The Tower Master's Whim
“Hey.”
“……”
“Kid.”
“Nya-hum~ung-nya~.”
The girl showed no sign of waking. She merely smacked her small, plump lips like a nursing infant, chewing on nothing… Wait. Something thick was dribbling from the corner of her mouth.
‘She drooled all over my blanket!’
God, seriously! How long had she been sleeping here? Using someone else’s hideout as an inn was bad enough, but turning my blanket into a drool-soaked mess? ‘My commemorative blanket, bought with my secretly stashed emergency funds…’
I felt the blood rush to my head. Still, I couldn’t exactly demand compensation from a runaway child who looked years younger than me. As I reached out to wake the orange-haired girl again, entertaining the grumpy thought of lecturing her the moment she stirred—“What were you thinking, running away from home with milk still on your lips?”—her eyes snapped open.
“Who goes there!”
The nerve of this brat. “Who goes there?” Really?
“Now, who exactly is speaking to whom like—ack!”
I couldn’t finish. A giant hand, like a titan’s grip, materialized in the air and seized me. It happened in an instant. My entire body was trapped, pinned like a man buried in sand, unable to move an inch.
“……!”
What kind of ability could produce such a phenomenon without so much as lifting a finger? It wasn’t hard to guess.
‘Magic!’
So she was a mage? Not just some runaway kid? The image of the peacefully sleeping little girl had vanished. The orange-haired child now stood before me in an elegant robe embroidered with golden threads, having risen from the bed in the blink of an eye. She radiated the dignified presence of a true sorceress. Fixing me with her pale-green eyes, she spoke with commanding authority.
“I asked who goes there! What manner of scoundrel dares disturb my sweet slumber!”
Natural condescension. She even jutted her chin and pointed an accusing finger.
‘Waking someone up isn’t a capital offense, is it?’
Good grief. A mage trying to kill a man! And besides, how was I supposed to answer when I was bound so tightly I couldn’t speak?
“This… ack, could you loosen it a bit… ack.”
She narrowed her eyes, studied me for a moment, then flicked her wrist through the air. The pressure around me eased.
‘Whew. I can breathe again.’
I was privately grateful I hadn’t stolen the blanket while she slept. Waking her with a poke had already caused this much trouble—if I’d taken the blanket too, I’d probably be a smear on the floor by now.
‘Yeah, that giant hand would’ve crushed me.’
After clearing my throat, I spoke.
“Miss Mage. This is my house.”
“What?”
Her shoulders twitched.
“……Your house?”
“Yes. I came home after work and found some random runaway—er, stranger—lying here, so I woke you up.”
My innocent expression must have conveyed the truth. She withdrew her pointing finger, looking embarrassed.
“Ahem. I see. So it is.”
“By the way, you’ve got drool on your face.”
“What?!”
Startled, she pulled a white handkerchief from her robes and frantically wiped her mouth. Her movements were graceful, like a noblewoman’s, but the panic was unmistakable.
“It’s all the way to your chin. Both sides.”
“W-why are you telling me this now!”
“Because I couldn’t say it until now. If you’re asking why I said it now—”
She was the one who’d launched a magic attack before we could even talk.
“Aaaagh! What is this mess!”
She pulled out a mirror, took one look at her reflection, and screamed. Her face turned tomato-red. That was the face of someone experiencing existential dread. She’d just scolded the homeowner while covered in dried drool.
Watching her, a thought occurred to me.
‘Huh. So mages can feel shame.’
I recalled a passage I’d once read in a magic tome.
1. What sort of creatures are mages? Before answering, any reader offended by my use of the word “creatures” is surely a mage themselves. Close this book and begone.
2. Returning to the question: mages are madmen who can wield magic. They fall into two categories—those intoxicated by the domain of magic itself, or those intoxicated by the powerful image they project when casting spells. In either case, their minds are broken; the more screws loose, the greater their madness. If you suspect someone has many screws missing, they are dangerously unhinged. Avoid them at all costs if you value your life.
3. It is no coincidence that “mage-like bastard” is considered a grave insult. At best they are nuisances; at worst, they are sociopaths. Arrogance and elitism come naturally. They are greedy, haughty, and self-indulgent, having discarded honor and shame alike. Brimming with bravado and ego, they blame others for failure and claim all success for themselves. They are the epitome of self-centeredness, egotism, and inhumanity. Their temperaments are volatile, prone to sudden, violent outbursts of rage.
4. Interestingly, they are aware of their own foul dispositions and harbor a mutual dislike for their own kind. Working in a magic tower, one often witnesses mages calling each other lunatics…
It was a chapter discussing the average mage—commonly called “mage average.” According to the book, mages were shameless creatures who knew nothing of shame and acted however they pleased. I hadn’t met many mages myself, but having Altrong as a prime example of that “average,” I wholeheartedly agreed.
‘But still…’
At least this one had a sense of shame! Unlike the typical mage, the orange-haired girl before me seemed to understand embarrassment.
‘She doesn’t seem like she wants to hurt me.’
“Miss Mage, could you please release me now?”
“Ah.”
She blinked at me while still staring into the mirror, then waved her hand. The binding magic dissolved, and the giant hand vanished. I dropped to the floor with a thud.
