A Starlit Invitation
"Magic school, huh..."
I wasn't exactly eavesdropping. I was just watching Nutube for fun when something caught my interest, so I perked up my ears. If it was the usual crowd I'd seen a million times before—the ones with that familiar vibe—showing up as guests, the reason was obvious, right? It had to be about me.
I figured they'd drone on about ghosts, grotesques, weird phenomena, and their investigations like always. But nope, totally different topic.
"Similar, yet different."
How to put it? Supernatural power felt more widespread here. Closer to pure fantasy, maybe. My old world had its own fantastic elements, but the flavor was off. Humanity seemed more accustomed to magic, mystery, and anomalies here—like they'd built up some collective experience. No desperate, cutthroat struggle where it was kill or be killed, no frantic scrabbling for survival.
Of course, saying that didn't mean I knew my old world inside out. My life was strictly controlled—follow the schedule, that's it. But one thing was sure: no magic schools there, let alone that soft, squishy word for it. They didn't call labs "schools," did they? Maybe not...
Anyway, not the point.
"This is... a total steal?"
Think about it: total age reset, like a full carton of eggs. A fully formed adult consciousness stuck going to elementary school, hanging with kids all day. Even when I'd cave to the kid body's instincts and get dragged along, the waves of self-loathing hit hard—not just once or twice. Sure, I'd fantasized about a normal family, normal schools from elementary to high. But past is past. Sitting at a desk learning right from wrong with the other brats, singing nursery rhymes together? Pitch black.
"Magic school means the kids won't be normal ones. No bankruptcy brags or family pretend play."
Remember that girl who pulled out some creepy toy, bragging Your house doesn't have this, right? and tried to trade? I said even if you gave it, no thanks—then she bawled her eyes out. Whined so much I had to kiss her cheek. Alleli koledi, bully bully on top.
"I'm going, no question! Wait for me, magic school!"
As I steeled my resolve, the guests left, and Dad called from outside.
"Seojun! Dad's coming in."
Park Seongmin felt a bit relieved seeing his son feet on the desk, slouched deep in the chair, giggling at Nutube. Sometimes he felt so distant, like he'd vanish any second—but these ordinary, immature moments with other kids eased the anxiety a tad.
'Wait, is this even normal?'
Park Seongmin gave a wry smile.
"Playing games?"
He'd thought it was videos, but one monitor had a game running, keyboard clacking nonstop. Focusing, he saw a tiny character blasting octopus aliens with arrows.
'Kids' game, right?'
"What's this game?"
"Dogmeat Truffle... nah, Maple Leaf Heroes. Someone recommended it—pretty decent. Simple, brainless time-killer."
It was the game a guy from my old world raved about—the one who left a deep mark. The man who'd sacrificed his life to save others while his mind shattered from info overload and his body mutated. He saved them but got no protection himself, turning into a grotesque meat lump.
'He's recovering bit by bit. Thank god. Glad my power could save you.'
Even looking anxious and withdrawn, he'd looked out for us lab rats. Now I got it—guilt, probably. Saved tons of normals but failed his closest comrades.
His "Normalization" mystery healed people or fixed objects, but specials like us? Just outer appearance normalized, insides turned vanilla. Even if it saved lives at the end, those powerless ability users' eyes scarred him deep. His power was too vital against grotesques to frontline, so he sulked in the back.
"Leveling takes forever, though. Without Nutube, it'd get old fast."
"Gotcha. Shut it down and chat with Dad? Got something important to tell you."
"Sure."
I parked my character somewhere safe and sat by Dad.
"Actually..."
Park Seongmin spilled everything the agency folks said. I already knew it all, but I pretended to listen intently, then nodded firmly.
"I'm down. Magic school sounds way more fun than regular."
"Living in dorms without Mom and Dad—cool with that?"
"Hm..."
A bit bummed, sure... but adults cut ties with parents. Natural.
"No choice. Video calls often."
"Right. Enrollment's end of August—three months left. Prep starts today."
"Huh? For what?"
"English. School's in the UK. Need it for friends and classes."
"Oh."
A while later, one of the NIS agents from before returned. Jung Ha-yeon, was it? Striking face, stuck in my memory.
She had errands for enrollment procedures.
"Nice to see you, Seojun. Met before, right? Came about your school issue—remember?"
Experienced with kids, she kept her tone soft to avoid spooking me.
"Yes, hello."
First real chat. Basically strangers, so I bowed politely.
We sat at the living room table. Parents were out—work stuff. Long alone time after school. She didn't seem fazed. Maybe timed it for one-on-one with the talented kid.
Whatever her angle, didn't matter to me.
She started with small talk to lighten the mood, then got to business. Pulled a leather pouch from her bag.
"Eldmier's admission confirmation. Check it out. Write your name, and you're on the roster—enrollment locked."
Magical Envelope — Starlight Writ
Table now held an obviously fancy envelope. Deep indigo vellum like a slice of night sky, intricate gold embroidery along the edges. Silver-foil lion and eagle shimmered like constellations with every move. Lavish craftsmanship—even I could tell.
"Beautiful invitation, isn't it? Magic society calls it the Starlight Writ."
Red wax seal in the center: perfect circle with the school's deer emblem.
"Whoa, it moves."
Lifted it, and it reacted—faint glow, stars shifting. The deer seal melted like it was waiting, seal breaking.
"O-"
Not some printed form. Handwritten with care on smooth ivory paper—elegant script flowing like it lived, movie-perfect.
This is magic school!
Awestruck by the dignified aura for a sec, then—problem.
"But what's it say?"
Letters, sure, but gibberish. I set it down for her to see.
In solitudine noctis, stellae duae in eadem semita tandem concurrunt…
"Um..."
Jung Ha-yeon's face froze in an awkward smile as she read.
No proper school life—just endless martial arts training young. English was her weak spot.
Sounded it out mentally, then:
"Looks like Latin."
"Latin?"
Fucked then.
"Can you read Latin, noona?"
Held out slim hope. But her English barely averaged—dead language? Nah. She shook her head, dashing it.
"Sorry, not really."
But—she paused, thinking—
"Heard they just need your signature."
"O~"
Checked the bottom: signature line. Figures. Magic school wouldn't half-ass it.
But shady fine print? News had stories of signature scams.
Can't read, safe to sign? Brief hesitation.
Eh, whatever. Legal minor here. Contracts mean squat anyway. No point dragging mystery mail.
Boldly scrawled 박서준 in Hangul!
Looked at her.
"This good?"
"Yes, now back in the envelope."
Slid the signed paper in, closed—blue flames erupted.
Whoa—flinched. Heatless fire burned just the letter, no ash left. Pristine table.
Jung Ha-yeon looked intrigued too—news to her.
Nice effects. Maybe not so boring here.