First Time, Huh?
Was this the first time?
The mood was pretty good.
While Perdikion remained oblivious, the Imugi’s eyes briefly sparkled.
Speaking of which, controlling the Rai must have come from someone you learned from, right, brother?
Yeah.
The Imugi smiled calmly on his cute face.
Who was that person?
Perdikion slightly furrowed his brows, but answered without hesitation.
You probably don’t even know. It’s my father, the elder of the Red Dragons, Pasiyas of the Clan of Fire. He’s like Mount Tai—strong. He has a very stern personality. Because he has both ability and relentless drive, anyone who learns from him gains a lot.
The Imugi recalled a simple impression.
If I add a bit more embellishment to the knowledge Christina passed on, this is exactly what would come out.
He had to consider that Christina viewed things through her own lens, but his impression was more practical than Perdikion’s.
The Imugi glanced through a small window at Pasiyas’s personality.
After the war, his personality inevitably changed—stubborn, with a habit of dividing people into friend or foe. He was also self-centered and unyielding to his own standards. If it didn’t match his ideals, he discarded others without mercy. He didn’t care about others’ circumstances and only wanted those around him to follow his ideals.
Even though his ideals might be good and just, he couldn’t be called purely virtuous because he didn’t hesitate to use any means to achieve them.
The Imugi clicked his tongue inwardly. His expression, however, remained the polite smile.
He seems like an amazing person.
That’s right. I myself acknowledge the things he accomplished.
Then, do you like your father like that, brother?
Perdikion’s face hardened and he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
That was fortunate.
A good sign. It meant he wasn’t skilled at hiding his true feelings.
Don’t ask unnecessary questions.
Perdikion cut off the words abruptly. His expression became cold and rigid.
I’ll continue the lesson, so let’s stop the chit-chat now.
Understood.
He found it difficult to simply pretend he hadn’t heard.
But he couldn’t force himself to continue when he didn’t want to speak openly.
In any case, that response was essentially a sufficient answer to the question.
***
Contrary to his initial tough demeanor, Perdikion came to teach the Imugi faithfully every single day.
Some of the theories were a bit boring, and the explanations, while tedious, didn’t help the Imugi much.
Good. At this point, there’s decent progress.
The Imugi nodded in satisfaction.
This lesson wasn’t actually meant for him.
At some point, Perdikion began to feel more at ease with the Imugi, like the rain soaking through clothes.
The young black hatchling used his harmless smile as a weapon to slowly make the proud and rigid thoughts that Perdikion had always taken for granted start to think for themselves.
By prompting him to consider one thing, he made him consider two. In truth, it was Perdikion who was receiving the lesson, though he himself never noticed.
One day, Perdikion presented a different lesson.
Today’s activity is called Mana Cat’s Cradle.
Mana Cat’s Cradle?
In the world where he lived, that term referred mainly to the game women played with thread.
The Imugi tilted his head at the unfamiliar topic.
I’ll show you first, so pay close attention.
Perdikion spread his hands wide, palms facing each other.
Zzzung.
Mana flowed out like thread from his clenched fist and extended toward the opposite pinky finger.
Then, using the opposite pinky, it extended further.
Whoa.
The completed shape was a simple hourglass.
He maintained a uniform thickness while creating the thread shape. It looked simple, but once you tried it, it was quite difficult. Don’t underestimate it or you’ll regret it.
Finally, a usable lesson has begun.
From the moment Perdikion demonstrated it, the Imugi understood the essence of Mana Cat’s Cradle.
He quickly wove mana into thread exactly as shown.
Piyak!
Baekya hopped up excitedly, wanting to try it too, and stared fixedly at the end of the thread the Imugi had made.
Piy?
With his yellow beak, he poked at something in the air, and a mana thread in the shape of a line appeared in midair.
Perdikion asked in surprise.
You really haven’t done this before, have you?
Of course not.
I’ve done something similar in my past life.
Perdikion looked at the Imugi, who was creating thread with pure mana, and Baekya, who was clumsily imitating him, with a dumbfounded expression.
The Imugi might have thought Christina had taught him something, but it was astonishing that Baekya understood and followed along too.
The Imugi enjoyed the Mana Cat’s Cradle task Perdikion had set as a challenge today.
Whoever it was, they made a wonderful educational toy. Creating cat’s cradle shapes from basic to intermediate magic circle designs.
It was an excellent way to teach the foundational design ability needed to construct magic circles without feeling the walls and naturally absorbing the skill.
After receiving tedious, impractical theoretical education for so long, he found the practical hands-on lesson extremely interesting.
