Chapter. 12. Lettuce to Windmage (25)
+BGM: The big dipper (J Season, Jo Byung-hun) recommended
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Quiet hallway. A young wizard stood there, listening to the bustling noises outside.
“By now… preparations for departure have been completed, right? It looks like everything has been loaded. Since they are busy people… there won’t be time to hesitate.”
Trudging. Trudging. Trudging. Trudging.
Sigh-
Sweet.
“…It’s quiet.”
Six o’clock in the morning.
Astrad sat alone in a quiet room and thought about the professor and his party who would have left by now.
There was a mountain of things I wanted to say, but in the end I couldn’t go out and send them.
A person who was truly free even though he was not a wind wizard. For some reason, Astrad admired the powerful wind-like appearance of a man who smelled of thick dust and sand, and was only shown by those who were proud of their actions and will.
So I stayed at home. When I see him leaving like that, I feel like he’s really begging me to go with him. Fearing such an ‘impulse’, Astrad remained alone in the quiet home where everyone else had gone.
“…They were ridiculous people. Somehow, from the first time I met them, I thought they didn’t seem human, but I never thought they were such monsters. With the body of such a monster, they were saints of the Church of Light, warriors, and now saints. And he also saved the families of our home. At that dawn… he really seemed like a saint.”
‘Live as your wind desires, Astrad…’
At first glance, the teacher’s voice passed through my mind in a monologue dripping with regret.
“Master. “I’m a half-assed wizard who hasn’t even figured out what I want yet.”
I didn’t know that maybe the regret I had now was just that kind of ‘wind’. In the corner of Astrad’s heart, Felix Home was still falling apart.
If there are two impulses, which one does the Wind Wizard follow?
“Live as the wind blows….”
Since he still did not understand what he said, Astrad, feeling frustrated, sat down in his teacher’s room and summoned his quill and ink.
The morning letter would arrive soon, so I was going to work in Master’s room today.
“I have a little time left.”
About 30 minutes. Time left until the morning letter arrives. A frustrated and confused mind, and a pure white sheet of paper in front of it. I grabbed the quill without realizing it.
For the first time in a long time, Astrad began writing his own letters instead of editing someone else’s letters.
The recipient was his teacher, who is now dead.
Sasak, square-dakkak.
“….really. me too. “Nothing has changed since I was young.”
Like a letter I sent to my dead mother. Like the letters she sent to her father hundreds of times and never received a reply.
Astrad, who once again wrote a letter that would never be returned, smiled self-deprecatingly and folded the completed letter. What if the magic doesn’t work? The person who inspects all the empire’s letters is Astrad himself.
Astrad planned to personally drop the last letter for her teacher into his mailbox.
In a way, as a wind wizard, he is also a part of the wind. So, I just said that without thinking.
[Send it to the wind.]
….Palak.
His letter came to mind carefully.
“S-Master?”
This is ridiculous. This cannot happen. Didn’t I see with my own eyes last night the body of my dead teacher turning into smoke and returning to the sky? But, but… why?
Palak…. Palak….
Astrad’s letter was heading outward with a weak but clear flap of its wings. As if possessed, the door was opened and the letter flew in quietly on the wind.
Pass through the long white passage.
Past the once lively, now quiet restaurant.
Today too, I passed through the corridors of countless bookshelves, waiting for other letters.
Palak- Palak-
“Heo-eok, heo-eok!”
The young wizard ran until he was out of breath, chasing the letter through all the corridors and corridors as if he were exploring a home.
The destination, which I expected to be the destination, was the central bookshelves where the wizards’ mailboxes were gathered, and the direction of the endlessly fluttering letters.
Coincidentally, it was the closet where he and his teacher wrote their first letter.
Sigh-
When I opened the swing door that was slanted downward, the letter went inside as if it had been waiting.
in. further in. Under the bed where Master was.
‘Oh my, Master! ‘Let’s just clean it up for a moment!’
‘Oh, no! This is my bed, this is my seat!!! I can’t clean it up. ‘I can’t clean it up!’
‘Ugh. So, we said we should move to a slightly larger room. yes? We haven’t lived here for a year or two, and we have a lot of spare rooms, so why bother staying here…’
‘Oh, no! I, I… am one with this bed! ‘I can never get rid of it!’
Strangely, it was a teacher who did not allow me to come near the bed. At that time, I thought it was just the stubbornness of an old man whose mind was not sound, and I left it alone, thinking I would do whatever he wanted.
“…..”
When he was of sound mind, he cleaned up his room on his own, and when he was not of sound mind, he threw a tantrum like that.
So, for eight years, Astrad had never seen the area under the bed in this room, which she remembered every inch of.
Sweet.
Clack rattle…. Clack rattle rattle!
“This….”
There was something. An old mailbox in poor shape, as if it had been hastily and roughly torn apart.
Rattle, rattle!
As seen from the shelves of missing letters, the mailbox filled with letters seemed to be bursting and was shaking to keep itself quiet, and Astrad’s letter was struggling to get inside.
[Gauman //// Delhast]
A name that clearly belongs to the teacher and traces that were forcibly scratched away.
However, the mailbox for the home wizard is engraved with the magic of the archmage. No matter how much I tried to erase it, I couldn’t even erase the dark traces of magic.
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The erased middle name was clearly visible to Astrad, who was now in the 4th rank.
[Gaumann Dylan Delhast]
[Dylan, Delhast]
[Dylan]
no. That can’t be possible. Why that name? Now, the name that has been buried in old memories and memories with my teacher, why is it here?
Is it with Master’s name?
Fluffy.
The letter box falls from the hand of the boy who faces the truth.
Shake! Para la la la rock!
