The World of this Fantasy Novel is in Crisis

“But I’m not going to let it go.”

“So how am I supposed to believe that?”

“I saw Tim die.”

“In winter, there are so many kids freezing to death on the streets, you could trip over them. Death isn’t a big deal to people like us.”

Satin fell silent at Cain’s indifferent reply. Cain soon asked,

“Nothing else to say?”

“I don’t really know much about morals or anything like that, but there’s one thing I’m sure of. Adults should help children.”

Satin knew full well that this place was nothing like where he used to live. He figured that, in time, he too would get used to how things worked around here.

But not yet. Satin hadn’t forgotten the only sense of morality he knew.

Adults should save children. That is the fundamental duty a society must uphold above all else. A child who has been protected will grow up knowing how to protect others. And from that, trust and safety will naturally follow.

Not that things were all that warm where I came from, either.

At the very least, Satin knew there were people who lived by that principle.

Cain stared at him like he’d just heard something completely absurd, but didn’t say more. It hadn’t even been a few days since they met—trusting each other completely was a long shot.

Eventually, Cain let out a sigh and said,

“Fine. I’ll believe you—for now.”

It came with a disclaimer, but it was still a yes. When Satin smiled unintentionally, Cain scowled.

“Don’t act like we’re close.”

“Oh, right. Sure.”

Touchy, aren’t we. Satin grumbled inwardly but said nothing.

“Should we head out? If we’re gone too long, someone might start thinking it’s weird.”

At Satin’s suggestion, Cain gave a nod. He looked like he was about to walk out of the bathhouse, then suddenly stopped. Satin halted as well.

“Why? Got something else to say?”

“Find out why that old man’s keeping me around.”

“You?”

“Yeah. I think he brought me here for a different reason than the others.”

“A different reason?”

“I don’t know what it is. I’m just saying—I feel like I’m different from the rest of them.”

Hearing Cain say that, Satin found himself thinking it might be true. He gave a slow nod.

“All right. I’ll look into it.”

***

The mood among the children was more subdued than usual. Probably the result of one of them having vanished. As he pushed a swing, Satin asked quietly,

“Do you think Tim ran away, too?”

The child on the swing was Heather. She stared blankly at the others, who were playing some kind of game with stones, while gently swaying back and forth.

“Probably.”

Heather’s voice sounded drained. Just earlier, she’d been pretending not to care about Tim’s disappearance and acting all cheerful. But clearly, it had been bothering her.

After a short silence, Heather continued,

“I get it, though.”

“What? That Tim ran away?”

“Yeah…”

Satin furrowed his brow without thinking, then quickly rearranged his face to a neutral expression. Luckily, Heather had her back to him and didn’t catch it.

How could she say she understood when he ran away from a place where there was no reason to? Satin kept his tone light as he asked,

“Have you ever wanted to run away, too?”

Heather mumbled something under her breath, then planted her feet on the ground. Recognizing that as a sign she wanted to stop swinging, Satin grabbed the ropes. The two of them soon sat side by side in the shade of a tree. The other kids were still busy with their game.

“You don’t remember, Satin, because you lost your memory.”

“Yeah.”

“But sometimes, I get scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“The teacher’s supposed to be someone who helps poor, unfortunate kids, right?”

“That’s right.”

Though Satin didn’t believe it in his heart, he nodded without showing it on his face.

“Then what happens when I’m not a kid anymore?”

“What do you mean?”

“When I grow up, the teacher won’t help me anymore, right? Just thinking about what I’m supposed to do then… scares me. If I have to go back to living on the streets, I…”

“You’ll find a place to stay. You’ve learned things here, haven’t you?”

“You really think so?”

Heather lowered her head to her knees and sighed. The worries of a child, yes—but not light ones by any means.

“Sometimes I get so scared I want to run away. If it just stays hard forever, maybe I won’t have time to feel how hard it is anymore.”

Satin could understand that desire to run away in advance, fearing the day you’d inevitably have to leave.

Ever since he started living with Noona, he too had thoughts like that now and then. The kind of happiness that felt limitless—that kind of happiness was terrifying in its own way.

Just when he was getting used to that happiness, Noona died. There were times he wondered what it would’ve been like if he had died before her.

“Then… what do you think about dying?”

At Satin’s sudden question, Heather lifted her head and stared at him, eyes wide. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and asked again.

