Her First Memory Was Pain
The girl's first memory was pain. The blinding white light from the ceiling lamps stabbed at her eyes, her fingers and toes splayed rigid, unable to twitch. People in white robes would occasionally come and inject her with colorful liquids before leaving, and she'd drift into unconsciousness only to wake up wailing. Day after day, the cycle repeated.
Her second memory was a voice.
"Get up."
It was one of those indistinguishable days—whether she'd grown numb to the pain or lost her sense of it entirely. For the first time, the white-robed figures spoke. Blindfolded, she was carried somewhere. When the pressure on her limbs finally eased and she opened her eyes, she was in a forest. She couldn't move from the spot for a long while. It felt like the white people were watching from somewhere, and if she moved freely, another wave of agony would come. Terrified, she stayed still.
But as time passed, the girl realized the truth. She'd been abandoned.
Her third memory was the cold. With superhuman mental fortitude and stamina beyond her years, she wandered the forest, hiding alertly whenever danger loomed—but that was trivial, easily forgotten. The cold, however, was different. It was a terror on another level from pain, squeezing her survival instincts. Beasts could be avoided, hunger endured, but the cold was hard to bear. By day, she pressed forward; by night, she dug into the earth and curled up inside. On the fifth day like this, she met a man.
She couldn't remember the man's face. Nor his voice, or his scent, for some reason. But she knew he pitied her. Maybe that's why she followed him without resistance. Truth be told, there was no other choice. Starved and weakened from the cold, her strength was gone. She blacked out, and when she woke, she was in a cozy space. Wooden floors, a crackling fireplace, warm orange lighting... The man was nowhere to be seen. Only then did she realize she was lying on a small bed. By her head was a little note. When she unfolded it...
Pretty word. She didn't know what it meant, but... The girl got out of bed and opened the door. A vast meadow stretched out. When had she left the forest? Why was there a house in the middle of a plain? Where had the man gone? Questions swirled in her head when—
"...?"
The girl tilted her head at the sudden blue window, then casually turned—and froze in shock. A man's face floated in the air.
Instinctively sensing something off from the man's clothes and background, she stared. And then—
His expression, that slightly excited voice, the messages—
"...Uuung?"
She sensed he liked her. She had no clue what he was saying, but it wasn't a big deal.
The blue windows conveyed his intentions perfectly—and above all—
Only then did the girl realize she had no name. But for some reason, that pretty word from the note popped into her head.
"Seiren."
"I'm... Seiren..."
And so her name was decided.
The man popped up out of nowhere, anytime. Every week or ten days, his face would appear, and each time he'd give her gifts she'd never received before. Presents from a stranger—no, a man with an otherworldly look. She tried not to take them, but how could she refuse things dropping from the air? Still... The occasional soft pat on her head, his expressions, his tone. Above all, the smell of delicious food slowly eroded her wariness.
At some point, she started waiting for him. More than the tasty food, she wanted to show him she was enjoying what he gave her. More than playtime, she loved just being with him. More than the bear doll, she wanted to be as happy as he hoped. His expressions, voice, messages, the whole situation—it all screamed it. This man treasured her.
Once all doubt vanished, she asked, "Why are you so good to me...?"
Seiren was deeply moved by that.
The follow-up message went unnoticed. Seiren's keen senses picked up that these polished lines felt... refined. Sure, the virtue talk was sincere, but she trusted the raw intent from the messages more. So she was truly touched. To think he saw her—a chance connection—like this.
From then on, she vowed to live up to his expectations.
Sensing her resolve, the man started bringing books one by one. Mana, mana circuits, magic... Things impossible to master without a teacher. But her superhuman intellect and senses led her into the world of magic. Rings built up in her heart, one by one.
"Hehe."
Growth was fun—because he was happy seeing her grow. Plateaus happened, of course. But support poured in endlessly.
"Whoa..."
Top-grade elixirs, fancy wands, magic tools... She could focus solely on magic. Her harsh past left no desire for friends or playmates. This little house and the man's face appearing weekly were her world.
"...!!"
Of course, minor misunderstandings cropped up now and then.
Time flowed. From childhood to adolescence, then to adulthood. Fifteen years passed, but the man's face barely changed—a few more wrinkles, skin slightly looser, but nothing compared to Seiren's transformation. Six rings now pulsed in her heart. Her intellect had grown as much as her magic.
"Heeheehee."
Long ago, she'd learned to understand him without the blue windows. She was half-convinced he was human, not so different from her. Didn't matter. To Seiren, he was her world.
And the time came.
"Yes!"
The time to hunt the Demon King. Hunting beasts honed her skills rapidly. Lofty realm, genius intellect—only real combat experience lacked, so she grew insanely fast. Towers sent love calls; slaying one of the Four Heavenly Kings earned an emperor's invitation. Seiren refused them all. No need for treasures, fame, or titles. She had the man.
With him, her mind stayed unshaken. Materially too—he'd admitted past gifts were mere tastes, unleashing overwhelming support. Her supplies alone could buy a century of peace without fighting. She didn't question it much. Saving it for the Demon King, probably. That's how deep her trust ran.
So when—
"Suddenly? ...What? You're embarrassing me."
A direct confession via message felt shy, but she brushed it off.
"Hehe. Weren't you the one saying we have to try?"
Demon King, Demon King. He was singing it like a song—worried after all, huh? She smiled warmly.
How foolish.
"I know one good person already... But why say this? Like you'll never see me again?"
A sudden unease made her serious.
"Lee Hyun, you going far away?"
No reply came.
"Lee Hyun?"
Really.
"...Lee Hyun?"
She never dreamed.
"...Huh?"
Seiren vanished.
The youngest 7th Circle. The youngest archmage. Next great magic lord. Leaving historic feats behind, she evaporated, sending the empire into uproar. Some said she'd ascended via enlightenment. Court mages refuted: constellations unchanged. They claimed an accident during research. Others blamed the Four Heavenly Kings. Then one stormed a city center, bellowing she'd live until he tore her apart—then vanished.
Post that, rumors swirled: transcendent genius driven mad to suicide. Most ended that way. Seven years passed without trace or whisper of Seiren.
The closest truth? The Heavenly King. She lived. Deep underground, beyond gods' gaze, researching one spell.
"Just a bit more. A little... longer."
Bloodshot eyes like a madman's—Seiren's. She drew a magic circle. Connection severed, her mind crumbled fast. Absence of life's core. Any normal person would shatter, but her genius whispered:
Reconnect.
Go to him.
That sparked it. This was the end.
"Done...!"
Humanity's greatest magic prodigy poured seven years into the circle. Complete.
"Activate."
Beasts she'd dragged from demon realms writhed, bound across the array. Energies drained, they ashed away. Light swirled around Seiren.
Pop—
When she opened her eyes...
"...It worked."
Earth.
She didn't stop.
"Where... Lee Hyun...?"
Detection spell cast.
"...Over there."
She moved. And now—
Ding-dong—
"Who is it?"
Seiren rejoiced at the voice.
Click—
The door opened.
"Huh?"
Whoosh—
Seiren threw herself into Lee Hyun's arms.
"Found you."
"Huh? You...?"
"Never breaking again... Never..."