"So, from what I'm hearing, Little Rein, you're one of those exceptionally gifted mages?"

"Yes."

Rein paused, then replied without much modesty.

After all, in this world, mages who could manifest their Mental Force at merely twelve years old simply didn’t exist.

"Little Rein really isn’t modest at all!"

"No need to be…"

While other mentors might constantly preach humility to their students—reminding them that there’s always someone stronger—Rein’s own teacher had never demanded she stay humble. If you were both talented and hardworking, a little pride wouldn’t make your strength plummet like a failed exam score.

Still, pride was one thing. Underestimating opponents was another.

So far, none of Rein’s enemies had forced her to unleash her full power. Yet she never underestimated anyone. Her mentor had once warned her: even a first-tier mage, armed with the right tools, could easily take down a careless third- or fourth-tier mage.

"Who was your mentor, Little Rein?"

"..."

"What’s wrong? Don’t want to say? It’s fine if you don’t—"

"No. His name was Graice."

"Graice? That name sounds familiar… Oh! The Prophet of Hope?"

"Most likely."

The title "Prophet of Hope" carried weight across Gloria and its neighboring regions. Especially after news of his exile broke—nearly every literate person in Gloria knew his name. Though most only knew the name, not why he’d been banished.

"Your mentor must’ve been amazing!"

Just as Rein expected, Sophia only recognized Graice’s name. She probably didn’t even know what kind of mage he was.

The conversation hit a predictable wall. Sophia struggled to continue the topic; Rein had no desire to. Silence filled the room, thick as empty air—broken only by the soft rustling of bread being eaten.

"Where will you go after this, Little Rein? With your abilities…"

"Gloria."

"The capital! A fine place indeed—especially for someone as capable as you. But… you’re so young. Will you be alright there?"

"No problem. I’m going to the Gloria Academy of Magic."

"To study? An excellent choice! And if you enroll there, Little Rein, I can visit you often!"

The Gloria Academy of Magic wasn’t actually in Gloria City. It sat in the suburbs—cheaper land, better environment for mage training. Just under a kilometer away stood a Holy Knights training camp: the Holy See’s local garrison.

But Rein didn’t plan to be a student. Even at sixteen, her mentor had told her: "You have nothing left to learn. As a teacher, I’ve given you everything."

Afterward, Rein spent two years as a librarian in the Royal Archives, memorizing nearly every magic-related text. Her knowledge would embarrass any instructor. So she aimed to become a magic tutor instead.

The Gloria Academy valued skill and character—not age. It wasn’t uncommon for tutors younger than their students to teach there. At least, that was how it stood when Rein left.

After all, she had grand plans ahead. And grand plans required funds. Teaching paid far better than studying.

"You know, Little Rein? You remind me of someone."

"Who?"

"My little sister…"

"But you’re an orphan."

Rein recalled it then: one requirement for Vindictive Knights was orphanhood.

"I ran away after a falling out with my father. The Holy Knights took me in, trained me. Luckily, I’ve since reconciled with him—and the Order let me stay. So I’m still a Holy Knight!"

"..."

"You really are like my sister, Little Rein. When I first saw you… I thought it was her. But sadly, it wasn’t. If only my sister were still…"

"Mm."

"Sorry. I got carried away. And please don’t think I was insulting you!"

"No…"

Rein felt no offense. In her past life, she’d lived long enough—and navigated political circles long enough—to sense sincerity in words. She knew Sophia meant no harm.

"Why don’t you get angry, Little Rein?"

"No need…"

Keeping a calm mind was the most basic requirement for a mage. Only then could one fully focus their Mental Force.

Though Rein’s new body—youthful and volatile—made her emotions sway easily with the outside world, her solution was simple: eat. Constantly. Eating was when she felt most relaxed, most at peace. That was why she’d been quietly munching away since the conversation began.