**#202. Imitation and Creation (1)**
—
She knew how to use the prism.
“How?”
Ray’s question was short, but its meaning was clearly conveyed.
“There’s one in the Last Forest too. Only one, though.”
Grine calmly wiped the dust from the prism.
After looking around, she headed to the window where light slanted in at an angle. She lifted the prism and positioned it in the path of the light.
What on earth is she doing?
Just as Ray was wondering—
“…!”
He felt his heart drop.
A stream of multicolored lines shot through the air from the prism.
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.
Seven layers, overlapping one over another.
The light was faint, barely visible.
But how could he not recognize it?
A powerful excitement surged through Ray’s entire body, and the mana of the yellow gem resonated with his emotions and began to surge with unprecedented intensity.
*Crackle—! Crackle—!*
Currents sparked along Ray’s body, and in an instant, sparks filled the interior of the tower.
Ray, now almost completely glowing in yellow light, spoke.
“A rainbow?”
“The shape is similar, at least. But for now, I think it’d be best if you calmed down.”
Grine, uncharacteristically flustered, tried to settle him.
“Try to regulate your breathing. Imagine you’re standing in a peaceful meadow.”
“I can’t picture it.”
“Just try to summon the idea.”
“Alright. I’m in a meadow.”
“You’re looking up at the clear sky while breathing slowly. Birds flying peacefully. White clouds drifting by. And then…”
“A rainbow.”
The sparks intensified twofold.
Artifacts clattered to the ground, and Grine hid under the table. Only after Ray calmed down did she come out again.
“You can’t get that excited again.”
Grine repositioned the prism in the path of light and let go.
The prism remained suspended in the air, maintaining the form of a rainbow.
Sparks still flickered, but Ray, having focused his mind and reined in his emotions, kept them far more subdued than before.
After checking Ray’s state for a moment, Grine gave a relieved nod and continued.
“I first learned of the legend of the rainbow when I came outside and heard it from you, Ray. A seven-colored band that appears in the sky. When I heard the tale, I suddenly thought of the prism in the Last Forest. Though it’s not shaped like a ring split in half, it’s a tool that can create lines of exactly seven colors. Still, I didn’t expect to see another prism here.”
There was a hint of affection in the way Grine looked at the prism.
Ray followed her gaze and stared at the prism and the seven-colored lines.
‘That’s not a rainbow.’
The intense excitement faded momentarily.
It didn’t take long to realize that what he saw wasn’t a rainbow.
Rainbows were said to be vast bands arched across clear skies.
So vividly colored that they could be seen from anywhere in the world.
But the multicolored lines before him were small and faint.
In other words—
“It looks more like something *imitating* a rainbow.”
“I think so too.”
“The master of this tower said he discovered the prism in some ruins. Why is there a prism in the Last Forest?”
“I don’t know. It’s just something that was handed down. No one ever knew its exact purpose. They treated it like an ornamental item that made beautiful lines in the air.”
“It’s not a mere ornament.”
Grine turned to Ray.
“Do you know something about it?”
“It’s an object made to honor and venerate someone.”
Walking through the scattered relics, Ray eventually found Binjin’s notebook.
“Here. It describes the prism’s purpose.”
“I can’t read the ancient script.”
“It says, ‘We will not forget. We will always be waiting for you.’ That’s the meaning. And the writing conveys emotions—longing, gratitude, sorrow, and…”
Grine, thoughtful after listening, spoke again.
“Could it be in honor of the figure from the mural?”
“Which figure?”
“The beginning part. The part where the black, white, and gray mural began to show color. There was someone standing under a rainbow.”
“I remember.”
“It looked like that person brought color into a colorless world. At least, that’s what the mural implied. And after that, the world in the mural rapidly progressed.”
Grine’s theory made sense.
If someone were revered and honored, it was likely they had accomplished something monumental.
As Ray gazed quietly at the prism and its colorful lines, a question arose.
How does the prism split the light it receives into multiple colors?
Given that there was no mana flowing through it, it clearly wasn’t a magical artifact.
Then, as if reading Ray’s thoughts, Grine answered.
“A prism splits light.”
“Splits light?”
“Yes. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet—they’re all colors inherently contained in light. They’re just being separated from what was originally one.”
Ray was slightly baffled.
He couldn’t quite believe that the sunlight he took for granted contained all those components.
He voiced his doubt.
“So, if you break down sunlight, all these colors come out? That sounds like saying if you combine colors, you get sunlight again.”
“That’s right. You’re quick to understand.”
“But light is white. How can something with all those colors appear white? Usually, mixing more colors turns them black.”
Unlike ordinary mages, Ray had a uniquely sensitive eye for color.
He could distinguish subtle differences between similar shades and accurately identify the resulting hue when different colors were mixed.
So the idea that combining seven colors could create white felt incredibly hard to accept.
“That’s a common assumption. But light and pigment are different.”
Grine smiled softly and calmly explained.
Light, when combined, becomes white.
Pigment, when mixed, becomes black.
And light exists on its own, while color is merely a part of light that is reflected.
