50. A Noble Soul (5)
Every now and then, Flame dreamed.
For a human being, that was an utterly ordinary phenomenon, but for Flame, it was not.
Unusually, she had been born with the traits of countless races.
Human, elf, dwarf, spirit—
even the traits of angels.
At Stella Academy, she had listed only five, but the racial traits that Flame herself had discovered and recorded already numbered more than twelve, so there was a high possibility that even more would manifest in the future.
Just as elves can commune with nature and dwarves can handle materials, every race possessed innate traits.
And because Flame possessed all of them, there were times when she occasionally displayed special abilities whose racial origin even she could not identify.
For instance, “prophetic dreams.”
— That isn’t a prophetic dream, Flame.
It’s called a “revelation.”
She had once asked the angels, but it was not one of their traits.
Because angels…
do not dream.
‘Mm….’
A pounding headache.
The sensation of falling endlessly into a bottomless abyss.
Her head swam as if she were wandering aimlessly through a vortex, and she was gripped by a helpless, hollow feeling like being dropped into the middle of a vast open sea.
It was familiar.
This special sensation, which came not once a year, no—
perhaps only once every three years…
was undoubtedly a prophetic dream.
‘…must not be sought….’
‘You were from the very beginning….’
‘…become the •••th star….’
‘There is no fixed fate….’
She realized it.
This was a prophetic dream, and a lucid dream.
But even while knowing it was a lucid dream, Flame could do nothing.
Her body would not move, as though crushed under sleep paralysis.
‘What? What are you saying? Speak clearly!’
She shouted at empty space.
It was a world washed in gold.
A huge castle hung upside down in the sky, and clouds clung to the end of a great bridge bent into a U-shape like rubber.
She wanted to wake up from the skin-crawling sensation of dream and reality mixing together as soon as possible,
but she knew all too well that she must not.
Prophetic dreams were special.
Even in the original romance-fantasy story, prophetic abilities had been exceedingly rare.
If such an ability came to her, it would certainly be surprising, but the existence of the ability itself was not strange.
‘Who on earth are you?’
The other party looked dark and blurry, as though wrapped in fog.
Without answering her question, he only repeated the same words.
‘You will… rise as a star…’
Please, stop.
Every time the voice sounded, her head hurt.
This kind of thing was not a prophetic dream.
At the very least, the dreams she had in childhood had intuitively shown her important moments in life—such as the instant she entered Stella Academy, or the moment she awakened to magic.
But this dream was only painful and not helpful in the slightest.
‘Please….’
When Flame squeezed her eyes shut, clapped her hands over her ears, and cried out, the world was suddenly washed white along with the bizarre sensation of being pulled somewhere.
“Ah…!”
Then before her eyes, vividly clear, were boys and young men with golden hair and brilliant white wings.
They looked at Flame with worried eyes and reached out their hands.
— I’m sorry, Flame. We cannot bear to watch you suffer.
Then, covering Flame’s eyes once more, they said:
— We wish you would not dream, Flame.
— That….
— It only brings you pain.
‘Ah….’
The headache disappeared as if washed away with water.
It was comfortable.
Like falling asleep inside her mother’s womb.
And when she opened her eyes again, astonishingly, it was an ordinary day, as though nothing at all had just happened.
“All right, who wants to solve the next problem?”
Stella Academy. Classroom.
She must have nodded off while processing the assignments she had put off until late last night.
But to have a nightmare—no, a prophetic dream—at exactly that moment.
“Um… Flame, are you okay?”
The male student sitting beside her spoke in a quiet voice.
Now that she looked, her whole body was soaked in cold sweat.
“Uh… yeah. It’s nothing.”
Since entering Stella, she had not had a single prophetic dream until now, so was there some reason she had one now, of all times?
Who knew….
Prophetic dreams had no reason.
No meaning, either.
They never properly told you what you wanted to know, and only clearly told you what you did not want to know.
Whatever race this trait belonged to, she was convinced it must be a nasty one.
‘…Would Baek Yuseol know anything about prophetic dreams?’
There was a high chance that the version of herself from another world had confided her prophetic dreams to Baek Yuseol.
He had probably uncovered the truth behind them.
That was the kind of person he was.
But…
she did not particularly want to force those memories left behind by the other version of herself into him all over again.
He would learn when the time came anyway, so for now, she would not ask.
