His mouth smiled, but his eyes did not.
“People need to evolve, you know—show some progress.”
“Sir, what do you mean by that?”
The chief asked quickly.
“It’d be best to bring Ben back.”
“But…!”
“A curse, my foot. Chief, I’m sorry, but you’ve got a fraudster here, not a fortune-teller.”
“Eh?”
“So you should get back the down payment you gave him, right?”
At Patrick’s declaration, the burly guards holding Ben scowled and stepped toward him.
“Hey, buddy, keep your mouth shut or you’ll regret it!”
“Your tricks haven’t evolved either—threats are as cliché as they come.”
But instead of recoiling, Patrick only smirked.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Ben dashed into the midst of the villagers. A few of them finally sprang to their senses and swept him behind them. Ben, the jokester ringleader of the neighborhood kids, had always kept the village smiling; they refused to let a stranger cart him off.
“If you care for that child, hand him over! We must lift the curse!”
“How long will you spout nonsense?”
“What did you say? You don’t fear the gods, do you?”
The fortune-teller barked at the villagers to hand Ben over, but Patrick once more stepped forward to block her.
“A fraudster—or should I call you a kidnapper?”
“You have no fear of the world, do you?”
“So what’s the going rate these days?”
Gone was the humor at Patrick’s lips; his smile vanished. The robed woman’s face stiffened in turn.
“I heard it’s five gold coins for something like this.”
“What nonsense is that!”
“A shame you didn’t hear right.”
Clang! Clang!
At Patrick’s words, the guards drew their swords and flanked the fortune-teller.
“Tsk! Something felt off. Let’s go! Waste of fare, pfft!”
Seeing the men level their blades at the villagers, the fortune-teller silently wheeled around and strode for her boat—only to be halted by Patrick’s voice.
“Where do you think you’re going? Hand over that advance you took.”
“How dare—! You’ll pay for this in blood—ugh!”
The guards and the fortune-teller whirled, only to find Patrick calmly spinning a Water Ball in his palm.
“Still don’t get it, do you? How do you expect to run a racket like this?”
“Why would a mage be in a place like this…?”
“News travels slow here.”
“…”
“I’m exiled. From the capital.”
Bang!
Before another word could pass his lips, Patrick hurled the Water Ball—and it struck the fortune-teller square on the face.
“Thank you, thank you, sir!”
“Don’t mention it. I’m just glad Ben’s safe. That could’ve ended badly.”
“It’s all my fault. I suspected a phony fortune-teller, but never imagined a child-trafficker.”
“You thought she was fake?”
Patrick asked in surprise, and the chief scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
“Yes. Well, I figured a fake wouldn’t hurt us. I just wanted her to say reassuring things, since strange events were unsettling everyone.”
“So you didn’t think she’d kidnap your child?”
“Even during our contract I told her, ‘If there’s nothing to find, just reassure the villagers.’ I never expected this.”
“Anyway, I’m worried. It’s a relief Ben’s unharmed, but the villagers’ anxiety will only grow…”
As Patrick opened his mouth to reply, a commotion outside interrupted them.
“Chief! Chief!”
“What’s all the fuss about?”
“It’s terrible! Lightning is striking the sea in front of the village!”
“Huh? Lightning? From a clear sky?”
“Come see! It’s not ordinary lightning!”
Patrick followed the young fisherman who’d grown familiar with him out to the shore.
The sea before them crackled with bolts of lightning—impossibly concentrated within a few dozen meters of the beach as if behind an invisible barrier. Compared to the vast ocean, it was a tiny area, yet its very focus made it seem unreal.
“…What on earth is that?”
Even the ever-jovial chief was speechless, pointing in disbelief.
“A curse! A curse!”
“The mermaids must be angry!”
“Oh gods…!”
Villagers sitting along the beach muttered theories, then turned their gaze on Ben, who cowered behind his parents' legs.
“Maybe the fortune-teller was right…”
“You fool! She wasn’t a fortune-teller!”
