The Grand Mage Over a Thousand Years Old
The person standing before me was a grand mage who'd lived for over a thousand years.
Leaving my guitar at Garvan's workshop and spending those three days cooped up at home had felt longer than expected. I'd tried to dig a little deeper into this world's magic system during that time.
But self-study without a teacher or any guidebooks quickly hit a wall. My intuitive grasp of magic wasn't enough to unpack the interference patterns in complex mana circuits—my foundational knowledge was just too thin.
Sigh. Whatever. Better to perfect what I can do.
In the end, I shelved the magic research and focused on refining the one spell I knew well: my sound barrier. What if I performed at some noble's estate and the noise leaked out? I practiced casting it while playing the guitar, trimming away mana leaks and honing it to achieve perfect soundproofing with minimal power. Whenever I stepped out to grab food, the same eardrum-piercing racket greeted me. Seeing crowds cheer those shrill, grating screeches—like nails on a chalkboard—as "music" never failed to furrow my brow.
Will my music even register for people used to that?
Garvan's reaction when he first heard the guitar suggested the odds were low, but you never know. My pride as a composer and the nagging fear of the unknown twisted together in my head, tormenting me for those three days.
On the promised third day, I dragged my heavy feet to Garvan's workshop. The moment I opened the door, I couldn't believe my eyes.
"...Uncle, you got a hot date or something today?"
His grease-stained apron was gone, replaced by a navy suit that strained against his frame, buttons practically screaming. Even his bushy beard looked somewhat tamed.
"You brat! Show some respect! We're seeing a noble here—even if we're buddies, I can't just show up in my work clothes!"
Garvan flushed red and bellowed, but the ill-fitting suit was too comical to take seriously. Avoiding my mocking gaze, he pulled the guitar from the display shelf. He'd polished it meticulously over the days; its body gleamed so brightly it hurt to look at.
"I let her know. She said she's coming right away to witness the pinnacle of magitech that'll turn the world upside down."
"Whoa, you didn't have to brag that much...!"
"Brag? First time I've heard that in my life. C'mon, time to go."
Outside the workshop waited a lavish magic carriage draped in decadent purple curtains that hadn't been there before. I hesitated at the empty driver's seat, but Garvan shoved me in. The moment we climbed aboard, it glided forward silently—at an astonishing speed.
"Whoa... it moves on its own?"
"Where the hell did you grow up, kid? First magic carriage you've seen?"
"Uh, well... I don't go out much."
"Heh, even in the capital, top-tier ones like this are rare. Fair enough."
Garvan tsked sympathetically but let it slide. The carriage stopped at an unexpectedly modest mansion. I'd imagined a sprawling noble estate, but this was a quaint ivy-covered home, serene and quiet. Strangest of all, no servants in sight.
Stepping inside revealed a broom diligently sweeping the living room floor—all by itself.
"Wait, the carriage and the broom? They move on their own?"
I gawked at the broom's fluid motions, far smoother than any robot vacuum from my past life. Garvan snorted derisively.
"Kid, you're a mage yourself. What's with the shock?"
"...Even for magic, this is too precise. The owner must be no ordinary person, huh?"
Garvan scratched his head nonchalantly. "Oh, didn't I mention? This place belongs to a grand mage."
"...Huh? A grand mage?"
"Yeah. One of the empire's rare 1st Grade mages."
As I cautiously ventured deeper, a humanoid statue in the corner creaked to life and approached. An exquisitely crafted golem. It bowed silently and turned, gesturing for us to follow.
"Stick close. The place is laced with tangled wards—you'll loop forever without a guide. Uninvited guests never even reach the inner rooms."
I swallowed hard at Garvan's explanation. A true grand mage's home: one massive maze. Following the golem through labyrinthine halls, we arrived at a heavy oak door. Garvan halted confidently.
"Yo, we're coming in!"
Ignoring any reply, he flung the door open like always, his formal suit be damned. I trailed behind, tense as hell.
Wonder what the owner looks like...? Charismatic noble? Cranky old wizard?
My guesses missed spectacularly. Lounging on the sofa, idly reading a book, wasn't some dignified aristocrat or grouchy geezer. It was a tiny kid—smaller than me, with long black hair cascading to her waist.
"... ."
For a split second, I thought Garvan had the wrong room or this was the grand mage's granddaughter. Kneeling to her level, I pitched my voice soft and friendly. "Hi there, little one. Seen the lady of the house around?"
Garvan burst into uncontrollable laughter behind me. "Puhahaha! Khh, kkhahak! Hey, kid!"