Ding-dong-daeng—!
After the bell rang to mark the end of class, Flame packed up her course books, left the classroom, and walked down the hallway with a face full of exhaustion.
“Hi, Flame!”
“Yeah.”
“Hi! You look tired today.”
“Yeah.”
“Flame! Want to go to Café Bridge?”
“No.”
Friends greeted her as they passed through the hall, but even that was bothersome right now, so she answered halfheartedly.
Of course, Flame answered halfheartedly even under normal circumstances, so her friends did not seem to notice anything unusual.
“…Hi.”
“Yeah.”
Again, someone greeted her, and again she answered absently and tried to pass by—
but the other person stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop.
“…What?”
Only after belatedly lifting her head to check who it was did Flame crease one eyebrow.
With black hair tinged red and a cold impression, the boy looked down at her with dark purple eyes.
“…Hae Wonryang. What are you doing?”
“I have a favor to ask.”
“A favor? Pass if it’s annoying.”
“It’s not annoying. I brought it because I thought you might actually find it pretty interesting, too.”
“What is it…?”
Life had been dull day after day lately, so there had not really been anything worth taking interest in, but hearing Hae Wonryang say that piqued her curiosity.
The moment her eyes lit up, he swiftly handed over a small pamphlet.
“There’s going to be a League of Spirit tournament held on campus this time to select additional reserve players.”
“Ah. You’re telling me to come watch?”
Hae Wonryang shook his head.
“Have you ever thought about participating as a player?”
“What?”
Come to think of it, had she not gone through something similar before?
Then one fact occurred to her, belatedly.
‘Now that I think about it… what happened with my participant registration…?’
Flame only enjoyed watching League of Spirit matches; she had never had any intention of participating herself.
But some time ago, Jeremy Scarlven had forcibly registered her as a player….
After that, she had run all over the place trying to cancel it, only to hear all day long that it was impossible because her name was already on the roster.
She had kept going to find the administrator for several days afterward, but all she heard was that it could not be done—
and now, days later, to hear that they were holding an additional player selection tournament….
‘Don’t tell me… I really became a player?’
As Flame’s face turned deathly pale and her mouth fell open, Hae Wonryang’s expression stiffened.
“So you’re not interested in being a player?”
“No, it’s not that….”
What was she supposed to do?
Her immediate future suddenly looked pitch-black, and Hae Wonryang’s words were not entering her ears at all.
The thought that she might actually have to become a League of Spirit player—something utterly unsuited to her fate—was enough to make her dizzy.
“Jeremy, you son of a bitch… one of these days, I’m definitely going to kill you….”
A murderous light entered her eyes.
At daybreak.
I arrived by the early morning train at the orchard of the Third World Tree, Namuhwaran, where the reddish sky was exceptionally beautiful, and drew in a deep breath.
When I used to see old people climbing mountains and doing calisthenics or stretching while saying they were absorbing vital energy, I had only thought they were strange.
But now, I understood it quite well.
As someone with a mana-leak body, the mana I inhaled flowed right back out again, but that did not mean it was entirely meaningless.
The more I breathed in pure mana, the higher the rate of mana circulation in my body would become, and the faster my growth would be.
Of course…
no matter how hard I breathed in a place like this, it would not mean very much.
It might be different if I trained intensely somewhere overflowing with spiritual energy.
Namuhwaran’s orchard was the land of the elves, but several decades had already passed since it opened itself more freely to humans, and they said that its culture and scenery were not much different from the old days.
The reason they preserved their traditions was because the place had grown in significance as a tourist destination.
Apparently it was good for business, since it let them show outsiders elven culture while making money on the side.
“…I should wait a little.”
Although I had arrived at the station, I did not move immediately. Instead, I took a seat nearby and opened a book.
The history of the world of Aiter was a vast fantasy epic in its own right, so there was hardly any pastime more interesting than reading it.
Since arriving in this world, my magical knowledge had barely increased at all, but thanks to that, I had become quite well-versed in history.
If I had nothing else to do later, maybe becoming a history teacher would not be bad.
After sitting there reading for about thirty minutes, I heard the next train pulling in.
Fitting for a train that traveled back and forth to the land of elves, it made very little noise, though it was also incredibly slow—perhaps because it had sacrificed a great deal of speed in exchange.
And on that train…
was Kkotseorin, the Elf King.
