It was a new morning.
The sunlight spilled across the marble floors of my chamber, filtering through enchanted glass and painting faint glyphs of gold across my desk. My reflection in the mirror stared back at me — golden hair slightly ruffled, eyes brighter than I remembered.
Although I had been rather disheartened yesterday, today… was different.
Today, I was going to be a teacher.
The idea sent a strange thrill through me. The Origin God of Magic — the eternal student of the cosmos — becoming a mortal teacher to a human. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or feel honored.
"Alright," I said to my reflection, straightening the red coat over my white shirt. "Let's not terrify the old man too much."
I grabbed my books, ran through the corridors, and headed straight for the Head Court Mage's chambers.
The door opened to reveal a world of ink, parchment, and quiet chaos. Tomes floated lazily in the air, quills scribbled notes on their own, and the faint scent of ozone lingered — the mark of old, potent magic.
Moondust Hale looked up from his desk, his silver hair glinting in the morning light. "Ah, Prince Lucius. You're here early."
I grinned. "Hehe, I couldn't hold back. I came as soon as I got up."
The old mage chuckled, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Eagerness is the best proof of genius, young one. Come, sit."
I sat across from him, legs swinging slightly — the posture of a child, the mind of a god. He didn't seem to mind.
We exchanged a few pleasantries — small talk about the weather, his morning tea, my "enthusiasm." But beneath the smiles, I could feel his curiosity burning like a restrained inferno. The man wanted answers. He wanted to know how a five-year-old could craft runes that shouldn't exist.
"Well then, Prince Lucius," he said finally, setting down his cup. "Shall we begin our lesson?"
"Let's."
I began to teach.
He listened.
Despite being in his forties, Moondust absorbed knowledge like a wide-eyed apprentice. His hands trembled with excitement each time he replicated a rune pattern correctly. The sight… strangely warmed me.
Perhaps because it reminded me of the countless mortals who had once prayed to me for wisdom — though none had ever learned with such childlike wonder.
As we worked, my enthusiasm grew. Without realizing it, I let out a faint pulse of divine energy — a ripple of pure magic that made the room hum softly. Moondust's eyes flickered, but he said nothing. A wise man, indeed.
Hours passed as we drew, carved, and tested runes. Then, subtly, the questions began.
"Prince Lucius," Moondust said lightly, "where did you learn this syntax of arcane geometry? It's… centuries ahead of anything in our archives."
I blinked. "Uh… I just… understood it."
"Understood it?" His brow furrowed. "These are not child's musings. This is knowledge no mortal should comprehend."
The room fell quiet. I could feel the sharpness in his gaze — the testing tone of a scholar who had sensed something beyond reason.
My heartbeat quickened.
Had I said too much?
Should I… erase his memory?
Or worse—?
No. He was my first student. My first connection in this fragile world. I couldn't harm him.
Before I could decide, Moondust leaned back and let out a hearty laugh.
"Hahaha! Prince, I knew from the moment I saw you that you weren't normal." His laughter softened into a knowing smile. "Do not worry. I won't tell anyone."
I exhaled in relief. "Thank you…"
"However," he said, eyes glinting mischievously, "you'll have to promise me something in return."
"What is it?"
"You'll teach me one rune spell every week."
I grinned. "Deal. But then you'll have to help me with something, too."
"Oh? And what could this old man possibly offer a prodigy like you?"
"I want to go to the Royal Magic Academy."
Moondust raised an eyebrow. Then he chuckled. "You didn't know, did you? I am the Vice Chancellor of the Royal Institute of Aethelgard Arcanistry."
"…What?"
His laugh boomed through the room. "Yes, my young master. Getting you enrolled will be easier than breathing."
"Then it's decided," I said, standing. "I'll teach you every week, and you'll make sure I get in."
Moondust stroked his beard with mock solemnity. "Hoho, quite the fierce teacher we've acquired."
We spent hours talking after that — about magic, theories, and even mundane things like favorite teas and childhood mischief. For the first time in many mortal lives, I felt… content.
Later that afternoon, we parted ways with smiles and promises of future lessons.
On my way back to my room, I noticed Father speaking to one of his royal guards — a broad-shouldered man with sharp eyes and the insignia of the Imperial Army's Chief of Staff. A young girl stood behind him, silent and still.
I froze.
It was her. The wall-climber from yesterday.
So, she wasn't a thief after all. Perhaps… she was his daughter?
I edged closer, curious.
"…The border patrol reports no movements from the northern tribes," the guard was saying. "I'll keep watch, Your Majesty."
Father nodded. "Good. Ardentis must not falter again."
Just as I leaned a bit too far, a voice whispered behind me.
"Eavesdropping, little brother?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Cassian was grinning like a cat who'd caught me stealing pastries.
"Wha— No! I wasn't eavesdropping. I was just… observing. That girl—"
Cassian folded his arms, smirking. "Ah, our little prince is already paying attention to girls, huh?"
I scowled. "It's not like that. She was climbing the wall yesterday!"
"Oh?" Cassian raised an eyebrow. "Then you should know — she's the daughter of the Royal Guard Commander. Cecile de Ironhart."
I blinked. Cecile… de Ironhart.
So the fierce little climber was a noble after all. No wonder she moved like a trained warrior.
Cassian patted my shoulder, still chuckling. "You should go find Kron. He's been looking for you."
"Right. I'll go."
As I walked away, my mind wandered back to the girl's molten-gold eyes and fearless defiance.
"Girls everywhere," I muttered under my breath. "They're… terrifying."