Phone Call
"Thanks to you, Mother's condition has improved a lot."
[Ahh~]
"She woke up at dawn today, you know. A woman who could barely move a single finger can now grip objects."
[Ahh~ Ahh~]
"I only heard about it from Neul, so I don't really understand how this was possible... but thank you, truly. I'll consider you a lifelong benefactor."
[Aaaah~ Aaaaaaah~ Press]
I hurriedly covered the Automaton's mouth.
"Sorry... it was just so amazing, I couldn't help it."
The mood had been serious, and I felt guilty for interrupting.
"Haha, no worries. I'm glad it likes it."
"I haven't had a chance to explain, but there's a semi-permanent Transmutation Circle left on her left arm. Did you see it, Oppa?"
"Yeah, I heard about it roughly. Couldn't see it because of the hospital gown."
"It's set up to work on a rechargeable system, so you need to inject at least 250kE to 300kE of mana daily. You can put in more, of course, but overcharging reduces efficiency, so consistency is key—don't skip a day."
"So how do you do this injection thing?"
"It's just like infusing mana into a magic circle. But the encryption key is unique to me, so I'll imprint it on your palm right now. There are two extras, so pass them on to Neul Oppa or Yuna the same way. Want to hold out your palm?"
"Like this?"
"Yes. It's not noticeable, so no issues with daily life—don't worry."
> Symmetric Key Transfer: Protocol ARIA
Semi-permanent Transmutation Circles were rare, but to prevent destruction or runaway by third parties, embedding an encryption procedure was essential, even if cumbersome.
"The circle's validity is set to one year. Even in the late stages of multiple sclerosis, she'll be fully cured within nine months, ten at the latest. If you skip mana injections for two weeks, it vanishes automatically, so come back to the hospital for a checkup around then and just leave it."
With that, everything was done.
"Thank you... thank you... Then next year for real..."
"Yes, walking might be a stretch, but she'll at least be able to stand on her own two feet."
"Sniff... This is... I can't believe it. The hospital said it was incurable... to give up, let her go, prepare our hearts... I could thank you a thousand times and it wouldn't be enough..."
It definitely wasn't an easy disease to cure. Even the 'Akashic Record,' which couldn't be commercialized and was only usable personally, cost over ten million won upfront. Plus a daily maintenance fee of 100,000 won—it wasn't simple.
Of course, for something close to an incurable illness, it was on the cheaper side.
But compared to pure despair, even a thread of hope was a hundred—no, a thousand times better.
Soon, Yuna's family would have days filled with smiles too.
"Don't skimp—get a medical capsule for home. I heard Neul Oppa nursed her all day. Affordable models are out now, so even if Mother's alone, it'll handle bedsores and rashes easily."
"True, with less medicine costs ahead, we'll have some spare cash."
"Yes, and have her practice moving in virtual reality beforehand."
"Got it. Neul and I will push a bit harder. Oh right, Yuna's probably up by now—want to call her? Last night when I sent her home at dawn, she threw such a fit about wanting to stay by your side."
"Haha, sure. Give me the number, and I'll call from my phone."
"Yuna's got a great academy friend. And... I heard what you said to Neul. It won't be easy, but we'll look after Yuna more from now on. But at the academy—"
"Don't worry. I'll make sure she has tons of good friends."
"No. One friend like you is a greater blessing than ten others. Stay close with our Yuna."
Semaloo left a Post-it with his home phone number.
A friend like me... I mulled over his parting words.
No, kids still need peers their age. Narrow relationships during prime social development years could be fatal.
Hanging out with someone like me wouldn't do her any good anyway.
Professor Cheon still not back?
He'd gone to buy abalone porridge, but no word.
Probably out catching abalone at the sea.
I turned on my phone and scanned the number onto the screen.
Some places still used landlines. A long, boring hold tone played. As the song looped back to the intro for the second time, urgent breathing hit my ear.
"Made it home safe?"