Chiik—!
The train doors opened and a small number of passengers got off.
A gloomy mage in a hooded robe, a short but proud dwarf with her chin held high, an elf with their ears tightly wrapped in bandages to conceal them, a human worn down by daily life, and so on.
All kinds of people disembarked,
but it was not particularly difficult for me to spot Kkotseorin at once.
Dressed in a black gown and hiding their face behind a mask, they looked fairly ordinary by a mage’s standards.
But to my eyes, they stood out.
They, too, found me in a single glance and came hurrying over with small quick steps.
“It’s been a while. I never imagined we would meet again here, of all places….”
“So you still wear a mask when you go out?”
“There is still some curse left, so I have to be particularly careful when I go outside.
And… moving about freely is difficult when one has the status of the Elf King.”
Well, sure.
The curse was one thing, but Kkotseorin had spent their whole life yearning for freedom, so they had probably chosen to wear a mask in order to move as they pleased without being bound by anyone.
Even after the curse was lifted, I had a feeling they would still enjoy wearing one.
The moment their face was revealed, people all over the world would recognize them.
“Then, shall we go?”
Kkotseorin said that and strode off proudly toward somewhere.
A leisurely holiday enjoyed after a long time.
Even if it was only a short break of less than two days, they seemed determined to spend it well…
but unfortunately, Kkotseorin’s plans fell apart in less than thirty minutes.
Thud! Thud!
Elven knights in green robes knelt before Kkotseorin, who had concealed their identity in a black dress and white mask.
The Namuhwaran crest was embroidered on all of their robes, and it was obvious at a glance what was going on.
‘They’ve been found out.’
I had more or less expected it.
As the Elf King, Kkotseorin was connected to the first World Tree, the original source of all the World Trees—the Cheonryeong Tree.
A mystical aura that only elves could sense was bound to be leaking from them little by little.
That dress could ward off curses, but it could not block the aura of the Elf King.
Still, it looked as though they had tried as hard as possible to hide that aura and avoid being discovered.
It might fool ordinary people, but apparently not even the elders of the Third World Tree, Namuhwaran.
“Your Majesty. Why did you visit our cradle without informing us?”
The elven man kneeling at the front asked Kkotseorin in a voice heavy with weight.
Indeed, if this were Korea, I supposed he would be something like a district chief under a mayor.
“…There are reasons I wanted to visit quietly.”
“I see. I apologize for failing to understand Your Majesty’s profound intent. However, once we realized that the king had personally come to this humble place, we could not dare ignore it, and so we have come to meet you in person.”
“In that case… it cannot be helped.”
Kkotseorin gave me an apologetic look, but honestly, I did not have any particular thoughts about it.
Chief or no chief, as long as we got to Iphanel’s garden, that was what mattered.
And now and then, an experience like this felt fresh.
Still, something about this gave me a bad feeling.
‘For elves, this is way too formal, isn’t it?’
The noble culture of humans and the noble culture of elves were very different in atmosphere.
For humans, it might be natural for subjects to use the highest honorifics toward a king, but among elves, a king was simply the greatest being able to commune with the Cheonryeong Tree—
not someone before whom they had to cower like that.
No matter how little social experience Kkotseorin might have, even they seemed to find this sort of treatment rather unfamiliar; they looked deeply troubled about something.
“Your Majesty, though I am unworthy, may I dare convey something?”
Just as I expected, the elven elder spoke in a voice that suggested there was indeed something more.
“…Go ahead.”
When Kkotseorin nodded, he lifted his head and opened his lips.
“Namuhwaran’s orchard… has begun to be contaminated from the roots.”
Wait, what?
Namuhwaran is contaminated?
Already?
‘The progression is… way too fast.’
As far as I knew, the point when Namuhwaran’s orchard became corrupted by black mana was at the very earliest in the latter half of second year, or when third year had just begun.
No matter how much the story of this world had changed and changed again, that still meant it had been moved forward by one to two years.
Until now, episodes had broken down before, but never all at once to this extent, so I could not help being just as flustered as Kkotseorin.
“Your Majesty. Please, preserve our cradle….”
The elder bowed his head after saying that, and Kkotseorin and I kept our mouths shut for quite some time, looking into each other’s eyes.
We had come to check on how Iphanel was doing,
but things had become far more tangled than expected.
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