“Awake?”
I blinked. Sapphire-blue eyes—blue like the finest sapphire—were right in front of mine.
“You should be able to get up now.”
Even after the prince let go of my wrist and stepped back, I stayed lying there. It was because I’d seen my brother’s face again for the first time in a while. Even if it had been in a dream.
If I had a choice, I would’ve liked to see him smiling. Like the time he scored a limited-edition luxury sneaker series printed with that blue cat robot.
“Can’t get up?”
That tone said there was no way that was true. He really was an impatient noble. Even more so than me, and I was Korean. I wiggled my toes, then sat up.
“Any place that feels off?”
Ah. So he’d asked because he was genuinely worried. Maybe because I’d just revisited my dark past for the first time in a while, my nerves were sharp. No—don’t try to wave it away with a light word like “dark past.” That had been the worst decision I’d ever made.
I used mana breathing to calm the nerves that were trying to spike on their own. Just because I felt like garbage didn’t mean I could take it out on the person helping me—my employer, of all people, and not even a friend.
The moment I inhaled, I realized something. The mana that should’ve been empty after being drained completely was already full again. More than that, the total amount of mana I could hold had increased, even if only a little.
If I tried an eleventh time right now, it felt like I could make something bigger than a spark—at least a lighter flame.
Right. A lighter. At my current level, not a welding torch. A lighter was the perfect comparison.
Recalling the sequence the prince had guided me through, I moved my mana. I couldn’t manifest it in an instant the way he did. I took my time, distributing and moving mana along the route I was steering it down, and when I felt like I was ready, I recited the ignition word.
A flame that really did look like something you’d see from a lighter rose over my index finger. I started counting in my head. When the flame held until I reached three, I carefully fed it oxygen—
The flame, which looked like it might grow as it burned the oxygen, went out in an instant.
Same as always. Same way I kept failing.
I still hadn’t succeeded this time, but the sharp, spiking nerves in me were, if anything, calmer.
I turned my gaze back to the prince, who was watching me.
“My body is fine.”
The dampness that had soaked me before was gone; I was dry and comfortable. There was no unpleasantness left—only a clean, refreshed feeling.
“Thank you.”
The prince had taken care of my body and even refilled the mana I’d depleted. I couldn’t even imagine what level of difficulty it was to transfer mana to someone unconscious.
When I offered my thanks properly, the prince narrowed one eye. That expression looked like embarrassment. Now that I was truly his live-in attendant, I needed to pay closer attention to reading my employer’s face.
“When you first try to manifest magic, it’s important to figure out which attribute you’re compatible with. But no matter how well an attribute suits you, I’ve heard it usually takes about a week to succeed at your first manifestation. They say only one or two out of ten manage to manifest an attribute on their very first attempt.”
That long explanation was the answer to the question I’d asked before I collapsed.
So my talent was in the top twenty percent or so. If the number was that much higher than my own percentile rank on the college entrance exam, it didn’t feel like some astonishing talent. Talent didn’t guarantee results, so there was plenty of room for effort.
In that sense, I decided not to ask how many attempts it had taken the duke to succeed. There was no point. It felt like he would’ve not only manifested an attribute on his first try, but done it perfectly.
“More than anything, your most outstanding talent is your bizarre imagination. The improvisation and adaptability you showed—choosing your chest or your finger as the point of release instead of your palm—was good. But until the standard mana path is fully established, don’t push it by forcing modifications. It’s dangerous.”
“You’re really kind, my lord Duke.”
This time, too, it wasn’t sarcasm or flattery. It was a pure, honest sentiment. This time the prince didn’t ask if I needed money—he just furrowed his brow.
Was that awkwardness about being praised? No. That was completely the wrong read. The way he rubbed his forehead and dipped his head slightly looked like there was some other calculation going on.
“Eighteen.”
“…Pardon?”
My employer wasn’t the kind of person whose insides were as transparent as a diamond, so while I was suspicious and wondering what he was plotting, he suddenly said an inexplicable number.
Ah. Was he stating his age? I was in the middle of reflecting that I might be twisting my employer’s intentions too much—
“When you turn eighteen, go to university. As you are now, you’re a suspicious attendant who showed up out of nowhere in some back alley, with oddly high magical talent. But if you study magic for three years and get accepted into a university, people will see you as a prodigy the eccentric prince discovered and brought in. Make time your ally.”
“So you want me to be your eyes and ears outside?”
“If you still want that after you’ve gone to university.”