“But what if it really is a curse?”
“Are you blaming the child to ease your own minds?”
“Shut your mouth!”
Fortunately, the defenders of the boy still outnumbered the doubters. But if these odd events continued, who could say how long that would last?
Patrick surveyed the scene and decided he couldn’t delay. He raised his voice.
“It’s a mana awakening.”
Though he spoke softly, the crowd fell silent instantly.
“It means a mage with high mana affinity has been born here—this is no curse but a blessing. For the island, at least. Whether it’s a blessing for one’s personal life is another question.”
“Eh?”
The chief blinked in surprise once more.
“Tch.”
Bound to a remaining beam of the workshop, the fortune-teller—the charlatan—clicked her tongue in annoyance at the disruption.
“Chief, when you hired her, did you explain the strange occurrences here?”
“Yes, I did…”
“She must’ve caught on then. A mage with strong affinity has appeared on this island.”
“W-wait, sir! I never heard anything like that!”
“Not all mages are born with high affinity. And the Tower doesn’t broadcast it—they keep it secret. As you know, it’s a very closed place.”
Patrick shrugged, and everyone murmured their agreement.
Even nobles couldn’t enter the Tower at will—its secrets were many. Mages themselves were rare; one with unusually high affinity was rarer still. The villagers would have no knowledge of such a phenomenon.
‘If a single person here knew the rumors, they never would’ve thought “curse” and called a fortune-teller. Perfect con.’
The stark contrast with the internet-savvy 21st century dawned on him.
“They likely intended to sell Ben to the Tower. A talented child fetches a high price.”
“Why would the Tower buy from such scoundrels?”
“The Tower’s power is measured by the number of mages it holds.”
Again, mages were expensive. But talent couldn’t be bought—one had to have the innate gift to awaken mana. In magic, talent mattered more than anything.
There was a method to test for magical talent, but it required precious mana stones, making it prohibitively costly. Only wealthy nobles attempted it, yet they still fell short of the Tower’s quota. Hence these illegal fortune-tellers thrived.
“Sir! So our son really is a mage?”
“If he studies properly, yes.”
Ben’s parents, still shaken, approached Patrick in wonder.
“No matter how talented, without proper training you can’t become a high-circle mage. Talent alone doesn’t guarantee success.”
“Then what should we do?”
“Knock on the Tower’s doors, or seek out a mage in the lord’s castle—either could teach him.”
“Do we have to?”
They hesitated.
“I heard apprenticing to a mage costs a fortune…”
Ultimately, it always came down to money.
‘Even people who don’t know how talent works know mages devour money.’
Patrick himself was a mage, but he felt their dilemma keenly.
“I won’t deny it. If a master doesn’t take you on, you’re stuck where you are.”
A second-circle mage. Even on a mercenary roster, he’d be outclassed by skilled craftsmen. In a world where three circles was the minimum for useful combat or research, Patrick’s title was just for show.
“I want to learn from you, sir!”
Ben broke the silence.
“Please teach me!”
“What are you talking about? Teach what?”
“Magic! You make water and wind come from your hands!”
“That’s it?”
“We can learn here, and if we want more later, we’ll go to the Tower or the castle. Sir—can’t you teach me?”
At Ben’s unshakable confidence, Patrick couldn’t help but laugh.
Ben’s parents exchanged glances, then fell to their knees before Patrick.
“Sir, please!”
“You said talent doesn’t guarantee success. We have no money to send him to the Tower now! But if you could just teach him a little—please!”
“We’ll pay tuition, even if it’s small… Here, we can always give you liquor!”
It was shameless, but parents always do anything for their children.
“Kid, from now on, call me ‘Teacher.’”
He’d been stuck on this island anyway. Taking on an apprentice wasn’t such a bad twist of fate.
‘And I rather like sweet potato soju.’
So alongside weeding and cleaning fish, his days would now include teaching a child magic.