At that shock, the letters inside, which had been pressed to their limit, burst out into the room.
Letters began to flutter from the ceiling of the room filled with the smell of dust.
Feeling the magic of a familiar teacher.
Young, confused, immature. His wish from a young age.
The letters, each one filled with scratches and tears, were all letters that Astrad herself had written to her father.
Palak.
Astrad unconsciously caught the falling letter. Even without opening it, I was able to remember what the contents were just by looking at the letters.
Even though he was young, it was a letter filled with deep emotions.
[The teacher made the first remark. It’s a lot more fun than when I lived in the back alley.]
‘It’s Astrad. ‘Do you like the sky?’
‘…It’s cool.’
[Today is mom’s birthday. You don’t even think about this.]
‘Master? What kind of pie did you get?’
‘Well… I just wanted to eat it. Shall we eat together?’
[It becomes 1 note. Now I’m a magician. I can live alone without a father or something like that.]
‘It’s a house! Astrad! Now, this is our home!’
‘I heard that wind wizards have no other home than here in the first place.’
‘Yes, you are back. Finally… it’s home. my house.’
“AA AA AA….”
A letter written day after day, filled with longing and resentment. Whenever he was depressed, his teacher always came to his side, comforted him, and comforted him.
“Ahh…. Why, why…!”
In the letters fluttering like memories, Astrad saw her teacher. Master, who looked at the letter even after his memories had faded. He had a wrinkled face that always smiled brightly, as if the sun was shining and he just needed to be next to me. And…even on the edge of death, He was the first to speak…
‘You’re back…you’re back. We… are back…’
The meaning of return that you so desperately spoke of.
Astrad knew all of that.
Why did you take that skinny boy who was a petty thief as your disciple?
Why did you teach so devotedly? and….
[I hate it because it was back then. My son at the time, Astraga.]
‘…It’s Astrad. Do you resent your father a lot?’
‘….yes. Abandoning her mother, abandoning me. ‘I hate my father for leaving so irresponsibly, to the point of killing me.’
‘….okay. I see….’
why. The face of the teacher who ghostwrote my first letter was so pale.
Astrad felt heartbroken as she imagined her teacher secretly wiping away tears as she opened the hundreds of letters containing those resentments over and over again until her hands got dirty, and then opening up her mailbox and hiding it under the bed in case Astrad found out the truth. .
“You should have said something. Because it ripens alone and festers alone! Aren’t you buried in those memories, Master…”
“If only I had said something, if it had been that painful, if it had been so painful that it would disappear into my memories!”
Quang!
“Why don’t you just… tell it to me…”
Master.
my teacher
My…father.
Beneath the memories that fell like snow, there was one more bunch of letters without magic.
[Gauman Dylan Delhast. To my disciple, Astrad.]
A bunch of letters that I never sent, only one corner of which was dirty due to how many times I hesitated.
Astrad read letters from her dead teacher one by one among the letters from her childhood that circulated around her.
Gauman’s life as a wizard.
The love that came to him like the wind, who had been wandering like the wind, and his fate that made it impossible for him to stay in one place.
When she came back after several years, she cried to hear that both she and her son had died.
A scruffy disciple who impulsively accepted something that even he couldn’t understand.
And, after 3 months of being with him. When I heard the name was Astrad.
When that name whispered love to his wife, whom he had only been with for four weeks. Because it was the name that came out of her wife’s mouth. If it’s a daughter, it’s Celine. If it’s a son, it’s Astrad.
Astrad because the man who will disappear like the wind is the child who was planted like a star.
The westerly wind that day brought me my son.
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….I…. I realized that the wind of that day had finally granted my wish. Astrad. It’s a star in the night sky. At some point, my heart went where the wind went. It’s Astrad. I know that even if I apologize until the end of my life, I can’t cover your pain, but still… I want you to be happy.
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Pop. Pop…
The letter that brought tears to the eyes of the teacher, the father who lived as a teacher until the end, brought tears to the eyes of the son who was his student.
‘Because… that’s my wish.’
“…Master. “It’s true… it’s difficult for you to say it.”
Pop. Pop.
Astrad gathered a handful of wind and held her teacher’s scattered letters and his letters in her arms.
Step by step. Step by step.
Every time I stepped down the quiet hallway, memories of running around here with my teacher flashed through my heart and the corner of my eyes.
The place where his steps stopped was a hallway that was clearly exposed to the outside due to a broken pillar. A place with a view of the rocky valley and a good breeze.
Astrad sat at the end of it. As the wind blew, he carried both their letters.
Purrrrrrrrrrrrr!
The letter that was never sent finally went on the wind. Towards the young wizard’s mailbox, which has not been opened even once for eight years.
Letters that were sent but thought never reached are addressed to a person who is no longer in the world. Toward Gauman, his teacher who taught him everything, and his father Dylan, who gave him everything. Riding the wind, up in the sky. far. further.
Astrad looked at the letters fluttering in the sky and blew wind onto the staff his teacher had carved.
A low, soft melody fills the rich man’s memories. In between.
Paralarak!
Nevertheless, it announces that a new morning has arrived. Letters flew in.
“…I guess I’ll wake up soon. If the others don’t come in quickly, the mail will be blocked today…I guess I’ll try sending it out on my own.”
Finally, after letting go of the past that had been stuck for so many years, the wizard stood up. The morning has dawned, the wind of a new day is blowing, and he is ready to do the day’s work given to him.
It was unknown how his last letter found its way to his teacher’s mailbox. I just believe that the archmage’s remains, created with longing in mind, have worked a final miracle to connect the longing that has been lost for eight years.
Although it was something like a miracle.
Finally. A letter from a wind wizard to a wind wizard. They reached each other.
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fantasy,
