Magic That's Not Even Funny
That night. The forest path they walked was shrouded in silence, the crunch of grass underfoot echoing uncomfortably. Elizabeth's ragged breaths were the only faint spark of life in the quiet, but even they sounded precarious. Three hours on foot. Leo figured she couldn't last, so he borrowed a black horse from the relay station. Its eyes had a distant, broken look. Like something. Like me.
"…Get on. Your ankle hurts, right?"
He broached it carefully. He'd never heard his own voice sound so unfamiliar. Elizabeth looked up at him without a word. Then she silently took his hand and mounted. His arms wrapped around her with a faint tremor. It wasn't just muscle fatigue. He was holding her tight so she wouldn't fall—but he was clinging too, Leo himself.
He tapped the black horse's belly. It snorted and started down the path. Clop, clop. The forest silence thickened. But it wasn't peace. It was unspoken love and guilt, a mirror on the verge of shattering. A line was clearly drawn between them. Invisible, but sharper than anything to him. Even now, she's by my side, but she's already slipping away. That's what Leo felt. No, that's what he confessed. Silently, to himself.
Human bonds crumble more easily than you'd think. Like sandcastles on the beach, built by hand only to collapse at your feet. Eight years were no exception.
They didn't get home until much later. Elizabeth washed up wordlessly and retreated to her room. The door's click made his heart jolt. Leo headed to the kitchen. He gathered good ingredients and simmered the soup she loved. He even added herbs good for a sprained ankle. Carefully placing it on a tray, he stood before her door.
"Daughter… you need to eat dinner."
His voice trembled. His heart more so. He knew this bond was shattered. But he couldn't give up. He wanted to mend it somehow. Back to father and daughter.
"…."
No reply. But he knew. She wasn't asleep. Turn back? Push forward? If this night passed, it might really be irreversible. So he opened the door.
Creeeak. The eerie sound filled the room. Moonlight was blocked by the curtains. Only the desk lantern lit the space, and beneath its glow, Elizabeth quietly gazed at a single photo. The day she entered Lenz academy, at the entrance ceremony. They were both beaming.
Leo carefully set the tray in the desk's corner. He reached out, then stopped. He lacked the courage to touch her shoulder.
"Eli."
"…."
"…I'm sorry. For thinking your feelings were fake. I'm truly sorry. I… shouldn't have said that."
Sitting on the bed, he continued cautiously. The hidden story, the past even he couldn't face, spilled from his tongue.
"I told you before. How my parents beat me a lot."
"….."
"Mom was a whore, and she tried dragging me into it. So I ran away at thirteen. I wanted love, a normal family. But I didn't know how hard that was, how complicated the world is."
Elizabeth watched him quietly. What was in those eyes? Pity? Disgust? Or… sympathy?
"Then I met you. You were so precious. I didn't know how to love you. I was always messing up. I'm sorry. I'd never been loved myself—how was I supposed to know how to love you? It was so hard."
He looked up. Met Elizabeth's eyes. She was staring straight at him.
"But you know, Elizabeth. In the end, I fell in love. Whatever kind it is, I love you. I just… really love you. That's all."
With that, he quietly left the room.
A shattered routine. A heart crumbling in silence. It was all fragments spilling from broken people. No one was hurt, but everything was ruined. Without a sound, slowly.
After that day, Elizabeth couldn't read. Well, precisely, she could still open books, but the words wouldn't enter her mind. After the first line of a sentence, the next would slide off the page against her will. Riding the crowded streetcar to school, sitting in the library to open a book, entering the lecture hall to unfold her notes—it was all the same as before. But it felt like a transparent wall stood between her and the world. Thin and cold, impossible to touch no matter how she reached.
People still spoke to her. She nodded and replied, but their words were like wind over a desert—light, meaningless. Even her best friends Daisy and Beatrice were no different. Alone, she let out a wry chuckle. At herself. What a fool.You knew deep down it wouldn't work. You knew. She had. But she'd ignored it. Leo. What kind of man was he? He'd never accept his daughter's confession with a smile. She knew all that. So why now this shocked face?
That night. She sat at her desk. A law book lay open, but she hadn't advanced a single page. Things that once flowed easily now clogged like debris in a drain. She traced the desk with her fingertips. The wood's texture felt foreign. Leo had made it himself. He was handy with his hands. Silently carving, assembling, smoothing the surface. She loved that about him. Or rather, she loved those hands. Cold yet warm, rough yet gentle—the hands that did everything for her.
"But you know, Elizabeth. In the end, I fell in love. Whatever kind it is, I love you. I just… really love you. That's all."
