Prologue Story

“I heard you sparred with the children, didn’t you?”

After finishing training, as I gasped for breath, my master asked me.

I looked up at her.

Recalling the situation, my expression became somewhat complicated.

But at the same time, I felt proud.

They were still young and couldn’t catch up to me yet, or so I had thought.

But when did they grow so much?

“Yes, I did,” I replied.

“How was it? Unlike you, those children are said to have an excellent sense as combat magicians, aren’t they?”

At her words, I smiled brightly.

My master looked slightly surprised.

“Of course. Do you know how amazing they are? Their talent in magic and combat is exceptional, and their personalities, intelligence—they don’t lack in any area. Well… Hyun-ho feels a bit unreliable, though…”

I suddenly stopped speaking.

Talking about my friends must have made me a little too excited.

I glanced at my master.

She seemed to be lost in thought, her head slightly bowed.

“You said you won?”

She stared at me and asked quietly.

I nodded.

In the end, I had won every sparring match.

But that was because… In-ha couldn’t attack me with full force, and above all, my barrier magic turned out to be unexpectedly solid.

Their attacks hadn’t been as effective as I thought.

And once I exploited an opening with an illusion, it was over.

‘Is this why mental-type magic is so impressive?’

I mused to myself, feeling a sense of renewed appreciation.

My master then asked another question.

“After winning, what did you think?”

I recalled the feeling I had at that moment.

Unlike me, who barely moved from my spot, my friends actively attacked.

They unleashed attacks in various ways.

I blocked them and waited for an opportunity.

We were fundamentally different.

True growth, I thought, was in facing forward like they did, unafraid to move ahead.

“I still think… I’m not suited to be a combat magician.”

“…Even after winning?”

I nodded firmly.

“Yes.”

She asked, “Why is that?”

“I was able to win not because I was exceptional, but because of a difference in approach.”

“Unlike the children who attacked proactively, I focused on defense and waited for an opening.”

As I spoke, I hesitated and looked away slightly.

“They were… amazing. Truly. The phrase ‘exceptional’ isn’t an exaggeration. Unlike me, they showed it so clearly. What should I say? It’s like their combat instincts are different. I feel like I finally understood what that means.”

My master tilted her head slightly, watching me.

“But you blocked all their magic, didn’t you? Isn’t that proof you’re better at combat than they are?”

I shook my head vigorously.

“No, not at all. Sparring with them and witnessing their combat styles firsthand made me realize it.

They’re incredible. Without the advantage of my barrier magic, I would have been defeated in an instant. If I lacked luck or intuition… I know that much.”

Lost in thought, I found myself speaking without restraint.

“So… I feel like I need to work harder. I may not aim to be a combat magician, but there’s still a level I want to achieve with magic…”

She was silent for a moment.

I began to fidget with my fingers, feeling a strange sense of unease.

After a brief pause, she opened her mouth and resumed the conversation.

“The goals you’ve mentioned before… Are they to materialize illusions, dominate dreams, transform written magic into verbal incantations, and evolve barrier magic into space-time magic?”

In truth, my ambitions went beyond that.

With illusion magic, I wanted to create partial realities.

With space-time magic, I dreamed of… using barriers to even control time.

Yes, it was a dream—a dream I wanted to achieve through magic.

She continued speaking.

“Have you ever thought it might be impossible?”

I felt as though my heart sank into my chest.

I looked up at my master.

She gazed down at me with an unreadable expression.

Pressing my lips together, I lowered my head again, but my eyes remained determined.

“Yes, I have.”

How could I not?

Of course, I had.

I am… ordinary.

No one knows that better than I do.

“I know. Unlike my friends, I’m just an ordinary girl. Sensitive to mana, yes, but still very ordinary.

I have no combat instincts, and I’m not particularly smart.

I’m just… a little more mature than my peers. That’s all.

Right now, it might look like I have talent because I bloomed early.

But eventually, as time goes on, I’ll become just an ordinary magician.

No one knows that better than I do.”

Because I am ordinary.

That was an undeniable truth.

A natural, self-evident proposition that defined my existence.

There were times I found it a little sad.

But I decided that was enough for me.

Truly, I thought so.

For the first time, I was expressing a truth I’d never shared with anyone.

“But if I let those thoughts hold me back, I’ll never accomplish anything, right?”

It was the same in my past life.

I had dreamed of becoming a novelist.

Trusting in the small talent I had for writing, I began to write novels.

But the more I wrote, the more I realized.

Ah, my talent isn’t that great after all.

Yet, I kept believing.

I simply believed in the only talent I had.

Because once you allow the thought of impossibility to settle in, it truly becomes an unattainable dream.

In my previous life, I couldn’t imagine a future where I wasn’t a novelist.

I believed that’s what had enabled me to achieve my dream.

“So, maybe it’s realistic to think that way. A normal girl like me might take decades to reach that level.

Maybe I’ll never achieve it.

But I don’t want that. Because I want to achieve it.

That’s why I’ll keep looking forward.”

For me, dreams had always been the meaning of life.

