Goodbye, Isabelle
A far-flung corner of the Floren Empire.
A tiny country village where a gentle breeze blew through every season, and nameless wildflowers blanketed the roadsides. The kind of ordinary place you'd have to hunt for even after marking it on a map.
And living there was a girl with cherry-blossom pink hair.
Her name was Isabelle.
Common-born. An unremarkable country girl with nothing special about her.
Her father was a commoner, and so was she. Her mother had passed away when she was very young; even her face lingered only as a faint memory.
And then—
One rainy day, a small child found in the forest.
Black hair. Features so clean-cut they were almost strange. And a calm gaze that didn't belong on a child.
The first time she saw him, she honestly thought:
...Is this kid really a commoner?
She could have believed he was some young master a noble house had misplaced.
But Isabelle knew better.
Absolutely not. A noble young master does not vanish mid-shift from a potato field. A noble young master does not cram three potatoes into his mouth at dinner and chew.
And more than anything—
"I told you never to go near the forest."
"I really didn't go, okay?"
"Is that so."
Isabelle narrowed her eyes and pointed at Rowoon's head.
"Then what's that leaf stuck in your hair?"
"...The wind kindly put it there."
"The wind?"
"Yeah. Wind service has gotten a lot better lately."
"..."
Isabelle quietly sighed. Sometimes this little brat seemed to get scolded on purpose.
"And."
Her gaze dropped lower.
"What about these boar tracks on your shoes?"
"..."
"Was that the wind too?"
"...The wind was a little rough today."
"Rowoon."
"Yeah."
"You're messing with me right now, aren't you?"
"...A little?"
He would never, under any circumstances, sass his heavenly older sister.
He hadn't been this kind of child when they first brought him home. He flinched whenever anyone came close, and overreacted to the smallest sounds. There were plenty of nights he woke from nightmares.
So Isabelle had thought: This kid has clearly been through a lot.
We'll take care of him slowly, Father and I. Feed him, spend time with him, teach him how to smile little by little. That was the plan.
Except—
His adaptability was far too good. Really, far too good.
Tell him not to go into the forest, and he'd come walking out of it. Tell him not to go near the stream, and he'd bring back fish.
Send him to work the fields, and instead of digging potatoes he'd be playing with rabbits. Send him on an errand, and he'd come back with some weird mushroom. And when she tried to scold him—
"Noona."
"What."
"There's a beautiful value in this world called forgiveness, you know?"
"..."
"Family should understand each other."
"..."
"And wrap each other in lo—"
"Rowoon."
"Yeah?"
"Be quiet."
"...Yes."
How those words came out of a ten-year-old's mouth, she sometimes truly could not understand.
"...Hah."
Isabelle let out a laugh-tinged sigh as she hung the laundry. The sun was good; it would dry quickly.
It was a peaceful village day. Children's laughter carried from far off, and the neighbor lady waved over the fence.
"Isabelle!"
"Yes?"
"Did Rowoon stay out of trouble today?"
"...Not yet."
"What do you mean, not yet?"
"...I feel like he's about to."
"Pff—!"
The neighbor lady finally burst out laughing.
"That boy really can't go a single day without making noise, can he?"
"...I know."
Isabelle smiled a little too. Honestly, she couldn't deny it.
Rowoon was a genuine troublemaker. And yet, strangely—
On the days he stayed quiet from morning to night, she felt more uneasy than ever.
...Why is it so quiet?
Don't tell me he went into the forest again?
What is he going to bring back this time?
Thoughts like that would start running through her head.
"...Has it already been a year?"
That rainy day. A full year since they'd brought home the child collapsed in the forest.
She had turned fifteen somewhere along the way. Rowoon had turned ten.
Time really did fly.
And then—
—Kyahahaha!
—Kyarrurk!
"...?"
Unfamiliar laughter drifted over.
Isabelle lifted her head. But there was no one around.
"..."
A moment of silence. And then—
"Hah..."
She pressed a hand to her forehead.
"Is Rowoon giving me auditory hallucinations now?"
Muttering that, she glanced absently toward the potato field—and froze.
"...Huh?"
Rowoon wasn't there.
Instead—
Two little water droplets were floating in midair.
—Kyahaha!
—Look at us! She's looking at us!
—Fun human! Lively human!
