While I was aware Lawine Rothsfield was on borrowed time, I hadn’t expected it would be so soon.
Truthfully, I had accepted this particular commission out of personal interests in cases involving terminal conditions.
As for Lawine, it wasn’t that he was incapable of understanding magic. Far from it.
It was that all his previous tutors had been instructed to ensure he couldn’t. That had been Edward Rothsfield’s request.
Likewise, it wasn’t that Lawine was unable to use mana. He could. But the flow would abruptly halt at a certain point due to the crystallization in the veins surrounding his heart.
As cruel of a man as I may be, even I wouldn’t be heartless enough to give a younger sibling hope, only to crush it deliberately through discouragement.
Yet that was the future Lawine was heading toward, dying with the belief that he was a failure.
While the older brother would be left behind in despair, haunted by the realization that he couldn’t even honor his sibling’s final wish all because he feared that practicing magic would hasten the inevitable.
And yet, in the end, it was all for naught.
Maybe it was just an estimate, but Lawine was expected to pass within the coming weeks.
I had been told that, at first, the tutors had genuinely tried. Lawine had only begun learning magic a year ago. But one night, when he collapsed and writhed in pain, Edward discovered the truth.
His younger brother was terminally ill.
And from that point on, Edward made his choice.
He would give the boy false hope, rather than risk letting him chase a dream that might cost him what little time remained.
Perhaps he chose to confide in me out of all the tutors because of my standing as a Marquess, someone he believed he could truly seek counsel from.
But as I told him, “What’s the point?”
A month was only an estimation. Nothing more.
And yet, he had given me the same request he gave the others, to make the material too difficult, just to fulfill half of his brother’s wish, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, his brother’s lifespan would be extended.
A few more months. Perhaps a few weeks. Or even just a handful of days.
I understood the gamble he was making.
Fulfill the boy’s wish entirely and risk solidifying that final month, maybe even shortening it.
Or deny him that dream, let him die thinking he was a failure… but keep him alive just a little longer.
It was a cruel equation.
And honestly, it was a choice even I wouldn’t dare make lightly.
After all, Lawine could still die within the estimated time… despite all of Edward’s caution.
It was a difficult decision.
“As I said, I will respect whatever decision you make, Edward. I will not judge you.”
….One no brother should ever have to make.
* * *
By the fourth session, things took a sudden turn.
Lawine stared down at a new set of questionnaires, and for the first time, he realized these were problems he could actually manage.They were familiar terms, clear instructions, and concepts he had studied before.
No, it wasn’t just manageable.
It was at his level.
“I… I think I finished, Professor…” he said hesitantly, his fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the paper. He was too nervous to slide it forward.
Vanitas adjusted his spectacles and reached for the sheet himself, scanning through the answers silently.
It didn’t take long before he spoke.
“You made a mistake on questions three, eighteen, and twenty-seven.”
“….”
Lawine nodded quietly, accepting the criticism. Three mistakes. That wasn’t terrible, not at all. There was still room to grow, and that thought didn’t discourage him.
If anything, it gave him hope.
As long as the professor was still paying attention to him…
As long as he could keep learning, even with the constant, ache in his chest…
It wasn’t so bad.
“I’ll do better next time, Prof—”
“Good job,” Vanitas said, cutting him off gently.
Lawine’s eyes widened slightly.
For the first time, he was able to meet the professor’s gaze.
“….”
His features were rather sharp. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t as frightening as Lawine once thought, either.
Just a little… intimidating.
“Let’s get started,” Vanitas said, opening a textbook and turning it to the first page of the next section.
Lawine’s eyes fell on the diagram displayed there. A basic, single-layered magic circuit.
He recognized it from his self-studies. Even so, the structure felt dense and complicated. For an eight-year-old, it was intimidating to study all by himself with no background knowledge in magic.
But as the session continued, Vanitas began to explain.
And this time… it made sense.
“The first layer,” Vanitas said, tapping the image with his pen, “is the part that holds everything else together. Think of it like a piece of paper you draw a spell on. Without it, the rest has nothing to stick to.”
