Another World Magician
Alt Korean Title: 속임수의 마법사 (The Magician of Deception)
Written by: [Xirus]
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Rustle. Flap. Thump.
Books littered the floor like fallen leaves. Pages lay open across the woven rug cracked, ink-stained, and smelling faintly of mold and pine. Elric knelt in the center of the mess, eyes darting between titles, fingers smudged with dust and charcoal. Morning sunlight crept through the narrow library window behind him, tracing golden fingers across the spines of books untouched for years.
He muttered aloud as he flipped a page. "Where am I, exactly?"
Not just the forest. Not just the house.
The world.
The question had burned in his mind for weeks now. He'd been reborn with memories, thoughts, and instincts foreign to this land, but everything else, all the facts, were fog.
The worn book in his lap creaked as he flipped its brittle pages. Its title, half-faded on the cracked spine, read:
"The Lands of Avareth".
Elric continue to read it:
"Long ago, before time began, Avareth was born from a single spark of light in the endless Void. The ancient gods shaped the world from flame and shadow, breathing life into stone, sky, and sea.
They gave Avareth a breath of magic to keep it alive, but darkness always lingers, waiting. This is the world where legends are made….."
He scoffed, "Yeah, right. Sounds like someone's been reading too many bedtime stories. Avareth? Sounds like a cheap knockoff of 'Earth'with the word ever in the front. Whichever god that named this world had no sense of naming at all." As he flipped through the book, he found the map of Elzaria.
"Look at this, its just a geography book. No need to write some stupid long story. The author of this book might be a fan of fantasy stories." Mumbling by himself.
Elric had recently learned that his father was a Baronet under the Baron Rosavile fief. Their manor, nestled near a wide lake and surrounded by forest, had a quiet, isolated charm. The lake was perfect for swimming or fishing in the summer, and the woods provided ample shade and mystery. But because the lake occupied most of the estate, only a few tenant families lived nearby, scattered in modest cabins. They mostly survived by hunting and foraging, selling what they could to nearby villages. It wasn't a rich life, but it was peaceful.
"I might need to do something to increase the income here," Elric murmured to himself, gazing over the waters. "So I can retire quietly with my family here."
He paused at that word. Family. Once, it had felt distant,an impossible thing. But now that he had one, something still felt…missing.
"Hey, Nari," he whispered. "How are you doing out there? I finally have a family. But I really wish you were here too, big sis."
Soon after, he drifted to sleep, carrying with him dreams of the past…
[Seoul, Winter Evening]
The cold wind whipped down the narrow alley, rattling the faded awnings and sending a swirl of early snowflakes across the pavement. The scent of roasted chestnuts drifted faintly from a street vendor a block away, but Jiwon barely noticed. He was too focused on keeping his hands warm by jamming them deeper into his hoodie sleeves, and even more focused on keeping pace with the girl bouncing beside him.
"Your nose is red," Han Nari said with a giggle, her cheeks flushed from the cold. "You look like a grumpy reindeer."
"Thanks," Jiwon muttered, sniffling. "That's exactly the look I was going for."
She snorted. "Oh no, you're gonna sneeze, aren't you?"
"I'm fine -achoo!"
Nari burst out laughing, nearly slipping on the slick sidewalk. "That was the most pitiful sneeze I've ever heard. Are you sure you're not dying?"
"I'd be warmer if someone hadn't insisted on walking twenty blocks to save bus fare," Jiwon grumbled.
"We need every bit of cash, dummy! We're this close to affording Miss Baek's cardigan." She held up a mitten-covered hand and pinched her fingers together. "This close!"
"Yeah, yeah," Jiwon said, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. "You're lucky I've been saving up from all the odd jobs I've done."
"Thank you very much for your kindness, Mr. Jiwon," Nari said with a mock curtsy, eyes gleaming with amusement.
They turned a corner, and Nari suddenly stopped. Her eyes lit up as they landed on a bakery window glowing warmly with golden light. Inside, a honey cheesecake sat proudly on display—fluffy, rich, and dusted with powdered sugar like fresh snow.
"Whoa," she breathed, pressing her hands to the glass. "That looks... illegal."
Jiwon smirked. "The cheesecake?"
"Yeah." She grinned up at him. "Hey, Jiwon—what do you think you'd do if you ever got rich?"
Jiwon shrugged, hands still jammed in his pockets. "I dunno. Buy a decent coat. Maybe a hundred of them."