“If we just keep living like this, and then suddenly die, wouldn’t that be okay? We’d die happy, right?”

“…That’s not okay.”

Seeing the incredulous look on Heather’s face, Satin gave an embarrassed smile.

“Yeah, I figured.”

Soon enough, Heather was laughing among the other kids like she’d never had any worries. The children all seemed close, not one excluded—but that didn’t mean they shared their deepest feelings with one another.

They had only been together a few months, maybe a year at most. And all of them had been through their own hardships before coming here. They might seem innocent on the surface, but surely that wasn’t all there was to them.

Satin watched the kids play for a while longer, then went back inside.

He had brought it up, wondering if what he was planning to do might somehow hurt them. But it turned out to be pointless. Heather hadn’t thought about wanting to die—not really. Probably none of the other kids had, either.

They felt happy in the present, yet worried about an uncertain future. They called each other friends, but deep down, each of them wanted to stand out. They were all looking for a way to hold on to the peace and comfort they had now.

Satin climbed to the second floor and walked down the west corridor. This was the teacher’s area. He passed the closed-off laboratory and the study, stopping in front of the office. He knocked and asked,

“Teacher, are you inside?”

The answer came immediately.

“Come in.”

When he opened the door, the teacher was seated at the desk. It was broad daylight, and though the curtains were half drawn, the backlight made it hard to see the teacher’s face. Satin stepped toward the shaded part of the room.

“What brings you here?”

“I had something I wanted to ask.”

The teacher gave him a gentle smile and nodded. Satin fidgeted with his hands for a moment, then spoke.

“I overheard the kids talking.”

“About what?”

“They said I used to help you with your research…”

He snuck a glance at the teacher’s face, but it showed no change in expression. Satin swallowed and pressed on.

“Do you not need me anymore?”

The teacher didn’t respond right away—just gazed at Satin in silence. Then he gestured for him to come closer. Taking the hint, Satin approached the desk.

The papers on the desk weren’t related to magic. They seemed to be administrative documents from running the school and managing external transactions. Not wanting to seem too nosy, Satin quickly shifted his gaze.

“Do you want to become a magician?”

“…Yes.”

“You don’t really know what a magician is, do you?”

“Not exactly. But the kids seem to look up to it, so it must be a good job… right?”

The teacher chuckled softly. Now that Satin was close, he noticed the man’s eyes were gray. With white hair and pale skin untouched by sun, the teacher looked like someone from an old black-and-white photograph.

“Even without your memories, you’ve stayed the same in some ways.”

“Really?”

“You always said, ‘Look out for yourself first.'”

Judging by the tone, it seemed the teacher hadn’t thought poorly of the old Satin. That made sense—why else would he have used him as an assistant?

But then why did we fall out?

He’d picked up bits and pieces from the other kids’ chatter, but he still had no solid answers. He could ask the man directly, of course—but now wasn’t the time.

“Did you decide to take Cain as your apprentice because I lost my memory?”

“Cain?”

The teacher raised an eyebrow. He didn’t sound angry—just a little puzzled. Satin clenched and unclenched his fists as he continued.

“The kids were saying… Cain hates me. So I was wondering—what if it’s because he’s jealous of me? I mean… is it possible that you brought Cain here for the same reason you brought me…?”

The words came out a bit jumbled, but Satin didn’t try to fix them. In a situation like this, seeming anxious might actually work to his advantage.

He kept licking his lips, waiting for the teacher to speak.

“You seem uneasy.”

“…Sorry?”

“Well, it makes sense. Even before you lost your memory, you were wary of Cain.”

“…Are you saying Cain was someone worth being wary of?”

“Even among nobles, not everyone can become a magician. You need talent—and luck.”

Instead of answering directly, the teacher veered into something else. Satin didn’t interrupt. It didn’t feel like an idle comment.

“Kids like you, born with nothing, go without even knowing if they have talent. Most of you just die nameless and forgotten somewhere. That’s the life of orphans.”

Born with nothing.

Satin lowered his head slightly. No matter how he looked at it, those words didn’t sound like they belonged to a kindhearted philanthropist.

Then again, what wouldn’t a deranged magician who burned a twelve-year-old alive say?

“I fully understand your desire to become my apprentice.”

“Then…”

“You and Cain both have potential. But I have no need for two apprentices.”

The teacher gazed at him steadily. Satin clenched his fists tight.

“What should I do?”