“There is light in the world. White light—what we call visible light. This light is scattered all over the world. Every living or nonliving thing absorbs some parts of it and reflects others. What they reflect determines their color.”
Grine absently played with a lock of her long hair as she continued.
“For example, my hair reflects the green light contained within visible light.”
“…”
The difference between light and color.
It was a foreign and unfamiliar concept.
But thanks to Grine’s detailed explanation, Ray began to grasp it.
‘Mana in the air darkens the more it mixes.’
That applied even to circle mana that had been refined.
Suddenly curious, Ray mixed the yellow mana from his gem with the green mana he borrowed from Grine.
Yellow and green.
He knew those would usually make a dull shade of lime.
But what appeared before him was a bright, vivid lime.
Moreover, gem mana emitted a soft glow by nature.
‘Ambient mana is color. Gem mana is light…’
Just as Ray felt he was on the verge of understanding something, Grine continued.
“And how we perceive color differs by species. The world we see might be completely different from the one other animals see.”
“…I think I get what you mean. When I borrowed Nero’s vision using summoning magic, many objects looked strange in color.”
“It’s fascinating, isn’t it? That even while living in the same world, we’re each experiencing entirely different worlds. You said you can see mana with the naked eye, right?”
Grine took a breath, then asked:
“What kind of world do you see, Ray?”
*
*
*
After wandering the tower for a bit, Grine returned holding a stone tablet and handed it to Ray.
“Please read it.”
“…”
It was a fable about the rainbow and the sun.
He didn’t want to read it since the ending was cut off, but hoping it might affect his impression, he read it slowly.
> “The brilliant seven-colored rainbow was truly beautiful. The sun, the clouds, the rain, the snow, and even the wind all thought so.”
“Read it a little more clearly, please.”
Rustle.
When he looked up, Grine was sitting on a chair, holding a jerky pack with a curious expression.
“I can only just *read* it, you know.”
“Oh—give it back!”
Now the rightful owner of the jerky, Ray continued reading.
> “But the rainbow fell to the ground. And so the world shed its monochrome shell and became filled with color.”
Though he read with more focus than before, his impression hadn’t changed much.
The story cut off at a crucial moment and left him just as irritated.
‘So what happened to the sun that chased the rainbow to the ground?’
Just as he thought that, a voice filled with emotion spoke.
“To chase it out of love…! So romantic…! The sun must’ve loved the rainbow passionately…!”
Looking up, Ray saw Veronica sitting beside Grine.
In her hands was a small flowerpot with a sprouting green shoot.
“When did you get here?”
“From the part where the rainbow fell to the ground. I came to show this to Miss Grine.”
“It is indeed a sprout from the World Tree. You’ve taken good care of it—it’s in fine condition.”
After inspecting the pot, Grine turned her attention back to Ray and returned to the original topic.
“The story reminds me of the mural. There was a part where the black-and-white world turned to color, too. What do you think, Ray? Did any images come to mind as you read it?”
“Not at all.”
Grine pulled out a sketchbook and began to draw swiftly.
Before long, she had several drawings that matched the content of the story.
“These are the images I naturally envisioned as I heard the story. Veronica, what about you?”
“Oh, um, I imagined something similar! Maybe not quite as beautifully, though!”
Nodding, Grine said to Ray:
“This is the minimum standard for using imagination. You need to be able to take abstract ideas from text and convert them into visuals with ease.”
She handed him a new sketchbook.
When he unwrapped it, clean white pages flipped out.
“This is the space where your world will unfold. Draw anything. Begin with imitation—whether it’s beautiful or ugly, liked or disliked, in motion or still. White or black.”
“…”
Ray picked up a pencil.
He tried to draw whatever came to mind, but his mind was blank. After glancing around, he looked at Veronica.
“Huh? You’re going to draw me?”
Ray nodded.
Veronica, her eyes wide in surprise, took out a mirror and tidied her hair and face before sitting up straighter with a demure expression.
“I’m ready!”
Excitement and anticipation stirred hotly in the vessel of the young girl’s heart.
Only the ticking of the second hand and the scratching of a pencil filled the silence of the space.
“All done.”
Ray turned the sketchbook around.
On the page was something resembling a human figure.
“This is… me…?”
A dazed voice slipped from her lips.
Veronica’s emotions began to surge like a storm, and Ray quickly grabbed another sketchbook beside him and rushed out of the tower.
—Ray! Wait a second! This is too much! We need to talk!
Dodging the wind vines the girl sent after him by rolling his body, the boy darted out of the mansion’s gate and hurried his steps.
By the time he had put enough distance between himself and the killing intent laced with fury, he found himself in a bustling downtown area.
‘Drawing is harder than I thought.’
Ray picked up a wooden crate rolling nearby and sat down, glancing around.
The fountain in the center of the plaza.
Street vendors lining the perimeter.
Pedestrians hurrying to and fro.
Subjects were everywhere.
Scratch, scratch.
How much time had passed with his head lowered, focused on sketching?
“You have quite a unique style.”
At the voice, Ray turned his head and saw a blond young man holding a sketchbook.
Ray’s gaze landed on the three circles pinned to the young man’s chest.