"No, seriously." She turned back to the window, her breath fogging the glass. "I think… I'd buy a lot of this cake. Like, so much that Miss Baek gets sick of it. Or maybe just one every week. That'd be enough."
Jiwon watched her quietly, her reflection shimmering in the frosted window.
"Then I guess I'd buy this cake shop," he said softly.
She blinked. "Huh?"
"So you could buy a lot of this cake from me," he added with a smirk, "and make me filthy rich."
Nari froze, her mouth half-open. Then she laughed—not her usual teasing laugh, but something softer. Warmer. It settled in her chest like honey.
"Geez," she said. "If you really become that rich, you better buy your big sis more cake. Promise me?"
"Maybe," Jiwon mumbled, but she only smiled—because she already knew the kind of person he was.
Moments later, he slipped into the shop and returned with something small and crinkly.
"Couldn't afford the cheesecake," he said, holding out a honey taffy, "but since you like honey…"
Nari took it like it was treasure, cupping it in her mittened hands. Her smile was so bright it made the whole gray street feel like morning.
Elric while still in his bed, staring out through the window at the lake that stretched wide and calm across his family's land. The shadows of the forest deepened as dusk approached, and the air grew still.
It was beautiful here, peaceful. But it wasn't enough.
He looked against the rough window frame and let out a slow, steady breath. "I have to make this better. For them. For us."
A memory stirred from deep within, warming his chest.
"Hey, Nari," he whispered, the memory of last night's dream still lingering like the scent of baked sugar. "I'll build a bakery here someday,one that makes all the cake you used to love. Honey cheesecake, honey taffy… everything."
His gaze drifted out over the lake, its calm surface catching the last amber rays of the sun.
"Once I've built this manor up... once it's thriving and the tenants are doing well, and the forest is giving more than just enough to survive, I'll start the bakery. I'll make this place so rich that I won't need to work anymore. No more traveling, no more fighting, no more running."
He smiled faintly, voice softening with quiet resolve.
"I'll live an easy life. Quiet, peaceful, simple. Just... a small shop, a warm kitchen, and a home that doesn't feel empty. That's my dream for this world, Nari. That's the future I want."
CREEEAAAKKK.
The wooden shutters groaned as they swayed open in the dawn breeze, letting in the blush of morning light. Dust motes spun like lazy spirits in the slanted beams. Elric Waisz yawned wide, pulling his patched blanket closer before blinking away the sleep.
Hoot. Hoot. came a soft owl call, late to bed. The forest was alive already, whispering and sighing through the tall trees that encircled the small homestead like old sentinels.
Elric sat up slowly. His hair was a tangled mess, sticking out at odd angles. His nightshirt clung to him in the cool air. He slid off the bed with a soft thump, feet landing on the chilly wooden floor. Beside him, a clay jug of water rippled from a draft, tiny concentric rings distorting his reflection.
He peered around the room, simple walls hung with wooden carvings, a rough-spun curtain dividing the space, and shelves with clay pots of dried herbs. This was home. Quiet, sturdy, forgotten by most, but not by him.
He tugged on a wool tunic, one his mother had sewn tighter at the cuffs so forest dust wouldn't cling to him when he climbed trees. From the kitchen below drifted the faint smell of barley porridge and pinewood smoke.
Outside, the sound of an axe split the air.
THUNK.
Another swing.
THUNK.
He smiled.
Elric stepped out onto the porch, barefoot. The boards beneath his feet gave a tired groan.
Crrreeeak…
The morning was damp with dew, and mist hugged the ground like an old dog refusing to leave. Birdsong echoed from every direction, sharp whistles, warbles, and soft flutters. Somewhere in the distance, a brook whispered against stone.
Near the tree stump where they split firewood stood his father, Garron Waisz, a towering man with a frame hardened by war and seasons of hunting. His beard was flecked with silver, and old scars traced his arms like faint rivers beneath his skin. His grip on the axe was firm, practiced, reverent.
WHUMP. The blade met wood. Crack!
As the log fell cleanly apart, a shimmer danced briefly around Garron's forearms, a subtle distortion in the air, like heat waves rising from a summer road.
Elric's breath caught. "That's aura," he whispered to himself, eyes wide.
His father straightened, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of a calloused hand. His voice came low and steady, like a drum wrapped in cloth. "Elric. Help me with the grindstone. The blade's dulling."
"Yes, sir!"
He scampered to the toolshed where the old grindstone sat, its wheel chipped and rusted in places, but still turning smoothly. Together, they sat beneath a tall pine whose branches arched like cathedral ribs. Elric turned the crank while Garron pressed the blade to it.