And below them, a man sat slumped on the dirt.
Gasping for breath, he wore a robe that looked like something the mages in her books used to wear.
Spirits.
What, exactly, is a spirit?
Beings whose power even a chosen human might barely borrow after a lifetime of devotion. Nature itself—transcendent life forms that have walked this world far longer than humanity.
Which is why countless mages studied spirits, and poured their entire lives into obtaining that power.
And among them was a man more obsessed with spirits than anyone else.
Oswald Crecion. Professor at Astel Imperial Academy. The empire's foremost authority on Spirit Studies.
From his youth, he had spent decades researching nothing but spirits. He had memorized not only the achievements of every great spirit mage recorded in history, but which spirits each of them had contracted with.
And there was one fact Oswald believed more firmly than anyone:
Spirits do not like humans.
Even the most gifted spirit mage almost never has a spirit approach them first. You plead. You coax. Sometimes you wait years before they finally open their hearts.
Even the great spirit mages whose names lived on in history never fully commanded their spirits. More often, they were the ones being led around by them.
That was common sense.
And yet—
"...Impossible."
Oswald muttered without realizing it. Cold sweat slid down his gleaming bald head. The scene unfolding before his eyes simply would not compute.
Water spirits. Beings that ordinarily barely showed themselves to humans at all—were circling a single girl, laughing with pure delight.
—Kyarrurk!
—Human with good energy!
—Play with us again!
—Keep playing with us forever!
"..."
Oswald couldn't close his mouth. The spirits were approaching first. The spirits were speaking first.
And—
They're clinging to her.
The spirits were stuck to the girl. It didn't look like the way they treated a contractor.
It looked like the way you look at a friend you've spent a long time with. No—
Like something even closer than that.
This was almost like... courtship, wasn't it...!!!
This wasn't simply a high affinity for nature.
Something far above that. A talent for being loved by spirits.
Oswald had spent his whole life studying spirits, and he had never once witnessed a sight like this.
"..."
His hands trembled.
Coming all the way out to a backwater village for this survey—he hadn't expected much at first. Just a visit to confirm a slim possibility that water spirits might be present.
But the girl in front of him now had blown every one of those expectations apart.
If his judgment was correct—
This child was no ordinary talent.
She was someone who would rewrite the history of Astel Imperial Academy.
No. A prodigy the entire empire needed to pay attention to.
A child like this.
I can't leave her in this tiny village.
Oswald's eyes changed.
"I have to bring her."
The words slipped out soft. But he immediately shook his head.
No. Even "bring her" was too weak. He had to escort her there by any means necessary.
Oswald frantically searched his robes and pulled out a small orb-shaped magic tool—a direct communication device linked straight to the headmaster.
A matter of this magnitude couldn't be decided on his judgment alone. As mana flowed from his trembling fingertips, the orb glowed faintly.
A moment later, the connection went through.
Oswald opened his mouth without even catching his breath.
"Headmaster."
Excitement he couldn't hide bled into his voice.
"I've found her."
Oswald looked at the girl before him. The small girl laughing with the water spirits.
Watching her, he was certain.
"The child who will change history."
After cutting the call, Oswald went straight to the girl.
This wasn't a request. The academy's future hung on it.
"E-excuse me!"
Hurrying over, he carefully opened his mouth.
"Might I ask your name...!"
"...So I've decided to go. The academy said they'll send a carriage themselves, and they'll cover all the money and living expenses I need while I'm there."
Isabelle carefully continued. On any other day she would have said it with a bright, steady smile—but today was different.
As if she were only now truly feeling that she was leaving.
"I see..."
Lawrence answered quietly.
He tried to smile warmly the way he always did, but it wasn't easy. She had been alone since she was little.
After losing his wife, he had somehow kept going with one small daughter in his arms. He'd been a clumsy father, but he had wanted to raise this child without letting her want for anything.
And then, at some point—the daughter he thought he'd hold close for the rest of his life was preparing to step out into the world.
"Isabelle..."
Lawrence forced a smile.
"You've grown so much."
At those words, the corners of Isabelle's eyes went red.
"Why are you crying, Dad..."
She couldn't hold it in either, wiping at her tears.
"You're making me cry too..."
"No, this is... happiness."
Lawrence shook his head with a smile.
"Because you've finally found your path."
But the end of his voice trembled a little.
