Just two words—but they struck Ace with unexpected weight—not shock, but the weight of ignorance. He froze, staring at her as if she had just cast a spell on him. A few seconds passed before he could finally ask, voice low and filled with genuine wonder:
"And what exactly are mages?"
Before he could prepare for her answer, Emilia began to cough—startled mid-bite. Color rose in her cheeks as she reached for the water pitcher. She took small, quick sips, then exhaled deeply, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Sitting upright once more, she fixed him with wide eyes—a mixture of disbelief and suspicion.
Leaning forward slightly, she asked incredulously:
"Don't tell me you've never heard of mages either?"
Her words were heavy with doubt, as if she were testing the limits of his knowledge—or patience. Ace offered a faint, uncertain smile, not of amusement but perhaps of regret. She couldn't quite tell if he was mocking her, himself, or the entire situation. Letting out a sigh, she leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes briefly, and pressed her fingers to her forehead as if trying to stave off an oncoming headache.
Silence fell for a moment before she spoke again—half astonished, half exasperated:
"You really don't believe it."
She cast him another assessing glance before, seemingly deciding to treat him like a child unaware of the basics, she straightened and began to explain:
"Mages are individuals with the ability to manipulate magical energy in ways even adventurers can't. Unlike adventurers, they don't rely on physical strength or weapons. Instead, they use spells—complex combinations of words and chants that aren't just gibberish; they're keys to things beyond comprehension, they can move massive boulders as if they were feathers, redirect the course of a river with a mere gesture, and even control the fundamental elements—fire, water, air, and earth—as though they were nothing more than toys to be shaped at will."
She paused, watching his face carefully, searching for even a flicker of belief. But he remained silent, as if her words vanished into a void of disbelief or incomprehension. Her eyes narrowed slightly. She hadn't said anything particularly outrageous—yet his reaction intrigued her. Lifting her eyebrows, she tilted her head and asked with a voice tinged with frustration:
"Let me guess… you don't know anything about magical energy either, do you?"
Her tone was sharper now, as if trying to wrest an implicit confession from him—or at least elicit a reaction that might unveil some hidden truth. She blinked slowly, her brow furrowing as she studied him, and then, as though she were dropping a bomb into the quiet room, she said:
"Mister Ace, I'm starting to seriously wonder if you came from another world."
The moment he heard those words, he froze. Time seemed to halt. His heart pounded beneath his ribs, as if the sentence had pierced directly through him—an arrow hitting its mark without hesitation.
He tried to disguise his reaction with a forced laugh, but it came out more strained than he intended. It wasn't enough to divert Emilia's sharp gaze, which now scrutinized him like he was a riddle to be solved. He quickly reached for a piece of food and stuffed it into his mouth, as if trying to fill the silence with anything—but he knew it was a flimsy escape.
Emilia let out a small sigh, sensing his unease. She softened her tone and resumed her explanation in a calmer voice. Her hands moved subtly, sketching invisible shapes in the air, as if painting the concepts she spoke of:
"Listen carefully, Mister Ace. Magical energy is something everyone possesses, but only a few can actually use. Most of them are adventurers or mages. It's used to perform feats that defy natural law, and mages are especially adept at it. Imagine fire magic—bare hands conjuring a tiny spark that suddenly transforms into a wild blaze, consuming everything in its path. Earth magic? It can summon jagged stone spikes from the soil, ready to tear through whatever stands too close."
Her eyes sparkled as she described it, clearly immersed in the vivid images forming in her mind. As she moved on to wind magic, her hands swirled gracefully through the air, mimicking invisible currents:
"Wind magic can turn the air itself into invisible blades—sharp as knives, slicing through even thick tree trunks like paper."
When she spoke of water, her tone shifted again—quieter, more nostalgic, as if she were speaking of something sacred, a memory etched deep within her.
"Water magic... can be a destructive force, like waves washing away everything in their path. But it can also be beautiful—used to create dancing performances, almost like living art. And it's the only element with healing properties; it can mend wounds, though only slightly."
She stopped speaking. Ace remained silent, unsure of what to say. But one thing was certain—everything Emilia had just described painted a picture of a world he didn't know. Her words felt like revelations, each one dismantling a pillar of his previous understanding. He tried to bridge the gap between what he once dismissed as fantasy and what now sounded like irrefutable truth. But that bridge was shaky, swaying under the weight of her conviction and the sincerity in her eyes.
He might have accepted the idea of life on other planets—that had long been a logical possibility. But the notion that human beings could manipulate nature's elements, bend reality to their will… that was pure fiction to him. Or so he had thought.
Yet there was no hint of exaggeration in her voice, no trace of deceit in her expression. Her words didn't feel like storytelling—they felt like facts. And deep within, a spark flared to life, burning away the remnants of his old beliefs. It illuminated the corners of his mind he hadn't dared explore, revealing just how narrow his perspective had been until now.
Then, a memory surged—fresh and painful. He remembered standing helpless before a force beyond his comprehension. A force that had taken everything from him and left him a powerless witness. At the time, he had felt stripped of agency, as though slapped by the universe itself. But now, in light of Emilia's words, that moment no longer seemed inexplicable. It felt... like truth uncovering itself.
Her story wasn't so impossible anymore. It was becoming something he could begin to understand.
On the other side of the table, Emilia could see how shaken he was. His expression betrayed him—slightly widened eyes, furrowed brows, and a heavy breath that gave away his turmoil. She couldn't help but smile subtly, almost teasingly, before speaking with the playful irritation of a child:
"From the look on your face, I'd say you didn't believe a single word I said."
She paused, waiting for any response. Ace opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. So, she continued, her tone lightening:
"Anyway, don't worry. You'll see it for yourself when we go to the Adventurers' Guild."
Despite the whirlwind in his mind, despite the part of him that still resisted belief, he finally spoke, his voice tinged with awe:
"You know so much... That's amazing for someone your age."
Instead of smiling proudly, something shifted in her expression. A shadow passed over her eyes, dimming their spark. It was the same distant look she'd had at the grand market—a fleeting detachment that Ace hadn't understood at the time.
"Well," she replied softly.
Then fell a moment of silence. She turned toward the wall, where hand-drawn portraits hung. One depicted a man and woman holding a young girl between them, love radiating from their expressions. Beside it was a picture of an elderly woman, smiling gently. Emilia's eyes lingered on those images, as if seeing them for the first time. Then she said:
"As you can see, both my parents were adventurers. They used to take me to the guild with them. From what I understand, not many adventurers have children and stay in the field, so I ended up seeing and learning quite a lot."
She paused before continuing:
"My father didn't have the ability to use magical energy, but he made up for it with his skill in hand-to-hand combat. He relied on physical strength and speed. My mother was different—she could manipulate water. Many said she wasn't just a fighter, but a dancer—her movements flowing with the water, graceful and unmatched in beauty. That's why my parents became well-known among adventurers in the town."
Her lips parted as if to say more, but she hesitated. Perhaps it was a memory too painful to voice, or maybe she simply wasn't ready. Ace noticed her voice falter slightly, betraying a blend of pride and sorrow—as if she were drifting between a cherished past and a present that demanded resilience. In the corner of her eye shimmered a faint light—not quite a tear, not quite a reflection, but something in between.