Volume 1
Chapter 3: A Tiny Spark of Motivation
The next day, before the morning bell signaled the start of classes.
While Rumia diligently reviewed her notes beside her, Sistine propped her cheek on her hand, gazing absently out the window at the “Melgarius Sky Castle” floating in Fejite’s heavens.
The castle in the sky, a symbol of Fejite. Why was it there? Since when? A phantom fortress shrouded in mysteries no one could unravel. Whenever she had a spare moment before classes, it was Sistine’s quiet ritual to stare at it from afar, lost in its enigma.
…
…
“Look, my dear Sistine. That’s the ‘Melgarius Sky Castle.’”
Perhaps it was because that tactless lecturer had indirectly insulted her revered grandfather yesterday.
A cherished memory of her grandfather’s words surfaced in Sistine’s mind.
“Isn’t it beautiful? That castle has floated in Fejite’s sky like that for ages beyond reckoning. Centuries… millennia… for so, so long…”
She remembered how her grandfather’s eyes always sparkled when he spoke of the sky castle.
“Haha, everyone flatters me, calling me a great mage with grand achievements… but the truth? It’s simple. The only reason I pursued magic was to take just one step inside that castle. To see its majestic entirety up close, even once. To unravel the mystery of a castle no one’s solved in thousands of years. That’s all.”
No matter how aged and dignified he became, his face was that of a dreaming boy.
“They say it’s a relic of an ancient, lost super-magical civilization, or even the divine throne created by the Mother Goddess. Legends claim all the world’s wisdom sleeps within. If that’s true, who built it? Why is it there? My head’s always been filled with the greatest mystery this world has to offer. As a mage, how could I not be thrilled by such romance? How could I not challenge it?”
Sistine loved hearing her grandfather’s theories, hypotheses, and research on the sky castle.
But… in his later years, when his legs weakened and his health faltered, he spoke of it with a faint trace of loneliness.
To step inside. To see it just once. His dreams were always in the past tense.
A castle without substance, visible but intangible.
Even flying to it with magic was futile—it vanished like a mirage when approached.
Its presence, so tantalizingly close, made it a cruel dream.
In his final years, her grandfather must have realized—he would never reach that castle.
Did you give up on your dream, Grandpa?
Once, unable to bear it, Sistine had asked him that. Looking back, it might’ve been a cruel question.
“…Sadly, this world is full of things that don’t go as we wish… My father, grandfather, great-grandfather—all of them… they never even found a clue to reach it…”
But he only stroked Sistine’s head gently.
“It’s… truly unfortunate…”
He’d said that.
Then, gazing at the castle again, as if it were a distant, radiant memory.
The weather was clear, sunlight pouring through a vivid blue sky, the translucent castle shimmering brilliantly.
In that moment, the dazzling castle and her grandfather’s longing gaze seared into Sistine’s soul.
His back, his eyes, were so achingly wistful—the phantom castle in the sky so radiant, so beautiful—that from that day, that moment, her grandfather’s dream became her own.
If that’s how it is, I’ll do it.
I’ll become a mage greater than you, Grandpa.
I’ll unravel the mystery of the ‘Melgarius Sky Castle’ in your place.
…
…
“Hey, White Cat.”
A gruff voice snapped her out of her reverie.
Sistine’s back stiffened, her consciousness yanked back to reality. She didn’t need to look to know. Standing beside her was that detestable part-time lecturer.
“Hey, you listening, White Cat? Say something.”
“Wh-White Cat? Are you talking about me? What’s that supposed to mean?!”
Sistine shot to her feet, slamming her desk, and glared at Glenn.
“Don’t treat me like an animal! I have a name—Sistine—”
“Shut up and listen. I’ve got something to say about yesterday.”
“What?! You want to pick up where we left off?!”
Sistine braced herself, her eyes blazing with hostility.
“You’re that desperate to shut me down? To insist magic’s worthless? Fine, I’ll—”
Glenn was better with words. She’d lose an argument. But she couldn’t back down. She carried her grandfather’s dream. Steeling herself for a fight, no matter how humiliating—
“…I’m sorry about yesterday.”
“Huh?”
The last words she expected left Sistine frozen.
“Well, uh… everyone’s got their own thing, right? I hate magic, but… picking on you for it was… out of line, or over the top, or not cool, or… y’know, whatever. Basically… I messed up.”
Glenn mumbled his apology, his face twisted in awkward discomfort, eyes averted. He dipped his head ever so slightly.
Was that… supposed to be an apology?
“…What?”
Sistine, unable to gauge his sincerity, stood dumbfounded as Glenn turned on his heel and strode toward the lectern, as if the matter was settled.
Why was he even here? It wasn’t class time yet. Glenn showing up to the classroom on time? Something was off.
“What’s… going on…?”
“Hey, Kai, what’s gotten into him?”
“Hell if I know…”
The other students were just as baffled, thrown by Glenn’s early arrival.
Sistine shot him a glare brimming with suspicion, as if demanding an explanation. But Glenn, arms crossed, leaned against the blackboard with his eyes closed, ignoring the class’s wary stares.