"U-uncle? You'll scare her!"
As I whirled in confusion, the black-haired child set her book down and looked up. Beneath lazy, half-lidded lids gleamed platinum eyes, like molten moonlight, fixing on me.
"Hey, Garvaaan~ You didn't explain anything to her before coming~?"
Her voice—far too mature, laced with weary elegance—filled the room. Garvan wiped tears of laughter.
"This is the noble I mentioned: Grand Mage Luna von Estovan."
"...Huh?"
My brain short-circuited. Grand mage? This kid?
But the overwhelming mana radiating from her—like facing the silent abyss of the deep sea—told no lies.
"W-wait! Sorry! I had no idea, I didn't mean to—!"
I sprang up and bowed at ninety degrees. One wrong move, and my music revolution—and this world's life—could end right here.
Luna waved lazily, chuckling. "It's fine, it's fine~ Happens~"
"S-still, to offend a grand mage like that..."
"Grand mage? Too stuffy. Just call me Luna. No need for fancy talk. Keep it casual~"
She sank deeper into the sofa, stretching languidly like she truly didn't care. Luna von Estovan—the empire's grand mage and noble—peered at me with narrowed moonlit eyes.
"Anyway, you're an odd one~?"
She pointed at my hair with a fingertip.
"Silver hair, red eyes. Cecilia, right? Garvan told me. Got some vampire in the family tree~?"
"...Vampire?"
I blinked wide-eyed at the curveball. Luna smirked mysteriously, tilting her head.
"Yup~ Your mana flows so cool and pure. Rare for human mages. No midnight blood cravings~?"
"N-no! None in my ancestry, I'm sure."
Luna hummed thoughtfully—"Hmm~ Reaaally?"—then flashed a grin at giggling Garvan.
"Garvaaan~ I like her. Cute looks, cute reactions. Good pick."
"Told ya, Luna. I don't bring just anyone."
I narrowed my eyes at their banter. Uncle Garvan, all "noble etiquette" earlier, now bantering like old pals. And Luna just smiled like it was normal.
"...Uncle, quick question."
"Hm? Shoot, kid."
"Back at the workshop, you went on about respect for the empire's noble and dressed up in that tight suit. But you're total besties? Why not just come casual?"
He yanked at his tie, coughing awkwardly.
"L-listen! Personal friendship and public respect are different! She's basically my mentor—gotta show some artisan pride!"
"Aww~ Garvan, just admit you're scared I'll scold you if you don't dress up~?"
"Who said scared! It's respect, respect!"
Luna teased with squinted eyes; Garvan yelled back. Watching their back-and-forth melted my tension away.
"So, how do you two know each other, Luna...?"
Luna leaned into the sofa, drawling lazily. "Oh~ Back when Garvan was young and reckless, I looked after him. Helped him get his workshop, taught him how to infuse mana into his hammer swings. He was way more hopeless back then~"
I gaped at Garvan. Luna babysat his youth? Just how old was this loli grand mage...?
"...Huh? You mentored Uncle Garvan in his young days? So you're... how old...?"
Before I finished, Luna's platinum eyes chilled. In an instant, crushing mana—like freezing air—pinned my tiny body.
"Secret."
Her lips smiled, but her eyes didn't. She pressed a finger to them, whispering low.
"Bad habit to pry a lady's age, Ceciliaaa~?"
"...Sorry."
I bowed instantly. Garvan snickered beside me; Luna withdrew the pressure, reverting to her drowsy smile, and extended a hand.
"Anyway~ Enough intro. Let's see this amazing magitech Garvan raved about."
Her finger twitched; the guitar floated from my arms. She spun it telekinetically, then pouted in disappointment.
"Hmm~ Materials are top-notch. Frost spruce, abyss ebony... But no engraved circuits or special mechanisms? If I had to rate it... just a fancy wood toy~. Big letdown after the hype~."
Garvan chuckled knowingly, arms crossed. "Knew you'd say that. I thought the same at first. But Luna, you don't see it—you hear it. Better to experience than explain."
He clapped my shoulder.
"Kid, give her the real show. That 'music' you talked about."
I caught the guitar as it settled back into my arms, gripping it comfortably. Its body, scaled to my petite frame, hugged perfectly today. What I'd shown Garvan was just a single chord's echo.
But before me now was a mage over a thousand years old. Time to show how sounds connect and flow—not just harmony, but melody.
I took a deep breath, pressed the strings to the fretboard, and—like three days ago—lightly swept my right hand across them.