Nightmare—Daydream

It’s been exactly one year since Galliant lent me his introductory magic book. And for that entire year, I’ve been completely immersed in understanding how the mechanics of magic in this world truly work.

But before that, over the course of this past year, many other things in my life have gradually changed as well. For one, Galliant has started visiting me far less often.

Father and Mother have also seemed increasingly busy lately. My father now frequently goes on diplomatic trips and attends meetings with nobles from other kingdoms. I’ve heard rumors that he’s been working to reform the long-broken military and legal systems of our country. Perhaps he’s finally realized just how fragile and rusted the very foundations of this kingdom are—oops.

Meanwhile, Mother is just as busy, though her focus is slightly different. She’s more involved in agriculture and trade. She often travels to various regions to promote the kingdom’s agricultural products, establish partnerships, and build trade relations with nobles from other lands.

Many of the servants have joined Father and Mother on their travels, leaving the palace far quieter than usual. Only a handful of servants remain here, and most of them are rarely seen. Now, I’m truly free to explore every corner of the palace without anyone forbidding or watching me.

Sometimes, I even dare to step outside the palace’s inner grounds, though I still limit myself to areas close to the main gate. Deep down, I hope to find someone around my age—someone I can talk to, befriend, or at least get to know.

But every time I try to wave or greet them, their reactions, for some reason, seem more frightened than anything else. It’s not uncommon to see parents hurriedly pulling their children behind them, walking slowly with lowered heads as they pass me.

I don’t truly know whether it’s a form of deference or a sense of inferiority—whether they feel unworthy of forming any connection with a prince. Or… if there’s another reason entirely, one that makes them reluctant to stay too close to me.

Still, the changes in the palace, combined with the stigma from the people outside who choose to keep their distance, have once again managed to plant a sense of isolation within me.

Because of that, in order to free myself from such thoughts and to keep from slipping back into the familiar pit of melancholy, I decided to do something—something that could distract me and keep me busy enough so I wouldn’t have the time to dwell on such things.

That something… was studying magic.

...

The concept of magic in this world is rather unique. Magic isn’t merely regarded as a tool or a force—it’s seen as the very embodiment of life energy itself.

If I had to draw a comparison, its workings are much like the process of breathing. The energy is limitless in quantity, yet it can diminish and recover; and its flow can also be disrupted if something obstructs its path.

This energy can be manifested into control over the properties of the elemental aspects that permeate this world—elements that make up the very fabric of creation.

The requirements for controlling it are fairly reasonable. If your body can sense the properties of an element and understand what allows it to manifest, then you have the ability to control it. This process is what we call magic.

How is it? Easy enough to grasp, isn’t it? If not, well, there’s no harm in reading it over again.

The most basic elements in magic are air and water—two elements closest to humans and essential for life itself.

Air and water also happen to be the only single elements, meaning they can be manifested without needing to combine them with any other element. Because of this, these two are relatively easy to learn, even for a beginner.

If I recall correctly, it only took me about a month to learn and master the air element. With it, I can now make light objects float in the air, then gently set them back down where they were.

It’s a different story with more advanced elements like earth and fire. In truth, their concepts aren’t too hard to understand. But when it comes to actually practicing them, the challenge is another matter entirely, as there are certain factors that make them harder to use.

The difficulty comes from the fact that these elements require an additional component in order to be controlled. For example, earth requires minerals, which are often represented through the presence of water, while fire requires oxygen, which is contained in air. Without meeting these conditions, manifesting either of these elements is nearly impossible.

For instance, if you want to create fire magic, you must be able to control both the air and fire elements simultaneously, maintaining a perfect balance between them so that the flames can be formed.

Is it difficult for me? No.

However, you will need twice the usual amount of magical energy to pull it off, since you have to maintain control over two elements at the same time.

I once tried doing it myself—and as a result, I nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

Now I understand why Galliant was reluctant to teach me the shadow magic he once used. That spell wasn’t simple magic—it involved a whole array of elements all at once: light, objects, shadows, and perhaps other components he used simultaneously to bring it into being.

Also, in this book, there’s a section that touches on an interesting fact. Every person is born with a different capacity for magical energy. Some are blessed from birth with an abundance of it; others are born with a limited reserve and must train relentlessly to gradually expand the vessel that holds their energy.

Unfortunately, I belong to the latter group—those with only a small amount of magical energy.

Even so, the book emphasizes one crucial point. What matters is not how many elements you can wield, but how far you can push a single element to its fullest potential.

There’s no point in mastering multiple elements if all you can produce are the same generic spells that anyone could conjure.

Whether that’s just a comforting statement for people like me, born with limited magic, or a proven practical truth, I’m not sure. But logically, it does make sense.

Put it this way—rather than wasting double the magical energy just to create fire magic, wouldn’t it be more efficient to use that same doubled energy to strengthen the wind magic I’ve already mastered? Makes sense, doesn’t it?

With that in mind, today I worked up the courage to sneak into the storage room beneath the palace—a place said to have once been the Scriptorium. Oddly enough for a place meant for writing ancient manuscripts, it was located underground, where light was scarce and ventilation was almost nonexistent.

