As I was waiting and resting on the bench, I thought the students would find me because, in my past, the student who tried to find the teacher was not the teacher trying to find the student. I was waiting—waiting—waiting. No one was coming. Forgetting about everything and not knowing anything, I decided to walk around the garden. I wandered around the garden, taking in the beauty of the flowers and trees that surrounded me. Until I came across a pavilion, which was nestled in a secluded corner of the garden. The pavilion looked like something out of a fairytale — wooden beams entwined with flowering vines and a stone floor cracked with age. I was awestruck by its beauty and decided to explore further.
As I stepped closer, I heard a soft grunt and a frustrated sigh…
Someone was here. I decided to approach the sound quietly. I stopped at the edge of the pavilion. There, kneeling with struggle on the stone floor, was a student. Finally, I saw a student in this world, a girl with long grey hair, wearing a white robe different from my robe. Her hands were outstretched, and palms hovering over an open book. A line of pale blue light flickering between his fingers, stuttering, vanishing every few seconds.
"Why…Why…Why…" She muttered to herself, and suddenly she raised the tone. "WHY!!!". I was startled, and I kicked a small stone. The girl heard that and walked towards me, who was hidden behind the pavilion. "Who's there?" she asked, her voice trembling. I hesitated for a moment before stepping out into the open, revealing myself to her.
She immediately jumped, "Sir Alaric?" I looked at her; she was trembling, and her hand kept shivering around. It felt like she was scared and fearful of me. She looked at me like I was about to bark or, even worse, eat her. I tried to open my mouth, and for a moment, the old habits of mine, clicking my tongue, and I let out a little bit of "tsk". Immediately she flinched, taking a step back. Did Alaric Mordane frighten his students too? Did he carry the same cold presence as I did?
I tried to bite my tongue and swallowed my old instinct. I forced my shoulder to relax and took a breath. "At ease… In here, I—"
She suddenly took one step back…
I continued, "At ease, don't scare… What's your name?"
She blinked. "It's…Liora… Liora Valemont, sir…"
Did all people in this world have that type of name? Like this body, Alaric Mordane, and now she was Liora Valemont. It was difficult to remember… "Liora…" I tasted the name and tried to remember it… "And what are you doing here, Liora?"
She glanced at his book, then back at me, yet she didn't stare at my face; rather, she stared at my feet. "I was…just practising the chain spark spell…" Chain spark spell – that was a cool name. "Yet, I can't get the spell to chain to each other… I can only get one spark…"
That was why a line of blue light appeared from her hand. I glanced at her book behind her, and I walked to it. I took it and tried to understand inside the book. Reading it, and nothing, I didn't understand a single thing.
My thought, "So how do I approach this trouble? I don't know a single thing about magic, and there is a student in front of me who has a trouble." I brought the book to her and said, "Explain it to me."
"S..s...sir?" She said with hesitation, and I felt her tone like she was intimidated and scared.
"Explain it to me," I said, softer this time. "From the beginning. How is the spell meant to work?"
She hesitated—then started to open her mouth. She explained the spell should work from the heart, with pure intentions and focus. As she spoke, I realised that magic wasn't just about words and gestures but about belief and emotion. Then she continued, after the blue light appeared, she needed to regain that control and direct it towards the intended target. I listened intently, realising that mastering this spell would require more than just memorisation – it would require a deep connection to the magic itself.
I asked her, "Demonstrate it to me."
She took the book and handed it on her left hand. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and her right hand began to take a gesture. When I saw that gesture, immediately I thought of a magician's gesture; she pointed her right middle finger and index finger. The blue light began to gather at the tips of her fingers, swirling and pulsating with energy. A line of blue light like before began to emerge. I looked closely as the blue light began to spark. As the sparks grew brighter and brighter, until… it disappeared. As for me, who never saw magic, that was amazing, but after hearing her intention about chain spark, I only saw one blue light or one spark. There was no chain reaction from the spark.
She took a glance at me for a millisecond. I felt her fear and disappointment. I was just looking at her.
For moments, she didn't want to approach me. So, I tried to approach her. I walked to her and asked, "What happened to the chain reaction you were talking about?"
She couldn't take a look at me.
I looked at her left hand, which was trembling slightly. I took the book from her left hand and said, "Why do you need this book?"
She looked at the book in my hand like it was both her lifeline and her prison.
"It…it tells me everything and the form…" She stammered. "The focus points, the right gesture, the right..the right feelings…"
Feelings? Why did she need to follow the book for feeling? I took a closer look at her again… Slowly, I realised this student just followed the script that had been written without knowing the fundamental reason behind it. I threw the book out of the pavilion…
She jumped, her eyes wide as the book landed outside the pavilion. For a second she looked at me, and I knew that look. It made me memorise my past; that look was the look of all my students; even I had that look. It was the look of blindly following instructions and books without truly understanding the purpose behind them.
She opened her mouth, "Sir—! Is that necessary to throw the book?"
Finally, she barked at me herself. I saw her; her blindly following the book maybe went too deep.
"It's just a paper…" I said softly.
"Even if it's a paper, is that really necessary to throw the book who had guided it?"
Ah, she was me… Every child who'd ever been taught that mistakes were sins and rules were gospel…
"It's just a paper…" I said again, softer.
She clenched her fists. For a moment, I saw a spark — not the magic, but the spark of a student.
She whispered, almost to herself, "It's easy to say it's just paper…"
Her voice trembled, but then she looked straight at me. "IF YOU HAVE TALENT!"
The words hit me like a slap. But it wasn't the words that struck me—it was her eyes. The way they looked at me was like I was the unfair world itself.
And for a moment, I didn't see Liora Valemont in front of me. I saw every student I'd ever scolded for not being "good enough" in front of me.
She didn't flinch this time. She didn't hide her hands or look at the floor or look at my feet. She just glared and stared into my eyes—raw, alive. This was my first time seeing that look.
As I tried to open my mouth, she just walked past me. Her steps were stiff. Out of the pavilion, she took the book from the ground. Her grip on the book was so tight, it was like the book was a lifeline for her. She even didn't look at me; she just walked away.
I could have stopped her. I could have called her name. But right now, I didn't. I just stood there in the empty pavilion. As she was disappearing, I looked at the stone floor where she had practised. The mark of all the sparks she had been tried with could be seen. I wondered how many she'd tried and failed and tried again. How many times she'd been told to just follow the guide, just do it right.
…
..
.
I took a seat on the edge of the pavilion. I let out a slow breath. The garden was quiet again. Liora Valemont, huh. She had tried so hard — not just hard, but countless times, again and again. And yet she still stood there, clutching that book like her last hope.
It would be so frustrating, as you had tried very hard, not just very hard but countless times, but never succeeded. I knew that feeling as a teenager. I had a classmate who never bothered to take notes, never raised his hand, and never asked a question. But when the exam came, he would always ace it, always be at the top of the class.
Genius. Prodigy. Talent. How many students had I told to "try harder" without seeing how hard they already were trying? Genius, prodigy, and talent can be frustrating to witness when you're putting in so much effort without the same results. Was this what they felt when they looked at me?