“Brother.”
In a private room of the main house that Lady Diella used to occupy,
Valerian sat alone, deep in thought, in a small space that hadn’t been visited for a long ti but was still regularly cleaned by the servants.
There he sat, sorting through his thoughts, long after Dereck had left.
As he did, Aiselin crossed the corridor of the main house, guiding the servants inside.
“The butler reported that Mr. Dereck took Diella out of the pavilion…”
“…At this hour?”
‘Yes. Let’s try it.’
Dereck had left the room with a determined expression. He seed to have found sothing important.
At such a late hour, when most of the servants were asleep, Valerian felt a strange unease.
“I should instruct the butler to look into it.”
“But, um… Mr. Dereck firmly warned us not to follow him… so the report ca to .”
“…What is he planning?”
“Yes, exactly…”
Lady Aiselin also wore a worried expression. Dereck was the one she had sought and brought back.
No one objected to her decision because the Duke of Duplain had granted him full authority, but still, there was sothing unsettling.
Still, if drastic asures were needed, as the Duke suggested… Aiselin could say no more.
“What were you doing in Diella’s room?”
“Just sorting out my thoughts. I also took so ti to look at Diella’s paintings after so long.”
The room was full of canvases. Diella’s last painting. It was an unfinished piece with many empty margins on the canvas, but only the painted portions displayed incredible talent.
Aiselin closed her eyes tightly as she looked at the painting and said:
“I hope that one day Diella will finish this painting. I want to fra it and hang it elegantly in the hall…”
“Indeed.”
Both of them, with sad voices, could only lant in the middle of the night.
*
Bang!
Even the darkness of night had abandoned Diella’s side.
Dereck’s magical arrows, fully detecting the enemy’s position, chased after Diella, tearing through branches wildly.
Crack! Bang!
The twisting, snapping stream of magic seed ready to shatter Diella’s bones at any mont.
A single hit would be fatal for her fragile body. Knowing this, Diella covered her head and ran up the steep forest path.
“Ahh!”
Bang!
As Dereck advanced, Diella ran in the opposite direction. She climbed over a large log, slid across the ground, and scrambled up a slope. She wove through trees, ducked under a hanging zelkova, and leaped over a ditch.
Despite it being midnight, she ran the forest path without hesitation. Diella was already familiar with the geography of the place. She had morized the location of the forest, the vines that blocked pursuit, the position of fallen logs, and sharp rocks protruding from the ground to so extent.
Dereck wasn’t confused. He already knew she was very familiar with the forest’s layout.
The landscape paintings that filled her room were all of the mansion’s surroundings.
It wasn’t hard to deduce that young Diella had been a child who played in nature, running in and out of the estate. Her paintings clearly exceeded the level of a typical child.
She captured the world as she saw it, with precision. More than that, the nurous bluish lines she had drawn across the landscapes were astonishing.
Lines visible in the forest, the trees, the sunset, and the river drawn by a child. To the untrained eye, these blue strokes might appear to be a unique artistic style, perhaps shadow or texture.
But they were actually expressions of the magical flow she perceived in nature as a child.
It was the magical energy in the vast forest that every mage of the Wild Faction experienced at least once. To be able to see and express it ant she had unconsciously attuned herself to it.
Diella’s talent was more inclined toward the Wild Faction than the Regulated one.
Dereck had suspected this when he saw her paintings. Instead of manifesting magic through rituals bound by rules, she felt the magic inherent in all things and used it freely—that was the essence of the Wild Faction. Though it shared so aspects with the Regulated Faction, it differed greatly in philosophy.
This girl was born with the noblest lineage but, unfortunately, the nature of a street mage.
Magical ability is greatly influenced by bloodline. However, in the end, the ntal frawork used to materialize magic often follows personal tendencies. Though most nobles followed the Regulated Faction, Diella was different.
She simply loved the world. She enjoyed wandering in and out of the mansion, observing, painting, and playing.
Even when the servants scolded her, she would climb the mansion walls to explore the forest, sketch rodents in her small notebook, lift her skirt to wade barefoot into rivers, or lie in the adow staring at the blue sky.
She captured all those monts in her art. It was clear she found joy in it.
Everything began to crack from that point. Unfortunately, in a world where the noble Regulated Faction was the mainstream, she was just a misfit.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
As Dereck pressured Diella by firing magical arrows at strategic spots, Diella once again leapt between trees, desperately trying to escape.