When the morning bell rang, defying everyone’s assumption that he’d just stand there half-asleep, Glenn opened his eyes and stepped to the lectern.
And said something unbelievable.
“Let’s start class.”
A wave of shock rippled through the room. Students exchanged stunned glances.
“Now, let’s see… This is the spellcraft textbook… right?”
Glenn flipped through the book, his face souring with each page. Finally, he let out a blatant sigh and snapped it shut.
As the students braced for what came next, Glenn marched to the window, opened it…
“Here we go!”
And hurled the textbook outside.
Yup, same old Glenn. The class, now used to his antics, sighed in disappointment and opened their own books. Another self-study session was starting.
But—
“Before we begin, I’ve got something to say.”
Glenn returned to the lectern, paused for a breath, and—
“You guys are really stupid.”
Dropped an outrageous bombshell.
“Watching your attitudes these past eleven days, I’ve figured it out. You don’t know jack about magic. If you did, you wouldn’t ask moronic questions like ‘teach us spell translations’ or waste time copying spell formulas like idiots.”
The students, some mid-preparation to copy formulas with quills in hand, froze.
“I don’t wanna hear that from a third-rate mage who can’t even do a one-phrase [Shock Bolt].”
Someone’s retort silenced the room.
Snickers of disdain rose here and there.
“Fair point. That stings,” Glenn said, turning away with a sulky grimace, digging at his ear with his pinky.
“But here’s the thing. I’ve got no talent for mana control or abbreviated chanting—fatal levels of no talent. Made my student days hell. But whoever just said [Shock Bolt] ‘extent’ or whatever? Sorry, you’re an idiot. Proved it yourself.”
Irritation spread through the class like wildfire.
“Whatever. Let’s talk about that [Shock Bolt] spell today. Should be just right for your level.”
The class erupted at the sheer audacity of his insult.
“[Shock Bolt]? That basic spell? Now?”
“Uh, we mastered [Shock Bolt] ages ago, thanks.”
“Yup, here’s the [Shock Bolt] spellbook. Check it out—looks like some cringey teen poetry mixed with formulas and geometric runes. We call this a spell formula.”
Ignoring their complaints, Glenn held up the book and launched into his lecture.
“You all can do one-phrase chants for this, so I’m assuming you’ve got the basics down: mana manipulation, vocalization, breathing, mana-biorhythm sync, mental control, memorization. I’m also assuming your mana and mental capacities are mage-level. So, memorize this formula perfectly, chant the designated spell, and—poof! Magic happens. That’s what we call ‘learning a spell.’”
Facing the wall, Glenn pointed his left finger and chanted.
“《O thunder spirit, with violet lightning’s shock, strike down—》”
A bolt of purple lightning shot from his fingertip, hitting the wall.
The class’s scornful stares zeroed in on his predictable three-phrase chant, but Glenn didn’t flinch. He began writing the spell in runic on the blackboard.
“This is [Shock Bolt]’s standard chant. Those with a knack for mana control can pull it off with just ‘O violet lightning of the thunder spirit,’ as you probably know. Now, here’s the question.”
Glenn marked the spell on the board, splitting it.
《O thunder spirit / with violet lightning’s / shock, / strike down—》
The three-phrase chant became four.
“What happens if you chant this? Take a guess.”
The class fell silent.
Not because they didn’t know, but because they were baffled he’d even ask.
“Chanting conditions… let’s say: speed at 24, pitch at three-and-a-half steps, tension at 50, initial mana-biorhythm neutral. Standard stuff, I’ll cut you some slack. So, anyone know?”
Silence continued to grip the room. Not a single student had an answer.
Even Sistine, the class’s star student, sat mute, sweating, her face twisted with frustration.
“This is pathetic. A total wipeout?”
“There’s no spell that splits phrases like that!”
A twin-tailed girl—Wendy—couldn’t hold back, slamming her desk and standing.
“Pfft—hahahaha! Are you serious?!”
Glenn’s response was crude, mocking laughter.
“That spell won’t activate properly. It’ll fail in some way,” said Gibul, the class’s second-best student, standing and adjusting his glasses, refusing to back down.
“‘Fail in some way,’ he says! Pfft—hahahahaha!”
“Wh—”
“Look, I’m deliberately messing up a complete spell, so of course it fails! I’m asking how it fails!”
As Gibul sank, crestfallen, Glenn turned to Wendy, who shouted, “There’s no way to know what happens! The result’s random!”
“Random?! You’re calling this dirt-simple formula random with all these specific conditions?! You said you mastered this spell! You trying to kill me with laughter? Stop, my sides hurt, help, Mommy!”
Glenn cackled, relentless in his ridicule.
The class’s irritation hit its peak.
“Enough. The answer is: it curves right.”
Done laughing, Glenn chanted the four-phrase spell. As he predicted, the energy line, meant to shoot straight, arced sharply right and hit the wall.
“And another thing…”
He marked the board again.
《O thun / der spirit / with violet lightning’s / shock, strike down—》
“Add that, and the range drops to about a third.”
He chanted, and it happened exactly as he said.
“And if you do this…”
《O thunder spirit / with violet shock / strike down—》
He restored the phrases but erased part of the spell.
