A Secret Lesson for Two (2)

The reaction was shockingly indifferent.

Not so much as a moment's hesitation in refusing a pupil's offer from a woman who had been called a genius of her generation, who had ridden nothing but success all the way to this very instant. Ivy, who had been bouncing in place, froze like a statue with her mouth hanging open.

She had never imagined she would be turned away so coldly. It was not quite an offer of Exclusive Disciple, but private lessons from a professor were still an enormous privilege. Even the other professors coveted Ivy's experience and knowledge; it was an opportunity one could not buy with money. And because she prided herself that her skill yielded to no one, the shock of having her offer of a student rejected yet again—how many times was this now?—pulled a whine out of her before she could stop it.

"I-is it because I'm only a temporary professor...?"

Tears welled in her eyes, and she rubbed at them with the back of her hand until she looked exactly like a child who had lost her parents at an amusement park. Even the caretaker, watching from the side, could not help himself and shouted into the empty hollow.

"You heartless brat! Accept the offer already!"

But it changed nothing.

"I have nothing to learn from you, Professor. If we're speaking of knowledge alone, I don't need the help. And the Academy's methods don't help me."

Levian was only stating the facts, calmly. From his point of view, he had even gone so far as to soften the refusal. Had she been one of the other professors who had looked down on him all this time, it might have been different—but Professor Ivy, shy though she was, had done everything a professor was supposed to do.

To Ivy, on the receiving end, the answer was full of room for misunderstanding. It sounded as if Levian had lost hope and decided to abandon magic altogether. She, who had suffered through her school years because of her small frame, could not simply stand by and watch. Even a genius talent everyone acknowledged had been dismissed for no reason other than that she was small. The girl who had had neither friends nor colleagues began to overlap with Levian. What a pitiful student he was.

"...There is no one who cannot use magic."

Whatever the circumstances, whoever they were, she believed the chance to learn magic at least ought to be equal. Ivy pressed both hands tight over her small chest, then suddenly caught Levian's hand and pulled him to his feet.

"You know perfectly well what Mystery is, Levian. A phenomenon that can't be explained. Power that steps outside reason, outside the standard. Theory is only theory. For us, there is no such thing as impossible...!"

At the same moment, the new ability the caretaker had handed over without a word of explanation began to bloom.

It felt as if a second heart had been made. Through Ivy's small palm, clasped in his, a warm, throbbing current flowed in—the same current of mana he had felt in the hollow.

How...?

How far did the power of the ancient Creation mages reach? There is no magic without mana. Mana Link, too, was a kind of magic, and by all rights he should have been unable to use it. And yet the spell had cast itself, without even the will of its caster, Levian. Faced with a situation that stepped clean outside common sense and reason, he stood stock-still, like a machine that had broken down.

"F-first, let's go this way...."

Caught under the librarian's glare, Ivy ducked her head with a start and slipped straight back into timid mode. Even so, set on doing what she had come to do, she tugged Levian along in tiny, pattering steps. Their destination was a study room set aside in the library—a space that had never been permitted to the half-wit Levian.

Out of habit, he began picking the brightly revealed rooms apart one by one. Magic packed the walls, swallowing vibration. Soundproofing, in other words: whatever was said inside, no one outside could overhear it.

If I amplified that barrier, I could shut vibration in while letting vibration from outside through. A listening room.

Curiosity rose in him. With the mana Ivy had shared, couldn't he try anything through the power of Creation?

His heart gave a hard thump. How long had it been since it had beaten like this? Following blankly after Ivy, Levian studied the faint mana passage that still held between them. It was a very small thing—a fleeting force, no more than the static of winter. Even so, Levian, and the Creation in him, spun tremendous possibility out of that small force alone.

"H-here, look. It's the easiest spell."

And then they were alone in the room. Unlike usual, Ivy did not seem to spare a thought for the fact that she had been left alone with an unfamiliar man. If anything, a quiet flush colored both cheeks, driven by nothing but the resolve to give Levian hope. She swung her staff without hesitation, and a blackout fell across the glass wall laid bare to the library—a screen against prying eyes, ahead of the lesson proper.

"Ah! Th-this isn't the easy spell. I-if people outside s-see us, they might misunderstand.... Th-the easy spell I meant is th-this one...."

Worried that Levian would try to learn Shadow Curtain and lose heart, she swung the staff again, almost frantically, and demonstrated a different spell. The motion was deliberately slow, all but daring him to watch. Even without calling on Clairvoyance, Levian could see straight through to what it was. The spell was that simple: a single stroke, the sort infant mages learned, belonging to the Basic grade. A long horizontal line. Move. Blue energy trailed from the tip of Ivy's staff, and the tissue on the desk fluttered this way and that.

"Y-you saw, right? I-I know you saw. Your eyes were looking right at the tip of the staff...!"

"I wasn't planning to say I didn't."

At Levian's flat reply, Ivy rolled her eyes and pressed on with what she meant to say.

"Th-then try it yourself! What matters is will. W-we're not Easterners.... Don't calculate it. Think of it as something that obviously works. Mystery isn't something you get by calculating!"

Under ordinary circumstances, Levian—his mana circuit destroyed—would never have been tempted by those words. It would not have worked anyway. But thanks to the Mana Link bound to Professor Ivy Rain, a Basic spell of this level ought to be well within his reach.