Even in mounting terror, she crafted a strategy for survival. Her blood surged. Her breathing quickened. Her heart pounded.
The harsh reality that running away would change nothing tornted her mind. If she wanted to live, she had to resist. She had to fight with everything she had—and if she had nothing, she would fight barehanded until she broke.
“Ha… Ha…”
Panting to her limit, she crashed through a thicket. The steady pace of Dereck’s pursuit and Diella’s frantic escape were not far apart. Dereck, a wandering rcenary by trade, was always forced to fight in unfamiliar terrain.
Knowing the forest like the back of her hand didn’t guarantee escape from Dereck.
Bang!
“Aah!”
Another magical arrow flew past Diella’s back and exploded nearby. Startled, Diella tumbled down a gentle grassy slope. Her golden hair, already tangled and full of leaves, beca even ssier.
Crack!
Sohow, the girl stood back up. Her once-neatly styled hair now hung limp over her shoulders. Her lacy pajamas were torn, and her once-lustrous skin was scratched and dirty.
Yet she gritted her teeth and rose again. Falling down the back of the long hill led her deeper into the forest. In the midst of the woods, in a wide adow, stood a solitary majestic zelkova tree.
Leaning on the trunk, Diella tried to stand. Gasping for air, she struggled to take one step at a ti. But her strength was completely drained. Her breath heavy, her chest tight.
“Out of energy to keep running?”
“…!!”
The sound of a sword being sheathed rang out. Under the moonlit night, a boy approached the girl leaning against the zelkova.
Dereck, smiling in satisfaction, closed the distance, but Diella, exhausted, slowly lost strength in her legs and collapsed to the ground.
Then, Dereck approached and looked down at Diella.
“Pant… Pant…”
“Anything else you want to say?”
“Ugh… why ask…? Ha… Ha…”
Diella, seated on the ground, lifted her head and t Dereck’s gaze. Her eyes still burned with life. Though her small body had no strength left to flee, her will to resist remained unbroken.
“Why? You think I’ll apologize? Beg? Say sorry, promise not to do it again… play nice, grovel?”
“…”
“You might as well kill . I’ll never act beneath my lineage.”
Even as re prey, Diella lifted her head with pride and looked Dereck in the eye.
Dereck calmly watched her.
“Why are you so obsessed with bloodline and status?”
“…What else do I have?”
Diella, her trembling fingers clutching at the grass, gritted her teeth and replied. Her voice was laced more with sorrow than anger.
“Magic, studies, painting… I’ve fallen behind in everything… After lagging so far behind… what’s left for
besides the authority of my lineage? If I can’t even protect that… then who am I…?”
“…”
Then Diella spoke through her tears. Dereck quietly listened, and after a while, he said softly:
“I saw your sunset painting.”
“…”
“It was very well done.”
“…”
The watercolor of the sunset Dereck had seen in her room. A painting of a young girl riding on a servant’s back, gazing at the red sky—it was Diella’s final piece.
Beautifully and delicately rendered, yet most of it remained unfinished, with the edges of the canvas blank.
Most of Diella’s paintings were like that. Her brushwork was clean, her colors elegant, but large parts were left empty.
Valerian had criticized them as incomplete. Even he, who adored her, said so. Likely the rest of the family felt the sa. But from Dereck’s modern perspective, it was different. He felt the delicate touch leading into blank space conveyed aesthetic intention—preserving spatial impression.
In short, it was the “beauty of emptiness.” A technique often seen in Eastern art, contrasting with the Western style of filling the canvas and layering bright colors, common among aristocrats.
Diella had developed her own style in such an era. Unrecognized by anyone, she was a girl born with true aesthetic sense. In short, she wasn’t just a girl with noble blood.
“What does that an now…”
Diella began to say sothing but stopped. In her stunned vision, she saw the flow of magic—so intense it felt like the world might burst.
Her survival instincts triggered sothing deep within. The familiar forest where she had played since childhood rged with her vision.
Only when pushed to her limit did the girl’s magical instincts awaken. At the edge of her heightened senses, the flow of all magic in the world beca visible in an instant.
At that mont, Diella couldn’t even close her mouth.
“Ah!”
