One Year Later, the Grand Duchess Had Grown Too Well
One year ago, Ivelin Arkenheim couldn’t even light a single candle properly.
To be precise, her attempt to light one candle had nearly frozen an entire verification hall. To the Magic Tower professor, that was failure. To me, it was potential.
And now, one year later.
Ivelin Arkenheim smiled brightly and declared,
Behind her, half of the Northern Grand Duchy’s Third Training Ground lay beautifully frozen solid.
I remained silent for a moment.
In the center of the training ground bloomed an enormous ice flower. Frost had spread across the stone floor in a perfect circle, and five training dummies stood rigid like ice sculptures. At least the outer walls were intact. The fact that I considered that a relief disgusted me. They say humans are creatures of adaptation; in just one year, my standards had plummeted this far.
“Your Highness.”
“Yes, Master?”
Ivelin’s response, at least, was impeccably obedient.
Her long white hair fluttered gently in the training ground’s breeze, and her small frame—under 160cm—seemed half-swallowed by her oversized blue cloak. The girl who once lowered her head before others’ gazes now sparkled with pride as she showed off her results.
She had become cheerful.
She smiled often now.
She talked much more.
And her desire to be praised by her master had, over the course of a year, grown in a rather unhealthy direction.
“At this point, the standard size of a training ground is no longer sufficient to define what ‘holding back’ means for Your Highness.”
Ivelin glanced behind her.
The frozen dummies.
The half-frosted defensive walls.
The three knights standing in the corner holding shovels.
She tilted her head with genuine seriousness.
“But the walls are still fine, aren’t they?”
“You are the only 5th-circle disciple in existence who uses the outer walls as a benchmark.”
“Does that mean I’m the most special among all 5th-circle disciples?”
“No. It means my insides are burning away.”
Ivelin laughed.
Her laughter was so pure and bright that, for a brief moment, I felt guilty for worrying about the training ground’s repair budget. Only a moment. Then one of the frozen dummies finally gave up and toppled sideways.
Boom!
All three knights flinched at once.
I quietly pressed my fingers to my forehead.
“Your Highness.”
“Yes?”
“In today’s training log, I will record this not as ‘successful output control’ but as ‘no damage to the outer walls.’”
“Isn’t that still a success?”
“By northern standards, it probably is.”
“Then what about your standards, Master?”
Ivelin crept a little closer.
Smiling face.
Sparkling eyes.
Like someone who already knew the answer but wanted confirmation anyway.
A year ago, this girl had timidly asked, “Can’t you just tell me I did well?” Now it was different. She no longer begged outright. Instead, she radiated expectation with her entire being. One could call it the evolved form of praise-seeking—moving from direct begging to silent pressure.
I turned my head to look at the frozen training ground once more.
“By my standards…”
Ivelin’s eyes sparkled even brighter.
“It’s pending.”
“Pending?”
“Praise loses its value if given too often.”
Shock spread across Ivelin’s face.
It looked as if her world had collapsed.
The walls hadn’t collapsed, but my disciple’s expression had. For a second I wondered which one I should deal with first.
“That’s too mean.”
“Your Highness, you received praise this morning as well.”
“That was just you saying my braid looked neat.”
“Clear vision during lessons is important.”
“That wasn’t praise. That was an inspection.”
When had she become so good at talking back?
The answer was obvious.
Over the past year.
In the first month, Ivelin learned how to maintain a spark of light at her fingertips.
Even then, after creating a single light she would hold her breath. Afraid it would vanish. Afraid someone would pretend not to see it. Afraid she would once again be called a failure.
By the third month, she had reached 2nd-circle without freezing an entire room.
By the sixth month, her 3rd-circle magic brought the first frost to the training ground. At the time, the northern knights tried to insist it was mere condensation. It seemed they needed time to accept that the Grand Duke’s daughter could truly use magic.
By the ninth month, Ivelin had reached 4th-circle.
That day, Ludwig Arkenheim silently doubled the training ground reinforcement budget.
And at the one-year mark.
Ivelin Arkenheim had become a 5th-circle mage.
She had never been a child who failed due to lack of mana. From the beginning, her mana had simply been too vast, shattering every standard formula that tried to contain it. Teor Reinfeld’s correction formulas had carved a path for that power. The Northern Grand Duchy’s resources had provided the materials to rebuild that path every time it collapsed.
And Ivelin herself was a genius.
It hadn’t taken long to acknowledge that fact.
The problem was that the genius was far too diligent.
Ivelin trotted over to my side.
“Master! Master!”
