Time with Presia
Knock knock.
Research Building, Room 707. Just like always, I knocked and walked straight in without waiting for an answer. It wasn’t as if this was my first or second visit; there was no real need to wait, and I already knew full well that no reply would come.
Inside, the curtains were drawn against the sunlight as usual, and the room itself was dark—no lamps lit.
I headed into the equally dim adjoining room and found Presia stretched out on the sofa.
Before waking her, I cleared a bit of space on the nearby table, shoving things aside just enough to make room.
“Boss. I’m here.”
I pulled out the books I needed for studying, finished every last bit of preparation, and only then woke the sleeping Presia.
“Mm… Elicia…?”
She rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up. I slipped my hands under her arms, helped her upright, and gently smoothed down a few stray locks of hair that had stuck out at odd angles.
“You promised to teach me the basics of magicology today, remember?”
“I remember…”
Still thick with sleep, Presia answered and hopped lightly down from the sofa.
Each time she gave a casual flick of her fingers, the lamps around the room lit one by one. When she snapped her fingers toward empty air, the teddy bear she had been hugging sat up, then waddled out of the room with a comical sway of its hips.
A short wait later, the same teddy bear returned carrying a tea set. Even while toddling along, it somehow managed not to spill a single drop from the teapot.
It had brought the set, yet the table was far too high for it to do anything useful. Presia snapped her fingers once more.
The teapot and cups rose into the air, the teddy bear still clinging to them as it floated up as well.
Once it landed on the table, the little bear set out the saucers and cups with practiced ease, then tilted the teapot and poured the tea.
After placing the set neatly in one corner, it hopped down and returned to its original spot on the sofa.
The way it now sat motionless with its head bowed, as if the earlier movement had been nothing but a lie, felt almost more uncanny than when it had been walking around—yet that was the normal state of things.
Slurp.
Presia settled at the table, lifted her cup, took a single sip, and set it back down.
“Before we start the lesson, let’s just have a quick cup of tea.”
“Shall we?”
At her words I pulled out the chair opposite her and sat.
“Um… your body is all right now, right?”
“Ah—come to think of it, I forgot to thank you. I heard you treated me, Boss.”
Presia herself had been the one who healed me with her magic; there was no way she didn’t already know my condition. The fact that she still said it meant she was genuinely worried about me.
I later learned that the healing magic she had cast on me was superior even to the sacred magic of most priests. It gave me a small glimpse of just how skilled she really was.
“No. If anything, I only made it through thanks to you, Elicia. That much is only natural—and if you need anything else, just say the word.”
“Hmm… then how about we stop keeping score of who should be more grateful? Being thankful is just being thankful. Let’s leave it at that.”
From my side it was only natural to feel indebted to Presia; from hers, she clearly felt the same toward me. If we kept insisting the other was more deserving of thanks, it would never end.
“Of course it would be best if nothing like this ever happens again. But if something similar does come up, I’ll act the same way. You would too, wouldn’t you, Boss?”
“Yeah.”
Watching her nod, I spoke again.
“If we already know each other’s feelings, isn’t a simple ‘thank you’ enough?”
Expressing emotion mattered, of course. But getting too tangled up in it could become stifling in its own way. We weren’t quite at the stage of understanding each other without words, yet between Presia and me, a single phrase ought to be plenty.
“…Yeah.”
Thankfully the meaning seemed to land. Presia bobbed her head and answered shortly.
“Then I’ll be in your care for today, Boss.”
With the embarrassing talk finished, we moved on to the original purpose of the day: a lesson in the basics of magicology.
“How much do you know about magic?”
“Well… using mana to produce some kind of phenomenon is called magic, right?”
Both drew on a fundamental energy, yet magic was fundamentally different from a knight’s Aura. If Aura was a technique for tempering and strengthening oneself, then a mage’s magic was the art of moving the forces of nature to express one’s will. That was why magic could create so many more varied phenomena than Aura. Since humans were part of nature as well, it was even possible—though inefficient—to strengthen the body the way Aura did.
And the great mages spoken of in history had supposedly worked miracles ordinary people could scarcely imagine.
“Then how do you produce those phenomena?”
“Through chanting and magic circles.”
Harnessing the forces of nature was difficult for humans. What made it possible were the magic formulas and circles. By using those two as mediums, people had turned the realm of miracles into a mere technique.
“Right. But you need to understand why it’s chanting and magic circles—what exact roles each of them plays. Of course, if all you want is a good exam score, you don’t have to dig this deep. Simple memorization would be enough. Still, I think knowing it will help you, Elicia.”
I was only going to swing a sword; how useful could detailed knowledge of magic really be? Yet if Presia said so, it would surely prove helpful somewhere. At the very least, it might give me a slight edge if I ever had to face a mage.
“All right. Then please teach me.”
