Yekase felt fire spells were like playing with a lit fuse, bright and eager, but one spark from the wrong wind would torch the whole field.

She did agree fire was the hero’s element. She built Kagari as fire-aspected armor with Flash Energy flames that danced like holograms and never scorched skin.

But magic here burned for real, like a kiln with no safety grate, and that was a little terrifying.

One stray thought and the blaze ran wild; the risk and return didn’t match, like betting a house on a candle—maybe her talent just stank, but still.

So she’d change elements, like swapping summer heat for a winter lake.

The ice she’d seen while learning Celestial Speech felt right—misfire and you got frost grit on your cuffs, safe enough to calm a parent’s heart.

She pulled the book from under her arm, its weight like a brick full of secrets.

After she paid damages, the three “scrapped” books landed in her hands, like wounded birds with a little breath left.

She opened one without hope and found it barely alive—covers unrecognizable, page edges charred, yet the text still limped along.

Fine. Call it buying a ticket at the gate of the mage world, a paper talisman singed by fate.

First cast goes haywire, hard-won grimoire carbon-black, first day as an apprentice face-plants in public—stories love that kind of storm-tossed opening.

Thinking that way felt like destiny drumming its fingers; if she hadn’t spent years earning a PhD, it would make a neat chapter one.

Yekase took out her phone and dialed that number; the ringtone barely breathed before it clicked.

Hello? The voice on the line carried disbelief, like glass catching light.

Bailu, take the day off and come hang out with me?

Is your brain still clear? Do you hear yourself?

Gale and Gauntlet will be fixed just to pound me anyway. If we waste time together, doesn’t the ledger even out?

…

I learned magic today. I want to show you.

You… sigh…

Jiang Bailu went silent so long the wind could’ve grown moss, then answered in a give-up tone: Time and place?

My place. Anytime before dinner.

…Got it.

They hung up. Yekase detoured to the market, snagged lamb like moon-sliced marble, fish balls like little white buoys, kelp ribbons, potatoes, shiitake caps, tender bamboo shoots.

Back home, the clock said there was room to breathe. She didn’t set the pot just yet. She picked up Fifty Ultra‑Practical Everyday Mini Spells.

Knowing only the opener didn’t count as learning. To flex for Jiang Bailu, she needed two or three tricks at her fingertips.

Levitation Spell, that’s nice… Calm Mind, that’s useful… Electric Pierce? Wait, people use this daily?… Flame Burst Spell?! Damn.

Two possibilities hovered like crows.

One: the author, editor, and chief editor of this “everyday” collection were all out of their minds.

Two: Westerners fired Flame Burst Spell at their neighbors as a daily ritual, like watering the lawn.

Reason talking, Yekase set option one aside. These made it into the Twin-Tower Library; layers of review should’ve strained out nonsense.

So it had to be two… which was a little spine-prickling, like a cold draft under a door.

She remembered the days she’d almost bolted abroad to lie low. She’d eyed Europe and America back then. Laziness saved her life, apparently.

Offense spells looked juicy, but the reading-room fiasco still smoked in her head. She didn’t dare. She’d start with Levitation.

Levitation Spell.

Effect: Lift the caster or a designated object within five meters into the air. Higher, longer, heavier costs more Sorcery, like heavier clouds drink more wind.

Hmm. Some normal spells do exist, like stones in a stream you can trust.

Learning method: Hold your breath and jump from the second floor.

…Huh?

Wait.

She just praised you for being reasonable, and you pull this?

A textbook doodle sat beside the text, a stick boy pinching his nose and jumping off a stairwell, the idea sketched as plainly as a traffic sign.

Isn’t that a bit… She looked out the window. Her rental was on the second floor; the stage was set like a ledge over a shallow pond.

Jump? Really jump?

After circling the thought like a moth around a lamp, she decided the book wouldn’t lie. Try or don’t—she chose try.

She opened the window and peered down; the drop was four or five meters, a sheer breath, a bone’s gamble.

She lifted her eyes to the deep blue sky, tried to picture herself flying on magic like a kite freed from its string, and couldn’t; loss pooled like shadow.

A soul bound by gravity’s chains.

And because of that, humans yearn for the stars.

Celestial Speech!

The boot-up step couldn’t be skipped. And now there was nothing left to stall the clock.

