A Face from the Past
My age is 137.
In all my years, it wasn’t as if I had never set foot in a place like the National Central Museum. When I was very young—truly young—our teachers would herd us there for field trips, shoving us through the exhibits even when we felt no interest whatsoever.
I had experienced that myself. After all, I had been an elementary school student before the war erupted.
Because of that, my memories were hazy, yet from what little remained, I could tell that much had changed. Mostly in how they utilized the terrain and structures.
“Ah, we didn’t expect the family head himself to visit… This way, please.”
The guide was a timid-looking man wearing glasses.
I had half-hoped he might be someone from my own era who had emerged from a hibernation capsule, but that was not the case. The man had green skin and protruding tusks—he was clearly an orc. I hadn’t expected to encounter a race known to inhabit the autonomous districts of Guro and Geumcheon here of all places.
It felt both unfamiliar and strangely fascinating.
Noticing my gaze, the orc spoke as he led us onward.
“You’re wondering how an orc ended up here, aren’t you?”
“Ah, sorry. I’m still new to the labyrinth.”
“No, no. I’m not offended… I know my own circumstances well. I simply thought you might be curious.”
An unexpected response. When I widened my eyes slightly, the orc continued while guiding us.
“My master doesn’t concern herself with race. If you look around the museum, you’ll see all kinds of beings here.”
He counted them off on his fingers.
“Dwarves, elves, insectoids, orcs, demonkin, succubi, even dolls… Unless it’s a dark elf without any aptitude for magic, if someone possesses talent for it, she does not discriminate.”
There was such a thing as aptitude for magic? I had assumed it was purely a matter of study.
Perhaps sensing my expression, the orc studied my face for a moment before speaking again.
“In the Magic Tower they claim there is no such thing as talent—only effort matters. But what my master values are two qualities: whether one is born with mysticism, or possesses learning ability exceptional enough to grant talent for magic.”
“And you?”
“I am the former. I was born with the mysticism of language. I command through speech and shape magic with words.”
I knew almost nothing about magic, so I simply accepted the explanation.
Did that mean Vertea possessed talent for magic as well? She didn’t seem particularly interested, but as I wondered whether I might be able to learn it myself—
“And Kiyara, who once adventured alongside you, possesses both. She learns magic with ease, and among all mysticisms she was born with trickery mysticism—the one considered supreme for magical talent.”
“Trickery?”
“Yes. Before the God of Magic proclaimed true magic, this was the deity who wielded what could be called its predecessors. It deceived the world and everything within it, bending all things to its will.”
A memory brushed strangely against my mind. From Norse mythology—was it Loki? The American hero films had made the name oddly familiar.
“Thanks to that, those born with trickery mysticism can wield magic without formal study, and those who properly learn magic after being born with it are said to become archmages without exception.”
Archmage. A word that unmistakably symbolized the pinnacle of all mages.
I listened with genuine interest.
“My master was also born with trickery mysticism, and the current archmage is said to wield it as well.”
Interesting.
I found it compelling, but Maribella tilted her head with a frigid expression.
“We requested a guide, yet it seems a lecturer has arrived instead.”
Her tone was so cold it raised gooseflesh along my spine. My daughter’s crimson eyes turned toward the orc with icy detachment.
“We came to see the Scientist as arranged in advance. So I would appreciate it if you set aside the idle chatter and began the tour.”
“Mari…”
Instead of answering me, Maribella shot me a glare. I closed my mouth.
“And cease reading my thoughts. I very much want to rip that jaw from your skull, but I am restraining myself out of respect for my father’s face.”
“My apologies. My master instructed me to buy time. To be honest, I barely read anything at all. It would be more accurate to say I could not read it.”
The orc’s words made my eyes widen.
“It felt like trying to read dozens of minds at once. There was simply too much information… how many times my face appeared…”
My senses had long since ceased to be human.
My thoughts accelerated to extreme speeds, and every one of my senses and cognitive faculties kept pace while containing vast amounts of data.
His testimony that he had peered inside my head was painfully clear. No wonder he had been staring blankly.
“Master, this unit will incinerate the entity.”
“No, there’s no need for that.”
When I restrained Vertea, the orc bowed his head with an awkward expression.
“I have been rude. Will you accept my apology?”
“I’m fine. After all, I was genuinely curious.”
“Father.”
“The master asked him to do it. What can we do?”
