You'll Stay With Me Forever, Right?
Immortality. Everyone feels differently when they hear that word. To a realist who lives by the laws of entropy, it sounds like nonsense. To a novelist, it might be a sweet plot device to dramatize a story. To an elderly person facing their final rest, it could be a desperate dream. In any case, the concept of immortality is generally considered impossible. But in the fantasy world I now inhabit, it wasn't entirely unrealistic. If you were lucky enough to stumble upon a legendary item granting immortality, drink from the Eternal Spring, or receive a powerful blessing of eternal life from a god, it could become reality. The odds were lottery-level, sure, but that didn't make it completely impossible. There were even mad black mages who, in their obsession to become immortal, abandoned their humanity and turned themselves into liches. In this world, living forever was seen as a blessing. Given the social climate, Natasha's curse could even be viewed positively. If you grabbed a random passerby and asked, they'd probably say, "Why call it a curse? It's a divine blessing! If you don't want it, sell it to me! Name your price!" and fight over who gets to buy it.
Natasha herself didn't seem to regard it as a curse. "I actually like it. I can keep researching magic, and I can eat as much strawberry cake as I want."
"But..."
Logically, I understood. Yet my own feelings about immortality were... sadness. The image of the king I'd met in the erosion naturally surfaced in my mind. He, too, had possessed an immortal body. But he hadn't looked happy in the slightest. Trapped in grief and emptiness, his emotions worn away, he'd been forced to live because he couldn't die. That encounter had burned a negative image of immortality into my brain. Ever since then, the concept of "infinite time" had become synonymous with sorrow. Natasha might be happy now, but what guarantee was there that she wouldn't end up like that king? After eons had passed, there might come a day when she wanted to die but couldn't, forced to drag herself through each day drowning in misery.
Suddenly, Natasha approached and grabbed both of my cheeks with her hands, stretching them outward. My cheeks pulled like cheese. "Mmmph shmmph mmmph. (What are you doing?)"
"What's with the gloomy look on such a handsome face? You look far more dashing and wonderful when you smile."
She beamed at me with a smile bright as sunlight. "Come on, smile. Like this—hee-hee~."
Haha was one thing, but hee-hee? That was just ridiculous. "Mmmph shmmph mmmph. (How am I supposed to smile like this?)"
Natasha, who somehow understood my garbled pronunciation perfectly, shook her head. She spoke to me in the tone of a kindergarten teacher addressing her students. "Mmm~. I won't let go until you smile."
With that, she gave me a coy, playful smile and made an even brighter expression, as if urging me to follow her lead. The sight of her trying so hard to lift my mood was almost heartbreaking. At this rate, she really wasn't going to release me. Fine. I'd just close my eyes and get it over with. "Hee-hee."
...I decided to laugh like an idiot. At least my front teeth weren't showing any gaps. "Look at that. Doesn't that handsome face of yours shine so brightly now?"
Only then did Natasha look satisfied. Finally, my cheese-treated cheeks were about to be freed—or so I thought. That was a mistake. "Mmmph shmmph? (Master?)"
"Oh my. This is oddly addictive. How fascinating. How can someone's cheeks be so delightfully squishy, like jelly?"
Natasha's small hands kept kneading my plump, steamed-bun-like cheeks. ...Why had she suddenly become so fascinated with this nonsense? She giggled as if she found it adorable. After thoroughly enjoying the soft texture of my cheeks to her heart's content, she finally let go. "Hehe."
"Ugh."
Ha. I felt like I'd been treated like a preschooler. How old was I again? Honestly, my pride was a little wounded. Well, as long as Master is smiling, that's what matters. While I rubbed my tingling cheeks, Natasha returned to the original topic.
"Juno. A human lifespan is far too short to reach the pinnacle of magic. The path of magic is infinite, but the human body is finite."
"......"
"You're still young, so you don't yet grasp how heartbreaking that is for a mage. Young mages can't feel the finiteness of time, but elderly mages understand that truth all too painfully."
