By Zephyria 
On January 15th, the last day of the new year festival, in the afternoon. Marianne returned.
“Waaah! I’m so glad to see you all! I missed you! Wow, heavens. Have you all grown taller again? This is crazy, really.”
“I know. Marianne looks like she’s gotten smaller.”
“What?”
As I teased the one jumping up and down with joy, she glared at me fiercely.
I grinned and extended my hand. Hmph, Marianne, who had been pretending to be sulky, readily accepted my handshake. She then grabbed Benjamin’s hand, which he had thrust out beside me, and shook it up and down. Suddenly, she stood on her tiptoes, comparing her height to Benjamin’s.
“195cm?”
“I believe… that’s about right.”
“Why do you live such a selfish life? Michael eats similarly to Benjamin, yet he’s barely over 180cm.”
“…I apologize.”
Benjamin quickly apologized. Seeing her playfully patting me and saying “Good job,” I couldn’t help but laugh. Was growing taller something to apologize for? I just let it be, as the one being teased seemed to be enjoying it.
Something else seemed different besides her height.
As I pondered why Marianne looked so different from before, Rubel, as if sensing my thoughts, whispered softly, “Her hair.”
Only then did I finally realize. Marianne had been tying her hair, which had grown unruly due to the lack of time to tend to it during expeditions, back with a string. After her visit to the Magic Tower, she had returned it to its original short bob, just brushing her ears.
“Did you cut your hair?”
“How did you know? Michael can’t even tell if I have my hair tied up or down.”
“…It just happened.”
“It was bothersome when I was studying, so I cut it a bit. How is it? Am I pretty?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not just saying that.”
Marianne glanced at me cheekily before bursting into laughter. Ruben, with a faint smile, feigned ignorance.
It was bothersome. Indeed, tending to one’s hair during a long journey is a tedious and difficult task.
I casually glanced at Ruben’s hair, which had been thoroughly brushed and generously coated with holy oil. His straight, black hair, which fell past his shoulders, shimmered and gleamed in the light. The way he had half-tied it and secured it with a hairpin was incredibly lovely.
To her words on New Year’s Day that it would be better to endure a little longer, Ruben had calmly agreed.
Thanks to that, we returned to being as casual with each other as we were before Ruben’s birthday. We held hands, embraced, and occasionally whispered sweet nothings. I liked it very much.
However, sometimes, just sometimes, I found myself picturing the day we would eventually marry.
I had never seen a wedding ceremony in this land before. So, I thought about covering it with red silk in the Central Plains style, as Rubel had suggested. I had heard that wedding attire in this land was white. Both white and red were Ruben’s colors. He would look good in anything.
After asking Benjamin and Rubel about their well-being and fussing over them, Marianne, with practiced ease, decided on the next course of action.
“Let’s eat first. I went through so much trouble, really. In Tower 3, all they had was sandwiches, sandwiches, and more sandwiches. They barely even spread jam on them! Everyone seems to have no appetite.”
“What about drinks?”
“You asked well, Benjamin. The drinks were also unified. They called a thick, green gruel made from seven kinds of fruits and vegetables a drink! There were no tea leaves or teacups! When I asked why they lived like this, they said that because they didn’t get much sunlight, they might die in their sleep if they didn’t eat vegetables!”
The sandwiches I had seen in the capital were all packed with meat and vegetables. At the very least, they mashed eggs into them. Puzzled, I asked again.
“Is there a reason for only putting jam in sandwiches?”
“They have to eat while reading books, and if the filling falls out, it’s bothersome, so they unified it. They say wizards from Tower 3 are particularly eccentric, and it’s definitely because they can’t eat properly.”
Marianne spoke clearly, emphasizing the pitch of her voice, then sighed deeply and stretched. She walked normally, then spun around and jumped.
Watching the flying squirrel-like creature flit about, I walked behind her with dignified steps, feeling as though I had finally completed my preparations for an expedition.
Marianne didn’t stop talking even when we sat down at the restaurant.
“People who learn Black Magic are all eccentrics, I’m sure. Why do they stack all their books horizontally? I even got arm muscles, look at this.”
Marianne raised both elbows to shoulder height, clenched her fists, and showed off her biceps. I had been worried that my child’s strength might have diminished due to not training, but it was in vain. Her firm forearms were no different from before she entered the Magic Tower, which was satisfying.
“What do you mean by stacking books horizontally?”
“You know, they don’t put books on shelves. They just stack them up like towers, with the wide side touching the floor. The tallest one is much taller than Benjamin. They weren’t even sorted by catalog number!”
“…What does Black Magic have to do with messy books?”
“Black magicians are generally fatalists.”
As we spoke, the food arrived at the restaurant. Marianne smiled brightly as she accepted the plates from the servants, thanking them. They returned her smile. We, too, ended up helping the servants carry plates to our seats.
As soon as the table was full and the servants left, Benjamin asked again.
“Fatalists… don’t tidy up their surroundings?”
“No, that’s not it. They believe that books with dark power find their own masters.”
“…What?”
“Look, if a book’s title suddenly catches your eye amidst the clutter! Or if a great book suddenly falls before your eyes! They believe they can learn the world’s most powerful magic formulas then. Does that make sense? Wow, they’ll probably die from a book falling on their head while waiting for one to drop.”