Lawine nodded slowly, following along.
“It doesn’t need to be powerful or complicated,” Vanitas continued. “It just needs to be stable. It’s like the frame of a house. You don’t start decorating until the walls are up, right?”
“….Y-Yes.”
Vanitas moved to the next part of the diagram.
“Now, these lines here, see them?” he said, circling the thin, web-like pathways drawn across the base circle. “These are mana channels. Think of them as roads. This is where you write the spell formulas. They carry your mana across the circuit.”
He paused and glanced at Lawine.
“Kind of like how a delivery wagon uses roads to bring something from one place to another.”
“So… the spell rides through them?” Lawine asked, his brow scrunching as he studied the lines more closely.
“Yes,” Vanitas said. “If the road is broken or too narrow, the spell might crash before it gets to the end. Or it might never work at all.”
Lawine looked at the diagram again.
“And what’s at the end of the road?” he asked.
Vanitas tapped the outer ring of the diagram. “That depends on the spell. It could be a flame, an earth shield, a gust of wind. This outer layer is where the effect starts to take shape.”
As he spoke, he noticed Lawine shifting slightly in his seat with his eyes lingering on the diagram. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak but wasn’t sure if he should.
Vanitas glanced at him. “What is it?”
“Ah, no, it’s nothing,” Lawine said quickly, straightening in his chair. “Please finish the lesson. I was always told questions should only be asked at the end.”
“….”
Vanitas paused.
He studied the boy for a long moment.
For an eight-year-old, Lawine was far too composed, too stiff, and too careful. It was… unnatural. Like he was constantly walking on eggshells, waiting for something to go wrong.
Vanitas had seen many children who often came across brash, talkative, and curious by nature.
This one, though?
He looked like he’d been taught to suppress every bit of that. As if he wasn’t a child.
Strangely enough, it didn’t feel like fear. He could tell Lawine wasn’t afraid of his brother, Edward. From what he’d seen so far, it seemed like the two had a close bond.
But still…
A child should act like a child.
“Ask,” Vanitas said.
“….”
Lawine hesitated, then looked up at him.
“Ah… then… can I see your magic, Professor?”
Vanitas raised a brow, surprised by the request.
It wasn’t an unreasonable question.
It was just the first time Lawine had asked for anything from him.
“I suppose you’re a visual learner,” Vanitas said, rising from his seat. “Very well. Let’s head to a more open area.”
Lawine quickly pushed back his chair and followed him without a word. They walked through the estate grounds until they reached a small training field which was wide enough for practice.
Vanitas stepped into the center and turned to face him.
“Watch closely,” he said. “You’ll be learning this soon.”
Lawine nodded, his eyes already fixed on the professor.
“You’ve likely read about it already,” Vanitas continued, lifting a hand. “But incantations are essentially magic circuits given verbal form. You cannot speak the language if you don’t understand the structure behind it. That’s why scholars study magic circuits in depth. The more they understand, the better they can adapt spells to their own attunement, allowing for a quicker incantation.”
Lawine listened intently, nodding.
This was the part of magic he had always been the most fascinated by. The words. The sound. The moment his father had cast that beautiful spell in front of him years ago, he hadn’t understood the meaning, only the feeling.
Vanitas extended his hand outward. Lawine noticed the black gauntlet that covered most of his right arm.
Then, Vanitas began to chant. He decided on a more basic, elementary level incantation for a simple spell.
“From flow to shape, from silence to storm. Answer the call, and take your shape. As water bends, obeying fate—”
He drew a slow circle in the air with his index finger. The mana followed his motion, forming a soft ripple of blue light. A bubble of water slowly materialized, hovering from his palm.
“—Water Ball.”
Swoosh—!
The sphere launched forward in an instant, cutting through the air before fading into droplets that sparkled under the sunlight.
“….”
Lawine’s mouth parted slightly, eyes wide with awe. “Wow….”
