The Twilight Firefly Prince (3)

"That's enough for today." I tapped the desk lightly and closed my research journal.

My eyes drifted to the dark brown failure tossed into the wastebin. Even looking at that ruined draft, I didn't feel particularly stressed. After all, isn't it said that people grow from failure?

Besides, I was the protagonist. As a rule, all protagonists grew by feeding on failure. Believing that even this setback would fuel my growth, I didn't lose heart at the sight of the rotten eggs.

...Though, honestly, I'd love a free ride too. Now that I think about it, it's so unfair. Other protagonists just snap their fingers and things get made. Why do I have to run around doing everything myself and grind for years just to make one thing? Wah. Baby Julian wants a free pass.

"...Ahem."

Time to stop being pathetic. When times are tough, you have to let your mind wander into nonsense occasionally just to stay sane.

I checked the temperature of the incubator one last time. Then, throwing on my coat, I opened the laboratory door.

"Ouch!"

The moment the door swung open, a cute squeal echoed from the other side. I already knew exactly who it was.

"Eri."

"Hehe..."

Behind the door, Eri, who had fallen flat on her backside, rubbed her forehead with a sheepish grin.

"Eri. I recall ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠telling you not to come near the laboratory during this research phase."

"Sorry, Teacher. I was just so curious."

"Haven't you heard that curiosity killed the cat?"

"But they also say the curious cat gets adopted first. And isn't it thanks to my curiosity that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I became your assistant in the first place?"

"Hmm."

She usually acted so thoughtless, yet she had a knack for hitting the nail right on the head.

Following Eri's gaze, I saw the slightly open window. There was a tiny, pinhole-sized gap I had left open for ventilation. I latched it shut and spoke.

"Right. So, what did the cat see this time?"

At my question, Eri dusted off her skirt, stood up, and her eyes sparkled.

"Ah, right! That was the exact same spell as the dark mage's, wasn't it? Does that mean you're a mage comparable to the 2nd Tier, Teacher?"

She flapped her arms excitedly as she spoke. Seeing her passion for magic brought a warm, proud smile to my face. Perhaps it was because I had once aspired to be a professor; I could never hide my smile when I saw a child burning with academic zeal. Of course, I was technically still a child myself.

"It's not quite to that extent."

"Don't be so modest. I saw it clearly. The incantation, the catalyst, even the mist that appeared. The color was different, but it was definitely that dark mage's magic."

"But the difference in mastery is vast."

The curse I could manifest was barely enough to cover a single carton of eggs. Unlike Belgian, I had to recite the entire incantation and set up the optimal environment just to trigger it once a day. No matter how much of a genius I was, I wasn't at a level where I could easily replicate the mastery of a 2nd Tier dark mage.

The curse I cast on the eggs this time wasn't some grand performance either. It was only slightly better than the trick I had shown Eri before—boiling a kettle with a single matchstick.

"I've told you many times, one cannot be called a mage with just this."

"Eeeh... then what does that make me?"

"There is no need to be impatient already, Eri."

They say it takes three years just to master the basics of magic. You begin learning at twelve, and only after three years, at fifteen, do you finally become a proper Apprentice mage. In medical terms, that was equivalent to an intern. She shouldn't use me—who had bypassed it all in three months thanks to protagonist and genius buffs—as her standard.

"But I want to try using it too sometimes... I've even mastered Exception Handling now. And you know what they say: real-world experience is a hundred times better than just studying."

Is she trying to say 'seeing is believing'?

"I want to start practicing my magic for real now."

"Hmm..."

I pondered her words for a moment, then nodded.

"Come to think of it, it is about time for you."

"Huh?"

"Yes. It would be wise for you to practice casting magic in a controlled environment."

I recalled the condensed curriculum I had undergone. After mastering Exception Handling in about four days, I had begun training to cast magic in a controlled environment with the help of my tutor. Across all times and places, it was a well-known fact that practical application was far more helpful than books. Furthermore, with a training ground right here in the mansion, there was no reason for her not to practice.