“The output tanks.”
Glenn fired the spell at a student, who blinked, feeling nothing.
“If you’ve ‘mastered’ it, you should be able to do this, right?”
Twirling the chalk in his fingers, Glenn flashed a smug grin.
It was infuriating, but no one could retort. This third-rate mage saw something in spells and formulas they couldn’t.
“Let’s get real. Do you even know why memorizing this cryptic book and chanting weird words causes supernatural stuff? That’s not normal, right? Think about it.”
“I-It’s because the formula interacts with the world’s laws—”
Gibul’s reflexive answer was cut off.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what you say. So, what’s a spell formula? It’s just a bunch of words, numbers, and symbols humans made up to understand. If formulas interact with the world’s laws, why can they? Why do you have to memorize them? And why does chanting a spell, which seems unrelated to the formula, activate magic? Ever think that’s weird? Nah, you haven’t. You'll just thought It’s just ‘how things are’ in this world.”
Glenn was spot-on. Every student—even Sistine—had taken it for granted. After all, memorizing formulas and spells let them use more magic. Questions about magic were about mastery or technique, not its fundamental logic.
They’d competed over how many spells they’d learned, as if that proved their worth. There’d been no room to question the deeper mechanics.
“So, today, I’m gonna teach you the absolute basics of spell structure and chanting, using [Shock Bolt] as our example. If you’re not interested, sleep.”
But at that moment, not a single student in the room felt the slightest bit sleepy.
Glenn began with a review of one of magic’s two core principles: the Law of Equivalent Correspondence.
The macrocosm—the world—corresponds equivalently to the microcosm—humans—in classical magical theory. Changes in the world affect humans; changes in humans affect the world.
“Astrology’s a perfect example. You observe the stars to predict human fate—calculating how the world’s shifts impact people. Magic’s the reverse.”
So, what’s a spell formula?
It doesn’t directly affect the world—it affects the caster. It transforms their subconscious, which, in turn, interacts with the world’s laws. That’s the true nature of a spell formula.
“In short, a spell formula is just an ultra-sophisticated form of self-suggestion. You love saying magic is about seeking the world’s truth—cool as that sounds, it’s wrong. Magic’s about delving into the human mind.”
Runes, then, are merely a specialized language, honed over centuries to efficiently and universally trigger subconscious transformation through suggestion.
“What? Can’t believe plain words have that kind of power? Tch, always gotta argue… Hey, White Cat.”
“I’m not a cat! I have a name—Sistine—”
“…I love you. From the moment I saw you, I was smitten.”
“Huh? …W-W-What are you—?!”
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“Alright, pay attention! Look at White Cat’s face—bright red, huh? Just words, and they’ve already messed with her head! If surface consciousness, which reason can kinda control, is this bad, imagine the subconscious, where reason’s got no say—oww! Hey, idiot, stop throwing textbooks!?”
“You’re the idiot! You stupid, stupid, stupid—!”
After the commotion, sporting a flushed and battered face, Glenn began explaining the relationship between spell formulas and chants.
“To cut to the chase, it’s like grammar and equations. They’re the tools to reshape your subconscious the way you want.”
He described chants as keywords that activate the formula embedded in the subconscious. By reciting the keyword, the formula triggers the subconscious transformation.
“It’s basically a word-association game. Like how hearing ‘White Cat’ makes everyone think ‘silver hair,’ chants and formulas work the same way. Bracketing the chant with runes links them—ow! Seriously, stop throwing textbooks, I’m begging—gah!?”
Another book left its mark on Glenn’s face.
“So, the magical laws governing chants and formulas—the grammar and equation-solving—are what matter most to a mage. But you lot? You skip this entirely, obsessing over copying formulas, translating them, memorizing stuff. And the textbook? It’s all ‘don’t sweat the details, just memorize.’ Ridiculous.”
This time, the students had no comeback.
“In short, your so-called ‘clear lessons’ are just dumbing down and translating spells to make them easier to memorize. And your ‘studying’? Scribbling and cramming. Honestly, are you guys stupid or what?”
Glenn shrugged, snorting in exasperation.
“Now, about that magical grammar and equations… Trying to master it all? You’d need more than one lifetime. No, don’t glare—I’m serious. It’s no joke.”
The class’s accusing stares zeroed in on him for hyping it up just to backtrack.
“That’s why I said I’m teaching the basics, didn’t I? There’s a foundation—core stuff you have to know to grasp higher-level grammar and equations. Once you get what I’m about to explain… uh…”
Glenn tapped his temple, thinking for a moment.
“《Well, · whatever, · just get zapped—》”
He slowly chanted a strange three-phrase spell in runic.
To everyone’s shock, [Shock Bolt] activated. The students’ eyes widened.
“Hm? Weaker than I expected… Eh, whatever. You could improvise a chant like this if you know the basics. Accuracy usually drops, so I don’t recommend it.”
Finally, the students’ view of Glenn began to shift.
“Alright, now we’re diving into the basic grammar and equations. If you’re not interested, sleep. Honestly, it’s boring as hell.”
