#056. **The Last Lesson (1)**
—
A secluded, abandoned warehouse illuminated by moonlight.
A group of boys holding clubs stood over a man lying on the floor, staring down at him.
Among them, a boy who seemed to be their leader spoke.
“Fred.”
The man on the floor flinched.
Though beaten to the point where he couldn’t think clearly, the voice of his assailant rang unnervingly sharp in his ears.
“8th Street.”
His heart pounded heavily.
“Veronica’s Bookstore.”
He desperately wanted to escape this terrifying presence.
“Don’t touch it. There won’t be a second warning. Your family, your shop, your car—I’ve marked all their locations.”
Tears trickled down his face.
Mustering every ounce of his remaining strength, Fred nodded.
—
—
**Ding─**
“Welcome!”
Veronica greeted the customer entering her bookstore with a bright smile.
It had only been a few weeks since the unpleasant incident at the store.
The event had left Veronica deeply shaken.
She had endured jeers and pranks from her peers before, but never had a group of grown men barged in together like that.
However, Veronica was resilient. She didn’t dwell on the trauma for long.
She ate her meals as usual.
She ran the bookstore as usual.
And she continued to work on building her network as usual.
Time flowed steadily in the serene and calm atmosphere, with the clock hands endlessly repeating their motions.
Ray, in many aspects, had made remarkable progress.
He had saved enough money to cover his travels for the next few sectors.
His reading skills had improved to the point where he could read most books without a dictionary.
He absorbed essential knowledge for his journey, such as car maintenance and first-aid for injuries, from books in the bookstore.
“Ray, this is the investigation report for 28th Street.”
He also continued assigning his subordinates to gather clues about the Rainbow and Murcred.
Though no useful information had surfaced, Ray didn’t consider the efforts futile.
After all, it significantly reduced the chance of missing something in Sector 49.
Time dutifully carried out its role, and the seasons changed.
From the scorching summer to the leaf-falling autumn.
This also signaled that the boy was preparing to leave for the next sector.
And…
“I’d like to have a word with you.”
It signified the old man’s final moments had arrived.
—
The evening sky dimmed as the sun set.
Curtains fluttered in the breeze.
The unlit room cast long shadows, evoking the feeling of looking at a monochrome photograph.
In that moment, where everything seemed frozen in time—
“Have you finalized your plans to leave?”
The old man broke the silence.
“Within a few days. I’m not certain yet.”
“I see. So, in the end, it’s me who’ll leave first.”
The old man chuckled lightly.
Though his words carried humor, the boy didn’t understand and showed no reaction.
The old man, not expecting any, wasn’t bothered.
Instead, he turned his head slowly to gaze at the tightly shut door.
“That one. She hasn’t shown her face today either.”
Veronica, the red-haired girl, hadn’t visited the old man’s room for the past few days.
The old man knew why.
“She probably doesn’t have the courage to witness my final moments.”
Fearful and timid by nature.
Even more unwilling to show it outwardly.
She would rather avoid the situation entirely than face the pain.
Though they had spent less than a year together, the old man understood Veronica well.
He had served as a father and teacher figure, forming a bond with her in his own way.
“Even after I’m gone, she’ll manage her path just fine. She’s a smart kid.”
She might falter briefly with grief upon his death.
But it wouldn’t be long before she shook off the gloom and anxiety weighing on her shoulders.
And she would keep walking forward.
With a stride as unwavering as anyone’s.
The old man, finishing his thoughts about Veronica, shifted his gaze back to Ray.
“I want to thank you. Perhaps it felt sudden when I urged you to learn magic.”
“I just think it was a mutually beneficial arrangement. You needed someone to pass your teachings to, and I needed someone to teach me.”
The old man chuckled quietly.
It was merely an exchange, and there was no need for gratitude.
The boy hadn’t changed a bit since the day they first met.
“True. We both got what we wanted. But thanks to you, I’ll leave my magic behind in this world, and that’s what matters.”
The magic the old man had used, studied, and developed over a lifetime—his very history.
No one else could have absorbed it so quickly, not even high-ranking mages with numerous mana circles.
After all, understanding the mechanisms of magic was an entirely different field than simply possessing mana circles.
Being able to replicate magic just by observing it was an extraordinary, rule-defying talent.
“So, let me express my gratitude.”
“……”
Seeing the boy’s lack of response again, the old man smiled faintly and asked,
“Now, do you have anything you’d like to say to me?”
The old man didn’t have much time left.
Yesterday, he had been awake for only 4 minutes and 32 seconds.
According to his records, those afflicted with the Eternal Sleep Syndrome only stayed conscious for 3 to 5 minutes in their final moments.
It wouldn’t be surprising if he fell into eternal slumber today, or at most in a few days.
