Chapter 444
Chapter 444
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 444
Chapter Title: Your Memory (2)
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1.
Amelia and her master's happy days continued.
The deserted cabin seemed complete only with the two of them there, their bond embodying the very word "happiness."
This lasted until she passed through puberty and grew into someone who looked much like the Amelia of today.
Peeking into her recollections revealed countless insights. The apprentice witch Amelia was utterly different from the witch she became later on.
An apprentice witch is a girl prophesied by the oracle to inherit a stigma through a witch's bloodline. They are born with brilliant minds full of wit and talent, not to mention artistic sensibilities and beauty. Truly, beings favored by the gods.
Yet every rule has its exceptions.
Apprentice Amelia was beautiful and handled the violin with effortless grace, but magic was another story entirely. Having watched the twins and Diana grow, and having studied magic from scratch himself, Si-woo could see it clearly.
Amelia spent days and nights wrestling with the most basic magical formulas. When faced with new concepts, they'd mix with her existing knowledge, leaving her dizzy and reeling.
It wasn't just a lack of talent—it was downright despairing.
Even after turning twenty, Amelia hadn't defined her own understanding of mana, her "incantation."
Now he understood why child Amelia had hated magic lessons and run away so often. Forcing yourself to do what you're hopeless at is torture for anyone.
Si-woo knew how brutal the study of magic could be. For those without talent, it didn't even grant the right to begin.
Yet Amelia never gave up on her magic studies. As she matured and gained wisdom, she stopped fleeing.
She no longer tossed homework into the fireplace or slacked off in class.
She spent more time slumped stubbornly at her desk, studying. Nights spent awake grew longer, as did the hours poring over magic tomes with bloodshot, drooping eyes, even skipping playtime.
Amelia's changes went beyond academic zeal.
Her chronic illness worsened with age.
As a child, it had been mere bouts of anemia or sudden fevers that felled her. Now, she coughed up blood and spent more than half the year bedridden, her complexion fading from pale to bloodless.
Even collapsed in bed, she never let go of her books. All for one reason: "to be with Master forever."
Just as all humans eventually die, everyone connected to witches knows that all witches die upon succession.
So Amelia's murmur of "once I succeed you, I'll be with Master forever" was a blatant contradiction.
The previous Merigold couldn't have been unaware.
Quite the opposite—she knew, which was why she isolated Amelia from the world, keeping her only in the gulpin tree forest. Even on rare market trips together, they returned immediately after errands.
No one entered the forest except occasional visitors Sophia and the previous Avenuga. She was cautious even about Amelia meeting other witches.
The reason was obvious.
To pass on the stigma to her untalented apprentice before her illness claimed her.
If Amelia learned the truth, she would refuse the stigma outright.
Even if persuaded with the truth, her body wouldn't hold out long enough for her to prepare mentally.
Thus, the previous Merigold chose to hide the truth.
Of course, Si-woo could grasp this only as a third-party observer privy to the concealed facts. Amelia never suspected her master's behavior.
In Si-woo's view, Amelia rested her chin on the windowsill, gazing out at the pouring autumn rain. Bedridden, she sat in that same spot, waiting for her master to return.
"When will she be back...? She leaves me with homework every day and goes off playing..."
She pouted, lips pursed in sulky disappointment, smacking her lips.
Si-woo stared blankly, unsure what emotion to feel. Then—
"Why the long face?"
Amelia's sky-blue eyes met his. A chill of dread sank into Si-woo's heart, like it might drop right out.
He was peeking into her past and wounds without permission. And he held the key to a cruel truth he might one day have to reveal. Knowing this moment was but a fragment of a scattered past, his body shrank back involuntarily.
"Ah... uh..."
His mouth wouldn't cooperate. Then Amelia slipped from bed, toddling past him on quick steps.
"Come in quick. You're soaked again, no umbrella."
Amelia beamed happily at the returning previous Merigold. Only then did Si-woo realize he had overlapped with her master's phantom position.
On a day when autumn clung to the calendar's edge, the previous Merigold returned from Lenormand Town, drenched from hat to cloak. She gazed silently at Amelia for a moment before speaking.
"Amelia."
"Yes, Master?"
"Tomorrow."
Amelia's expression froze at the sudden words. Staring blankly at her master, she sprang forward like a coiled spring, throwing herself into her arms. She ignored the cold rain soaking her nightclothes and the chill seeping into her chest.
No need to explain what "tomorrow" meant. What else but the succession she'd longed for? She'd worried her weakening body might kill her before it could happen.
"Really? You're not lying?"
"Of course. You're ready for it now."
"Liar! No way! No... I haven't even settled on a proper incantation!"