But, as expected, not a single student in the room felt remotely sleepy.
Meanwhile, at the same moment, somewhere in Fejite.
“Is the plan proceeding smoothly?”
“Oh, perfectly.”
In pitch-black darkness, unbroken by a single ray of light, the man answered the voice emanating from a halved gem pressed to his ear, a gentle smile on his face.
“And that lecturer… Huey Luisen. Where is he now?”
“Haha, ‘him’? Oh, he’s ‘gone.’”
“Hah, gone, is he?”
“…Yes. The issue is the one who replaced him.”
“Glenn Radars, huh. We expected a replacement lecturer, but not this quickly. Seems it’s that witch’s doing.”
“Haha, nothing ever goes entirely to plan, does it?”
The man shrugged, putting on a playful air.
“But a mage handpicked by Professor Arfonia herself… Are we sure he’s not a problem?”
“As for whether Glenn could disrupt our plan, I’ve deemed him no threat.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I looked into this Glenn, wary since that witch brought him in. Turns out, he’s just a third-rank, third-rate mage. No match for us.”
“Then it’s as we thought…”
“Exactly. The plan’s execution date remains the day of the Magical Conference. That day, the academy’s key professors and lecturers will all be away. Only that class’s students will be at the academy. It’s the perfect opportunity.”
“…What if the target skips class for some reason?”
“We abandon the plan. To that organization, this operation—and our worth—are expendable anyway.”
“Haha, what a demanding group we’ve sworn loyalty to.”
“No matter. That organization will give me everything.”
“Mutual benefits, then?”
“Indeed.”
“Heh, here’s to the plan’s success. Glory to the divine wisdom—”
Time flew by. Glenn’s lessons weren’t the kind delivered by flashy, pseudo-charismatic lecturers who captivated with quirky personas or slick rhetoric. Nor did they pander or grovel to win students over. They were the real deal—made possible by a deep, genuine understanding of the material and the ability to explain it clearly and logically.
“…That’s about it for [Shock Bolt]’s formula and chant. Any questions?”
Glenn tapped the blackboard, covered in neat runes, symbols, and diagrams, with his chalk.
No one raised a hand. His presence was overwhelming, but honestly, there was no room for questions—his explanations were that thorough.
“If you understood even a bit of what I said today, you should get how risky and tightrope-walking one-phrase chants are. Sure, with mana control talent, they’re doable. But at least grasp the danger of misfire explosions. Don’t call it ‘easy’ lightly. Screw around, and you’ll get yourself killed.”
Then, with a rare seriousness, Glenn faced the class.
“And most importantly… as I explained, one-phrase chants can never beat three-phrase chants for mana efficiency. For optimal magic use, three phrases are best. I’m not saying this ‘cause I’m bitter I can’t do one-phrase chants. Really. I’m serious, okay?”
(He’s totally bitter…)
In that moment, every student’s thoughts aligned perfectly.
“Anyway, right now, you’re just ‘magic users’ good at casting spells. If you want to call yourselves ‘mages’ someday, think hard about what you’re missing. Not that I recommend it. Wasting your life on this stupid hobby? There’s gotta be better ways to live… Alright.”
Glenn pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time.
“Ugh, ran over? Man, can I claim overtime pay for this? Whatever. Class dismissed. Later.”
Muttering complaints, Glenn left the classroom.
The students watched him go, dazed. The moment the door slammed shut, as if it were a signal, they frantically began copying the blackboard. Their fervor was almost possessed.
“Unbelievable… He got me.”
Sistine covered her face with her hands, sighing deeply.
“Who knew that jerk could teach like that…?”
“Yeah, I was shocked too,” Rumia said, eyes wide, from beside her.
“It’s infuriating, and I hate admitting it, but… that guy’s the worst human, but as a magic instructor? He’s incredible… The worst human, though.”
“Haha, you don’t have to say it twice…”
“But why’d he suddenly get serious about teaching? After all that stuff he said yesterday… Wait.”
Glancing at Rumia, Sistine noticed something.
“Rumia… why do you look so happy? You’re practically glowing.”
“Hehe, am I?”
“You are. You’re in an amazing mood. What’s up?”
“Ehehe, nothing~!”
“Liar, that face says something happened!”
“Ehehehe…”
No matter how much Sistine pressed, Rumia just dodged with a blissful smile, leaving Sistine tilting her head in confusion.
The awakening of the deadbeat lecturer Glenn shook the academy. Word spread like wildfire, drawing students from other classes to sneak into his lessons during their free periods. All were stunned by the quality of his teaching.
Until now, a lecturer’s rank as a mage had been their badge of authority, the key to prestige and student loyalty at the academy. But Glenn’s arrival shattered that rigid, rank-obsessed culture overnight. For the establishment, it was a nightmare.
“Celica, that guy you brought in is something else!”
Headmaster Rick’s excited voice echoed through the headmaster’s office.
“His first eleven days had awful reviews, and I was worried, but it seems my concerns were for nothing!”
“…Tch.”
Harley groaned, bitter. Since Glenn started teaching seriously, attendance in his own classes had subtly dropped. Some students were skipping his lessons to attend Glenn’s.