"Yeah, it's me."
A crash of tumbling sounds, then Yuna's indescribable alien language poured out. I muted the speaker briefly to save my eardrums, then unmuted.
"Sounds like you got home fine."
"If I weren't, would I be calling like this?"
"I told you I'm fine. You got home late last night, didn't you?"
"Must've been tired. Rest up this weekend."
"It's your birthday for once—aren't you bored alone at home?"
"Right, your big bro gave me this number. He gave me a gift too—ever heard of an Automaton?"
"Figured it'd help pass the time in the hospital. Practice some songs, and show me when we meet at school."
"I could discharge right now, but for Professor Cheon's sake, I'll stay one more day."
"My adoptive father."
"Gonna hang up then."
"Yeah?"
Yuna's urgent voice stopped me as I lowered the phone.
Her hesitant question dripped with tears.
Even at the last moment, Yuna couldn't shake her fear of abandonment.
"What are you talking about?"
"By the way, next week's 'Mana Infusion' practical is pairs, right? Let's do it together."
"I wanted steak, not abalone porridge."
"Meat on an empty stomach causes trouble. You like abalone porridge, don't you?"
Professor Cheon set out the takeout porridge on the table. He peeled off the plastic, checked the temperature, and microwaved it for 30 more seconds since it had cooled a bit.
"I don't eat pickled radish anymore."
"Why? Porridge alone would be bland, no?"
"Liked it as a kid, but now..."
I wondered how I'd eaten it back then. Rice with kimchi was a full meal; ramen broth made it perfect.
But long years away had changed my tastes irreversibly. Bread over rice, haricots verts over kimchi.
Still, I loved abalone porridge because abalone was such a luxury ingredient.
"Thanks for the meal."
Steam rose from the porridge as I added a pinch of sesame salt and a drop of sesame oil, stirring well. Left hand stirred the too-hot porridge to cool it just right; right hand picked up braised beef with chopsticks.
"Ow, salty!"
But delicious!
"Why'd you take so long, anyway?"
"Actually, I stopped somewhere to get you something. That's why I was late."
"A gift? Ah... I think I know."
"Heh, thought I hid it well, but you smelled it?"
"Crepe. Strawberry scent too."
"Your nose is a bloodhound now. Any leniency?"
What incredible sense. By life years alone, I'd lived longer, but experience couldn't be dismissed. Or maybe he'd always been like this—would've broken many hearts.
Sitting in the hospital room, chatting amiably, we looked like a close father-daughter duo.
Would've been nice to have a dad like this in my past life.
"I'll forgive you this once, Professor."
"Heh, thanks."
"Next time, it's two."
"Two?"
"Two crepes."
"So greedy. Eat up before the porridge cools."
"Yessir."
Warm rice grains tangled with finely chopped abalone, delivering perfect texture to my tongue. The braised beef's saltiness balanced the potentially bland porridge. I skipped the egg yolk—I hated it. Call it picky, but I was the patient here.
Mana exhaustion called for abalone porridge like nothing else.
Mana exhaustion was something ordinary folk might never experience. Common sense said magic circles needing more mana than the caster held would naturally decompose.
But workarounds abounded: simultaneous infusion and activation, or lowering the circle's entropy below bodily mana density to forcibly drain every drop.
Bad for the Aura Heart, hell on the heart—best avoided.
I'd used mana-efficient runes, not expecting shortage. Using magic on Yuna at school was the culprit.
Still, couldn't scrap the intricate Akashic Record for lack of mana. I poured every bit from my Aura Heart and blood to complete it in one go.
Dragging it out would've wasted micro-mana mid-cast.
Everything succeeded—truly fortunate.
Yeah.
No regrets.
Silvia, Remilia, Klaus. If only I'd saved you like this back then...
I murmured names that wouldn't return, of what I longed for. Bitterness clung to my mouth, unyielding.
To taste the sweet crepe, I'd better finish this porridge fast.