Without a mont’s pause, Dereck’s sword flew toward her. Diella, startled, fell backward and raised her hands defensively. It was instinctive. Of course, her thin arms couldn’t stop Dereck’s forged blade.
But the sword never reached her.
Swish!
Clang!
The moisture in the air around the girl froze, blocking Dereck’s sword.
The fallen girl opened her eyes wide in shock. Pillars of ice, radiating cold, had ford around her—as if protecting her. It was her doing.
Still too crude to be called advanced magic, but it was at least basic elental magic.
Swish, bang!
Dereck calmly sheathed his sword again.
Then he whispered quietly.
“Well done.”
Looking at Dereck kneeling before her, the madness from monts earlier had vanished. As always, he looked like the calm, handso mage she had seen at the mansion.
Diella swallowed hard at his sudden change. The reason he had pushed her so far was to trigger her survival instincts.
Until now, Diella had lived like a flower in a greenhouse, learning magic at a desk—never experiencing this. The feeling of all her senses sharpening just to stay alive.
Diella looked around with trembling pupils. The ice pillars, frozen by magical energy, gradually lted back into water, soaking into the ground.
Then she extended her trembling hands and looked at them. What she saw was truly the core of magical energy. Diella’s newly awakened magic specialized in cold.
Bluish magic, wrapped in cold, floated above her hands—like the ideals she had never been able to reach no matter how hard she tried. She had stayed up nights reading, practiced endlessly, and worked tirelessly, but it had never co. Only countless failures, pitiful looks, and quiet contempt followed.
mories of frustration and disappointnt piled up, consuming her, until she found herself isolated in a separate ho surrounded by rose vines. Her spirit faded, buried under authority and status.
The magical power—so beautiful and radiant—made those long, repetitive years seem like nothing. Sotis flowing like water, other tis spinning like the earth… the source of power that moved by her instincts. That image was seared into Diella’s blue eyes.
“…”
Young Diella, still full of innocence, had imagined every night before sleeping how happy she’d be if she could learn magic and cast spells. She’d run to her family, grinning from ear to ear, bursting with joy. So she had studied magic diligently.
But contrary to those hopes, Diella didn’t move at all as she witnessed the magic manifest. For a long ti, she just stared, and eventually, began to tremble slightly.
“Ugh, sniff… ugh… ugh…”
Her overflowing emotions were more sorrowful than joyous.
As Diella hugged herself and wept quietly, Dereck silently looked up at the starry night sky.
The stars, illuminated by the moonlight, continued to shine.
*
“Did you really have to do it in such a miserable way?”
“As I said, it was a strong dicine, but necessary.”
“Don’t treat
like a patient.”
“…”
Diella was exhausted, as was Dereck, who had cast spells multiple tis.
They were resting under the large zelkova tree, keeping a considerable distance, each leaning to rest.
Diella hugged her knees while looking at her palms. She closed her eyes tightly, observing the flickering magic inside.
“You could thank .”
“I’m not grateful.”
“I know you are.”
“If you know that, why are you asking?”
Her tone was still harsh, but Diella’s attitude had softened. However, her bluntness remained the sa.
“I haven’t reached the realm of one-star magic yet, so I need more practice. A lot of ti has been lost, so there’s much progress to make.”
“…”
“Your magic is unstable at the mont. Starting tomorrow, you need to learn how to fully materialize it. It will be the foundation of all level magic.”
“How do I do that?”
“I’ll teach you tomorrow.”
Diella lowered her head.
She was a ss. Her lush blond hair was full of leaves and dust, her body covered in mud—she looked like a beggar. Yet magic flowed through her entire body.
That single fact surfaced gently in her heart. It felt like hot lava flowing through her throat.
“Dereck.”
The girl called Dereck’s na. When he responded indifferently, she stared at the nightti forest and finally spoke softly. Though only the back of her head was visible, her calm words were clearly heard.
“Thank you.”
“…”
Dereck leaned his head against the tree trunk, silently observing the starry sky, and thought.
It wasn’t clear if he deserved thanks. In truth, Diella had almost learned the basic magical quality on her own. Dereck had only provided the catalyst. Since she was young, wandering through the forest, painting landscapes, observing the world, she had been honing her unique instincts through the Wild School.
Life was like an unfinished painting, and magic like the fundantals she couldn’t grasp. And without any other outstanding talent, her life felt like a aningless blank space on the canvas of her youth.