The expression was a little odd for a fully grown adult Grand Duchess, yet she really did trot after me. Perhaps because of her small stature and light steps. Or perhaps because I still saw her only as my disciple. Either way, Ivelin approached with the quick, skipping gait that seemed entirely unfit for a 5th-circle mage.
“You’re not going to scold me today?”
“I’m currently searching for a reason to do so.”
“So that means there isn’t one?”
“Your Highness has greatly improved at interpreting gaps in logic.”
Ivelin took those words as praise and beamed.
Her ability to interpret her master’s words in whatever way suited her best had also grown considerably over the year. It seemed to be progressing faster than her magic, which was slightly terrifying.
Just then, one of the knights in the corner of the training ground slipped while trying to lift a frozen dummy. His armor clattered loudly.
Clang!
Ivelin flinched in surprise.
“Oh— Should I help you?”
All three knights shook their heads at once.
“We’re fine, Your Highness!”
“We’ll handle it!”
“Please rest!”
I nodded silently in approval.
“Your Highness. Let us respect the northern knights’ spirit of self-reliance.”
“If I helped, it would be finished much faster.”
“It would probably finish the training ground much faster too. The Third Training Ground would likely be closed as of today.”
Ivelin pouted.
“Master, sometimes you see me as too dangerous.”
I looked back and forth between the frozen dummies and the frosted defensive walls.
“I don’t think it’s only sometimes.”
“Then often?”
“The educational term would be ‘consistently.’”
A smile bloomed on Ivelin’s face again. The atmosphere brightened. It was incomparably warmer than before.
“Who cares! Father will just build it again!”
“……”
The girl who had trembled at her fingertips in the verification hall one year ago could now freeze an entire training ground and still laugh. She had learned not only how to use magic, but how to smile as well.
And every single one of those changes was directed toward me.
That was the problem.
“Today’s training ends here.”
“Already?”
“Your Highness. You have operated 5th-circle freezing magic three times in succession, frozen an entire layer of the defensive wall, and even caused the knights’ shovel concealment incident. That is more than enough for one day.”
“Then what about this afternoon?”
“Personal research.”
Ivelin’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m a person too.”
“You are not the subject of my research, Your Highness.”
“Then I’m your one and only disciple. Shouldn’t you be researching me?”
“No.”
Beside us, Karen Wald let out a low cough. It was clearly an attempt to hide his laughter. Over the past year, even the Knight Commander of the North had changed a great deal. He had begun as someone assigned to monitor me, but now he had become the type who quietly watched in amusement whenever Ivelin cornered me with her absurd logic.
“Your Highness. This afternoon I truly must conduct research alone.”
Ivelin pouted again.
“Can’t I help with that research?”
“You can.”
Her face brightened.
I quickly added,
“That’s precisely why it’s dangerous. Whenever Your Highness helps, the scope of my research keeps expanding to continental scale.”
“I don’t go that far.”
“Last week you said you would only use one room, yet you ended up projecting an aurora across the annex roof.”
“It was pretty, though.”
“It was pretty. The problem was that His Grace mistook it for an enemy invasion signal.”
Ivelin averted her gaze for a moment.
“Father did say later that it was pretty.”
“Only after his heart had stabilized, I imagine.”
She finally burst into laughter.
Watching that laughter, I thought once again.
It had taken a full year to bring her this far. But the true ordeal was only just beginning.
I had to ensure she would not meet a tragic end even without me.
As soon as I returned to my study, I opened Ivelin’s growth records.
The first page of the document detailed the verification hall incident from one year ago.
— Magic Tower Final Failure Judgment
— Suspected Mana Circuit Dysfunction
— Teor Reinfeld’s Counterargument
— Over-Resonance Type Mana Circuit Hypothesis
— First Correction Formula Reaction Confirmed
Below that, the records for the past year were densely packed.
1st-circle stabilization.
2nd-circle entry.
Partial operation of 3rd-circle combat formulas.
4th-circle wide-area control.
And the present.
— Reached 5th-circle.
— Stabilization of dedicated 3-stage correction formula.
— Increased independent operation time.
— Sharp output increase during emotional agitation.
— High dependence on Teor Reinfeld.
My pen stopped at the final line.
High dependence.
That was an extremely polite way of putting it.
To be exact, it read like this:
— Concentration drops when Master is absent.
— Question volume increases when Master speaks with other mages for long periods.
— When Master appears tired, excessive mana operation occurs under the claim of “I’ll do it better.”
— Facial expression stiffens when the possibility of Master leaving is mentioned.
What might be more dangerous than Ivelin’s mana was perhaps the direction of her heart.
I wrote on a new record sheet.
Ivelin Arkenheim can now operate some 5th-circle magic without me.