Vertea stood with her hands neatly folded, but had I been even slightly slower to answer, she would have already burned him.
Burning someone just for trying to peek into my head seemed excessive.
I paid it no mind, but Maribella crossed her arms with clear discomfort and continued glaring at the orc.
“So why did she ask you to buy time? Is she not present?”
“She is here, but… she has some urgent business, so she ordered access to the research wing restricted for a while.”
“Did we not already schedule this appointment? If so, you should have simply told us to return later…”
“If you wait just a short while, it will be sufficient. That is what my master said.”
The orc smiled gently even as he fidgeted. Anyone could see he was middle management. Sensing his hardship, I placed my hand on Maribella’s forearm.
“It’s all right. Let’s wait.”
“Father, this is disrespectful—”
“I also wanted to spend some time with you. Shouldn’t we be grateful for the chance?”
Maribella’s mouth snapped shut. She maintained her poker face while squeezing my forearm tightly, but I knew.
That rapidly beating heartbeat. The muscles that had tensed with anxiety now relaxing.
It was obvious she was delighted, even if her expression didn’t show it. To me, it was plain as day.
“I apologize for interrupting your warm moment, but you have forgotten this unit once again. This unit suspects that Master’s words and actions may be subconsciously inducing species discrimination by implying this unit is small.”
“I forgot the orc guide too, so it’s fine.”
“…Hm. If being forgotten protects my jaw, it is a profitable trade.”
Maribella watched our exchange with eyes bordering on contempt, then let out a sigh.
“The day’s business has likely been conveyed already. Giving them a little time should be acceptable. Very well, let’s do so.”
“Thank you.”
“Yes, you should be thankful. In any case, could you begin the tour?”
“Of course. This way.”
With a noticeably more relaxed expression, the orc led us forward. I followed behind him, receiving a guided tour of the National Central Museum.
And the museum itself proved surprisingly pleasant even as a simple tourist attraction.
“This…?”
“To recognize it at a glance—your discernment is excellent. Correct. This is a labyrinth-style forging apparatus. Power hammers, machine tools, 3D printers, ultra-high-temperature furnaces for superalloy forging… This is the secret behind our ability to produce artifacts rivaling those of the War Memorial above.”
The orc puffed up with pride. Maribella looked uncomfortable but could not refute him.
Indeed, if the quality was enough to silence Maribella—the sword devotee, exemplar of knights, and sword supremacist—then it had to be exceptional.
Among the devices, the 3D printer in particular caught my eye.
Even during my active service days, soldiers capable of handling superalloys occasionally appeared wearing undergarments made from the material to boost their defense. Seeing one again filled me with deep emotion.
Perhaps jump suits, coat linings, body suits, or gambesons crafted from superalloy produced here would serve me well.
And that was not all.
“All of these facilities operate on magic.”
“Magic?”
“Yes. My master researched and discovered various generators, which are then powered by magic to produce electricity. A mage born with fire mysticism boils water through spells, or my master—who commands trickery mysticism—directly reproduces sunlight and channels it into solar generators…”
So such things were possible.
It was genuinely surprising.
I had assumed anything involving electricity would be unusable.
Moreover, at every location the orc guided us, the sights that greeted me differed sharply from my expectations.
“This is the machine research wing. The facilities here are primarily for disassembling and analyzing devices discovered within the labyrinth. I don’t understand much of it myself, but since my master devoted special care to this area, it would be best not to touch anything.”
There were workbenches equipped with basic AI for assembling and disassembling precision machinery, along with every conceivable tool and device.
“Ah, I see that area has caught your interest. These are the medical facilities. They cannot match the Saint of Blood’s personal healing, but with a skilled physician present, they can treat any injury short of the most catastrophic.”
There were also chemical research wings for compounding medicines, along with an infirmary.
There was even a doctor—a woman who appeared to be a fox beastkin like Remy. She sat drinking coffee with a face heavy with accumulated fatigue.
Wearing a lab coat over a skirt and turtleneck, one might have mistaken the place for the modern era if not for her ears.
“This is the hydroponic cultivation room. There is another in the greenhouse, but this one is more advanced. It primarily grows plants that require no magical treatment. We failed to cultivate the elves’ tea leaves, but success will come eventually.”
Even here in the hydroponic room were crops from Earth that my eyes recognized.
No wonder familiar ingredients occasionally appeared when Vertea cooked.
