Genius Wizard who sees Rainbows- Chapter 153

**#153. Self-Love (2)**

—

That day, the boy recalled—

The fear he had felt from that guy.

The humiliation of being utterly defeated… by a dictionary.

‘What kind of lunatic fights like that?!’

Having brawled on the streets from a young age, he prided himself on knowing how to counter most weapons.

Wooden sticks, iron pipes, clubs.

Knives, bricks, whips.

Some of the tougher guys even used brass knuckles or nunchucks.

But one thing he could say for certain:

‘No one’s ever used a dictionary as a weapon…!’

He had no idea how to counter it.

Now, just the sight of anything square or hard-edged made his eyes water, his limbs shake, and his breathing go ragged.

‘Is that how things are done at the Tower? Do they fight with books since it’s a place for pursuing knowledge?’

Suddenly, a conversation with his old mentor flashed through his mind.

**“Books are stronger than fists.”**

**“What do you mean by that?”**

**“You’re quite good with your body. How about learning magic from me? You could become much stronger.”**

It had been in the back alleys, the first time they met.

He’d been beating up some kids who had picked a fight with him.

‘So that’s what it meant. It was a saying about superior equipment.’

Tears welled up in his eyes.

If that was the case, there was no way his brass knuckles could beat the guy’s dictionary.

A proverb was like an immutable truth that applied everywhere.

Ah… the Magic Tower…

‘What a terrifying place it is.’

As the boy’s imagination filled with images of magicians dueling with books and flaunting the thickness of their tomes—

“Haa…! Haa…!”

Ragged breaths spilled from his lips.

He’d been running all over the mansion for so long he’d lost track of time.

His heart felt like it might burst any second, but—

*Tak tak tak tak tak tak tak tak tak!*

‘That bastard doesn’t get tired either…!’

The ferocious footsteps behind him never ceased, so he couldn’t afford to stop.

Luckily, he was faster than his pursuer and had been cleverly using the layout of the mansion to avoid being caught so far.

But with his stamina waning, it was only a matter of time before he got caught.

‘Should I just beg for mercy?’

Maybe then he could avoid being bludgeoned by that brutal weapon.

Despite appearances, maybe the guy was open to reason?

But… what did *I* even do wrong?

‘He’s the one who started it.’

Just as frustration bubbled up—

“Isn’t that Ain?”

“Why’s he running like that?”

“Hey! You’re supposed to be cleaning!”

He heard voices from Class C students doing chores.

“Someone’s chasing him.”

“Isn’t that the Tower guy? Are they fighting?”

“Did Ain lose and now he’s running away?”

Ain’s eyebrow twitched.

“No way. Ain’s not just anybody, and it looks totally one-sided.”

“Didn’t you hear? Yesterday, he lost a 10-on-1 fight against that Tower kid.”

“No way. Ain’s in Class B. No way he’d lose like that.”

Ain’s eyes snapped wide open.

His forgotten confidence surged back up.

Who was he?

Though lacking a bit in theory, he was recognized throughout the mansion as a super rookie, second only to the top apprentices when it came to practical combat.

He had the skills to move to Class A, but chose to remain in Class B to protect his sister—a romantic man of the cold sector.

‘*Me*, losing?’

It had to have been a fluke.

If they fought again, things would turn out completely different—like a full 360-degree turn.

As his self-belief returned—

*Wuuung!*

The pale blue mana in his ring, which had paused for a while, began to stir again.

*Wuuuung!*

Then came a replay in his mind—his fury sparked by one specific memory:

The bloodstained ice replica.

The cruel bastard who had threatened his sister.

‘That bastard… hurt my sister…!’

*Crack!*

I’ll make you regret being born…!

*Skreeech—Thud!*

Ain suddenly stopped in his tracks and whirled around.

But the moment he saw his opponent’s emotionless face charging forward at terrifying speed—with that awful weapon in hand—

He turned right back around and bolted.

‘Yeah, no… I’ll show him next time.’