But Dereck, who ca from the streets, knew. Not every mont in life can be filled. Whether sitting idly in the slums, hungry, or alone in her room reading magic books all day, the empty spaces in life were always with Dereck.
It’s only a matter of how early or late it cos, but the blank spaces in life will surely arrive.
Whether you lose your purpose, dreams, family, or friends. A period marked by prolonged emptiness and frustration will inevitably co.
When experiences accumulate and maturity begins to form, one learns to manage those voids skillfully. Even within that emptiness, aning and purpose can be found. This, too, becos accepted as part of life.
However, a void that arrives too early—before maturity develops—can sotis break soone’s heart. Because it feels like that’s all life has to offer. For a young girl like Diella, that was obvious.
But wasn’t it already known during the days spent wandering in front of the canvas with a brush in hand?
Only when the blank space is filled does it finally beco a complete painting.
“The sunset painting.”
That’s why Dereck asked softly.
“Was it your work?”
“…Why are you asking that? I haven’t picked up a brush in ages.”
“Just wanted to ask.”
Diella snorted as if questioning why he’d ask such a thing. The painting that the entire family cherished most, urging her to finish it soon, hoping to see Diella’s complete artwork. But sadly, it was already complete.
Remaining silent, Diella finally rested her head on her knees and murmured in response.
“It was my masterpiece.”
Such is life.
Dereck, beside Diella, joined her in gazing at the moon.
*
The next morning, the first thing Diella did upon waking in bed was extend her palms and let her magic flow.
The barely visible stream of magic finally showed that the girl had crossed the threshold into becoming a sorceress.
However, it still seed too early for complete materialization. She wanted to use magic properly right away, but her level was still weak.
‘Starting tomorrow, you need to learn to fully materialize your magic. It will be the foundation of all ergency magic.’
‘How do you do that?’
‘I’ll teach you tomorrow.’
“…”
Diella, resting her chin in her hand, fell into thought. Her disheveled hair covered her eyes, so she blew it aside with a puff, making her look like a grumpy cat.
Last night, Diella returned to the annex looking utterly disheveled, surprising the servants. She only slept five hours after being bathed and cared for.
At the window, the newly risen sun chased away the darkness. The man nad Dereck was probably sleeping deeply in the guest room of the main house.
So what? He was the one who said he’d teach her tomorrow. From Diella’s perspective, if she was awake, it was already tomorrow. If that bothered him, he should’ve specified a ti. Her itch to learn how to harness magic was growing.
Diella got out of bed, still in her pajamas.
That’s when she opened the door to step into the hallway.
–Thump!
“Ah!”
The servant fetching cold water from the well for cooking—after Dereck had emptied it—stumbled and fell. Not expecting Diella’s door to suddenly open, he lost control of the water jar.
–Thump!
–Splash!
The jar rolled, soaking the tips of Diella’s sandals and her pajamas.
“…”
“L-Lady Diella! Ouch!”
Diella’s cold gaze fell on the fallen servant. Butler Delron, who had been giving instructions in the hallway, rushed over in alarm.
“L-Lady Diella. Are you alright?”
“O-Oh, my lady! I’m so, so sorry! Please, forgive
just this once! Please, just once…”
The fallen servant hurried to sit up, begging for forgiveness. Delron also swallowed nervously, on edge.
It was obvious the servant would be beaten, and Delron’s mind raced for ways to intervene. If more servants left the annex, managing the workload would beco extrely difficult.
However, Diella only looked at the servant with icy eyes and said:
“Be more careful.”
With those curt words, Diella imdiately walked down the hall briskly. Her intention was to summon the head maid to change clothes and head to the main house.
Sohow, her steps felt almost excited—like a young girl eagerly awaiting an outing.
“…”
“…Huh?”
Delron and the servant looked at each other, eyes wide with surprise.
It was Diella, of all people. In a situation where it wouldn’t be unusual for her to stomp or beat soone half to death, she left with just a brief word. To first-tirs, she might still seem rude, but for the servants who had worked beside Diella for half their lives, it was a hard scene to believe.
Unable to grasp what had just happened, they could only stare down the now-empty hallway Diella had left behind.
Only a day had passed since Dereck had taken her hand and pulled her from that house.
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