She drew a long breath like drawing a bow, held it. Hands on the frame, right foot on the sill, body tipped forward. Fear pricked, so she shut her eyes.

Jump.

Levitat—

Before the last syllable, Yekase fell into someone’s arms, a soft impact like a pillow catching a falling book.

Doctor, if you plan to end it, the second floor isn’t a good choice. And ending it isn’t a good choice either.

She’d curled up in the drop without thinking. The spell hadn’t finished, and yet she was caught in a princess carry—at this height, finishing “Spell” was impossible anyway… uh.

She opened her eyes and saw Jiang Bailu’s face. Brows knit like drawn strings, the corner of her mouth a barely-there crescent.

Didn’t expect your call was to have me witness your last scene… Should I take this as trust and special regard?

…Spell.

The final word arrived late, like a cool stream slipping into her mind. It matched the feel of learning Celestial Speech, minus the trailer.

So getting caught still counted as passing. Magic’s judgment was generously wide, like a gate left open.

Levitation Spell.

…?!

The target was any object within five meters. Jiang Bailu, holding Yekase, definitely qualified as “designated.”

Jiang’s feet left the ground, lifting to a ten-centimeter hover, as if a breeze had turned solid. She startled, released her hold, and Yekase touched down, the scene’s reins back in her hands.

I’m not dying today.

Levitation held for only a few seconds before the air let go. Jiang Bailu seized Yekase’s hands, found no gadgets, and asked, disbelieving:

This is… magic? I’ve only seen it on the news, like lightning behind glass.

I get it. We’re all poor folks who’ve never been abroad. Come inside and talk.

Yekase led Jiang back in, pointed at the open book on the table. The clock nudged dinner; she moved to the electric stove and their waiting ingredients.

Jiang eyed the three battered books with a frown, used a napkin as a glove, and flipped a few pages like lifting wilted leaves.

How are Gale and Gauntlet coming along?

Are you baiting me into a report?

Forget it.

Silence settled, and only the hum of the electric stove filled the rental, a small hearth in a small world.

After a moment, as if remembering the sky, Yekase grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, a moving window to other fires.

Actually, another organization declared war on us. You-die-or-I-die, a devour-or-be-devoured takeover.

Yekase answered without surprise, like rain responding to thunder: News of Dr Ika’s arrest has been out forever. Someone declaring now feels late. Who is it?

Triple Calamity.

Oh, that tri—

Her voice cut off on the first syllable. She turned, slow as a weather vane, toward Jiang Bailu. The girl in a butter-yellow dress only lifted a shoulder.

Where did the boss offend them?

How would I know. HR auntie says our boss won over a hundred grand in an underground card room. I was wondering why funding got generous.

That crazy woman…

—Wait.

Yekase had nothing to do with Unrecognized Consortium X anymore. Even if Shadow Curtain International brought down an orbital cannon and erased their campus, she could watch from the wall, sunflower seeds clicking.

That’s how it should be.

It should be…

Bailu, you—

So I probably won’t have time to bother you. If luck is kind, maybe I’ll never bother you again. But don’t worry. If the Consortium falls, I’ll go down with the key. I won’t let your work land in enemy hands.

Her face was as calm as a lake at dawn. She wasn’t joking; the water held no ripples.

Yekase knew she wasn’t joking.

When’s the general offensive? Any notice?

Three days from now.

So tight a timeline felt like a knot pulled hard. Yekase’s heart turned messy, her stance wobbling like a lantern in a gust.

It wasn’t fear of the Flashblade System falling to the enemy. If Jiang said she’d destroy it, she would. But that also meant…

Flashblade Red is a stainless hero. She shouldn’t be dragged into dirty feuds.

I know.

Yekase is a normal seventeen-year-old girl. She has no ties to a Sinister Organization.

I know.

The collider you wanted, I’ll have it delivered in secret the day before the war. In the ruins after the fight, nobody will notice one missing instrument.

Bailu.

Anything else to instruct?

If you want my help, just say it.

…

Yekase brought the electric stove to the table, set a steel pot full of water, slid in spices and mushrooms, and sparked the coil. Steam rose like a small cloud finding its sky.

Hotpot is a summer ritual you can’t skip. The Consortium’s future, our ways to face the enemy—we’ll talk it through while we eat.