Confessions on the Way Home
One of the reasons I was positively considering enrolling at Seferon Academy was that academy students received mana tax reductions and exemptions even off-campus. The special tax deduction for 2nd Circle magic included not just the near-lowest income bracket, but also academy faculty and students.
Even minor spells had been choking me with bills of ten thousand won or a hundred thousand piling up. Just as our ancestors couldn't imagine a time when we'd have to buy water to drink, I kept forgetting that every time I used magic, it cost money. At this rate, wouldn't they start charging for the air we breathe in the future? I'd been paying Professor Cheon for the potion costs myself, keeping the mana taxes a secret from him too—it felt too childish to ask him to cover those on top. Of course, I planned to repay that outstanding 120,000 won someday once I had the money.
Magic's five stages: recording, injection, activation, storage, casting. Taxes are levied at the 'storage' stage. Once the transmutation circle activates, national protocols immediately transmit the location and phase data of the injected mana to the nearest mana power plant. The plant, holding refined mana reserves, substitutes an equivalent amount and casts the spell on your behalf. That's the modern magic system.
I'd tried old-school magic without storage once, but activating without it was nearly impossible. Without tools like Professor Cheon's wand—a portable transmutation circle writer—or specialized mana-concentrating circuits, magic wouldn't function properly. Rough calculations suggested forcing a 6th Circle Hellfire without storage would yield just enough firepower to light a cigarette. I hadn't actually tested a 6th Circle spell, though. If it went off for real, mana exhaustion would sideline me for months.
So, while at school, I planned to research various spells and maybe find a cure for my mana addiction. But according to Manager Kim, portable mana detectors observed mana wavelengths in real-time. The part about pinpointing the caster if they wanted especially gave me chills back then. I'd thought the system was sloppy—just verbal warnings against unauthorized magic use with no real enforcement. But of course the academy had solid countermeasures. They respected students' autonomy, but not without accountability.
In that sense, I was lucky to get a pass. Though honestly, since I'd used it for Yuna, I was ready to pay up even if billed.
On the other hand, I noted that the 2nd Circle Tissue Regeneration I'd used on Yuna before hadn't triggered detection. In contrast, today's 4th Circle Irreversible Reduction had been caught without fail, suggesting a specific detection threshold. Manager Kim didn't seem the type to look the other way knowingly.
Should I just risk getting caught a couple more times for experiments? Nah, that might lead to tightened detection rules, making secret casting impossible altogether. Table it for now.
"Got something to say?"
I called back to Yuna, trudging far behind me. She jumped, surprised I'd spoken first. Her constant sighing was getting on my nerves. I slowed my pace to match hers.
"Come here."
Seo Yu-na was such a pitiful kid. Normally like a cat with claws out, but now she looked like a puppy that'd messed up. Her red hair usually reminded me of that infuriating hero-party mage, Remilia Asephite, heating my blood—but I set that aside for now.
"You... you..."
Yuna's words caught in her throat, trailing off. She tried playing it cool, but her eyes trembled fiercely.
"On your way home?"
"Huh? Y-yeah."
"Let's go together."
We walked the main road in silence for a while. The future didn't look much different from my first life's era. Old apartments that could've been built in the early 2000s dotted the landscape, cars still rolled on wheels instead of flying. But outdoor ads beaming from the sky without screens, or public transit running driverless? Technology advanced asymmetrically, alright.
"I'm late today, so my little bro'll worry. I'll just bus it. The potion... I'll repay you as soon as I can. Sorry."
Yuna spotted an approaching bus and said goodbye. My hovering probably made her uncomfortable. I'd planned to walk her home if needed, but if she didn't want it...
"Huh? That can't be..."
Yuna's face fell in embarrassment. She fumbled open her bag, checked her wallet—only a lonely 500-won coin tumbled out, bouncing down the bus steps toward me. Public transit didn't take cash anyway.
I boarded with her and handed over coins.
"Two people."
"Let's go."
Perfect timing. I had things to discuss about today; sitting comfortably en route would be ideal.
"Why'd you pay for me?"
"Quit whining and get on. Bus is empty. Back seat."
Doors shut with a honk, and we lurched off. AI drivers were as impatient as ever. I took Yuna's hand—standing was risky—and we claimed the rear window seat.
"How long from here to your place?"
"About 20 minutes. I don't bus much, so... not sure."
"Got it."
"..."
Even after the stop, she'd trek back alleys awhile. Saving 1,050 won on bus fare meant 45 minutes walking? Round trip: an hour and a half.
"Why're you being so nice to me?"
Yuna blurted gruffly.
"That's your opener after all that brooding? Do I annoy you, Yuna?"
"No! Not like that!"
"Then?"
"Being with me wastes your time..."
"Doesn't at all."
"I'm unpopular, boring, always saying mean stuff—everyone hates me."
"They don't. I like you, wanna be friends. Your turn: do you like me?"
"D-don't know."
"I'll wait till you answer."
I stopped her turning away, locking eyes. Handling negative, dishonest kids was simple: corner them till they faced their feelings. Brains seem like tidy logic circuits, but they're messy spaghetti code. People often don't even realize their emotions or thoughts. Can't explain why they're sad or mad, or pinpoint the cause. That's why we must learn to confront them properly—or end up broken like Klaus, Silvia, or Remilia.
"I... academy's so hard. Stay up late, wake early for school. Yesterday, slipped on hill stairs, twisted ankle but kept walking. No one in class talks to me. No friend to tell I'm hurt."
"That limp during dodgeball last PE? Ankle sprain?"
"Yeah... And at first, I didn't like you, Nami. When Se-ri bragged about you, or you acted close with Si-hu—it bugged me."
"Why?"
"'Cause... I wanted to be friends with them too. But they like Nami. You're pretty, cute, smart, mature. Of course. It's obvious... sob... made me so jealous. Wanted to be like you, grabbed and ate that potion without knowing... You're mad at me... sob... hic. But you're fine now. You're sorry... and I like you so much."
Yuna spilled her heart, relieved. Yeah, how much do you like me? Almost missed you're such a crybaby, hiding it all. I wiped her endless tears with my thumb mid-sentence; now the faucet was busted.
"Ate the potion... hic... so... sorry. I really didn't know. Won't die because of me, right?"
"What's so sad? Die? What're you on about."
I hugged her to calm her. My tiny frame strained with her small one, but it let her cry freely.
"Hic... heard you earlier. Terminal illness. Means dying soon?"
"Who said that?"
"School main building, scary-looking uncle."
"He said that? Misunderstanding. I won't die, no worries. Keep drinking potion, I'll recover."
"Th-that... waaah means always sick."
Guessing from her bad potion experience, I explained calmly.
"Potions aren't gulped straight—mix lightly with air. Tried wasabi?"
"Yeah... first grade lunch once."
"How was it?"
"Burned like hell. Head hurt."
"Mixed with soy?"
"Fine."
"Same principle. Got it?"
I'd survived worse mana addiction; daily side-effect-free potions were cute. Magic research might uncover a cure anyway. I got her worry.
"Mom's sick too... sob... terrified you'd be terminal. Thought I messed up again... always troubling everyone."
"Mom's quite ill? In hospital?"
"No, home. While I'm at academy, little bro checks on her... not sure. What if I come home and she's gone? Terrifying thought daily. Can't see, can't move alone. My fault. Mom's sick because of me. I'm a bad kid. Bad kid."
Couldn't pry deeper. Telling endless self-blamer to stop changes nothing. Outsiders should hold back—but my personality wouldn't allow it.
"Yuna. Introduced your friends to Mom?"
"Why...? Never. No one wants to visit."
"Can I come over? Call it even for today."