#053. White Sun (3)
—
Veronica spent two days bedridden, groaning and complaining.
“You look fine now.”
“No! I’m not fine!”
“But I saw you walking perfectly earlier─”
“You must’ve seen it wrong! Maybe it was a ghost. I still need to stay in bed and rest more!”
“….”
The boy tilted his head in confusion.
**A ghost, huh.**
In truth, Veronica had fully recovered after a good night’s sleep. The only physical injury was a slight sprain in her ankle, and her exhaustion stemmed merely from overexerting her magic.
However…
“Ray, could you bring me some water? Oh, and also─”
It seemed Veronica had grown quite fond of the “bedridden” lifestyle.
To be precise, she was thoroughly enjoying being pampered by Ray.
“Here.”
“Thank you!”
Veronica grinned as she accepted the water and drank it in slow gulps.
The breeze from the open window caused the curtains to flutter. As Ray watched her drink, a question suddenly slipped from his lips.
“Why did you stop me back then?”
Back then—he was referring to two days ago.
*”Ray! Are you okay? Are you really okay?”*
*”Everyone’s agreed to keep quiet about this. Though honestly, it probably wouldn’t matter even if the story spread.”*
Ray remembered everything that had happened inside and outside the abandoned factory. The moment his body was engulfed in flames, the fireball he’d hurled at the scrap piles, even the children.
At that moment, he hadn’t been able to recognize Veronica, Philip, Kedrick, or any of their allies.
*”There was no way for me to tell friend from foe.”*
Shouts around him had sounded like muffled noises under water, and he hadn’t been able to focus on anyone’s faces. The overwhelming rage had consumed him, leaving room for only one thought: destroy everything.
*”You suddenly turned towards the sector. I thought something terrible would happen if I didn’t stop you. It looked like you were about to set the entire street ablaze.”*
Philip’s account of what had happened later proved to be true. Ray had indeed aimed to destroy more—people, objects, anything—when Veronica intervened.
If not for her…
*”I’d have probably lost my life.”*
In his rage, he had been setting fires all around. Eventually, his protective barrier would have shattered.
The only thing that had stopped him was the **White Sun**.
The radiant light emanating from Veronica’s vessel had disarmed him completely, extinguishing all the fury coursing through his body and mind. His vision, once stained red, had cleared, and the surroundings came into focus.
The one thought that filled his mind at that moment?
*”The sun is so beautiful.”*
“That time? Oh, that─.”
Veronica replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“I was worried about you.”
“You could’ve died.”
“And we’re friends.”
Ray felt like he understood, at least vaguely.
Friends—people who help each other without expecting anything in return. Concern born simply from a desire to protect someone important.
If he thought about it that way, Veronica’s actions—risking her life to help him—began to make sense.
That night in Sector 50, when he had thrown himself onto the bridge, determined to protect Pale and the others at all costs…
Maybe Veronica had felt something similar then.
“…And Philip, too, risked his life to save his friend, Kedrick.”
Ray tried to convince himself. Compared to the past, when he couldn’t understand anyone else’s emotions, this was a remarkable improvement.
But one thing still didn’t sit right with him.
*”Risking one’s life for someone—that’s not a feeling you can have for just anyone.”*
To him, Pale and the others were special. For Philip, Kedrick must’ve been the same. While he couldn’t yet define what made them special, he knew they weren’t like everyone else.
The boy asked, “Am I special to you?”
“Wha-what? Uh, um, yes? Maybe?”
Veronica stammered, her eyes darting in confusion, clearly interpreting his question in a different way. But as she mulled over his words, her expression calmed.
*”Special to me?”*
Ray was special to her. Ray was not special to her. If she had to choose, it would be the former.
Ray was the savior of her bookstore and the first mage she had ever met, apart from her grandfather.
“You’re… special, I guess?”
“To the point where you’d risk your life?”
“….”
Veronica stared at Ray.
Her red eyes reflected in his white ones were filled with bewilderment and hesitation. Ray’s questions were always so sudden, so direct, and often hit the mark with startling precision.
*”Risking my life…?”*
Even she didn’t fully understand her actions. Objectively speaking, she had known Ray for less than a month—hardly long enough to risk her life for him.
No matter how much of a benefactor he was.
“….”
But she couldn’t help it. Back then, the only thought in her head was that she had to save him.
Emotions often defied logic. They couldn’t be controlled at will. Back then, she had simply acted on them.
*”Looking back, it was extremely dangerous.”*
She hesitated, biting her lip.
While she suspected her feelings for Ray had been more than mere concern, she couldn’t quite pin down what they were.
Still, her answer to Ray’s question was clear.
“Yes.”
But admitting it so readily felt like losing, so she fumbled.
“Maybe…?”
“Got it.”
Satisfied with her answer, Ray didn’t press further.
Now, it was Veronica’s turn to ask.
“What happened to you back then? Was it mana poisoning?”
“….”
Why had he lost control of his rage? Why hadn’t he been able to suppress it?
Despite much thought, Ray still didn’t have a definitive answer.
