I used to think the capital was the most beautiful place in the world.
Maybe it still was.
Our city stood high among the Alps, surrounded by mountains, forests, and crystal-clear lakes. Wildlife was everywhere. The air was clean. The scenery looked like something out of a fantasy movie.
Which was ironic.
Because there was no magic here.
At least, not the kind I wanted.
I walked through the city with my hands in my pockets, watching people go about their usual lives.
Students heading home.
Workers rushing to catch transportation.
Families eating together.
Couples laughing.
Everyone seemed to know where they were going.
Me?
I was just walking.
I didn't have anything important to do.
Maybe that was the problem.
I had spent so long trying to find something extraordinary that ordinary life felt strangely empty.
When I was younger, I thought growing up would make things better.
It didn't.
I was sixteen now.
And somehow, everything felt smaller.
---
My grandfather raised me.
My grandmother died before I was born.
My parents...
They died in an accident when I was young.
So Grandpa was all I really had.
And then there was Mary.
My childhood friend.
She was kind.
Annoyingly kind, sometimes.
Whenever I talked about magic, she never called me crazy.
Even when I was completely convinced that saying random words while waving a stick around was somehow going to summon lightning.
She'd just smile.
I miss that smile.
...
I don't know why I thought about her.
I kept walking.
Then—
Bump.
"Ouch."
I nearly walked straight into someone.
"Oh, sorry—"
I looked up.
"...Auntie Ann?"
The woman stared at me for a moment before smiling.
"Eulyseas?"
"It's been a while."
"It certainly has."
Mrs. Ann looked almost exactly the same as I remembered.
Well...
Maybe a little more tired.
She adjusted the things she was carrying.
"How have you been?"
"I'm doing fine."
It was a lie.
Not a big one.
Just a convenient one.
She seemed to notice, but didn't push.
"Are you going somewhere?"
"Yeah."
She hesitated.
"I have somewhere I need to visit."
"Oh."
I glanced at what she was carrying.
A small bag.
Some flowers.
My eyes stopped on them for a second.
Then I looked away.
"Will you be gone long?"
"Probably."
She smiled.
"Take care of yourself, okay?"
"Yeah."
I gave her a small wave.
"See you later, Auntie."
"See you, Eulyseas."
I watched her walk away.
For some reason...
I didn't follow.
---
There was a hospital on the way home.
I slowed down when I saw it.
I don't know why.
My feet almost carried me inside.
Almost.
Then I stopped.
"...No."
I kept walking.
A few minutes later, I passed the river.
The river where Grandpa and I used to sit.
The river where Mary and I used to waste entire afternoons doing absolutely nothing.
I stopped again.
I stared at the water.
For a moment, I could almost hear them.
Grandpa laughing.
Mary complaining that my "spells" were stupid.
Me insisting they weren't.
I smiled.
Then the smile faded.
I walked home.
---
[6:34 PM — Eulyseas' House]
I dropped onto my bed.
What an exhausting day.
I didn't even feel hungry.
"Maybe I'll just sleep."
I reached for my tablet.
Then opened my digital journal.
I had started keeping one after Grandpa died.
I wasn't sure why.
Maybe writing things down made them easier to understand.
Maybe I just didn't want memories disappearing.
I typed.
[Day 12 of Living as a Non-Magic Enthusiast]
«Today I bumped into Mrs. Ann.
She looked tired.
She said she had somewhere to visit.
I wonder where.»
I stared at the sentence.
Then deleted it.
I typed again.
«Nothing interesting happened today.»
That sounded better.
Less complicated.
I continued.
«I'm sixteen now.
I guess I'm supposed to stop believing in magic.
That's what everyone says.»
I paused.
Then continued.
«Get a job.
Go to college.
Become a professional.
Make money.
Find someone.
Get married.
Have a family.
Die.
That's basically it, right?»
I stopped typing.
"...Sounds terrible when I write it like that."
I laughed.
But nobody laughed with me.
My room was quiet.
Too quiet.
I looked at the empty chair beside my desk.
Grandpa used to sit there whenever he caught me writing.
He'd always say I was thinking too much.
Maybe he was right.
I continued typing.
«People tell me I should do something practical.
Become a doctor.
Become a specialist.
Become an engineer.
Become something useful.
And they're not wrong.
Those things are important.
But...»
My fingers stopped.
I didn't know what to write.
I deleted the last sentence.
Then typed it again.
«I don't want to spend my entire life doing something just because it's expected of me.»
I leaned back.
The ceiling stared back.
"I want to be free."
The words sounded childish.
I knew that.
But I couldn't take them back.
"I want to see something nobody else has seen."
My chest tightened.
"I want to leave something behind."
I remembered Grandpa.
His voice.
His stupid old jokes.
His patience.
His belief in me.
And then—
Mary.
Her voice.
Her smile.
The way she used to listen to me talk about magic like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
I closed my eyes.
"They believed in me."
My voice cracked.
"...So why can't I?"
Silence.
I wiped my eyes.
"Magic..."
I laughed bitterly.
"What even is magic?"
For sixteen years, I thought magic meant power.
Fireballs.
Teleportation.
Superhuman strength.
Flying.
Maybe traveling faster than light.
But Grandpa always disagreed.
He once told me:
«"Magic isn't only something you cast."»
I remembered sitting beside him near the river.
His hands were old.
His voice was gentle.
«"Magic can be found in the things that make life worth living."»
I didn't understand back then.
I thought he was avoiding the question.
Now...
I think I finally understood.
Magic was in the things I loved.
The laughter at the river.
The mountains.
The stupid dreams I refused to abandon.
The people who believed in me.
Love.
Faith.
Hope.
Maybe that was why I couldn't let go.
Because if I gave up on magic...
It felt like I was giving up on them too.
I looked down at my journal.
Tears had already fallen onto the screen.
"Grandpa..."
I covered my face.
For a while, I said nothing.
Then I whispered:
"My magic..."
I didn't know what it was.
Maybe it wasn't power.
Maybe it wasn't some grand spell.
Maybe it was simply the reason I kept getting back up after everyone told me to stop.
I remembered Grandpa's final lesson.
«"Never lose your faith."»
I smiled through the tears.
"Because every day is new..."
I took a breath.
"...and your magic is true."
The room became quiet again.
But this time, the silence didn't feel quite as empty.
I opened my journal one last time.
Then typed:
«I don't think I'm wrong for being different.
Maybe I'm just looking for something this world doesn't have.»
I stared at the words.
Then closed the journal.
I didn't know it yet...
But tomorrow, the impossible would finally answer me.
And when it did—
I would finally understand what my grandfather meant.
My magic was real.
It always had been.