‘My rear end isn’t going to survive today.’
What kind of day was this? This was already the second time I’d landed on my backside. Rubbing my sore behind, I stood up just as she finished cleaning herself and tucked the mirror and handkerchief away. Turning to me with a prim expression, she spoke.
“……My apologies. The place looked so bare that I assumed it was abandoned.”
“Well, it is pretty empty. I can see how you’d think that.”
Good heavens. A mage who actually apologized? It was a miraculous sight. The very embodiment of sociopathy admitting fault and saying “sorry” with her own mouth! Of course, apologizing when you’ve wronged someone was basic decency, but mages operated on a different logic from ordinary people. Another mage—Altrong, for instance—would have demanded compensation for having their sleep disturbed and thrown a fit instead.
‘She’s got a more normal personality than the average mage.’
While I was thinking this, she made a show of pulling something from the air and offered me a pouch with an elegant gesture.
“Take it.”
“What is this?”
“Lodging fee.”
“Lodging fee?”
“I am not like those uncouth mages who freeload. Since I used your home without permission, it is only proper that I pay for it.”
More like freeloading without paying, but whatever. There was something oddly endearing about her.
‘First an apology, now compensation?’
I hadn’t expected this at all.
“Well? Take it.”
“Ah, yes.”
I accepted the pouch and opened it. It was stuffed with silver coins—several gold ones mixed in as well. I’d never seen so much money in my life. My jaw dropped.
“Why the face? Is it too little?”
“No, it’s… too much. I’m not sure it’s okay to accept this much.”
Money was always welcome, but this was so much it was almost frightening.
“What a good child. Most people would snatch it up with glee.”
She lifted her chin proudly.
“Young boy, you need not worry about my finances. I possess far more wealth than you could possibly imagine. This amount is nothing to me. Accept it without concern. Hmph.”
No, I wasn’t worried about her wallet—I was worried about my life.
‘If Altrong finds out I hid this much money, I’m dead!’
Staring at the pouch, I made my decision.
“Miss Mage, may I ask a favor instead?”
It was phrased as a request, but it was really a deal.
“A favor? Suddenly?”
“Instead of the money, could you teach me magic?”
“Eh?”
She blinked at my unexpected words.
“You want me to teach you magic?”
“Yes. Just enough to match the value of this money. I’ll return the coins. It doesn’t matter if it’s basic instruction or introductory spells—anything is fine. Even the smallest lesson would be enough.”
I’d been feeling frustrated for a while. Altrong refused to teach me, and studying alone got me nowhere. I hadn’t been slacking off during my four years as a servant. I’d scrounged up whatever magic books I could find—“A Beginner’s Guide for Aspiring Mages,” “Essential but Maddening Fundamentals of Magic Theory”—and studied them desperately. But no matter how many times I read them or how late I stayed up pounding my head against the pages, nothing made sense.
It was like those kids back in school who studied endlessly but never improved. That was exactly my situation. I felt blocked, as if the world itself was mocking me: No talent? You think you can do magic? Give up! The helplessness of it all had me tearing at my hair—until I happened upon a “normal” mage. If she was truly normal, this was an incredible stroke of luck.
‘A normal mage? I can’t let this chance slip!’
What I needed most right now was an introduction to magic. I had to take that first step onto the path of sorcery, even if it was just to lick the letter “M.” My failed attempts at self-study had taught me one thing: I needed a guide.
If she refused, it would be disappointing, but I’d still have the lodging fee, so it wouldn’t be a loss. She gazed at me in silence, then tilted her head.
“Hmm. I don’t understand. You look poor. Wouldn’t taking the money be more practical?”
“I like magic more than money. If I can learn even a little of the magic I love, I think I’ll be happy.”
I smiled like an innocent child. For a brief moment, something flickered in her eyes.
“Do you need blood for experiments? If you want, I’ll give you mine too.”
Still smiling brightly, I rolled up one sleeve and offered my forearm. I was fully prepared to have blood drawn on the spot.
“W-what?”
Her face twisted in bewilderment. What kind of lunatic was this?
“D-do you take me for a vampire?! P-put that away at once! That ugly, potato-like arm!”
I really would’ve given blood if she needed it. But if she didn’t want it, fine. I nodded and lowered my sleeve.
“I’ve lived a long time, but I’ve never seen such a strange child. The first one to smile while offering his own blood just to learn basic magic.”
A brief silence fell. She stared into my eyes for a long moment, then gave her answer.
“Anyway, it’s impossible.”
Rejection. And a firm one at that. She didn’t even pretend to consider it.
“Boy, you may not know this, but I am an exceedingly expensive mage. Even if you brought a thousand times this amount, it wouldn’t cover ten minutes of my lecture fee.”
“……I see.”
I nodded, resigned. Whether her claim was bluster or not, the fact that she’d summoned that giant hand instantly without chanting suggested she wasn’t some third-rate hack.
“Furthermore, I do not teach magic to just anyone. I only invest my time in those I deem worthy. Why? Because teaching someone magic is an incredibly tedious affair. I despise anything bothersome.”
“……Understood.”
“Or so I intended to say.”
“……?”
“But today, I feel like being capricious.”
Her next words caught me completely off guard.
“I shall teach you magic. The entire lesson—free of charge.”