"Through this, you will also be able to discover which types of magic you have an affinity for."

"Really? Then are you going to teach me now, Teacher?"

"No. I cannot help you with practical training."

Theory was one thing, but practice was entirely outside my domain. To create an environment for practical training, one first had to possess the ability to sense that environment. Naturally, having abandoned the path of a proper Mage due to my lack of such sensitivity, there was no way I could set up those conditions for her.

"Then what about what you were doing in there by yourself? Can't I do it in there too?"

"That room is customized specifically for me, so I'm afraid not."

My laboratory was packed with all kinds of magical tools. Humidity, temperature, and even symbolic resonance—it was my personal workshop, built by plastering it with massive amounts of capital. Naturally, that space was not suitable for Eri to learn magic.

"What about Teacher Schmidt?"

"He already has his hands full just tutoring Freya."

"Then do I have to wait until Freya's lessons are completely over?"

"Well..."

But letting Eri's talent go to waste would be a terrible shame. I rubbed my chin, pondering the dilemma.

"Ah. Come to think of it, there is a perfect teacher."

A certain person suddenly crossed my mind. A mage who could control the surrounding environment with the assistance of magical tools.

"There is indeed someone. It would be highly appropriate for you to learn from him."

"Who?"

"You will find out tomorrow."

Leaving the tilting-headed Eri behind, I began to ponder what gift I should prepare before meeting him.

Strike while the iron is hot, as they say. Since the next day happened to be the weekend, I decided to meet him right away. I couldn't go to him myself, so I had the Nihilite Family Butler summon him to our mansion instead.

Knock, knock, knock.

The door of the annex reception room rattled three times.

"Come in."

Once the butler gave permission, the door slowly opened. The first thing to drift through the gap was the scent of pine resin and oil—the characteristic body odor of mages who primarily wielded fire.

The door opened fully, revealing a man.

Department Head Shen. It had been a while since I last saw him without his gas mask.

"Greetings, Director."

The heavily scarred man bowed as he crossed the threshold. After a swift greeting, his gaze swept across the reception room. First, it landed on Eri, who was sitting next to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me, swinging her legs. He seemed to ponder the presence of this unfamiliar face for a moment before locking eyes with the butler. The instant their gazes met, Shen lowered his eyes, and finally, he looked at me.

Click. His body seemed to stiffen minutely. He looked strangely uncomfortable around me.

Is he still holding onto that?

Without showing any outward sign, I gestured toward the opposite sofa. Department Head Shen sat down cautiously—though "perched on the edge" would be a more accurate description.

The butler set down a cup of black tea in front of Shen. Only then did Eri lean in to whisper to me.

"Teacher. Is that the man who's going to help with my training?"

"Nothing has been decided yet."

"Why?"

"He has to accept the request first."

Our "whispering" was far too loud, echoing clearly between us. I could see Department Head Shen straining his ears to listen. His shoulders twitched slightly, particularly when I mentioned the word "request."

I moistened my lips with the tea and got straight to the point.

"Department Head Shen."

"Yes, please speak, Director."

His response shot back instantly, his posture indicating he was ready to receive orders at any second.

"I would like to ask a favor of you."

"..."

"This is a child under our family's care who possesses the talent of a Mage. I would like you to instruct her."

Shen's eyes widened.

"Y-you mean me?"

It was only natural for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him to be shocked. A child with magical talent being raised directly by a noble family—someone who might even establish a new noble house in the future. Becoming the mentor of such a child was by no means a light matter.

"Why me, of all people..."

"I couldn't think of anyone more suitable than you among those around me. Besides, aren't you originally from the Magic Tower, Department Head?"

"That was a very long time ago."

"Even so, I believe you are the perfect fit."

Shen lowered his head. A heavy silence filled the room. Eventually, he spoke.

"I do not have the right."

It was the answer I had expected. It had been nearly two years since I started working with Department Head Shen. I knew he felt strangely uncomfortable around me, and I had a vague idea why.