The boy understood this, too.
“Something to say….”
The boy had spoken to the old man often but had revealed very little about himself.
The fact that he couldn’t feel emotions.
The fact that he could perceive the colors of mana.
And his reason for seeking the Rainbow.
To him, these were the most private parts of himself.
Sharing them felt like exposing vulnerabilities.
But it was also true that his wariness of the old man had eased significantly.
The old man was the most knowledgeable person Ray had encountered and had answered countless questions.
And perhaps…
“This might be my last chance to ask.”
After taking a deep breath, the boy spoke.
“I can’t feel emotions.”
“I see.”
The old man nodded softly, as if he wasn’t surprised.
It was as if he had expected this.
Looking back, the old man had always been that way.
Except for moments involving significant magical breakthroughs or when the thugs invaded the bookstore, he never showed emotional turmoil.
“Did you already know?”
“I suspected it, though I wasn’t certain.”
As always, he seemed to see through everything without being told.
Was this also magic?
“I don’t feel anything normally. I have to focus to feel even a few emotions. And there aren’t many I can feel. Is this an illness?”
“What do you think? Do you consider it an illness?”
“……”
The boy recalled the dictionary definition of the word *illness*.
*”An abnormal condition in a living organism causing distress or hindering normal function.”*
His emotional system was undeniably abnormal.
But when asked if it caused him distress, his answer was “No.”
“I don’t know about distress. But by definition, it should be an illness, shouldn’t it?”
Having reached a conclusion, Ray answered,
“Yes. I think it’s an illness.”
“Indeed. A sickness of the mind could also be considered an illness.”
“A sickness of the mind?”
“That’s just my theory, so take it with a grain of salt.”
The old man began speaking slowly.
He said that during his younger years, when he wandered through various sectors, he had encountered people who couldn’t feel emotions.
“There is a difference compared to you. In their cases, they said they couldn’t feel specific emotions.”
A long-time companion.
A drunk seated next to him at a tavern.
A fellow traveler he had journeyed with briefly.
Various people had confided their stories to the old man.
*”I grew up under the abuse of my parents. As a result, I became someone incapable of feeling love. Love? What’s that? How can someone who doesn’t understand love ever love another?”*
*”Perhaps I’m afraid of feeling pleasure itself. That’s why nothing I do brings me joy.”*
Their attitudes showed no hint of falsehood or pretense.
And through conversations, he had learned something.
“They all seemed to lose the ability to feel those emotions after certain events.”
“Events?”
“Yes. They were all negative experiences, like abuse or separation. I suspect their emotions closed off due to trauma.”
“……”
“Of course, in your case, where you can selectively feel emotions, it might be a different story. Still, this might serve as a reference for tracing the cause.”
Ray fell into brief contemplation.
The idea that emotions could close off due to past events was something he had never considered before.
He had always thought his inability to feel emotions stemmed from some kind of physical or mental abnormality.
But no particular memory came to mind.
To be more precise, he had no memories of his past.
His earliest recollection was wandering the streets, burdened with hunger.
Anything earlier than that simply didn’t exist in his mind, as though someone had deliberately cut out a portion of his memories.
*“Some incident in the past…”*
It was then that certain images flashed through his mind.
A glowing sphere, transforming into an egg shape and splitting in half.
Countless colorful beams of light spreading across the world.
Monochrome landscapes being dyed in vibrant hues as the beams touched them.
It was a fleeting glimpse.
These scenes flashed through Ray’s mind like lightning, leaving no trace in their wake.
What could they have been?
What were those images?
Ray couldn’t recall the scenes.
He was only aware that some kind of images had briefly crossed his mind.
He pondered for a moment but found no answers.
Deciding to store the old man’s words in the corner of his memory for now, Ray acknowledged the limited time and moved on to his next question.
“…You’ve always known things without me saying anything. What kind of situation I was in, what I was thinking. I want to know what kind of magic that is.”
The old man remained silent for a moment.
Then, he chuckled and spoke.
“Ha-ha! To think you’d consider that magic. You really are an unusual fellow.”
“Are you saying it’s not magic?”
“Of course not. It’s not magic. Are you curious about how I could understand your thoughts and circumstances?”
Ray nodded without hesitation.
The old man, smiling faintly, continued.
“You don’t necessarily need words to understand someone. All humans, unconsciously, scatter, shed, and drop pieces of themselves.”
Facial expressions. Gestures. The trembling of their gaze.
The amount of sweat. The roughness of their breathing.
And countless other minute actions.
“Among these, the face holds the most information.”
“But I’ve never shown any expression. What could you have seen in me…”
Before Ray could finish, the old man interjected.
“Do you truly think you’ve never shown an expression?”
