Hedi slept straight through till dawn. Sleep ironed out the fine, gritty fatigue in her body, like an iron smoothing creases from cloth. She wasn’t awake yet; her long lashes rested like soft reeds over her lids, trembling with each breath.
“Professor.”
A voice brushed her ear like a moth’s wing.
“You still have work today.”
It sounded like it came from the border of the world, far and thin.
“Up—you—go.”
Hands nudged her shoulder, rocking her loose from sleep; she let out a feeble hum, like a kitten under blankets.
Bliss wrapped her head in warm fog; waking felt like crossing a long, slow bridge through mist.
“Up, up!”
She frowned, ready to scold whoever stole her quiet. Then she saw Selina’s face. In a heartbeat she shrank, like a small creature just out of winter sleep meeting a fox, and burrowed into the pillow.
“Just a little more.”
“No.”
“Ah-haaa—”
“Whining won’t work.”
Selina flipped the quilt like a wave, slipped an arm around Hedi’s waist, and gathered that small body into her arms with steady care. She carried her into the bathroom, lifted a toothbrush already tipped with toothpaste, and brushed her teeth with patient strokes. Then she wet a towel and wiped her cheeks and neck, motions soft as rain. She picked a clean, comfortable outfit; from underwear to coat, she dressed Hedi piece by piece, button by button, smoothing every crease so the cloth lay like calm water.
“Chew more when you eat.”
“Got it.”
Hedi’s eyes were glassy, drifting between reality and dream, as she pushed a ring of bread to her lips and made soft smacking sounds like a sparrow pecking.
“Hurry, we’ll be late!”
“…Take a day off.”
“No. I’m responsible for turning you into the ideal grown-up.”
“There’s no such grown-up.” Hedi kept on with the bread and used her pinky to swipe a crumb from the corner of her mouth. “Everyone muddles through, living in a fog.”
“Keep those lines for comforting yourself.”
“No.”
She’d barely finished when Selina took her hand and pulled her toward the Academy, like a river tugging at a drifting leaf.
The sky wore a faint gloom. Low, congested leaden clouds hung wet and dark, sliding south on a restless wind. Pale sunlight seeped in around them, bright yet gentle, like milk poured over slate. Stare long enough and a shy beauty shows in the familiar light, the kind you’ve seen a thousand times but only now notice.
There was no surprise in Academy work at all. Days were mirror copies; it was hard to fish out a story from the bland wash of routine.
Morning hellos. The bell for class, the bell for dismissal. Goodbyes at the gate. Everything ran in its groove, a metronome ticking steady.
But to students hungry for knowledge, calling it a well-oiled machine missed the pulse; they were hearts looking for thunder, not gears.
“This problem—” Hedi picked up chalk and wrote a formula on the blackboard, the dust rising like breath. “The core is how the full process of mana—draw, store, release—fits the conservation law with precision.”
“From this equation, we can estimate the efficiency of drawing mana. In practice, it’s tempered by many factors—purity of mana, your affinity with it, and how deftly you handle it.”
“The formula quantifies, in ideal conditions, the maximum conversion you can pull from nature. Higher purity means fewer impurities, so more of the flow can be absorbed and used. Affinity decides how cleanly you can guide it, and blend it with your own.”
Hedi paused, checking their faces like a shepherd counting lambs, then drew an arrowed diagram—the path of mana. It ran from draw to storage, then through internal conversion, and out through release, a river charted in chalk.
“We don’t even know how much mana we have.”
“Open your magic circuit and you’ll know.” Hedi tapped the chalk-dust from her fingers like snow. “In the next few days, someone will take you to do it.”
“If we can’t open the circuit, we can’t keep learning magic?”
“You can study theory. Practice will be very limited.”
The room flared into noise at once, complaints buzzing like flies.
Hedi patted the lectern, steady as a drum. “Magic studies are dry. We’ll have experience classes and chances to transfer to other tracks. Once you open your circuit, you’re on that road till nightfall.”
“What if we don’t open it?”
“Then you’ll choose again.”
“That’s no different.”
“Choosing beats being pushed. Acting beats drifting.”
“Can we go to Potioncraft?” A student raised her hand, voice thin as a reed. “It doesn’t need much magic, right?”
“Potions are a branch of magic. You still need an open circuit.”
The complaints rose again, like wind in leaves.
Hedi scratched her cheek with her pinky, a small, absent motion. “But low-tier potions don’t need magic. You just follow the order and simmer the herbs.”
“Who wants to be a low-tier potion-brewer?”
“Isn’t Fina Fina exactly that?” A student in the middle smirked. “She’s failed the exams multiple times. Bet she can’t open a circuit.”
“The daughter of Count Gito Melinda. She wants to join Airek Magic Academy, right?”
“Heh. Those Academies don’t have strong magic teachers. So they just fuss with potions.”
“Enough.” Hedi kept the class in line like a steady rain. “I don’t want to hear trash about other Academies.”
“Professor, do you think we can open the circuit?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“I don’t know means I don’t know.”
“How did you open yours?”
“Don’t mine me for tips. It’s a personal experience.”
At that, heads turned in a smooth wave toward the back row, where Selina sat upright and quiet. Their eyes held her, the air sealing like wax, breath held for an answer.
“I haven’t opened it.”
“Really?!”
“Mm. I just assist the Professor with daily work.”
Selina stood. The bell rang right then, bright and brief as a silver coin, and she followed Hedi out. On the way back to the office, with no one around, she nudged closer, like a sparrow to a warm hand.
“Should I not have said that?”
Hedi patted the back of her hand, calm as a lake. “It’s fine. Don’t tense up.”
“Their eyes felt strange. If they start gossiping, that’s bad.”
“An assistant doesn’t need an open circuit.”
“So weird.” Selina rummaged for words. “Someone like me can be an assistant.”
“Nothing weird. You’re my assistant.”
“I still like you best when you’re not fully awake in the morning.”
“Don’t you like me now?”
“That version is cuter.”
Hedi smiled like a thin crescent moon and settled in to read a new book borrowed yesterday from the library. She found nothing that helped with Dark Realm Erosion. Explanations of its transient nature were mostly the same old notes, the rest foggy guesses.
“Been back a while?” Reno pushed the door open. He saw Hedi and another woman in the office, and introduced himself with polite warmth. “Hello, I’m Reno de Clair.”
Selina gave a dull nod, like a pebble dropping.
Silence spread, a soft cloth over the room.
“Ah! Sorry, I’m Selina.”
“Full name?”
“Vi… Viola. Selena Viola.”
Reno set a hand to his chest and bowed slightly, movements smooth and contained like water in a stone bowl. He glanced back to Hedi, who was buried in pages, and asked his earlier question again.
Hedi flicked her mouth in a lazy half-answer and said nothing.
“What book has you that absorbed?”
“Magic studies.”
“Surprising there’s magic you don’t know.”
“Memory magic.” Hedi raised her head, then shook it. “Forget it. You won’t know.”
“Humans can’t use memory magic, but they can lean on potions.”
“Potions can touch memory?”
“I heard it from a drug peddler. If you’re curious, I’ll pass you the address.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“233 Gutong Street. Winnie Olina.”