“Heh, no surprise there. Glenn’s my prized disciple, trained from the ground up,” Celica declared, puffing out her chest.
“What! Celica, you took a disciple? I thought you swore never to!”
“He’s the one exception. Not the best student, mind you.”
“Well, well! But why keep it a secret until now?”
“Obvious, isn’t it? If Glenn flopped as a lecturer, it’d embarrass me, his mentor. So I kept quiet.”
“You two are peas in a pod!”
Harley’s exasperated retort echoed futilely in the office.
“Easy, Harley. Flatter me all you want, I’ve got nothing to give.”
“Shut it! That wasn’t a compliment, you idiot mentor!”
“Man, Glenn’s got zero talent for magic, but he’s such a hard worker. When he was a kid, I told him magic wasn’t for him, to try something else. But he wouldn’t listen—kept saying he wanted to be an amazing mage like me. And now? He’s a third-rate mage, but still, he’s made it to average. I always knew he had it in him. Oh, speaking of, when I first started teaching him magic, there was this one time—”
With a goofy grin, a far cry from her usual icy demeanor, Celica launched into a proud mentor’s ramble.
Harley, trembling with rage, veins popping on his temple, had zero interest in this unwanted trivia dump.
(Damn you… Glenn Radars…!)
Harley’s thoughts drifted to a recent incident—
“Hey, Glenn Radars! You listening, Glenn Radars? Answer me!”
That day, Harley had cornered Glenn, notorious for his bad conduct, in an academy hallway, intent on putting the junior lecturer in his place.
Glenn suddenly looked around, glanced at Harley, tilted his head in confusion, and walked off, ignoring him.
“Hey! What’s with that ‘who’s this guy talking to?’ attitude?! You’re Glenn Radars! There’s no one else here!”
Harley blocked Glenn’s path, glaring fiercely.
“You’ve got the wrong guy.”
“No way! That dopey face is definitely Glenn Radars! I interviewed you for this job, remember?!”
“Oh, if it isn’t Senior Lecturer Harem! Yo, what’s up?”
“It’s Harley! Harley! Are you mocking me?!”
“No way, not at all, uh… Har… something-senpai?”
“You really don’t want to learn my name, do you…?”
Burning with anger and humiliation, Harley got to the point.
“I’ve heard the rumors, Glenn Radars. Your conduct is unbecoming of a lecturer!”
“….”
“Don’t get cocky! Your cushy position isn’t because of your skill or worth—it’s all thanks to that witch, Celica Arfonia’s arrogance! No matter how great a seventh-rank mage she is—”
“Man, calling her by her full name every time’s gotta be exhausting.”
“Shut up! Don’t interrupt! No matter how great Celica Alfornea is, this kind of overreach won’t last forever!”
“Right? Celica’s been way too full of herself lately. She’s totally gonna get smited one day.”
“Why do you sound so detached?! Anyway, your contract’s one month, but don’t think you’ll last that long! I’ll use every means to get you kicked out of this academy, so brace yourself… Huh?”
Harley noticed Glenn bowing deeply before him.
“Thank you! I’m counting on you! I’ve got high hopes, so give it your all, uh… Yurei-senpai!”
“Y-You little—!”
Had anyone ever mocked him so brazenly?
(That clown, a better lecturer than me?! Never! I won’t accept it!)
“And so, he worked so hard and finally nailed that spell, then came crying, ‘Thank you, Celica!’ Man, he was adorable back then. That’s when I saw his potential. You get it, right? Huh?”
Oblivious to Harley’s boiling rage, Celica’s insufferable disciple-bragging droned on.
Truly, mentor and disciple were an infuriating pair.
(Grr… Damn you, Glenn Radars! I’ll drive you out of this academy one day… Just you wait…!)
Face red with fury, Harley silently vowed to defeat Glenn.
Glenn’s class, Year Two Class Two, became the envy of the academy. Empty seats filled daily with students from other classes sneaking in, and within ten days, some were standing to attend his lessons.
As Glenn earned the students’ respect, some lecturers began questioning their own methods—teaching that prioritized memorizing spells to climb ranks. Younger, passionate instructors even audited Glenn’s classes to learn his teaching style and magical theories.
Unaware of the attention, Glenn continued his half-hearted demeanor, grudgingly delivering lessons.
“…Magic has two types: ‘universal’ and ‘unique.’ Today, we analyzed universal magic’s formulas, which you dismiss as basic because anyone can use them. But you should see now how meticulously refined and precise universal magic is compared to unique magic.”
Glenn tapped a formula segment on the blackboard with his chalk.
“Of course it is. Even a basic universal spell like [Shock Bolt] was honed over centuries by hundreds of mages, far better than you lot, refining it bit by bit. And you dare call such a grand formula ‘unoriginal’ or ‘outdated’? Honestly, are you idiots?”
Students who’d once claimed unique magic was superior slumped in defeat.
“You treat unique magic—custom spells unique to each mage—like it’s sacred, but making one? No big deal. Even a third-rate mage like me can do it. The hard part? Building a unique formula from scratch, alone, that surpasses the centuries-perfected universal spells in some way. Otherwise, there’s no point.”