He was busy today.

There’s a right time and place for everything.

And today was definitely *not* that time.

*Tak tak tak tak tak tak tak…!*

At that moment in the chase—

Ray was calmly observing the pale blue mana flowing through Ain’s body.

‘It’s forming wind and enhancing his movements.’

So that’s another way to use it.

Impressed, Ray drew the pale blue mana from the air.

It spread throughout his body, and the moment it transformed into magic—

*Fwoooosh—!*

A powerful gust propelled Ray forward.

He felt so light he might take flight, and the distance between him and his prey—no, his specimen—was shrinking fast.

“……!”

Ain glanced back, and his eyes filled with terror.

With less than five meters left—

*Bang!*

Ain burst into the laundry room.

What followed was a blur of lightning-fast movements.

*SLAM—CLACK!*

He slammed the door shut and locked it.

Then added a locking spell on top of that.

*Bang!*

He raced to the opposite door and threw it open.

*Dada da!*

Finally, he dove into one of the large laundry hampers and buried himself inside.

‘Perfect.’

Even he had to admit it was brilliant.

His pursuer would see no one was in the room and assume he had escaped through the open door.

*Tak tak tak—tak, tak.*

The footsteps stopped at the door.

‘It’ll take at least a minute to undo that lock. I can finally catch my breath…’

Or so he thought.

*BANG!*

……?

His heart, which had just begun to calm, started racing again.

‘What the hell? I did the locking spell properly, even if I rushed it!’

It was confusing, sure.

But it didn’t ruin the plan.

There’s no way the guy would know he was hiding in here.

‘This is my usual hiding spot when I skip work. No one’s ever found me here before.’

But then—

*Tap—tap—tap—tap—*

The footsteps drew closer without hesitation.

……?

Still confusing.

But no problem.

Even if he checked the hampers, there were so many options—he’d never find the right one immediately.

‘He’ll check a few and give up. No way he’d search them all.’

But then—

*Tap.*

The footsteps stopped—right in front of his hamper.

And didn’t move.

…….

Still confusing.

But the plan was still…

“WAAAHHH! DIEEE!”

Ain burst out from the laundry, screaming.

*
*
*

Ayla flinched when she saw Ray return with Ain tucked under his arm.

“Did you… kill him?”

“He’s alive.”

Sure enough, his chest was moving.

He was definitely breathing.

“No one’s ever dragged Ain in like that. If anything, it’s always the other way around. Well, you did beat all ten of us at once…”

As Ayla stood in stunned silence, Ray propped Ain up against a wall and examined the mana in his circle.

The pale blue mana had paused its activity—likely because its owner had fainted.

‘I’ll probably have to wake him up to observe anything.’

Just as Ray conjured several cold water droplets into the air—

“What are you planning to do?”

Ayla, watching, asked.

“To wake him up.”

“If that’s it, there’s another way. I’ll do it.”

She knelt beside Ain, took a breath, and whispered in his ear.

“Ain! Help me! Someone’s trying to hurt—”

“WHO THE HELL?!”

Ain jolted awake, his eyes blazing as he looked around.

Then, locking eyes with Ray, he nearly collapsed again—only to pull himself together and yank Ayla ten steps away from the “threat.”

“Sis! Your hand! Is your hand okay? That emotionless killing machine hurt you, didn’t he? Right?!”

Ayla calmed him down.

“No. I cut myself. Hailer actually used healing magic on me.”

“You cut yourself?”

“Yeah. You misunderstood.”

While the two spoke, Ray silently observed their emotions.

They were similar, yet different.

Both had far more complex emotional palettes than the average person.

‘But their core colors are different.’

Ain’s was pale blue mana.

Ayla’s was blue mana.

Ain’s emotions flowed freely like wind around his pale blue mana.

Ayla’s emotions, by contrast, were frozen—locked in place by the sheet of blue mana at her core.

Even the same emotions pointed in different directions.

‘Both of them possess white mana.’