He was happy. Truly happy.
That his daughter was entering the finest educational institution in the empire. And yet at the same time—
The face he saw every morning. The meals they shared. The laughter that used to race through the house. The thought of all of it vanishing left a hollow spot in his chest.
"...Still."
Lawrence stroked Isabelle's hair.
"Take care of yourself."
"Yes."
"Make sure you eat properly."
"Yes."
"If something's hard, don't bear it alone."
"...Yes."
"And."
Lawrence paused for a moment.
"Write to your dad once in a while, too."
"..."
Isabelle finally broke into tears.
"Dad..."
For a long while, Isabelle couldn't pull herself out of Lawrence's arms. Watching them, I quietly turned my head away.
A touching family moment. Great.
The problem was—
It was running a little long.
I picked up a potato and thought:
Isn't it about my turn?
And then—
"Rowoon."
Isabelle called me.
"Yeah?"
"Come here."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why."
Isabelle said it like it was obvious.
"I have to nag you one last time."
"..."
Of course. Right to the end. I sighed and walked over to her anyway.
"Don't go into the forest alone."
"Yes."
"Don't pick up dangerous things and bring them home."
"Yes."
"Don't follow strangers."
"I'm not a little kid."
"Sometimes I feel like you are, though?"
"..."
I couldn't argue. Isabelle snorted a laugh.
"And."
A moment later, her face turned a little more serious.
"Rowoon."
"Yeah?"
"You're not alone anymore."
At those words, I paused for a second. And then—
"...Noona."
"Yeah?"
"Did you eat a whole tub of butter too?"
"..."
Dead silence. And then—
"You little—"
Isabelle raised her hand.
"Still."
I smiled a little as I said it.
"Have a good trip, Noona."
I'll be right behind you soon anyway, but whatever.
Isabelle blinked for a moment. And then she smiled, warm and soft.
"Okay."
"You take care too, Rowoon."
"Yes."
"And."
"There's more?"
"Don't go into the forest."
"..."
"I mean it this time."
"Don't you ever get tired of that?"
"Rowoon."
"I'm kidding."
Good.
Just like the original. I quietly clenched a fist inside.
I'd been a little worried the professor might somehow miss Noona's talent—but thankfully, the story was flowing exactly the way I remembered.
Nice. Variable Response Protocols 1 through 120: all deleted.
I cheerfully chucked the mountain of plans I'd stockpiled in my head straight into the trash.
Now only one thing left.
Getting myself into the academy too.
"So... when is Isabelle leaving?"
Lawrence asked carefully.
"Ah, well..."
Isabelle hesitated a moment, then spoke.
"I think I have to leave the day after tomorrow."
"The day after tomorrow?"
"Yes."
She looked a little apologetic.
"The academy said they'll run basic education before the entrance ceremony."
"Basic education?"
"Yes. Since I'm common-born... they said I need to learn things noble students already know—etiquette, history, that sort of thing—in advance."
Lawrence nodded.
"I see."
He felt a little regret, but he understood. The academy was the finest educational institution in the empire.
Surviving there would take preparation.
"Learn well while you're there."
"Yes."
"And don't push yourself too hard."
"Yes, Dad."
I listened quietly to the conversation. And thought to myself:
Good.
Isabelle's departure date was locked in. Now it was my turn to move.
Geukwang said she'd at least let me take the entrance exam.
The Astel Imperial Academy entrance exam. Honestly, the test itself didn't worry me much.
It's a kids' exam.
Compared to the survival trials I went through in the Tower... isn't this basically a field trip?
In the Tower, fail the exam and you get processed as dead on the spot!
Plus I already know the original story. The real problem was something else.
How well do I have to do to look natural?
Upper ranks, casually? Or top of the class?
Hide my strength too much and I might not even get in.
But stand out too much?
That's its own kind of trouble.
Hmm. Tough call.
...Wait.
Top of the class?
If I enroll as the top student—
Don't they make the freshman representative give a speech or something?
A scene flashed through my head. Hundreds of new students. The professors. And in the front row, Isabelle staring straight at me.
...Huh?
Why is Rowoon here?
That face, frozen solid.
And me—standing proudly on the podium.
That concludes the freshman representative address. Lee Rowoon.
Oh man.
That would be so good.
I cannot pass this up!!!