I could only hope that somewhere down there, advanced magic books still lay waiting—books that could help me deepen my mastery of wind magic.

The Scriptorium sat directly below, hidden behind a room usually used by the knights to store their armor. In the corner of that room stood an old, unlocked door. When I opened it, a dark stone staircase descended into the depths.

Armed with nothing but a small torch, I made my way down alone. From the thick layer of dust covering each step, it was obvious the place hadn’t been touched in ages.

Eventually, I reached the room once known as the Scriptorium. Now, all that remained was a large, table-like workbench, a few old chairs with legs on the verge of collapse, and a collection of rusted writing tools piled in one corner. The floor was littered with scattered scraps of paper.

Not a single thick tome like the introductory magic book Galliant had once given me was in sight. I even went so far as to check each and every sheet of paper I found, only to discover that most were nothing more than old administrative reports from long ago.

Since I hadn’t found what I was looking for, I turned around with a heavy heart and made my way out of the room.

But just as I reached the doorway, a sudden loud squeak echoed from a shadowy corner. The sound made me jolt in surprise.

“Who’s there?!” I called out instinctively, thrusting the torch toward the source of the noise.

It turned out… to be nothing more than a rat.

Still, in that half-nervous state, my eyes caught something—a dusty old shelf along the side of the room, and at the very bottom, a thin object tucked away. From its shape, I guessed it was a book, perhaps as slim as a short novel.

I approached it cautiously to make sure. Sure enough, it was a book—worn at the edges, but otherwise intact. Without a second thought, I grabbed it, clutching it tightly, and hurried out of the Scriptorium.

Once I reached the knights’ armor storage, I kept running, taking the stairs two at a time until I reached my own chambers. Along the way, I passed several servants who gave me puzzled looks—perhaps wondering why a prince was running as if something were chasing him, pale-faced and breathing hard.

A few of them even asked, “What’s wrong, Young Master? Why the rush?”

But I only gave a short reply, “It’s nothing,” and kept running without looking back.

When I finally reached my room, I shut the door tight. My heart was still pounding as I stared at the book, then slowly read the title.

“Com-pres-sion…” I sounded out the word printed on the cover.

In an instant, I tossed the book onto the table.

“Damn… it’s just an ordinary physics book.”

Still stung by disappointment, I let myself fall onto the bed.

But then, out of nowhere, a thought crossed my mind.

...

Could magic be combined with the mechanics of compression?

...

Not wanting to waste a single moment, I shot up from the bed, grabbed the book again, and began reading it from cover to cover. Every theory written there, I tried applying—translating it into magic, step by step.

First, I conjured wind magic, letting it gather in the palm of my hand. Slowly, I focused that energy, shaping a stable magical chamber within my grasp.

After that, I applied fluid theory—more specifically, gas mechanics—to compress the air, forcing it to pack tightly inside the magical chamber I had created.

Hupp...

It worked.

Turns out, the process wasn’t as difficult as I’d imagined. Fairly easy, in fact—especially for someone like me, who knows thermodynamics by heart. Ahem.

That little success only made my curiosity burn brighter. Then, a wild idea crossed my mind.

...

What if I enlarged the magic chamber and made the energy inside spin? Could I create something like a rasen–*beeb*?

...

Without a second thought, I gave it a try, following the same process as before. The difference was, this time I doubled the size of the chamber and the amount of energy I gathered.

At first, I felt thrilled watching its shape slowly form in my palm. The swirl of wind began to take hold, and for a moment, I thought this experiment might actually work.

But the excitement didn’t last. I began struggling to control the air pressure inside the magic chamber—now twice as large as before.

The flow of energy grew unstable, moving erratically and failing to form the pressurized spin I was aiming for. Deep down, I already suspected this wouldn’t end well.

And then—

BOOM!

A violent explosion erupted. The uncontrolled energy burst outward, hurling me back with tremendous force. My body was flung out of my room, crashing through and shattering the corridor window that bordered my chamber.

In the midst of that violent throw, flashes of an old memory surfaced unbidden—the moment I jumped from the sixth floor.

Ah… this time I’m surely going to die.

Through the exhaustion pressing against every breath I took, my eyes caught a glimmer of white descending from above, as if reaching out to embrace me.

But suddenly, that white light vanished—replaced by a powerful rush of air roaring from afar. The gust surged closer, sweeping through the garden, sending leaves and flower petals spiraling into the air, creating a breathtaking whirl of colors.

—Hup.

From below, a pair of arms caught me.

Arms belonging to a woman with warm brown skin and deep black hair. Her bright hazel eyes looked into mine, carrying a faint yet radiant smile beneath the simple, ashen-brown maid’s uniform she wore.

In her embrace, I felt a gentle vortex of wind lifting us slowly upward. Petals of every color swirled around us, dancing in the air, encircling the two of us as though this moment were our own stage of quiet philanthropy.

It carried with it the scent of nostalgia—taking me back to the rain of blossoms that greeted my gaze in the very first seconds after I awoke in this world.

Yet that awe slowly faded, replaced by a haze creeping over my vision. The light around me dimmed, the sound of the wind grew faint, and my body felt lighter and lighter.

I’m blacking out...