"I am someone who once betrayed you, Young Master. I do not believe someone like me should be entrusted with someone precious to you."

"Young Master."

At that moment, the butler, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, chimed in.

"I must agree. One who has betrayed goodwill once is highly likely to do so again."

"..."

"As your butler, I cannot help but worry. If he were to do so again, how deeply you would be hurt, Young Master..."

"Butler."

I cut the butler off and paused to think. Honestly, I understood his concern. They say you should never take in a stray beast. But...

"I do not believe it is right to deny someone a second chance just because they failed once."

No matter how I looked at it, holding a grudge was the logic of ordinary men. A true protagonist must have a grand capacity for forgiveness. As long as they didn't literally stab me in the back, I could easily overlook a minor transgression involving a few silver coins.

"But Young Master, if this old servant may speak out of turn... once someone turns their back on kindness, they are bound to repeat the act. Please reconsider..."

"Then, Butler, are you saying I should never have forgiven my mother?"

The butler's mouth snapped shut. He surely remembered. Before I was accepted as the eldest son of this family, how my adoptive mother, Rinie, had mistreated me.

Yet, I had accepted her. Was it simply because I was the protagonist? Partly, yes, but also because her sincere desire to atone had reached me. So I chose to trust her, and that choice had proven correct. She came to love me genuinely, and as a result, I secured a solid foothold in this perilous world.

"Department Head Shen must have had his own unavoidable circumstances back then as well. After all, it's not as if he hadn't been betrayed by nobles once or twice before."

I looked at Shen. His shoulders were trembling.

"But I have already disappointed you once, Young Master..."

"Mistakes are opportunities for growth. I do not believe a single mistake defines a person's worth."

In life, everyone fails and makes mistakes. Even I had been torn to shreds left and right during my residency. Sometimes I panicked and did completely useless things. Later, once I gained seniority, I watched my juniors do the exact same. But in the end, those mistakes never defined their worth. In fact, the ones who disappointed me the most often showed the most remarkable growth later on. Perhaps because of those experiences, I saw no reason to lose faith over my own mistakes or those of others.

"Department Head Shen. So please, do not whip yourself over the past any longer."

Then, I turned my head toward the butler.

"You too, Butler. I was never hurt, so there is no need for you to carry anger on my behalf."

"Forgive me, Young Master. I must be growing senile. I presumed to guess your heart on my own."

"...No, that's not it. Thank you for worrying about me so much."

The butler seemed to think I had been nursing a wound all this time. Well, it wasn't an entirely incorrect assumption. To be honest, I had been a little miffed. Perhaps that was why it took me two whole years to finally arrange this moment of forgiveness. But still, considering the devotion Shen had shown over those two years, wasn't it time to let it go? Just as I had forgiven my mother.

"Let us leave the past in the past. I will ask you once more, Department Head Shen. Will you take Eri under your wing?"

I clapped my hands to clear the heavy air. Shen, who had been staring at me in a daze, finally nodded.

"I understand, Young Master. I will surely live up to your expectations."

Shen rose from his seat and bowed deeply. Watching this, Eri thrust her hand into the air.

"So, when do I start learning?"

"..."

Rather than being oblivious to the mood, it was more of her own clumsy attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Sensing this, Shen wiped his eyes with his sleeve and let out a soft chuckle.

"As early as tomorrow, if you wish."

"Really?!"

Eri pumped her fists.

"I can finally use magic! By the way, mister, what kind of magic do you use?"

"I use fire."

"Oh, fire!"

Seeing her so excited made me wonder if I should have found her a teacher sooner. I patted Eri's head lightly and habitually slipped my hand into my coat pocket.

Huh?

The familiar texture that should have met my fingertips was gone. Frowning slightly, I rummaged through the pocket. It was completely empty.

I realized instantly what was missing. The old mage's grimoire, Fitch.

The worn notebook containing thousands of research records on the synthesis of holy water and magic.