Amelia pinched her cheek, eyes wide in disbelief. Her master paused, then gently embraced her shoulders and kissed her forehead.
"You've practiced the succession rite diligently, haven't you? You can inherit mine for the incantation if needed. Or settle on one after receiving the stigma."
"Impossible... impossible... What do I do, Master...? I'm so, so happy... It feels like a dream..."
Amelia finally wept. The hardships, trials, and efforts repaid in full overwhelmed her with joy she couldn't contain.
"Master... I'm sorry for troubling you all this time... Once I'm a witch, I can surely help you greatly. I love you. I love you so much, Master..."
Like a rain-soaked fledgling burrowing into its mother's breast, Amelia clung repeatedly to her master.
"...No."
He knew she couldn't hear, but he had to say it. This story was too cruel. Far too cruel.
2.
The final hours, known only to Si-woo and the previous Merigold, passed like any other.
Though they'd used separate beds since Amelia matured somewhat, that night they embraced on the bed and closed their eyes.
The next morning, they ate breakfast together. Amelia buzzed with excitement. Despite stinging eyes from a sleepless night, she smiled all day as if her illness were conquered.
"My sickness will be gone now. We can go out together, right? I want to see the mortal world, Master. Lenormand Town, Ars Magna Town—I'm so curious."
"...Travel is wonderful, isn't it."
Then they hung laundry, played piano and violin duets, cooked together, and enjoyed harmonious times. Ordinary days felt like horrific tragedy because he knew the ending.
After an afternoon of taking turns roasting turkey in the oven as the main dish, their meal ended. The final moment arrived.
"Amelia."
"Yes, Master."
Uncontainable joy curved Amelia's cheeks in a smile. Seeing it, her master barely managed a grin and pulled her close.
"Remember the succession method?"
"Of course! I practiced so hard!"
"That's right. No one knows better than I how diligent and wonderful you are."
"Heh... hehehe..."
Nestled in her master's arms, she grinned bashfully, tears welling in her eyes.
They headed to a forest clearing with a pre-drawn magic circle. Mixed special perfume and ink wafted a sweet lilac scent.
Amelia and the previous Merigold knelt, hands clasped, and pressed their foreheads together.
"Amelia, do you know how much I love you?"
"Of course. You taught a hopeless apprentice like me to the end. I'm thrilled I can finally repay you."
"That's all I needed."
Soft particles enveloped their bodies, a rapturous vortex of shimmering specks swirling around them. Amelia's body began absorbing everything flowing from the previous Merigold.
"Stop..."
Knowing it was futile.
Even with eyes shut and ears covered, the vivid memories assaulted him. Si-woo felt torment threatening to break him.
"I did it! Master! Look at me!"
The stigma transferred successfully. Amelia hopped joyfully, admiring the mana particles orbiting her. Awed by the mystical realm she'd never reach alone, she summoned her new power in her palm.
What caught her eye then was her master crumbling from fingertips like shattering glass.
In that instant, the stigma's inscribed knowledge and information fused in Amelia's mind. The succession rite she'd memorized blindly as an apprentice—beyond her grasp then—became "known facts" etched directly into her head.
"Ah..."
Her ecstatic face shattered in an instant, shorter than a heartbeat. A hollow, dull sigh spoke her shock.
"Amelia, I'm sorry I couldn't be honest."
Amelia crumpled to her knees. Tears streamed from wide, vacant eyes.
What followed were screams and wails near madness. Si-woo turned away, unable to watch.
"Master! Why... why didn't you tell me...! I thought... I thought once I became a witch... we'd be together forever..."
"Where there's meeting, there's parting. Oh, too cliché for a last word?"
"Coward... I can't accept it! This isn't right... You're a coward... Don't go... Please don't go..."
"Amelia, my beloved disciple, my daughter, my mirror. I'm so glad you carry the Merigold name."
"I don't need this name! Why... why wouldn't you even hear me out..."
"You're a warm child."
"No! I hate it...! Take it back... Without you, I'm... nothing...!"
She wept, tore at her hair, screamed, shook her head, prayed. But the cruel farewell marched on relentlessly.
"Live like a witch, like nobility. And..."
From behind came only a one-sided monologue. Then, the forest echoed with a witch's howls as she searched for her vanished master, who left not even a corpse.
3.
The incantation, also called a starter phrase, redefines amorphous mana into an image easily accepted by the caster's mind. One might call it a restructuring of consciousness.
For example, Si-woo's incantation "Bloom" came from how his liquefied mana at his fingertips vaporized like a flower blossoming—beautifully.
The reason Amelia's settled on "Cry" was likely because the pale wisps of dispersing mana looked so sorrowful, like flowing tears.