Seeing the students’ spirits sink, Glenn grinned wickedly.
“Feeling the headache yet? As you saw today, universal spells are already flawless, with no room for improvement. Half-hearted efforts just make unique spells and shoddy knockoffs. I tried it once—total garbage. So, I gave up and it was a complete waste of time.”
Half the class chuckled, half frowned. They respected Glenn’s teaching, but his utter lack of reverence for magic rubbed many the wrong way.
“When you get to this level, talent and instinct matter. But studying the universal formulas crafted by our predecessors is still valuable. It sharpens your formula-building skills and helps avoid redundant ideas. Especially if you dream of creating your own unique magic someday. Not that I’d recommend wasting time on such pointless self-indulgence—there’s gotta be better ways to live… Anyway.”
Glenn checked his pocket watch.
“…Time’s up. That’s it for today. Ugh, I’m beat…”
As he declared class over, a relaxed air spread through the room.
Glenn grabbed the eraser and began casually wiping the blackboard’s formulas and notes.
“Wait, Sensei! Don’t erase it yet! I haven’t finished copying!”
Sistine raised her hand.
Glenn flashed a blatantly mischievous grin and erased the board with frenzied speed. Shrieks erupted across the class.
“Hahaha! Half of it’s gone already! Suckers!”
“Are you a child?!”
Sistine collapsed onto her desk, exasperated.
“Haha, I’ve got the notes, Sisti. I’ll show you later,” Rumia offered.
“Thanks… His lessons are great, but can’t something be done about that warped personality?”
Glancing over, Sistine saw Glenn accidentally scrape the blackboard with his nail while erasing, clutching his ears in agony. A pitiful, almost comical sight.
“Really? I think Sensei’s fine as he is,” Rumia said.
“Rumia… Seriously?”
“Yeah. He’s kinda childish and cute, don’t you think?”
“Your taste is beyond me…”
“…Oh, Sensei!”
Suddenly, Rumia stood and bounded toward Glenn like a puppy.
“Need help carrying those?”
Glenn was about to leave, arms full of ten thick books.
“Hm? Rumia, huh. I’d appreciate the help, but… they’re heavy. You sure?”
“Yup, I’m good!”
“Alright, then I’ll give you a couple. Thanks.”
Glenn handed her two books, his usual gruffness replaced by a rare, gentle expression. Rumia beamed, delighted. They looked like affectionate siblings. Sistine, watching, felt oddly annoyed.
“H-Hold on!”
With a reluctant grimace, she approached Glenn.
“Hm? You’re… uh, Sis… terina? Right?”
“It’s Sistine! You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. What’s Miss Sis-something got for me?”
“I-I’ll help too… I can’t let Rumia do it alone…”
“…Oh? Here, take these.”
With a sly smirk, Glenn dumped all his remaining books on Sistine.
“Eek! W-Wait, heavy?!”
Sistine staggered, barely keeping her balance.
“Man, empty hands feel great!”
Glenn strode off cheerfully, ignoring her.
“What’s with this?! Why do you treat me and Rumia so differently?!”
“It’s because Rumia’s cute and you’re a brat.”
“You stupid lecturer… Just you wait—!”
Despite the insults hurled at his back, Glenn’s lips curved into a smile.
After school, with the students gone.
Glenn leaned against the rooftop railing, gazing at the quiet landscape. Fejite’s cityscape, ablaze in the sunset, and the phantom castle, dyed crimson, were unchanged from back then. Only he had changed.
His thoughts drifted to his days as a part-time lecturer. The strongest memories were of two girls who kept getting tangled up with him.
Rumia, the adorable puppy-like girl who, for some reason, took a shine to him.
Sistine, the cheeky kitten-like girl who, for some reason, kept picking fights.
He didn’t know why they bothered with a guy like him. But hadn’t he, in some way, found their interactions… pleasant?
He wanted to see it, too. How they’d grow. What paths they’d take.
Rumia, who might carve new possibilities for the rotten art of magic.
Sistine, charging forward with the passion for magic he’d lost, unwavering.
Young and naive, what would they achieve? How would they grow? Helping them along… wouldn’t be so bad, would it?
“Well… y’know…”
He still hated magic. It made him sick. The world would be better off without it. That wouldn’t change. But days like these—
“Not bad… huh?”
Unaware, Glenn was smiling.
“Whoa, whoa, basking in the sunset? So youthful,” a teasing voice called from behind.
Glenn turned his head to look.
“When’d you get here, Celica?”
There stood Celica, poised and elegant, a beauty bathed in the fiery sunset. Her golden hair, like a glowing wheat field, swayed gently in the breeze.
“Hm, when was it? A question for my naughty student from his teacher. Guess.”
“Don’t be stupid. There were no Mana fluctuations and shifts in the world's laws. You just snuck up on tiptoes.”
“Correct! Haha, everyone misses that silly twist. Especially those who think magic explains every mystery.”
Celica smiled, pleased with Glenn’s quick answer.
“What’re you doing here? Aren’t you busy prepping for that conference starting tomorrow?”
“What, a mom can’t visit her son?”