Next goal: independent operation.
Once independent operation is stabilized, I will leave the North.
The tip of my pen stopped at the final sentence.
Leave.
Just one year ago, that word had been part of a survival plan. Escape the Northern Grand Duchy, distance myself from the original story’s final boss, and somehow survive for as long as possible.
Now it felt a little different.
I had grown fond of Ivelin.
That was undeniable. As her master. As the first person I had taken proper responsibility for. Watching the girl who once trembled beneath the label of “failure” now stand on her own two feet had moved my heart far more than I had expected.
Which was precisely why I had to leave.
Ivelin must not build her world around me.
She must not collapse under the word “failure” even without me. She must not waver beneath the label the Magic Tower had stuck on her. She must learn to wield her own mana as her own.
That was a master’s role.
And honestly, I needed to find my own life as well.
The Teor Reinfeld of this world was a 7th-circle mage. And in my hands lay correction formulas that the existing Magic Tower could not comprehend.
After completing my disciple, I wanted to complete my own magic.
The year I had spent here with Ivelin had changed even me—the master who taught her.
If I could reach the pinnacle of magic—the 9th-circle—perhaps I might find a clue to returning to the modern world. It was still nothing more than a vague hypothesis, but I had to grasp even that faint possibility.
9th-circle Archmage. That was my goal now.
At that moment, the door opened.
It was Karen.
“Sir Teor. An official document has arrived from the Magic Tower.”
“The Magic Tower?”
Not good.
The mere mention of the Magic Tower always brought on a headache.
I took the document and unfolded it.
The meticulously polished prose only heightened my aversion. Nobles and mages alike were skilled at hiding their blades behind flowery rhetoric even as they stabbed their enemies.
The Magic Tower Inspection Bureau wishes to verify the records of Grand Duchess Ivelin Arkenheim’s abnormal growth.
One year after the mana circuit dysfunction verdict, reports have been received that the subject has reached the level of 5th-circle magic operation.
Accordingly, an inspection team from the Magic Tower will be dispatched to the Northern Grand Duchy.
The subjects of inspection shall include Grand Duchess Ivelin Arkenheim and the full range of correction formulas developed by her exclusive master, Teor Reinfeld.
I set the document down.
They had finally come.
It wasn’t as if the Magic Tower had been completely silent for the past year. Bermann’s reports had continued to rise, and records from the Northern Grand Duchy’s training grounds must have leaked somehow. Ludwig had simply blocked external verification under the pretext of a “stabilization period.”
But now Ivelin had reached 5th-circle.
The Magic Tower could no longer afford to simply write reports.
“When are they scheduled to arrive?”
“In three days.”
“That’s fast.”
“It seems they were already nearby.”
That was just like the Magic Tower. Behind their polite greetings, a blade had already slipped into the inner sanctum.
“Who is leading the inspection team?”
Karen handed me another document.
A single name was written there.
Serpin Astra.
Member of the Magic Tower Inspection Bureau.
6th-circle high mage.
Magic formula appraiser.
I muttered under my breath.
“Astra…”
“Do you know the name?”
“Famous in the Magic Tower for having good eyes. The problem is that people with good eyes don’t necessarily only look at good things.”
Karen nodded in understanding.
“Should I inform Her Highness as well?”
“I will tell her myself.”
A small sound came from outside the door.
It had been faint, but it rang clearly in my ears. Karen had noticed it too.
A single strand of white hair peeked through the gap beneath the door before vanishing.
“Your Highness.”
Only silence lingered beyond the door.
“Please come in.”
After a brief pause, the door opened very slowly.
Ivelin stood there.
Her expression was not as bright as usual. In her hands she held the magic notebook I had lent her earlier. She must have come to ask a question and overheard our conversation.
“Master.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Is the Magic Tower coming?”
“Yes.”
“Because of me?”
“It is less a matter of Your Highness personally, and more the pathetic behavior of an arrogant Magic Tower that refuses to acknowledge its own mistakes.”
Ivelin did not smile.
Her gaze fell on the record sheet on the desk.
Specifically, on the final sentence.
— Once independent operation is stabilized, I will leave the North.
Ah… damn it.
Ivelin’s pupils trembled, unable to find their focus.
Her voice had sunk low.
“Master…”
Karen quietly lowered his eyes.
The air inside the study grew a little colder.
Ivelin did not cry.
She did not lower her head like she once had.
She simply looked straight at me. Not as the girl once called a failure, but as the 5th-circle mage Ivelin Arkenheim. Yet deep within those eyes still remained the child who had trembled at her fingertips that day in the verification hall.
“What does ‘preparing to leave’ mean?”