Natasha stood with her hands behind her back, gazing out at the evening sky beyond the window. "I am someone who wants to live longer than anyone else. There are so many things I want to do, so many things I must do. There are unfinished researches, ambitions to advance the divine art system to its ultimate form. My lifelong dream is to compile all the unique magic and insights I've created into a grand grimoire and publish it."
"......"
"That's why immortality isn't a curse to me—it's a blessing. Without this blessing, I would have clawed and fought with every means available—spells to extend life, artifacts, mysteries, even the techniques of otherworldly races—just to live for thousands, tens of thousands of years. I am truly grateful to be an immortal being."
I quietly watched her profile. In the end, she was just an ordinary mage with dreams. Not the Great Mage. Not the Tower Master. Not someone's master. Just one person who dreamed of magic. Natasha was now showing me, as one human being to another, the dream she held in her heart. It was a side of her I'd never seen before. In her star-like, sparkling eyes, I saw a child. Even though she had transcended human lifespan, deep inside her still lived a little girl who dreamed of magic.
I thought for a moment about the right way to respond to her sincerity. It was probably to understand her as a fellow human being. Not as master and disciple, but as person to person. After all, it was because she trusted me that she'd revealed the curse of Word Magic instead of keeping it hidden. Given her personality, she must have carefully considered how to tell me in the most natural way possible without startling her disciple. There's no single correct answer when it comes to relationships. But sometimes, knowing how to respond properly to someone's genuine feelings is part of being an adult. If I reacted negatively to everything, Natasha would hesitate to share her darker inner thoughts or deeper feelings in the future. I didn't want that kind of relationship. There should be at least one person who understands her completely as a human being. Better than being cursed to have your limbs torn off or writhe in agony while dying.
She smiled. Natasha's radiant smile came to me like a melody riding on starlight. I responded to that silent melody in my own way. "I'll have to live a long life too. If I want to keep watching over Master's smile for a long time."
Natasha's eyes widened like saucers. She stared at me blankly, her expression overflowing with emotion. "You don't have to be so moved..."
Whoosh— Suddenly, Natasha spread her short arms wide and pulled me into a full embrace, as if hugging a large tree. Looking down, I saw her fist-sized head buried against my chest. Carrying the sweet, fresh scent of strawberries, she pressed her face into my collar and murmured softly, "I'm really, truly moved. You're the first person who's ever said something like that to me. You have such a kind heart, and your words are just as lovely, my dear disciple."
I'd only meant to express that I respected Master's feelings about her curse, phrased metaphorically. Was that really worth getting so emotional over that she'd hug me without warning? She really does seem like a child sometimes. There probably wasn't another master who'd become this unguarded in front of their disciple. Natasha released her arms from the embrace and stood before me again, looking up. Even after she'd pulled away, the scent of strawberries lingered in my arms like a breath. "Someday you'll obtain eternal life too, and stay with me forever, right?"
"Excuse me?"
No. How had she interpreted it that way? That was quite the leap. "You promised? To stay with Master forever."
"No, that's not—" Natasha's eyes curved like crescent moons. Sensing the mischievous undercurrent in her gaze, I flinched without meaning to. I had a bad feeling that if I even uttered the first syllable of "promise," even as an empty reassurance, it might come back to bite me later. Desperate to change the subject, I blurted out as if suddenly remembering something, "Ah! Master, didn't you say you had something to give me today?"
"Mm. Of course I wouldn't forget the first gift I'm giving my disciple."
Thank goodness. The subject-change strategy had worked. "You can't open it yet. Before that, there's somewhere we need to go first."
Natasha chanted an incantation toward the ground beneath her feet. It was a mysterious language with twisted pronunciations, seemingly part of Word Magic. When the incantation ended, a magic circle formed on the floor. Light beams rose along the patterns, and in the blink of an eye, we had been transported to another space.