“Son? We’re not even related.”
“But I’ve been looking after you since you were this tiny. Doesn’t that give me the right to call myself your mom?”
“Think about our age gap, you witch. It’s more like grandma and grandson.”
Celica looked every bit a woman in her early twenties.
But Glenn knew she wasn’t as young as she appeared. They’d known each other since his childhood, yet her appearance hadn’t changed a bit since they met.
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Why doesn’t Celica age? Just how old is she, really? She’s stubbornly tight-lipped about herself, but… certain historical records confirm she’s at least in the triple digits.
“Man, you were such a sweet, adorable kid back then. Now look at you, all jaded and cynical… Time’s cruel, huh?”
“…Leave me alone.”
Glenn sulkily averted his gaze from Celica.
“You seem… livelier lately. That’s good.”
“Huh?”
Her cryptic murmur drew a dumbfounded grunt from Glenn.
“You haven’t noticed? You’ve got some spark in you these days. Your eyes don’t look like a fish that’s been dead for a day anymore.”
“Hey!”
“Before, they looked like a fish dead for a month.”
Sighing, Glenn scratched his head.
“…Sorry for worrying you. My bad.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s my fault, after all.”
Celica lowered her eyes, her usual confident tone replaced by a frail whisper.
“I was probably too indulgent and proud of you. That’s why—”
“Stop. I’ve said it before—you’re not to blame. I was an idiot, too caught up in my own hype to see reality.”
“But you still despise magic.”
Her words made Glenn finally grasp her true intent.
“…I get it. So, you thought making me a magic instructor might help me rediscover its joy?”
He remembered. His happiest childhood memories were always tied to studying magic or experimenting with Celica.
“God's sake, how old are you, anyway? You’re such a kid sometimes. Magic’s not the only thing tying us together. Sure, I hate magic now, but that doesn’t mean I’d ever hate you.”
“Really? Yeah… you’re right. That’s a relief.”
At Glenn’s words, Celica smiled softly, her expression almost radiant.
“Ugh, seriously? So if you’d just said that upfront, I could’ve skipped being roped into this part-time lecturer gig?”
“Idiot, that’s a separate issue. It’s about time you earned your own keep.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can’t heaaar you!”
“You hopeless slacker…”
Celica shrugged in exasperation, then continued.
“Anyway, it’s good to see you reintegrating into society. Keep it up and work on curing that condition of yours, alright?”
“Condition? What’re you talking about? I’m perfectly healthy—”
“Thinking you’re not worthy of deep connections, keeping people at arm’s length, deliberately acting abrasive to push them away, brushing off those who show you kindness—that condition.”
“…Urk.”
Celica’s piercing words left Glenn sweating, his cheek twitching.
She grinned mischievously, shrugging again.
“C’mon, Glenn. With your past, I get it, but that’s a kid’s ailment, y’know? At your age, letting it fester this bad? While you’re rejoining society, maybe it’s time to—”
“Sh-Shut up! Mind your own business!”
Blushing with embarrassment, Glenn shouted.
“And it’s not my fault people show me kindness or whatever! Growing up around a bombshell like you set my standards too high—normal women don’t even register!”
“Oh? So you’re saying you were lusting after your mom? You deviant.”
With a sadistic, sultry smile, Celica sauntered behind Glenn, draping her arms around his neck.
“No way! And stop playing the mom card! Get off! Don’t press your big chest against me! Stop breathing in my ear! It feels creepy!”
“Heh, so cold. It’s just a little mother-son bonding.”
Satisfied with Glenn’s flustered reaction, Celica smirked and stepped back, turning away.
“Well, I’ve got prep for the Magical Conference, so I’m off.”
“…Right. Heading to the imperial capital, Orland, in the northern empire, yeah?”
Glenn replied grumpily. Celica’s teasing was old hat—best to let it slide and forget.
“Yup. Me and the other academy attendees are teleporting to the capital tonight via the academy’s transfer circle.”
“Covering a three- or four-day ride in an instant… Gotta hand it to magic.”
“Well, you keep up with your classes starting tomorrow, alright?”
“…Huh? The academy’s closed for five days starting tomorrow, isn’t it?”
Caught off guard, Glenn panicked.
“I’m just part-time, so I’m not going, but aren’t you professors and lecturers all attending the Magical Conference? Doesn’t the academy have to shut down for it?”
“Oh, your class is the exception. What, nobody told you?”
“What?!”
“Your predecessor, Huey, vanished without warning one day. Your class is behind on lessons, so you’re scheduled to teach during the break to catch up.”
“Nobody told me!”
“Other than the gate guards, no academy staff will be around starting tomorrow. Don’t pull any pranks, got it?”
“As if I would! …Wait, hold on.”
Glenn caught a snag in Celica’s words.
“Your predecessor… vanished? What’s that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. Huey Luisen, the lecturer before you, disappeared suddenly one day. He's been missing without leaving a single trace and leads to find.”
“Hey, that’s not what I heard. They said Huey quit for personal reasons…”
“That’s the story for students. If he’d resigned properly, we wouldn’t have been scrambling for a replacement for a month.”
