Glimpses of the Past
“W-we have to do it?”
Iris stammered her reply, not out of panic or fear, but from the sheer thrill of being handed the chance to tackle something so bizarre firsthand.
“Magic is a power so outlandish that even ‘unimaginable’ doesn’t do it justice. A mage who wields it must be ready to respond to any variable on the spot.”
At first glance, it sounded like the professor was just dumping his job on a student, but it rang true enough. Failing to handle even a single magical creature’s mischief would tarnish a mage’s honor. Of course, since they were freshmen, that’s why the professor had come to check—but it was still the first-years’ duty to step up first.
“How do we do it?”
Iris pressed, her eyes gleaming with impatience.
“Simple. Once a prank’s seen through, it loses all power.”
“Seen through...”
“That wisp up there seems to be the type that projects visions of the past. It’s not harmful, but it’s a nasty one. It might show you happy times, but other times it stabs right at your sore spots.”
To Maness, who already knew about these vision wisps, the professor’s hint was a pretty bold giveaway. The weakness of a creature that toyed with human emotions was simple indifference. If you took scenes that should bring joy or sorrow with utter nonchalance, the wisp lost interest and withdrew its illusions.
“What about the third-years? They’re the ones who let it loose.”
Shouldn’t they come fix their own mess? Maness tossed out the pointed question, laced with aggression.
Metaph’s smile deepened at his student’s jab. “Naturally, the culprits should handle the cleanup. But it doesn’t look like they just unleashed this one wisp. The low-risk ones take time to track down, even if they’re on the case.”
They might even have to camp out overnight. Still, Maness felt no particular worry. If things went as he knew they would, it’d be resolved by the time Kyle finished his workout. A guy who’d be thinking, If you’re a mage, you’ve gotta handle trials like this! was more than enough. He was just annoyed at the third-years for keeping him from heading back to the dorm to rest.
“Don’t worry! I’ll wrap this up in one shot!”
Iris, having pieced together the info from Metaph, strode forward with majestic confidence. Cheers erupted around her, enveloping her as her bold back seemed to make the world revolve around her in that moment.
How long would it take? With the fixer already charging in, all that was left was to wait for it to end. If it followed the script, he could just sit back and it’d be fine. Maness understood his role perfectly.
“You look awfully relaxed.”
Metaph murmured from his squinted eyes, tracking Iris.
“No need to fret when Snowrobe’s rising star’s on the job.”
“You trust Iris that much?”
“What’s not to trust? She found her Mana Well in a snap and nailed the detection spell without a hitch.”
“True enough.”
Metaph shifted his gaze from Iris to Maness, driving the point home. “But you pulled off the exact same feats, didn’t you, Maness?”
Maness clicked his tongue inwardly. The professor ahead was shoving his back. She’s going in— what’re you waiting for? Running into him had turned this annoying.
As he waited for Iris to react once inside Letos Hall, Maness’s mind raced. With her boldness, she might wrap it up in seconds. He scrambled for a plausible excuse or distraction to dodge the professor’s expectations—but it was all for naught.
“...Hic.”
The hall was chaos, so he couldn’t pinpoint the sound exactly. But Maness, focused on Iris, could’ve sworn he heard a sniffle, like she was wiping away tears. Her shoulders shook too.
When was Kyle due back from his workout? Accepting that Iris was already caught in an emotional whirlwind, Maness tapped at his mental calculator. If he just finished exercising and came straight back, it wouldn’t take long—but the life of a popular guy wasn’t that straightforward. He might chat with friends along the way or have plans after. Could mean hours of twiddling thumbs here. And the professor beside him was nudging him to head inside too.
“Doesn’t look like Iris’ll sort this out quick. What do you say, Maness?”
“Not sure what you’re getting at.”
“It’ll be good experience.”
Tch. Refusing when he’d put it that bluntly wasn’t proper student conduct. And his urging wasn’t bad advice—experience was fertilizer for growth. But there was a world of difference between the deranged laughing and crying of the hall’s students and Maness doing the same. If some heartbreaking past vision made him ugly-cry, he’d be a laughingstock.
...Wait.
Maness’s thoughts froze for a beat. A wisp that showed the past. On second thought, this was a golden opportunity. For someone who practically monopolized the world’s info, what he lacked most was data on himself. A way to gather scraps of it was right in front of him.
It was a gamble. The wisp might show his original world’s past, before possessing this body. But that risk was worth bearing.
“Fine, whatever.”
Maness sighed like it couldn’t be helped and stepped forward. Timing the theatrics was key. You wanted this, so I’ll graciously step up. That way, even if the process and outcome matched hers, the payoff would differ.
“Hey, isn’t that Maness?”
“Why’s he...”
“This could get fun if it goes well.”
This time, the murmurs were jeers, unlike the cheers for Iris. Maness ignored the chatter. A clear, crucial goal awaited him.
Clack.
Passing Iris, still tear-streaked, Maness reached the hall’s center and looked up at the ceiling. He couldn’t read the yellow orb’s emotions, but it rippled like it was intrigued. Then, slowly, starting from the surroundings, the whole world melted like candle wax, sensation overtaking him.
“Disappoint me, and I’ll make you vanish.”
With those final words, Maness’s consciousness faded.