Recalling his voice, she closed her eyes. Bit her lip. She hated him. But she couldn't even hate those words. She knew it was rejection. He was always like that. Hurting her, yet kind.
Knock knock.
The sound from beyond the door. Elizabeth rose slowly and opened it. No one. Just warm food and herbs. Hot soup, medicine, and a neatly folded handkerchief.
…It's him. Always. Rejecting, yet never letting go of the warmth. Pressing on her heart with kindness. Elizabeth looked down at the food with dry eyes. She set it on the desk and ate. Chewing and swallowing like a ritual. After, she returned the dishes to the kitchen. Then, as routine, pulled out a wine bottle. Uncorked it. The poured wine was red, clear, dangerously still. One glass. Two. Three. Wine trickled from her lips, down her throat, staining her chest. She wiped it quietly with the back of her hand. But the stain lingered, like an indelible emotion.
Her head grew heavy, her heart thudded irregularly. A familiar sensation. Terrifying because it was familiar. She extinguished the lantern. The room sank into darkness, and she lay on the bed. Wood grain patterns faintly wavered on the ceiling. Since that day, she slept in a different room from Leo. No more closing their eyes together, no more greeting mornings side by side.
…Is this normal? Is this how an adult daughter should act?
She asked herself, got no answer, and simply closed her eyes. I wanted his love. I polished myself, was careful, endured for it… but now even that meaning fades.Now… what do I live for?Don't think. Please, don't think. Elizabeth covered her eyes with her arm. Blocking emptiness instead of tears, clinging to sleep instead of loneliness. Thus, embracing a heart even she didn't recognize, she slowly drifted into dreamless slumber.
"…You okay?"
Beatrice asked. Elizabeth turned to her with hazy eyes.
"…Your ankle. Better?"
"Yeah. It's fine."
"…Really?"
"Really. Thanks for worrying."
Elizabeth smiled. That perfect smile men fell for. But her eyes held no warmth. Beatrice sensed something off, but not enough to pinpoint.
"Eli~! Betty~!"
Daisy approached waving. A thick grimoire tucked under her arm.
"You said you were talking to the professor—why'd it take so long?"
Beatrice grumbled.
"He explained parallel circuits way deeper than I thought."
Beatrice and Daisy were in the magic department. 3rd Circle and 4th Circle respectively—top talent among their peers. Elizabeth, in law, spent less time with them.
"Hey… Eli. Wanna take a look at this?"
Daisy handed something to the taciturn Elizabeth. A worn grimoire.
"What's that junk?"
Beatrice quipped. Blunt, but not wrong.
"It's not junk! Just… neglected in a corner, so it got worn."
"That's junk. And it's ancient script. Even professors can't read it—why give it to a total normie?"
"What's it to you? Eli likes this stuff. Right, Eli?"
Elizabeth nodded quietly. Took the worn grimoire.
"But can you? It's magic department stuff."
"Got permission from the librarian. They didn't even know it existed. Just return it in a week."
"Well, then…."
Beatrice glanced at Elizabeth. She was staring intently at the grimoire.
"You're weird too. Why like this when you don't know magic?"
Sometimes Elizabeth borrowed magic books through her friends. As a non-official mage, her studies had limits. She'd learned from Leo, but his were all combat spells. And now she was a 7th Circle mage. She needed higher-tier magic.
"…."
…Do I?Useless anyway.
That evening. Knock knock. The door rapped as always. She fetched the food, ate mechanically. Washed dishes in the kitchen, then drank wine. Brought the whole bottle to her room, set it on the desk. Her gaze fell on the grimoire. Worn and faded. With no expectations, she opened it. Arcane ancient script unfolded.
Magic history split into ancient and modern. From the founding emperor to about 1000 years ago, it was in ancient tongue. Then mages seeking reform rewrote it all in modern language. Many spells became accessible, but those only in ancient script were forgotten.
Elizabeth crossed her legs, reading impassively. She'd mastered ancient script long ago—no issues. The old tome brimmed with trivial spells: blooming flowers, inducing laughter, adjusting grass growth, making saliva tasty, and so on. No wonder the librarian forgot it. All useless.
Bored, her page-turning quickened. Stop. Her fingers halted. A line at the page top caught her eye.
-Spell to prolong male erection, spell to enhance libido.
She stared wordlessly. Her eyelids slowly lowered, then rose.
"…This counts as magic?"
A sigh escaped. Her lips twitched faintly, almost imperceptibly upward.
"…Not entirely useless."
Her face blank, she turned the page. Back to mechanical, emotionless.