Glenn scratched his head, his face sour.
“Sounds… sketchy.”
“Yeah, things have been a bit dicey around here lately. I don’t think you need to worry, but… be careful while I’m gone.”
“…Sure.”
The word “disappearance” carried an ominous weight, but would it affect him? Probably not. Still, Glenn couldn’t shake a nagging unease, like a thorn in his heart.
Just then—
“There you are, Sensei!”
The rooftop door swung open, revealing the now-familiar duo: one beaming, the other scowling.
“Oh? Professor Arfonia. Are we interrupting?”
“No, I was just leaving. What’s up? Need Glenn for something?”
“Yup!”
Smiling like a blooming flower, Rumia stepped toward Glenn.
Sistine followed reluctantly, her face sour.
“Didn’t you two head home?”
“Well, we were in the library copying notes and reviewing today’s lesson, but Sisti had a question for you…”
“Hey! We agreed not to say that! Traitor!”
Sistine, red-faced, yelled, but it was too late.
“Ohhh? What’s that, Sistina? Could it be? You’ve got a question for the legendary lecturer, the great Glenn Radars? Hmm?”
Glenn leaned in, smug as ever, his infuriating grin begging for a punch.
“That’s why I didn’t want to ask you! And it’s Sistine! Learn my name already!”
“Eh, it’s hard to remember. White Cat’s fine, right?”
“Ugh, enough—!”
Sistine’s eyes welled up with frustration.
“Sensei, do you have a moment? I realized later I didn’t fully get that part either…”
“Yeah, my bad, Rumia. I felt I glossed over some stuff today. Probably that part, right? Show me.”
“Why’s there such a gap in how you treat me and Rumia…?!”
“As I said before, Rumia's cute and you’re a brat. Done.”
“Grr—!”
Celica watched the trio’s bickering with a fond smile, then, with a quiet sense of relief, slipped away from the rooftop.
Having endured the humiliation of asking Glenn for help, Sistine made no effort to hide her irritation and sulkiness as she and Rumia headed home.
“Gods, what is with that guy?!”
Contrary to Sistine’s mood, Fejite’s streets were as peaceful as ever. Her raised voice dissipated into the quiet evening air of the sparsely populated main avenue. The town, bathed in the gentle scarlet of sunset, felt calm and serene, making her lone agitation seem foolish.
“Rumia, seriously, what do you see in him? You’re way too fond of that jerk!”
“Huh? But Sensei’s kind, isn’t he?”
“Oh, sure! He’s awfully kind to you! Only to you!”
Quivering with indignation, Sistine’s fists trembled.
“Who’s that blatant, that shameless about playing favorites?! Doesn’t he care about appearances or what people think?! And yet he—!”
Rumia gave a wry smile, trying to calm her.
“There’s definitely something up! That’s it! He’s misreading your kindness and has some sleazy crush on you! Yes, that’s it! Listen, Rumia, don’t ever be alone with him, got it? If he tries anything with you, I swear I won’t let him off…!”
Just then—
“Hehe.”
Rumia let out a soft, amused laugh.
“…What’s that, Rumia?”
“Oh, it’s just… It’s funny how worried you are about me.”
“Of course I’m worried! We’re family!”
Sistine’s indignant retort drew a quiet murmur from Rumia.
“Do you remember… three years ago?”
“Three years ago… When you came to live with my family, right? What about it?”
Sistine couldn’t fathom why Rumia brought it up out of nowhere.
But Rumia, her nostalgic smile unwavering, continued.
“Back then, we were always fighting.”
“W-Well, yeah… You were so timid, stubborn, and crybaby-ish back then… I mean, I wasn’t great either, not understanding how you felt after being abandoned by your real parents…”
Sistine scratched her cheek awkwardly.
“Then one day, I got mistaken for you and kidnapped by some bad people.”
“…Yeah, there was that incident, wasn’t there?”
“I made it back safely, and when I did, you hugged me out of nowhere.”
“…Urk.”
“We cried together all night, holding each other. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so glad you’re okay,’ you said.”
“…Th-That was… y’know…”
Sistine’s face flushed as red as the sunset, embarrassment overtaking her.
“I think that’s when it started—when we got this close.”
Rumia turned a warm smile toward Sistine.
But even after hearing this, Sistine couldn’t guess why Rumia was dredging up the past.
“…What’s with you, all of a sudden?”
“Lately, I’ve been thinking about the past a lot.”
Rumia’s smile turned faintly wistful as she looked at Sistine.
“…I wonder why?”
Sistine had no answer. She couldn’t know what triggered Rumia’s reflections on three years ago or what her true feelings were. But she knew those memories, filled with layered misfortunes, were painful for Rumia.
So—
“We’re family.”
Sistine spoke her honest feelings softly.
“I don’t know why you’re suddenly dwelling on three years ago, but I’m always right here beside you. So… y’know…”
Fumbling her words bashfully, Sistine trailed off.
“…Thank you, Sisti.”
Rumia smiled at her like a spring breeze.
In Fejite’s townscape, ablaze with the sunset’s glow, two shadows stretched side by side, endlessly intertwined—
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