*
“What’s the duty officer doing here?”
Almond grumbled flatly as she passed through the parting students. Metaph just flashed his familiar sly smile.
“Had some business. But hey, perfect timing for a show.”
“Ugh, then why drag me into it?”
“What brings you here? You’re not the type to budge for this.”
Almond brushed off the jab by irritably scratching her shaggy hair.
“Principal ordered it—what can I do?”
“The principal, huh.”
“Damn it. ‘Respect students’ rest,’ my ass—professors get none?”
Metaph let out a short whistle of admiration at her bluntness.
“He’s probably listening—sure that’s okay?”
“Good, let him. Scared I’ll make him write a resignation? That’s what I want—go on, make me.”
The crowd out front had swelled even more. Some students had returned from errands, but mostly it was the buzz of two professors showing up.
“Why send me too, though? He had to know you were here.”
“Because of that.”
Following Metaph’s nod, Almond’s eyes landed on the yellow orb adorning the ceiling. The vicious magical creature that tormented intelligent beings with visions.
“You’re losing the principal’s trust, y’know.”
“Where else you gonna find a prof as diligent as me?”
“He sent me for that? With you here?”
“Look below it.”
Almond’s eyes widened slightly as she followed her junior’s advice downward. Maness Pictri. The school’s troublemaker stood ramrod straight, back turned.
“He just went in. Not clear yet if the wisp’ll toy with him.”
“Kid went in on his own?”
“End result, yeah. But I gave him a nudge.”
Almond sighed heavily at Metaph’s impish grin.
“You know the mana that brat’s packing, right?”
“Of course.”
“If it goes berserk, it won’t end with pocket change.”
A ring on Almond’s pinky finger glinted. An armchair materialized from thin air, drawing gasps from the crowd. Ignoring the spectacle, she sank into it as comfortably as possible.
“Even in the worst case, I’ll handle it—no need to worry.”
Almond cracked one eye open at her junior’s unusually resolute tone, eyes half-closed like she might nap. She knew best what it implied.
“Shoulder it alone only when you have to. Like that guy.”
Her mumble, like a soliloquy, may or may not have reached the pitiable junior.
*
Maness slowly opened his heavy eyelids. Fortunately, his vision settled on what looked like the interior of a medieval building. A space he’d never seen, yet somehow warm. Maybe the embers in the fireplace ahead, but it was atmospheric enough to sink into sentiment.
Regaining full awareness, Maness checked his body first. Contrary to expectations, the form matching his senses wasn’t visually there. Like he’d turned invisible.
Glitch in the illusion creation, huh. Plausible. The body was Maness Pictri’s, but the mind from outside this world. No way the past-recreation process went smoothly.
Grasping the situation, Maness surveyed his surroundings. His senses were intact, at least, so scanning was no issue. The walls brimmed with antique furniture—elegant rather than flashy. Amid them, one standout ornament caught his eye: a soaring white falcon. The crest on the wall was unmistakably Pictri Trading Company’s.
Flutter—
At the sudden ear-tickling sound, Maness whipped around. Where there’d been no one moments ago, a figure now sat on the sofa by the fireplace. The profile hit instantly: neat white hair framing blue eyes scanning a book held in small hands.
“...Maness Pictri.”
He murmured softly, but the boy stayed absorbed, oblivious. Confirming he hadn’t noticed even as Maness crept closer, he peered at the book. Pages crammed with info on regional specialties and environments— the sort mercenaries or merchants from wide-ranging guilds would read.
“No need for you to go, surely.”
The boy’s eyes finally left the text at the new voice. They drifted to the door beyond the wall, but he didn’t budge further. Leaving him, Maness approached the door.
“But you know the Magic Tower geezers won’t budge.”
“Damn fools—cut off their trade routes entirely.”
No sound as he turned the knob and opened the door. Like no intruder from outside. Maness slipped naturally into the next room.
It was set up like an office. Bookshelves stuffed like a study lined the walls; a broad desk faced a large window. A man-like figure sat in the chair before it, a woman-like one perched on the corner.
Hard to be sure. Unlike the vivid child-Maness earlier, they were just shimmering silhouettes.
This isn’t my memory.
More than just seen or heard. If he had to put it, it was memories etched into Maness Pictri’s body, the space’s own recollections. Whether the wisp could manifest that far was a later question. For now, focus on the voices unfolding before him.
“Oh? Think that’s feasible?”
“Nothing’s impossible. Sure, the company’s profits matter, but family comes first.”
Laughter filled the room.
“You know what? He’s turned fully human now.”
“Not in the mood for jokes.”
“It’ll be fine. He’s got solid disciples with him. Especially that street rat— you know him?”
The man’s silhouette pinched his brow.
“The one who named himself after our boy?”
“Yep. Bright futures like his need all the experiences—could be good for him.”
“Quit wrapping every ordeal as ‘good experience.’”
“What’s wrong with that? Mages thrive on—”
The woman’s fading words cut off as Maness’s ears rang. The pair’s forms dissolved gradually. He squeezed his eyes shut against the remelting world.
Stability returned. Peering through his lids, the scene matched before: antique furniture, white falcon crest. But now shadows draped the interior, and a single child read a letter by candlelight. With a grim expression no child should wear.