Shhhkk—shhk—shhhkk. Sparks danced in tiny bursts.
Elric broke the silence. "That shimmer... is that aura?"
Garron nodded, still focused. "Yeah. Makes it easier to slice a boar clean. Quick. Efficient." A flicker of pride danced in his voice.
"But... isn't aura supposed to cover your whole body?"
His father chuckled, "heh", dry like rustling leaves. "That's what nobles say. Their mana cores are big. They can afford to glow like suns. Me? I focus it where I need it. Right arm, left leg, even just the eyes sometimes. Enough to fight. Enough to win."
He ruffled Elric's hair.
"Most commoners can't use aura at all."
Elric's eyes gleamed. "But you can. And you use magic sometimes too. That means…"
"I'm not a swordsman, Elric. Not officially. Titles like that—those are for men in gold coats. What I've got is enough."
By midday, Garron slung a satchel over one shoulder, a bow over the other, and disappeared into the woods. He was headed to Erdal Hollow to sell furs and meat. He wouldn't be back until the morning.
Back inside, the house was warm again. The hearth crackled, filling the room with a comforting crackle crackle.
In the kitchen, Lenna Waisz stirred a pot suspended above the fire. Her apron, worn and mended a dozen times, bore traces of flour and dried herbs. Her dark hair was tied in a loose bun, and her sleeves were rolled past her elbows. With a snap of her fingers, a small flame flicked into existence and kept the second stove burning.
"Smells good," Elric said, hopping onto a stool.
"Rabbit stew," she replied with a wink. "Caught fresh by your father."
"Mom," Elric leaned forward, voice low. "Why don't you become a mage?"
She blinked, then laughed. "Oh, sweetheart. If only it were that simple."
"But you have mana! You used a spark spell just now!"
She set the ladle aside and knelt so they were eye level. "Yes. Everyone's born with mana. But we don't all have enough. Nobles have bigger, stronger cores. They can make magic circles the size of dinner tables. We... light candles is enough."
He frowned. "But if you had more mana, you could be a mage."
She ruffled his hair gently. "IF? If,If wishes were spells, love, we'd all float."
"And Dad? He uses aura. He fought in wars. That's strong."
She returned to the pot, her smile dimming. "Your father... he can focus aura in one part of his body. Not many can. But even then, he wasn't knighted. They called him a 'frontliner.' Useful, but not noble."
He tapped the table. "But he uses simple magic and aura. Doesn't that mean you can do both?"
Lenna turned, her eyes distant. "Only simple spells, Elric. Innate mana's enough for that. Real mages, archmages, they use magic circles. Complex glyphs. Those don't mix well with aura. Most people say it's impossible."
Elric's mind was already turning.
That night, the house was quiet save for the wind that howled softly through the eaves.
Wooooooohhh.
Crrreeeak.
The floor groaned as Elric tiptoed toward the storage room, clutching a candle stub. The door moaned as he pushed it open—CREEAAK—and dust greeted him like an old friend.
He climbed a stool and retrieved The Theory of Mana Flow. Then War Chronicles: Aura Combatants. Then scrolls, notes, even his grandfather's weather-worn journal.
The books surrounded him in a protective circle, candlelight flickering shadows onto the walls. Crackle crackle went the hearth in the main room. The owl returned.
Hoot. Hoot.
He whispered aloud. "So aura is focused internal mana. And magic circles are... external commands. But what if... what if they could talk to each other?"
He scribbled on old parchment. Lines, symbols, questions.
"What if spells could be layered... like aura muscle? What if you made the circle inside the body?"
A soft thud startled him.
He looked up.
His mother had fallen asleep at the dining table, arms folded like wings, cheek nestled in her elbow. Her apron had flour stains still, and her hair had unraveled just slightly from the bun.
He watched her for a long time.
Quietly, he stood, tiptoed across the wooden floor, and fetched the wool blanket from the bench. He draped it over her shoulders gently. She murmured something in her sleep, a word he didn't catch.
He smiled.
"What kind of dream are you having, Mom?" he whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Then, he turned back to his books. The candle burned low.
Crackle. Hoot. Woooooooh.
In that quite manor. Live a boy with curiosity. Study about mana and aura to find the truth of it. To find how its work. His heart racing rapidly as he remembered the time when he unveil the truth about magic in his old world. The night unfolded to the soft rustle of turning pages.
END ~