This is fun.
Isn’t it?
The Imugi asked, watching Perdikion look a little shy while hiding his joy.
Did Pasiyas-nim teach you this too?
Perdikion’s expression became ambiguous, then he shook his head.
No. That was taught to me by my mother, Kuzna.
Mother?
Just Kuzna, calling her casually like that. It was proof that his heart had a lower wall.
The Imugi recalled the fact that Perdikion lost his mother at a young age.
Perhaps confirming that his parents were gone wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
If his mother was the one he could be relaxed with, after losing her, Perdikion probably never found anyone to replace her and lived on like that.
Naturally, the Imugi’s guess gave him understanding.
No wonder he was relatively tolerant with me despite his temper. That’s the reason.
From Perdikion’s perspective, having lost one parent, he might have wanted to give him some consideration.
Perdikion had his father, but the Imugi had no one.
The Imugi thought about it for a moment and asked cautiously.
Was Kuzna-nim a good person?
Yeah. She was very kind.
But Perdikion couldn’t continue. He probably thought he had said too much and clamped his mouth shut. The Imugi looked at him with eyes full of genuine curiosity.
I’d like to hear more about Kuzna-nim. It’s because you taught me this that I’m curious.
You’re curious?
His tone sounded reluctant, yet the Imugi saw him considering whether to tell or not, and inwardly rejoiced.
Yeah, I am curious.
Hmph, I normally don’t tell just anyone.
His expression was blunt, hiding the fact that he was thinking about what to say while biting his lip.
The Imugi nodded and looked at him with wide eyes.
My mother, Kuzna’s memories. Not many, but… she was a dragon with silver scales and purple eyes that suited her well.
He muttered as if it was nothing, yet his eyes held the careful gaze of someone carefully opening a broken old treasure chest.
She particularly loved birds and had a lair near the place where a phoenix’s egg was born. It’s now with Father.
At first, he spoke cautiously, but gradually his face took on a distant, bitter smile.
She loved singing too. She often sang me lullabies. Yeah, she sang other songs as well.
Lullabies?
Among the many songs, there’s one I never forget. It wasn’t that she sang well… but somehow it stayed in my head.
She sang it for me, a baby. Of course it would.
As the Imugi thought that, Perdikion, who was about to recall something more, frowned and shook his head.
I should have remembered more… but for some reason, I don’t remember well now.
His gaze, as if looking beyond the distant past, swept through the air. He tried to keep his expression calm, but the face hidden in silence revealed emptiness.
The Imugi saw this as his chance.
This is it. The means to reform this child.
The memory of his mother.
It was the strongest and only affectionate memory the Imugi had ever experienced in the early part of his life.
Even in an environment where it would be difficult to recall the memories of a deceased mother over a long time, it was evident that it was deeply embedded in his subconscious.
Brother, I want to hear your song.
Don’t say nonsense.
The answer was firm, as if wrapped in armor without a single gap.
I can’t sing at all. Originally, singing is something idle people enjoy. We have to be careful not to indulge in such laziness while striving to become an elder.
Frustration rose within him.
The Imugi, however, was a spirit who had lived nearly a thousand years.
Normally, he would have waved his hands and said ordinary conversation didn’t apply here. But he simply clicked his tongue inwardly.
At this point, he felt a bit sorry for him.
Even though he lived a relatively long time, he probably lived with little leisure.
The Imugi had been criticized and looked down on, but he had chosen his own dwelling and minimized interference from others to live as he wished.
He had his own hardships and fatigue, but looking at the larger Perdikion under the father who had stolen his chance to think for himself, he felt a pang of sadness.
Really? I was curious about what kind of person would be remembered in brother’s memory. I’ve never heard a song since I was born.
Since I was born as a hatchling, I haven’t heard any, so it’s not a lie.
The Imugi, who had calmly rationalized it, continued with a slightly purer intent.
Brother, you said you like Kuzna-nim, right?
…If I have to say, yeah.
It felt awkward to say it again, so Perdikion chewed on his lips.
The Imugi continued as if not noticing.
The moment I hatched from my egg, I saw the inscription left by my mother. It was a poem wishing me happiness.
He recalled the past and eventually gave a faint smile.
Even though I never saw her face, something felt special.
He had been grateful for a second chance after dying once, but there was also a sense of appreciation in the inscription honoring the mother who raised her child.
That’s why I’m more curious. I think her heart is contained in the songs your mother left.
The Imugi said that and paused briefly, fidgeting with his fingers.
He saw that an immediate answer wasn’t coming, so it seemed to take some time.