What else would a lonely child with no friends rely on to keep going?

Why else did I remain unshaken, even after hearing stories of people who ended their own lives?

I was lonely.

But I had a reason to live, a purpose.

That purpose was my dream.

“Because if you believe, someday it becomes reality.

I know I’m just an ordinary girl, but that belief will never change.”

‘If you believe, someday it becomes reality.’

I think I saw that line in a comic once.

I might have read it in someone’s autobiography too.

It was one of my favorite quotes.

And I believed in it.

Only after finishing my speech did I realize how embarrassing it was.

To me, it was sincere, but to others, it probably sounded unbearably cringeworthy.

Especially the last part—“If you believe, someday it becomes reality.”

Didn’t it sound like something straight out of a cheesy coming-of-age comic?

As I turned my head to cool my flushed cheeks, I saw her—my master—not smiling, not sneering, but looking sad.

She opened her mouth to speak.

“Why do you talk about yourself like that?”

“…What?”

I looked at her, bewildered.

She furrowed her brows.

“You have the determination to try hard, you look toward the future, and you have the best possible mindset as a learner… but you have no confidence in yourself. Why?”

For a moment, I was at a loss for words at her obvious statement.

Carefully, I responded, gauging her expression.

“But… it’s true.”

There was nothing else I could say.

Isn’t it true?

I know better than anyone that I’m an ordinary girl.

I know I have a few skills and talents, but that’s all.

Nothing exceptional.

I’m just ordinary.

That’s an obvious fact.

However, she shook her head.

“Then, do you think your magical skills are below average right now?”

I blankly answered her question.

“No. I’m probably better than most people.”

“Then why?”

It’s obvious.

I couldn’t understand my master’s perspective at all.

It’s just as I said earlier.

“But as I mentioned before, I know myself well. I’m ordinary. I don’t have anything remarkable. This talent I have is temporary, merely a chance that came from starting early. When I grow older, the gap between me and my friends will widen tremendously. Overwhelmingly so… A few years from now, they’ll be so much stronger than me that I won’t even compare.”

“Why are you thinking about the future?”

“…What?”

I was taken aback by her follow-up question.

I always focus on the present and the future.

Doesn’t everyone?

But she shouted in frustration, her expression full of determination.

“Look at the present!”

She shouted, grabbing my face firmly with both hands.

Her brilliant crimson eyes pierced into my vision.

“You are stronger than anyone your age! No one knows what your future holds. Don’t judge yourself as ordinary or unimpressive compared to others. Have confidence.”

It was strange.

She was always someone who exuded a noble and elegant atmosphere.

But now, she seemed desperate.

She was desperately telling me this.

“You have talent!”

And then, tears came.

I didn’t agree with her at all, yet my heart felt warm.

Tears welled up at the corners of my eyes and streamed down my cheeks.

“You are advancing further than anyone else! Yes, maybe you lack a little compared to those kids. But the skills you’ve built will eventually become your true strength. So…”

A sob rose in my throat.

I bit my lips to hold back the crying.

“So, have confidence in yourself. You have talent.”

She rested her forehead against mine.

I closed my eyes, feeling the tears continue to flow.

In truth, I already knew.

Yes, I knew I had a talent for magic.

How could I not?

I awakened my magic sense faster than anyone else.

I began to sense and control it.

I had the ability to feel mana sensitively and manipulate it delicately.

My self-awareness and thought processes, linked to my past life, allowed me to create magic faster than anyone.

I was never left behind by anyone.

I always stood ahead.

When it came to magic, I was never in a position inferior to my friends.

But I lacked confidence in myself.

Isn’t that obvious?

I’ve always been timid, hesitant to speak even a single word to others.

I was like that even in my past life.

No one ever thought I was special.

I couldn’t even think of myself as special.

Writing was my only talent and pride.

I had nothing else.

Even now, after being reborn with a special talent, how could I trust myself?

How could I believe that I was amazing or talented?

While I claimed to look forward, I feared the future where I might fall behind.

Even as I fixated on the future I wanted, I couldn’t bring myself to believe in myself.

I am ordinary.

That was the defensive boundary I set for myself.

I sobbed, trembling, as I felt her warmth.

“But… that’s not true… I… I’m…”

I bit my lip hard.

Acknowledging my talent was terrifying.

Believing in myself was terrifying.

That’s the way I’ve lived until now.

And now, suddenly being told I’m not ordinary—what does that even mean?

What would change?

“If I… If I acknowledge that I have talent… then will something change?”

“It won’t change. You’ll still be you. But you’ll become stronger.

You’ll become someone who shines brilliantly. I know it.”

I opened my eyes and looked up.

Through blurry vision, I saw the sky.

Beyond the sunlight streaming into the room, through the trees, I saw the clear blue expanse.

“You are someone with that kind of talent.”

I still couldn’t believe it.

That I was remarkable?

That I had talent?

If I do have talent, then what will happen to me in the future?

If I believe in myself, how will I change?

I don’t know anything.

But that’s true for everyone.