So I accepted her kindness without hesitation.
What followed was Presia’s lecture on magic. The quality of that lecture was on an entirely different level from the magicology classes I usually attended. That wasn’t a dig at the regular professors’ skill; it was simply that the knight faculty classes rarely had anyone who actually intended to cast magic. Talent for magic was scarce, passion even scarcer, so the instructors tended to skim the theory and move on.
Naturally, a lesson from someone who was seriously teaching magic was going to be superior.
“I use magic under a completely different system from the existing ones, so anything more advanced than this might be a little off—I haven’t looked through the books yet. But the basics of magicology? I mastered those for certain just recently, so don’t worry.”
As she wrapped up the lesson, Presia said something hard to grasp.
“Pardon?”
“Hm?”
My startled reaction only made her tilt her head in confusion.
“You mastered the basics of magicology… this semester?”
Mastering the basics would normally mean you were still a complete beginner. Yet Presia had been invited as an academy professor; she couldn’t possibly be a novice.
“Yeah. Before I came to the academy I only ever used magic my own way.”
As far as I knew, Presia had entered the academy at the same time I did—this very first semester. That meant she had looked at the basics of magicology for the first time this term and already mastered them.
“The spells I tested on you during the semester were ones I created while studying those basics.”
What kind of monstrous talent was this?
“It was a little confusing because it was different from the magic I used before… but it was fun.”
For an ordinary person, “confusing” and “fun” wouldn’t even enter the picture; an entirely different system of magic would be unimaginable.
“If you want, Elicia… shall I teach you my magic too?”
It wasn’t the student who looked eager—it was the teacher. Anticipation shone all over Presia’s face.
“Would that really be all right?”
Looking at that expression, I couldn’t bring myself to refuse. Of course it wasn’t only because of her face; I accepted the offer with a fair amount of expectation of my own. Who knew? Even if I was clumsy with conventional magic, maybe I had talent for the kind Presia used.
And so I became Presia’s first assistant and first disciple. And then—
“Mm… Elicia has no talent for magic.”
I got to feel my own lack of talent all over again. I had hoped a little, but this was only natural. I already knew I had no gift for magic, so I didn’t particularly despair. And lacking talent wasn’t an automatic reason to give up.
“You’ll still keep teaching me, though, right?”
“Yeah!”
At my request Presia answered with a positively delighted face. If I kept learning her magic, maybe someday the stars would grant a wish the way she had once described. That faint hope remained.
Besides, sooner or later Presia’s magic would probably be recognized as a proper system and leave its name in the annals of magicology. When that day came, her first disciple might get to leave a single line of his name beside hers. A tiny, worldly little wish.
Just a tiny one.
“Then thank you so much for today. I’ll be heading out.”
Roll call was approaching, so I expressed my gratitude and began clearing the table. The basics of magicology were already finished, and I could learn Presia’s magic any time.
“Um…”
But as I gathered my textbooks and turned to leave, Presia stopped me.
“Yes?”
For some reason she clutched the hem of my clothes and looked back and forth between me and the sofa. After several silent glances, she simply let go of my clothes without another word.
“Never mind. Get back safely.”
“Yes. See you next time. Have a good night.”
I waved to Presia and stepped out of the research lab. Stars were already out in the sky; quite a bit of time had passed. I headed straight back to the dormitory so I wouldn’t be late for roll call.
Fortunately, evening roll call began the moment I returned. Once it ended without incident, I washed up lightly, changed into pajamas, and got ready for bed.
Tap. Tap.
Yet just as I turned out the light and was about to lie down, I heard a sound. I looked around the room, but nothing seemed capable of making noise. Thinking I must have imagined it, I started back toward the bed—only for the sound to come again.
Scritch. Scritch.
This time it was an unpleasant scraping, as if something sharp were dragging across glass. Focused on the noise, I turned my head toward its source.
My gaze landed on the window, where moonlight spilled into the room. And beyond that window, a pair of small, round eyes glittered.
“Meow?”
I quickly got up and opened the window. The cat leapt lightly inside. I had only ever seen Meow in broad daylight; this was the first time at night. I knew cats liked high places, but my room was on the third floor of the dormitory. I hadn’t thought they climbed that high—yet Meow had managed it.
More than that, the fact that it had tapped on the window made me wonder: had it known this was my room? Or had it simply wanted to come inside, and this just happened to be the place?
While I stood in the middle of the room lost in curiosity, Meow hopped onto my bed as if it owned the place, curled into a neat ball, and settled down.
The way it meowed at me while I stared in disbelief left no doubt who the real master of the room was.
I had no intention of chasing it out anyway; if anything, being able to sleep with Meow was more than welcome. The moment I slipped under the covers, the cat finally closed its eyes in contentment and drifted off.
Watching it, I let out a quiet chuckle and set off for the land of dreams myself.