Two weeks had passed since I woke up from my injury.
The wound on my head had almost completely healed. While there was still a slight bump to the touch, the pain was gone, and the scab had already fallen off.
In those two weeks, I had plenty of time to observe my surroundings and reflect.
Once my recovery period ended, I was expected to return to family meals. As soon as I did, the household reverted to its old dynamic. It was as though my accident had never happened. At the dining table, I was invisible once again.
The meals were entirely dominated by my mother singing Johan's praises while my father nodded along. Johan, for his part, looked less and less amused each time.
I hadn't thought much of it before, but now I saw the cracks. My mother's smile felt forced, my father's agreement was robotic, and Johan clearly found the repetitive adulation tiresome. Meanwhile, I was treated as if I didn't exist.
This wasn't a family meal—it was an imitation of one. A fragile veneer that would crumble under the slightest pressure.
I stopped thinking about it and treated meals as little more than an opportunity to eat.
On one of those days, as I buried myself in my studies, someone other than Carla came to visit.
It was Jail, the old butler who had served our family for years.
He stood at the door, scanning the books scattered across my desk. His face betrayed no emotion as he asked, "How is your injury?"
"It's fine now," I replied simply.
Jail nodded silently and left the room without further comment.
It wasn't hard to guess why he'd come. Most likely, my father had instructed him to check on me. He could have asked himself during dinner, I thought, but I no longer cared.
Today, as I sat at my desk, I threw my pen down with a sigh.
The past two weeks had been spent devouring every book I could find on magic. I'd gone back to the basics and reorganized everything I'd learned into my own notes.
The sheer number of pages had become unwieldy, so I punched holes in them, tied them together, and titled the collection The Fundamentals of Magical Physics.
These notes weren't just a summary of what I'd read; Johan's demonstrations had been instrumental in my observations.
I flipped through the pages again, reviewing what I'd compiled.
In this world, magic is divided into six attributes: fire, water, wind, earth, light, and darkness.
These attributes are unique to individuals, with most people able to use only one. Those with exceptional talent might master up to three.
The descriptions of each attribute in the books were simplistic, almost childish. Fire creates flames. Water generates liquid. Wind stirs air. Earth manipulates solid ground. Light forms barriers. Darkness produces toxins.
Though treated as equals, the phenomena they produce vary wildly in complexity and plausibility when viewed through a scientific lens.
For now, I'd chosen water magic as the focus of my study.
Water magic, as described in the books, follows these general principles:
Magic is usually channeled through the palm.
The conjured water hovers a short distance from the user's hand.
The water typically forms a sphere.
The amount of water and duration of control depend on the user's skill level.
Advanced techniques allow for the water to be fired as a projectile or shaped into sharp edges capable of cutting objects.
Based on these observations, I formed a hypothesis:
Water magic condenses water vapor in the air into a visible liquid form.
The process would be akin to how condensation forms on a window. Temperature changes cause water vapor to condense into droplets, and the same principle might apply here.
To test this theory, I had Johan demonstrate water magic while I observed closely.
"Do it slowly this time," I had requested. Johan had stared at me like I'd grown a second head, muttering, "What kind of creepy request is that?" before reluctantly agreeing.
What I saw was fascinating.
When Johan channeled his mana, a faintly glowing sphere roughly 30 centimeters in diameter formed in the air. Within this sphere, countless tiny droplets materialized, quickly growing in size until they coalesced into a single mass of water. The resulting water orb spun slowly as it hovered in the air.
The books had reduced this entire process to a single phrase: "Channel mana and create water."
Ridiculous.
The sheer lack of curiosity in this world astounded me. But then again, magic here is considered a gift from the spirits—a divine blessing. Scientific inquiry into its mechanics was seen as unnecessary, or even disrespectful.
Still, this untouched field of study filled me with excitement. The potential discoveries felt endless.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my door opening.
"Johan," I said with a sigh. "You didn't knock."
"I did! You're just always too focused to notice," Johan retorted, strolling into the room.
"What do you want?"
"Do I need a reason to visit? And don't pretend you're on a break. You're obviously studying again. Come on, let's play something!"
"I'm not studying. I was just reviewing my notes."
"Yeah, that's called studying."
Johan smirked as he leaned over to glance at the papers on my desk.
"So? Are you making any progress?"
"Not really," I admitted. "There's still so much I don't understand. Johan, can you show me water magic again? I need to check something."
"Again? Fine, but what is it this time?"
"I want to measure the temperature of the water."
"Temperature?" Johan repeated, puzzled. "It's just water. It's not hot or cold."
Reluctantly, he raised his hand and conjured another orb of water.
No matter how many times I saw it, the process still felt like a miracle.
"If this water comes from condensation," I said, "its temperature must change depending on the process. Lower temperatures reduce the amount of water vapor in the air. But if that's the case, where does all this water come from? The amount should far exceed what the air in this room could provide."
"Yeah, yeah. Just touch it," Johan said with a grin.
I reached out and pressed a finger against the water. It felt cool to the touch—not cold, but room temperature.
"Interesting," I muttered.
"What now?" Johan asked.
"The glowing sphere that appears before the water forms—what if that's the key?" I said, thinking aloud. "It might be some kind of magical phenomenon unique to this world. A mechanism for creating water where none existed."
"Magic is a gift from the spirits, brother. That's all there is to it," Johan said with a shrug.
"Maybe. But blindly accepting that explanation is just intellectual laziness," I replied. "There has to be a fundamental law behind it, and I intend to find it."
Johan sighed, clearly not interested in my lecture. "Fine, you can knock yourself out figuring it out. Just don't drag me into it all the time."
He plopped down in a chair beside me, his mood already shifting.
"By the way," Johan said, brightening. "Let's go for a walk after lunch! We can visit the spirit shrine on the hill."
"The spirit shrine?" I asked, recalling it.
The Narazario family lands were home to a shrine dedicated to a renowned water spirit. Perhaps it was connected to why so many people born here had an affinity for water magic.
"Sure. Let's go after we eat," I agreed.
"Great!" Johan exclaimed, rushing out the door to prepare.
I stretched, my body groaning audibly as I moved. It had been a long time since I'd gone outside. Looking out the window, I narrowed my eyes against the bright sunlight, already planning the next steps in my research.