It was a funny story. I chuckled hollowly, taking it as a joke, but Marianne stirred her stew, cooling it, and shook her head. She sighed deeply again. Then she spoke words of truth.
“Black Magic is also a field of study, and without a foundation, you can’t just leap forward like that. It’s impossible, right? If you can’t even do addition and subtraction, how can you do five-digit multiplication? No, and besides, even if anything, forbidden books should be kept together with other forbidden books. I really went through a lot of trouble.”
“So, did you obtain what you wanted?”
“Well, I learned about three things. And I memorized five auxiliary spells for now.”
Rubel asked kindly, and Marianne stopped complaining, smiling sweetly. I could feel her urging me to ask, so this time, I opened my mouth.
“Three things, you say? What are they?”
“Contaminated Mana is usually divided into two types: the primordial contaminated mana that comes from the Magic Territory, and artificial ones. Distinguishing between the two and tracing their traces is the first.”
“And the second?”
“How to conceal contaminated mana.”
“…Hmm?”
“If you know how to conceal it, you can identify things that used the same formula. If you see traces of contaminated mana within a 3-meter radius being overlaid with other mana, you can identify it. Anything beyond that is still beyond my abilities.”
While I could gauge the opponent’s attack direction, reading the opponent’s disposition without Pulse Diagnosis was incredibly difficult. I didn’t hide my admiration.
Sensing the surprise of myself and the other two children, Marianne puffed up with pride and picked out the largest piece of meat from her stew, chewing it thoroughly.
“You can praise me more. Learning this was truly, really, very difficult.”
“Were the formulas very complex? What Circle were they?”
“No. The book was at the very bottom.”
We all burst into laughter.
Imagining the tiny Marianne swallowing curses as she carried books made her seem incredibly endearing.
“Then, what about the last, third thing?”
“I can show you that right now. Watch closely.”
The creature smiled brightly and cast a spell on the Quail Roast in front of her.
It was a dish of well-roasted quail, cooled and served with finely shredded vegetables. I didn’t know about the other parts, but after muttering “Flam” and seeing steam rise, it seemed to be a part of a heating magic formula.
What was the point of warming up roasted meat? I watched out of curiosity as she put down her staff and pointed her index finger. And then.
“…”
“…”
“…?”
Nothing happened.
“What is it?”
“…Be quiet! I’m still doing it.”
“Ah, yes.”
I quietly counted to ten in my head. Still, nothing happened. After counting to five again.
Poof! The quail roast on the plate exploded.
Startled that the flying roast might splash onto the children, I instantly raised my knife, speared the pieces of meat, and placed them back on the plate. Everyone was bewildered by the incident that happened in the blink of an eye.
Marianne also blinked in surprise, then gave a sheepish, embarrassed smile.
“Uh… It worked better than this at the Magic Tower.”
“…What is this?”
“Remember when Michael taught me how to shoot mana orbs like arrows with my hands when I didn’t have a staff?”
She was referring to the Finger Projectile Skill. Why was that relevant? I watched without answering, puzzled, as Marianne, still smiling, transferred a piece of the broken quail roast to her side plate.
“I tried inserting a formula to modify the magic that was already cast on it. Shooting mana is one thing, but if you encapsulate the formula and cram it in, it works up to a single layer.”
“…Hmm.”
“I don’t know which way the reaction will bounce, but the existing magic is definitely broken. Look.”
Indeed. The quail roast on the plate was completely cold, as if it had never been steaming.
“What is the reason for not using a staff?”
“Black magicians are also wizards. If a staff points at them, they’ll recognize it. But what wizard would think magic would be dispelled by a finger? If you succeed in tracking and discovering it, you have to catch them. So, I practiced diligently.”
After a breath, Benjamin immediately raised his hand to his chest and clapped. I also smiled and admired her, and Rubel let out a sound of surprise, moved a piece of quail to his plate, and poked it with his fork to examine it.
Receiving the admiration of the group, Marianne, her spirits lifted, became boastful.
“So, those are the three things. From now on, you can call me ‘Genius Mage’.”
“Yes, Genius Mage.”
“Ugh, come on. Call me louder.”
“Haha, yes. Genius Mage. Please have some of this too.”
She gave herself a nickname.
Whenever Marianne got boastful, Rubel and Benjamin indulged her, playing along.
While we were enjoying ourselves like that, a heavy door opened. Hugh Benson entered, Elvin always behind him, and instead of greeting us, he playfully teased.
“Who’s the genius?”
“Ah! Why are you so late? I almost forgot your face!”
“Please forget me for a while. I’m someone who wants to be forgotten.”
Marianne, facing the familiar faces, pulled her chair back halfway and smiled warmly.
The seniors pulled out empty chairs as if it were their own living room and sat down.
They briefly exchanged greetings with the children, asking if they had eaten, and were told they had already eaten outside. I wasn’t the only one curious about what Hugh Benson was holding. Hugh, after acknowledging the greetings, opened what he held.
“Eat this while it’s hot. We depart on the 20th, midday. Let’s leave right after lunch.”