——
Dear Blue Mama. (crossed out)
Dear Roxy,
I received your letter the day before yesterday, but these past two days have been a bit busy, so I've delayed in replying.
That means you might get this a couple of days late? And if the weather's bad and it snows on the way, it could take even longer.
You won't blame me for that, right?
No.
You should blame me.
That way, you'll have a reason to write more words for me to read.
A letter every few months feels far too long between them.
Please make sure to write more.
I like reading them.
—
About Ghislane's dullness and your clumsiness, I admit my description was inaccurate — they are two completely different things.
Rather than saying your clumsiness has its own charm, it's more that—
Because it's you,
the clumsiness has charm.
After all, whether it was Lady Zenith or Uncle, they've both described your clumsiness as something positive.
But the word itself, no doubt, is inherently negative.
Please keep being "clumsy."
Next time we meet,
please get angry with me in person.
I'm asking you.
—
Speaking of that summer night's ambush, I've long forgotten the details of the corpses.
Hellfire Bullet? I think… yeah, I think there was one who threw fireballs, and I cut him down with a single slash.
What did he look like again?
Sorry, my memory really is fuzzy.
But—don't be mad yet.
It's not so much that my memory of you turning back to look for me is blurred. It's more that what happened after we left the scene left a far deeper impression.
So much so that the ambush itself felt dull in comparison.
The summer night's wind brushing over my skin, the sound of running water from your Water Ball magic, the cool splash pouring over my head—
And your hands.
Now that I think about it, it feels like a lifetime ago.
But impossible to forget.
I remember clearly, my body was covered in the smell of burning corpses, and you know how sensitive sensory perception is to such details.
But just as clear was another scent—
Your hair always carries that distinct woody fragrance from the comb you often use.
What wood is it made of?
Or is it from some kind of spice ingredient?
I couldn't figure it out.
But in that moment, surrounded by that scent,
one thing became very clear—
The stench of burning corpses on me grew fainter, while that woody fragrance of yours grew stronger.
If you read this, you'll probably say I'm just trying to flirt with a girl again.
I'm not.
I really think so.
This time, I didn't call you Blue Mama, and there's not a shred of teasing in my words.
Please believe me.
—
Speaking of monster comparisons—
If using something like a Red Dragon to describe me,
then in my eyes, what kind of monster would you be?
I thought about it.
It wouldn't be animal-type.
It should be plant-type.
More specifically—
The Sejros monsters buried under snow at the foot of the Red Dragon Mountains.
You should have seen them.
Unlike other plant-type monsters, they don't have huge bodies or much intimidation factor. Their trunks are thin, with strange needle-like leaves, and when covered in snow, some of the smaller ones are even shorter than me.
You know—
In winter, shrouded in white snow, they look so cold and indifferent.
And compared to other trees, they seem so small and delicate.
It completely softens the fixed image that "monsters are scary."
Even when they attack, there's this clawing, flailing gesture—yet it feels harmless.
Quite a contrast, isn't it?
Thinking of that, I remembered that tree on the slope in Buena Village, and how you stammered for ages before finally asking me to carve your name on it too.
And how I always went to beg Rudy for a Healing spell, but most of the time, you rushed in to cast it on me first.
Really—
unforgettable memories.
—
About Pax's education policy—
I've said it many times: the core of education is—give him respect, and he'll respect you in return.
Respect is mutual.
Then, just fulfill your duties as a teacher.
Let flowers grow as flowers, and trees grow as trees.
In time, he might grow into someone you wouldn't even recognize.
Everyone has flaws, or certain pretenses of "strength" to cover their own dissatisfaction or fear.
As a prince in Shiron whose appearance and abilities are undervalued, I think that's the root of his personality.
And the "strength" he tries to show… well, that's just harassing palace maids to feel powerful.
But obviously, that's wrong.
He needs restraint.
He needs correction.
He needs someone to point him to the right path.
People need restraint, they need guidance. Just like Rudy—
I think he simply lacks the courage to start over and the responsibility to face things.
You might not understand why I think this way about such an outstanding Rudy.
That's because I've seen his growth clearly, and I've always had higher expectations for him.
So—
About the prince's education policy—
Use Fire Ring.
Don't stop.
Forget about Ice Strike—it might blow a hole in the wall.
But corporal punishment is not the goal.
Restraint is the goal.
As for you thinking my teaching is well-planned, and that even letting you use Fire Ring is part of the plan—
It's not.
It was just a spur-of-the-moment emotional impulse.
To be blunt—
Even though I keep telling you to respect him,
emotionally, he just irritates me.
That's all. Any other "results" were just unintended consequences.
So I must stress this—
If he ever offends you, in the budding stage, please—
Use Fire Ring on him.
Don't hesitate.
I'm asking you.
—
About talent—
Innate gifts are certainly enviable.
But I've always thought hard work is even more admirable.
Roxy, do you work hard?
The answer is obvious.
If I said this to your face, you'd probably scratch your cheek and say something like, "No way."
Outwardly, it's modesty, shyness—
But really, it's because you doubt your own abilities, isn't it?
Roxy—
Don't doubt.
You work hard.
I've read every line, every spell, every note in the magic textbook you used to teach Rudy.
So careful, so precise, so diligent.
Talent is enviable, but it shouldn't be excessively praised—
Because it's given at birth, decided when the dice of fate fell at "birth."
What should be praised?
Without doubt—effort, sweat.
That's the part we can truly grasp after we're born.
Every stroke of your pen, every meticulous letter—
All of it is your sweat.
Even though I only saw it in your teaching materials—
Isn't that exactly the knowledge you worked so hard for at the University of Magic?
And—
Do you really think you have no talent?
Could you become Water King class on effort alone?
What's so enviable about chantless magic?
You could stand calmly behind me, and recite the chant word by word.
Why bother with chantless?
Besides—
You've already begun to master the technique of shortening chants, haven't you?
Effort.
Talent.
You have both.
Why wouldn't you be a genius?
You are.
Without question.
So—
Be proud.
So what if you're full of yourself?
You should be full of yourself!
——
At the end of your letter, hearing you speak so plainly for once—
I was very happy.
As for my reply to that sentence—
I've already written it all above.
The scenes of being with you in the past—
I've never forgotten.
They've always echoed in my mind.
Roxy—
How have you been lately?
(End of Chapter)
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