brief, simple check-ins.
It made no sense to me that someone would come in person now.
In a few months, I'd be heading back to the domain on my own anyway.
*Maybe they're worried I'll get ideas.*
If it was my father, that would fit.
He'd shown a remarkable lack of interest in me—right up until I demonstrated I could use magic, at which point he'd finally deigned to look my way.
Not at *me*, though. At the *magic*.
"…"
I didn't know.
I didn't particularly want to think about it.
Whatever the reason, they hadn't told me a single thing about family affairs since I'd come to the academy. There was no way for me to know.
I set the paper aside without ceremony and opened my book.
Then I glanced up. Across the way, lights were coming on in the Alpha Class dormitory.
"…"
I wondered if Elline had gotten back safely.
She'd probably be asleep by now—no, that was unlikely. Still studying, most likely.
I watched the window for a while, then shook my head and cleared my thoughts.
*Focus.*
Focus was what mattered.
Morning came with the sun.
I put on my uniform.
Dried my hair roughly and headed downstairs.
I'd never been to the visiting hall before, so I left early to account for getting lost—and my prediction proved correct.
"This place is absurdly big."
The academy was enormous.
I'd been certain the visiting hall would be in the main building, but it wasn't.
So.
"Excuse me."
"Y-yes?"
I stopped a passing underclassman and spoke to them directly.
The color of their brooch—purple, the second-year marker—told me they were a year below me.
"Do you know where the visiting hall is?"
"The… visiting hall?"
"Yeah."
"Um… that would be…"
A third-year asking a second-year for directions around the academy. A strange situation.
Eventually the student seemed to dredge up the memory and pointed toward a building to the south.
"I think it's… over there."
"Got it, thanks."
With the helpful underclassman's directions in hand, I walked straight there.
A few minutes later.
There was a building that stood out from the otherwise quiet weekend campus—noticeably busier than everything around it.
*Thank you, underclassman.*
"What are you doing here?"
I turned, and there was Ross.
Right, he was here too.
I should have just followed him over. Why had I been wandering around alone since morning?
The old saying about how if your head doesn't work, your body suffers came to mind.
"Don't tell me you came to see Elline? Thought she might be in the visiting hall?"
He nudged my shoulder with a grin.
"No. I have a visitor, apparently."
He stopped.
The teasing look on Ross's face shifted in an instant.
"…Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"…For real, for real?"
This guy's got that look again.
I pulled the official notice Yulian had given me yesterday from inside my jacket and held it out to him.
Ross read through it, then looked up at me.
"I want to observe."
"You've finally lost it."
"No, but I'm genuinely curious."
I pressed my palm against his face and pushed him back.
"Forget it. I'll tell you about it later."
I managed to peel him off me—he clung like a barnacle—and made my way up to the visiting hall.
The visiting hall, being one of the few spaces that interfaced with the outside world, was immaculate. Clean lines, nothing superfluous.
*…*
I took a moment to look around and take it in.
And then.
*B3.*
I stopped in front of the room number written on the notice.
Who was waiting inside?
Honestly, I had no idea who to expect.
I gripped the handle and pushed the door open. It swung inward slowly, and the interior of the visiting room came into view.
On the table sat refreshments and a warm pot of tea. Across from the door, a man was seated.
An elderly man of considerable age.
His white beard was neatly kept. The formal attire he wore was immaculate.
*…*
He had been looking out the window. At the sound of the door, his gaze turned toward me.
Our eyes met, and the lines at the corners of his eyes folded into a gentle expression.
"Young master."
One of the few people in that manor back home who had ever spoken to me.
"Alfred?"
The butler. Alfred.
"It is good to see you well."
Alfred smiled at me, warm as ever—
"…"
I hadn't expected anyone in particular.
But this was so far beyond what I'd expected that, for a moment, I was completely at a loss for words.