*”I could’ve stopped myself midway. But I didn’t.”*
It had been half voluntary, half involuntary.
He’d always used red mana fueled by anger, but this was the first time it had caused such problems. There were some differences this time: the red mana had come from a newly-enhanced ring, and he’d been mentally exhausted to his limit.
His symptoms matched what the old man had described as **mana poisoning.**
Mana derived from human life force was known to be highly toxic, and accumulated fatigue could dull one’s mental control.
Perhaps it had been a combination of the two.
“That sounds about right—mana poisoning.”
“You always recklessly use unrefined mana,” Veronica grumbled, trying to hide her concern but failing.
“It’s probably not because of the ambient mana I usually use.”
He’d been using ambient mana for years without any issues. If it were dangerous, it would’ve shown long ago.
“This ring is more likely the culprit.”
Ray took out the ring from his pocket.
“Oh, that…”
“This belonged to the mage I fought. It’s a mana-charged artifact.”
Feeling the faint mana emanating from the ring, Veronica pieced the puzzle together.
She recalled Ray’s words:
*”There’s a mage—a man trying to activate a magic circle targeting my people.”*
*”I’ll eliminate him and reverse the magic circle.”*
When they inspected the factory afterward, the man was gone. All that remained was his clothes lying in a beam of sunlight from a hole in the ceiling.
It wasn’t hard to imagine what had happened to the man who hadn’t escaped in time.
Nor where the extracted mana had gone.
“I’ve heard from Grandpa… mana extracted from people is unimaginably toxic… Are you planning to use that?”
“…”
Ray was silent.
The ring contained a significant amount of high-quality mana. It would be extremely useful in battle.
But it was also likely the primary cause of his mana poisoning. If the side effects recurred…
This time, thanks to Veronica, he managed to keep his composure, but there was no guarantee that it would be the same next time.
“One mistake is enough.”
But it was also true that a certain thought crossed his mind.
…What if he used the mana in the ring, assuming Veronica was by his side?
“It’s worth testing…”
While lost in thought, Veronica’s voice broke through.
“You’re not going to use it, right? Hmm?”
“For now, no.”
“Good. I think that’s for the best. It’s better not to use it if you can avoid it!”
Although Ray’s tone was somewhat ambiguous, Veronica seemed content with that answer and brightened up.
“And…”
“And?”
Veronica perked up her ears with curiosity.
Like ticking items off a list, Ray brought up something he had been holding in his heart.
“Thank you.”
“Huh?”
“For helping me.”
Saving his life had been a tremendous favor, even by Ray’s standards.
So he needed to express his gratitude and repay the debt.
Someday.
In a way that equaled the help he had received.
“R-Ray…”
Veronica’s mouth hung open.
Clearly touched, her face looked on the verge of tears as she stammered.
“Did you… did you eat something bad? Don’t tell me the meat in the meal I made for you last time was spoiled…?”
—
—
*Crunch!* *Clank!*
The claw-like bolt cutter snapped through the lock on the basement door.
“Nice work, Raphael. You’re pretty skilled.”
“Hehe! This is nothing! I could do it with my eyes closed. We’ll wait upstairs! Call us if you need anything, boss!”
The boys, delighted by Ray’s praise, bounded up the stairs with grins on their faces.
─Ray remembered my name! And he said I was skilled!
─Sell me the ear that heard the praise.
─How much?
─Ten shillings.
─No deal. I’ll never wash my ears again.
Ray watched the children as they disappeared up the staircase. A wave of pride and satisfaction welled up in him.
“Compliments really do work.”
This approach, based on Philip’s advice, was a method Ray had recently adopted for dealing with his subordinates.
*”It’s not just violence; rewards can be just as effective in managing people. And rewards don’t always have to be material things. Words of praise or encouragement, used appropriately, can be just as powerful.”*
The results exceeded expectations.
The children performed significantly better when praise accompanied instructions, compared to simply being ordered around. Furthermore, they began to eagerly volunteer for tasks, hoping for more of Ray’s compliments.
“Feels like magic.”
That mere words could so drastically change someone’s behavior and emotions—that was the power of compliments.
Most of the street kids were starved for acknowledgment and had little resistance to praise, which amplified its effectiveness.
Ray pushed open the door.
*Creak—*
The heavy iron door, speckled with red rust, groaned as it revealed the interior.
He stepped inside.
*Buzz— Crackle—*
A single long wire dangled from the ceiling. At its end, a light bulb flickered faintly.
The man likely hadn’t expected to leave his basement for long.
Ray slowly surveyed the area.
Simple furniture. A desk cluttered with crumpled letters. Not much had changed since the last time.
*”Boss. You are the flame of my life. I still remember the moment you saved me…”*
The letters, too, were largely unremarkable.
The only difference was that Ray could now read their contents, having learned to read since his last visit.
*Click—clack.*
*Click—clack.*
He focused on the areas he hadn’t had time to inspect previously.
Opening and closing storage cabinets, Ray eventually found an old leather notebook.
The moment he picked it up—
*Flutter.*
A faded black-and-white photograph fell to the ground.