Vanitas turned slightly, glancing at him.
“Now tell me,” he said. “Which part of the incantation built the circuit’s foundation?”
“….”
Lawine flinched slightly, surprised by the sudden question.
“T-The second layer…?” he said hesitantly.
Vanitas’s eyes narrowed with a hint of approval.
“Yes.”
It was an answer Lawine shouldn’t have known yet. Vanitas hadn’t taught him the second-layer circuit structures, at least not in formal lessons. But clearly, the boy had retained more from his self-studies than expected.
“Class is over for today,” Vanitas said, his voice steady as he turned away.
Lawine stood still for a moment, watching the fading mist where the spell had vanished.
“….”
Then, he smiled.
A small, honest smile.
And without a word, he followed.
Vanitas glanced back at him as they walked across the open field. Throughout the two-hour session, Lawine had coughed more times than he could count.
He slowed his steps slightly.
Then, without a word, he reached out and placed a gentle hand on the boy’s head.
“You’re a good kid, Lawine,” he said.
“….”
Lawine blinked, surprised by the sudden gesture.
He looked up at Vanitas with wide eyes, then nodded slowly, as if committing those words to memory.
* * *
Edward never failed to make time for his younger brother.
Two weeks had passed. And after each of Lawine’s lessons, he did his best to ensure that his duties were completed so he could be by Lawine’s side.
It wasn’t perfect. There were days when he was delayed or called away, but he always made the effort to be present, no matter how busy his schedule became.
“How is his condition, Doctor?” he asked one afternoon.
The visiting physician had just finished examining Lawine. He came every day without fail. The same doctor who had delivered the estimate.
A month left in Lawine’s fragile life.
“His vitals are stable… for now,” the doctor said. “But the crystallization has progressed. It’s reached the upper chambers of his heart.”
He removed his gloves, adjusted his glasses, and set aside his instruments.
Then, after a moment of silence, he spoke again.
“Are you going to keep him in the dark?”
Edward, standing by the window, didn’t answer right away. His gaze was fixed outside, on the field of flowers.
“….He’s happy,” Edward said at last. “He’s laughing. Talking, and smiling like he hasn’t in years.”
“And when the pain worsens?” the doctor asked. “When his body begins to shut down, what then?”
Edward’s hands clenched at his sides.
“I want him to live what little time he has left… without fear. Without counting the days.”
The doctor’s tone softened. “I understand. But he may want to know. He may want to say goodbye.”
Edward looked down, his face darkening with a shadow. He couldn’t find any words to respond to that.
Because he wasn’t ready.
——He’s a lot more perceptive than you think, Edward.
A calm voice broke the silence. And both men turned toward the doorway.
Vanitas Astrea stood there with his arms crossed, his coat draped loosely around his shoulders. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
“Marquess Astrea…” Edward murmured.
The doctor bowed politely. He, too, had been informed that the boy’s new tutor was of High Nobility from the capital.
Vanitas stepped into the room slowly, his gaze falling on Edward.
“Children sense more than we give them credit for,” he said. “Especially children like Lawine.”
Edward’s shoulders sank slightly, his voice subdued. “Then… what should I do, Marquess Astrea?”
“I can’t say,” Vanitas replied, shaking his head. “Truly, I can’t. But what I do know is this. Out of everyone in this room, Lawine understands his body better than anyone. Even with the pain suppressants… he should be more or less aware.”
“That’s right,” the doctor added, nodding.
Edward looked between them, torn between grief and guilt.
Edward clenched his fists. “But… if I tell him… won’t that take away the last bit of peace he has left?”
“Or it might give him something even greater,” Vanitas said. “A chance to choose how he spends the time he has.”
Edward lowered his head as the silence enveloped the room. After a moment, Vanitas turned to leave.
“Whether or not you tell him… he’s already made his decision, Edward. It’s safe to assume Lawine is aware. Yet he chose to live like it doesn’t matter.”
At the doorway, Vanitas paused.
“So don’t treat him like he’s already gone.”