Everything was properly done.
The fantasy residents I had expected—those who would blasphemously scorn technology, misunderstand it, or misuse it—were nowhere to be found.
That fact itself left me somewhat dazed.
They had said her age was unknown. Just how many years had she devoted to Earth-derived technology to achieve all this? The thought left me stunned.
After hearing there were elves, I had considered the possibility of meeting someone older than myself.
Yet facing an older person who was not an enemy felt strangely awkward. I found myself wondering whether I should speak to her with formal politeness.
“And finally… access is normally restricted, but since you are honored guests, it should be acceptable. This is the library.”
“Library?”
Reading the skepticism in my voice, the orc smiled.
“You find it unimpressive, I see. Naturally. One might think it is simply a library. But it is not. This library contains every record of my master’s nearly two thousand years of research.”
Two thousand years.
When my eyes widened in astonishment, what came into view was a truly unique space.
It was indeed a library. In that sense there was nothing unusual, yet the things visible and the atmosphere they created were remarkably diverse.
The books filling the shelves came in every conceivable form.
There were scrolls written on leather parchment, books printed on paper, and inscriptions carved into stone tablets or metal plates.
Had that been all, I would have simply thought it a fantasy library. But something both familiar and alien caught my eye.
“This is…?”
“The essence of the library.”
A tablet PC, one might call it.
I picked it up, and the countless document listings that unfolded instantly drew a soft chuckle from me.
“Every piece of data in this library exists simultaneously in both digital form on the server and in physical copy. The subjects are not limited. Labyrinth technology, technology from Karnevarin, history, magic, martial arts… If it can be recorded, it is here.”
Indeed, this was something worth boasting about.
The vast catalog of books, the search function, and even a system that allowed one to view footnotes others had added to those searches.
I still did not know what kind of being this archmage Tilia was, but one thing had become clear.
She understood technology even more deeply than I did.
It was impressive.
If I were to compare it to my own experience, it would be like suddenly encountering magical tomes from Karnevarin on Earth and comprehending magic well enough to wield it freely.
Astonishing.
“Truly remarkable.”
“I am glad you think so.”
“Are there more things like this?”
“It seems you are interested. Excellent. The next location should intrigue you as well. Our next stop is the workshop and artifact repository—”
“Senior, this area is off-limits to outsiders.”
A crisp yet strangely gentle voice suddenly rang out.
I naturally turned my gaze toward the source, and in doing so noticed Maribella’s deeply furrowed brow.
It was rare for her to display emotion so openly.
Just who had appeared?
When my eyes finally left my daughter and shifted direction—
“…Huh.”
There stood a girl with an eerily familiar appearance.
Her clothing was modern. A white dress shirt commonly called a button-down, adorned with a black ribbon at the front. Straight bangs and long black hair falling straight down.
The hoodie and pleated skirt she wore over it were contemporary, yet what captured my attention more than anything was her face.
There was a strange sense of familiarity. An instinctive recognition that reassembled itself in my mind into someone else’s image.
“…Baek Seolah noona?”
No. That couldn’t be.
Noona was dead.
Above all, Baek Seolah noona had not possessed white inner hair, nor were her eyes that pale ivory.
Yet for some reason I could not tear my gaze away from the girl.
Just as I noticed how strangely she resembled Maribella—
“…Ah?”
The girl saw me and flinched.
She recognized me. The girl knew exactly who I was.
But how? The moment doubt formed in my mind, the girl drove it home.
“Excuse me… may I ask your name?”
Before I could answer, she took a step closer, then another.
“By any chance… are you Ha Jinwoo?”
The thick longing woven through her voice. The excitement radiating from a heart pounding so violently it seemed ready to burst. The expectation shining in her widened eyes.
All of it pointed to a single conclusion.
I swallowed dryly, momentarily flustered.
Maribella stepped between us and shoved the approaching girl back.
“That’s far enough.”
Her voice was not merely cold—it was chilling. Sharp enough to cut.
When the girl stopped and lifted her head, Maribella spat the words like venom.
“Get away from my father, inferior species.”
Hostility that seemed almost excessive.
“Ah…?”
In response, the girl’s previously gentle eyes sharpened.
She really did resemble Maribella, I thought. At that moment, an intangible energy began to flow from the girl’s body.
In the taut atmosphere thick with tension, the two girls glared at each other.