This time, I can do it. My own magic....

On instinct, he drew on the faint mana linked to Temporary Professor Ivy. It was the act of drinking another's mana like a mosquito, but that hardly mattered. For Levian, it already hurt—like squeezing the last of the toothpaste from the tube. For Ivy, the one losing it, the loss was not even enough ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to tickle.

Move. One horizontal stroke. All it does is raise a faint wind. It can't shift anything heavy, like a person. The limit is clear.

That was not all. Levian was an inquirer. He could say with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠confidence that he had read through more books than any other student at the magic school, and he had no wish to spend this first, monumental casting on a mere Move. Above all, in his eyes the spell Professor Ivy had used was—like those of other mages—incomplete.

I'm testing what Creation can do.

He called up a peculiar trick that ordinary magic could not even attempt.

Something its original power can't move. What about that bookshelf? Forcing it would still be hard.

Then Move needed a stronger pull, and a point of connection bound to the target. A fleeting instant. Professor Ivy swallowed dryly as she watched him stand there with the staff, thinking in silence. He closed his eyes, and the improved formula for Move that he had written in an old notebook rose up, arranged with perfect clarity. Without so much as a change of expression, he swung the staff exactly as the calculation in his head demanded. The theory that had been dismissed as nonsense and ignored, for no reason other than that he had no mana, unfolded into reality.

There's no need to make each stroke of the circle separately. I only have to produce the stroke in the shape that's needed.

Where the circuit should have gone forward as a single straight line, he gave it a very small curve.

An omega-shaped snare. Move that seizes the target and pulls.

Bend the circuit as it pulled, and the point of force would draw nearer—and heavier things could be moved. And then—

A deep thrum rolled out. Mana of a deep blue, the color of Levian's eyes, poured forth and dragged a bookshelf larger than a grown man. Wood scraped hard across the floor.

"H... huh! L-Levian!"

It was astonishing, plain and simple. Ivy leapt before she knew it.

"D-did you just use Pull?! N-no, that wasn't Pull...? Was I dozing just now?! What? What just happened?!"

Move was, by nature, the most basic of basics, meant for teaching infant mages—a spell with no use to be found in it. At best it could float a bit of down and set children giggling. By all rights, one could not even conceive of moving that heavy bookshelf with it. Only the advanced movement spells learned later, or gravity magic, could barely manage the thing. Of course, it was also true that even telekinesis, an intermediate spell, counted as basic for a student of Alkanium. That was not why Ivy was shaken.

"N-no, there's no way I saw it wrong! Y-you moved it with a single stroke just now? H-how?!"

Pull was made of two strokes: a circle and a straight line combined into the figure of a nine, so the staff itself should have moved twice. Levian knew that perfectly well, but he did not think it was something he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠needed to hide, and he answered her kindly enough. A repayment of sorts, unlike his usual manner, for the mana she had lent him.

"Look. Is there any need to waste a stroke closing a circle from start to finish? Bend the center of Move. Even this much is enough to pull an object."

Ivy yanked a chair over with a thud, sat, and began drawing the circle exactly as he had described. She felt as if something had taken hold of her. She had even forgotten that her purpose was to give the failing student a private lesson.

This is... possible, and yet impossible...?

Fortunately, the answer came faster than she expected. Move was basic to begin with, and Professor Ivy was famous as a genius of the magical world.

"Th-this is impossible, ordinarily."

Even she fell short of following his spell and trying it herself. Moving the staff with precision? Easy. Pouring stronger mana into a one-stroke spell? Simple as well. But—

"The strokes of a magic circuit are will itself. A ritual act that calls Mystery. These days it's been organized into a proper discipline, but still."

"So?"

Levian frowned at the lengthening explanation. He had proved it right in front of her, and yet was she, too, about to say—like the others—that magic of this sort was useless?

"Th-that's what I mean! Your magic isn't simply a matter of changing the strokes! You've called up a Mystery that belongs to you alone!"

Ivy, for her part, was too excited to catch her breath. She was no longer even sure what she was saying, and could only rush to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠praise his talent. This was not the ancient age, when new magics and Mysteries had sprung up one after another. A failing student who had never once cast a spell was calling forth a new Mystery. So many mages had used standardized circles for good reason that she could hardly keep her two trembling hands still. It was a discovery that would change the magical world.

"M-maybe other things are possible too? Th-this time it's a more complicated spell. Vibration."

Her green eyes sparkling, Ivy rushed in. The reason she had so readily taken on this work as a temporary teacher, so unsuited to her personality, was that—genius though she had been called—she had struck a wall, and needed a new way of seeing if she was ever to break past her current realm. She had watched a great many students since then. Every one of them had fixed only on the discipline called magic. Not one had shown her a different gaze.

Levian was different.

Maybe... the reason he couldn't use magic until now is that he was taught wrong. Trapped in the mold, his own Mystery never had the chance to show itself...! A hidden genius!

The thought that she ought to be teaching him was already gone. In its place she was full of the certainty that she had to take in his way of seeing.

"V-vibration has to use three collisions set out of alignment...."

She was midway through the rushed explanation, both arms flapping like wings, when a thin line of blood slid down the philtrum of Levian, who had been listening in a daze.

"...Huh?"