Ah. Was today the end of the loan period?

Since I had already finished copying everything, I didn't feel particularly regretful. I shrugged and turned my attention back to the conversation between Eri and Department Head Shen.

"Then what time should I be ready tomorrow?"

"I will come to you. Be at the clinic by eight in the morning. I will conduct the lesson there."

"Huh? But I thought you said it was practical training!"

"Before any practical application, one must study safety protocols."

"Eeeh..."

At the mention of studying, Eri's face instantly fell.

At that very moment, in the heart of Sanctum Hill, somewhere within the Imperial Palace, a white-haired old man sat before a fireplace, nodding off.

"...Mmm?"

The old mage slowly opened his eyes.

A worn leather notebook, which hadn't been there a moment ago, dropped onto his lap. It was the exact same grimoire that had vanished without a trace from Julian's pocket.

"Hoho. It has returned."

The old mage smiled. In truth, that grimoire was not a copy. To begin with, replicating a grimoire without chanting was an incredibly inefficient waste of mana. Every single drop of mana was precious for his research; duplicating a notebook on the spot just to look impressive in front of a junior would have been utterly foolish.

Thus, the old mage had added a little lie.

"Now I can resume my research."

He picked up the notebook and stood up. It was his original research journal. It simply had a preservation spell and a homing function woven into it, designed to return to its master after a set period.

Carrying the returned research journal, he approached his desk. Beneath the glow of a mana lamp, he flipped it open.

"Now, let us see what kind of research our junior has been up to."

And those two spells were not the only enchantments woven into the notebook. As he turned the pages, Julian's research thus far was revealed, recorded in dense, meticulous handwriting.

"Good job, Fitch."

The old mage placed three small sugar cubes onto the notebook.

Crunch.

When he blinked, the three sugar cubes had already vanished. The mage turned the pages, reviewing the contents recorded over the past week.

"Ho... using eggs. What a peculiar concept. How does he intend to use that curse?"

The experiments of Julian that the old mage peered into were a series of wonders. There was no extraordinary technique. In fact, in terms of magical skill, it was inferior to that of an apprentice. Yet, watching him repeat seemingly meaningless experiments on eggs was more than enough to pique his curiosity.

"To what end are you doing this, junior?"

To his eyes, Julian's experiments were not some foolish game trying to re-prove already established laws. It was an experiment born from a novel concept known only to geniuses, one that was difficult to explain to ordinary men.

Before long, the notebook neared its final pages. There, a scene the old mage hadn't particularly desired to see was recorded.

"Haha, I told it to record whenever it sensed mana. I suppose because it is a low-grade spirit, it recorded even this without understanding the context."

It was not Julian's experiments, but rather his casual conversations. This was not what the old mage wanted. He had lent the notebook to peek at his junior's ideas—guilty as he felt—not to commit the tasteless act of spying on his private life.

Just as he was about to erase those conversations, however—

A single sentence caught the old mage's eye. Reading it, a strange light flickered in his sleepy eyes. The mage stroked his chin in silence for a long moment.

"Embracing mistakes and failures, and learning from them..."

In the world of mages, failure meant either death or the miserable ruin of a lifetime of research. It was a world where a single failure could trigger a mana backlash, leaving a person crippled. Furthermore, having lived as elites, they feared failure above all else. Thus, mages dreaded failure, sought to control it, and sometimes trampled on the failures of others to rise. The old mage knew this truth better than anyone.

That is why I purposely showed him a notebook of failures.

Yet, a mere twelve-year-old noble child was calmly preaching that failure was the very foundation of valuable growth. And he did so while keeping a record of his own thousands of failed experiments close at hand.

Ho...

This was not an attitude that could be taught. Nor was it likely that a young child had learned such a mindset from anyone else. Perhaps that was why, to the old mage, this attitude itself was an innate, brilliant talent.

For the first time in a long while, it seems there is a reason worthy of leaving the Imperial Palace.

A deep, slow curve etched itself onto his wrinkled lips.