White mana—associated with concern and worry.

Ain’s white mana was directed at both himself and his sister.

Ayla’s, on the other hand, ignored herself and focused solely on her brother.

…They said they were biological siblings.

Could they have grown up in different environments?

Curious, Ray asked,

“You two are really siblings, right?”

“Yeah. We’re three years apart. I’m 17, Ain’s 14.”

“Can you tell me how you grew up?”

“Hm, that’s not too hard to answer…”

“You don’t have to tell that bastard anything, sis.”

Apparently, the misunderstanding had been cleared up, though the term “bastard” suggested a lingering grudge.

“He probably used healing magic just to get close to you. Filthy wolves. How many guys have tried to get near you just because of your face?”

Ray ignored the ‘wolf’ and ‘ulterior motive’ parts—one word in particular drew his attention.

“Not ‘bastard.’ Call me *hyung*.”

“…What?”

“*Hyung*. I’m older than you.”

For Ray, this was an instinctual reaction—something ingrained from his time living under a bridge, where hierarchy and titles kept order.

Ain stared at him like he was out of his mind.

“Don’t make me laugh. I’ve never called *anyone* hyung before. Do I look like the type of guy who gives in that easily?”

Ray raised the dictionary.

“But if you call me *hyungnim* instead, we can solve this peacefully. Different word, different meaning. Right, Hailer-hyungnim?”

Ayla asked from the side.

“Hailer, how old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Then I’m the noona.”

“…….”

“I’m your noona.”

Ayla pointed to herself and stared at Ray.

So Ray raised the dictionary.

“Ahem, well, I don’t care much about titles. Hailer, call me whatever you like.”

Then, Ayla began talking about her and Ain’s childhood.

“We grew up in the lower class. Almost poverty level.”

Both their parents were alive, but neither acted like proper parents.

Their father was a gambling addict and a drunk.

Their mother was a materialistic woman always ready to abandon them for a richer man.

Ain clicked his tongue.

“They were garbage. Barely human.”

“Ain…! Don’t talk like that. They were still our parents.”

“I don’t recognize them as parents. I only stayed because of you. Otherwise, I’d have run away to live on the streets ages ago.”

He was firm—clearly a line he refused to cross.

Ayla looked at him with sorrow, then continued.

It was a precarious household.

But she and Ain started working from a young age, and somehow, they scraped by.

Ain added,

“Sis was an idiot too. What did she see in those assholes to keep feeding them?”

“Ain, please…! We were still a family.”

Ain gave her a look of disbelief, then kept talking.

“Anyway, sis and I did every street job there is. Sold gum, shined shoes, delivered papers, washed dishes. Ran street stalls, served at restaurants. Even delivered some shady stuff in the back alleys.”

At that last part, he glanced at Ray.

The look said: *See? I’m dangerous and impressive.*

The reaction came from somewhere else.

“You…! I *told* you not to do that kind of dangerous work! Don’t tell me you’ve been doing it behind my back all along?!”

“Not all the time. Just sometimes. And it’s not that dangerous if you know the tricks.”

Both siblings were sharper than their peers, possessing grit and a fierce determination.

The sequence of cause and effect was unclear.

Had they developed such qualities because they were forced to grow up early?

Or had they been able to mature quickly because they were born with such traits?

Whatever the case, the result was that the siblings, though it wasn’t easy, managed to adapt to life on the streets without it being impossibly hard either.

Of course, there were times when danger was unavoidable.

“You little bastard! You’re the son of that Felton guy from the brick house on Street 132, aren’t you! Like father, like son!”

There were times when fingers were pointed at them.

And when that happened—

—Thwack! Thud! Crack!

“Ugh! Uuugh!”

Ain, one way or another, always made sure to break those fingers so they could never point at anyone again.

“So what? I’m an uneducated punk—did you ever give me anything?”

He did it to keep such words from ever reaching his sister’s ears.

He didn’t care what people said about him.

Parents were one thing.

He was another.