The tone said there was no way that would happen. His order was purely for my benefit.
“If I go off to university, then when you go into rut, my lord Duke, who’s going to attend you?”
“By then I’ll be properly controlling my pheromones.”
He said it like it was obvious it would happen, but the one who trusted that the least was the prince himself.
“Am I that suspicious?”
“You are.”
At his bluntness, I couldn’t help asking.
“Then why are you treating me so well?”
The prince didn’t answer for a long while. Then, just as I had when my mana was depleted, he lay down on the marble floor.
He stared up at the glittering chandelier without meaning for a while, and then he opened his mouth.
“Because I, too… have wished for someone’s help before.”
It was a small voice, like a sigh, but I heard it clearly.
Lying there on the cold floor, he looked similar to the time I’d seen him collapsed with wounds all over his body.
When he was even younger, had he looked like that then, too?
I couldn’t know exactly what he was thinking, but it felt like he was recalling his past self.
The air grew heavy.
From far away, it felt like I could hear a faint scream.
“Damn.”
The prince frowned. He let out a long sigh. He looked at me sitting there blankly, then gave a bitter smile.
Only then did I realize—the sound I thought I’d heard just now hadn’t been my imagination. It was a scream from someone who’d been startled by the prince’s pheromones.
It was probably because I’d dreamed about my brother. I wanted to comfort him.
I’d regretted it for a very long time. I should’ve tried to make Father understand instead of trying to make him give up on me. I should’ve stopped putting on a show of generosity toward my brother and acting cocky. I should’ve stopped dreaming about myself belonging to a luxury brand and instead dreamed about turning Father’s jewelry shop into a luxury brand together with my brother.
It was useless.
I hoped the prince wouldn’t make the same mistakes I had. I wanted him to look away from the past and look ahead.
Even though I wasn’t in any position to dare give advice.
Still, I did know one story that could shift his attention.
“You say I’m suspicious, but like I told you, I don’t know anything about myself, either. The father who raised me is dead, so there isn’t anyone who knows about me. But I’ve had dreams of another world that were clearer than my own life. They were so vivid they felt real. Until recently, I thought the place from those dreams existed somewhere in this world.”
There was confusion in the prince’s gaze. I kept looking straight at him and continued.
“In the world I saw in my dreams, there were no pheromones and no magic.”
The prince blinked, then let out a quiet snort of laughter.
“Then what determines status there?”
“Money.”
His smile deepened.
“It was a world where the more people wanted to buy what you made and sold, the more jobs you provided, the more you planted the illusion in people that they could live well in the future—the higher your status became.”
With every sentence I added, the smile on the prince’s face started to vanish again. Finally, he glared at me with a blank, hard face.
I gave him a look like I truly didn’t understand why he was making such a scary expression. I’d only told him about a world I’d seen in a dream.
After staring into my shameless face, the prince finally let out a sound—half a sigh, half an exclamation.
“You really are an outrageous attendant.”
He spoke like a growl, his face fierce. But he was definitely smiling.
Like a beast that had found something to hunt.
※
“Right. Even if your mana runs out, you can’t lose consciousness. Good job today.”
I didn’t even have the spare capacity to be happy about being told I did well. I couldn’t lift the corners of my mouth—breathing alone felt like too much.
This was the first time I hadn’t passed out while being taught magic by the prince. Which meant that for almost a full year, once a week—and sometimes twice—I’d passed out, lost consciousness, or fallen asleep like I’d passed out every single time we had a magic lesson.
If there was even a little mana left in me, the prince sensed it like a ghost. Then I had to forcibly squeeze out magic that was small and precious like a firefly’s glow, only to drop dead like a mayfly, and my eyes would close.
“Your chances of surviving go up if you can keep your head even after you meet an enemy who forces you to spend all your mana. Whether you fight barehanded, dodge attacks, or get lucky and find someone to help you.”
What kind of miserable childhood had my employer gone through? Every example he brought up whenever I collapsed was always a situation where my life was on the line. It was bleak beyond words.
Still, it wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t something that had zero chance of happening. At Billy’s tavern, I learned that if the regular alcoholic who came in every day was suddenly missing one day, it wasn’t because he’d changed bars or quit drinking—it was because he’d disappeared from the world. Sometimes he’d gotten beaten to death after getting drunk and acting tough. Sometimes he’d gotten his weekly pay and, for once, gone home sober—only to get robbed and killed.
It was that kind of era.