"I want to learn how to use magic," I said firmly.
There were a lot of things I didn't understand, but those can wait. From the moment they told me I might be able to use magic, it had been all I could think about. I'd been daydreaming about the moment I'd stand in front of an army, chanting with all my might:
'EXPLOOOOSSSIIIOOONNNNNNN!'
The image of total annihilation. he he hehehe I just can't get enough of it.
Sylvia smirked knowingly. "Just like I thought."
"Shut it."
"You're like an open book—so easy to read," she teased, her grin widening. I graciously ignored the jab.
"So?" she pressed. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything," I replied. "How it works, why it works, and most importantly, the principles it abides by."
"You do know all that boils down to one thing, right? Or maybe you're just trying to show off your vocabulary," she said, stifling a laugh. "Pfft… that's funny."
This girl…
"Hai, hai… I guess we start with what magic is. You're okay with that, right?" she said, her tone half-mocking, half-serious.
Just wait till I can use magic. I'll pay you back handsomely. Maybe with an embarrassing prank, like that panty-stealer guy. Or perhaps a tiny fireball to singe that smug look right off her face. Yeah, that'd be satisfying.
"So?" I asked impatiently, trying to focus on the conversation.
"Wait until my tea is served," she replied, leaning back in her chair with an expression so smug it could probably fuel a small city.
Seriously? Tea? I am on the cusp of uncovering the secrets of magic, and you're prioritizing tea?
"There they are," Sylvia said, her gaze fixed on the three maids approaching us. Each carried part of a tea set, complete with an array of snacks that looked far too fancy for someone like me.
"I'd only ever see something like this on TV," I muttered, unable to hide my awe at the presentation. The snacks looked so intricate, almost too perfect to eat. I didn't even know what most of them were called, but there were cookies, so I decided to mentally label everything as cookies. Not like it mattered, it'll all become poof once digested.
"Tee... Vee?" Sylvia repeated, tilting her head in confusion.
"Ah, it's like a monitor where you can watch pre-recorded stuff... or, uh, something like that." I said even while looking at the 'cookies'.
A visible confusion was clearly written on her face.
How do you even explain a TV to someone who's never heard of it? I scratched my head, wondering if I'd just made it sound more confusing.
"Wait, I'll show you something," I said, pulling out my phone.
It dawned on me that I might be getting too comfortable with Sylvia—comfortable enough to casually reveal something that might have been better kept secret. But the words were already out, and I was already unlocking my phone.
I opened the camera app and pointed it at her. "Sylvia, say hi."
"Hi," she said without hesitation, her expression curious but cooperative.
I stopped recording after a second and played back the short clip, holding the screen out for her to see.
"It's something like this, but much bigger," I explained. "There are people who record things, and through some sort of signal—don't ask me how—it can be viewed on TV. Got it?"
Sylvia leaned closer, studying the screen with intense curiosity. "So this... captures a moment and keeps it forever?"
"I wouldn't say forever," I replied, "but as long as you keep the data, it can be viewed as much as you like."
"And it's something common in your world?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Yes," I said simply.
"Something as advanced as that..." she muttered, her expression shifting as if she were trying to piece together a puzzle.
What's with her getting all curious and deep in thought? Maybe I shouldn't have shown it after all. A small pang of regret tugged at me—what if I'd just opened up a whole can of worms I wasn't ready to deal with? The consequences of introducing modern technology to a world ruled by swords and magic could spiral into something far beyond my control.
And yet... I think I'm starting to understand what's running through her mind.
"Do you think we can replicate it in this world?" Sylvia asked, her gaze fixed on the phone as if it held the key to unlocking untold possibilities.
Guess I was right. For a modern man, sending messages across vast distances is just a convenience, something we take for granted. But for someone like Sylvia—or even an ordinary soldier in this world, where information can mean the difference between life and death—it's a game-changer.
"No," I said firmly, without a hint of hesitation. "For one, I know nothing about the parts or mechanics of how phones work. And two, even if I did, we'd need to figure out how to create and transmit radio signals. That's an entirely different level of complexity—and, mind you, something I have zero knowledge about. It's impossible, to say the least."
Sylvia tilted her head, her lips curving into a slight frown as she considered my words. Her curiosity didn't wane, but I hoped my blunt response would set realistic expectations.
"Impossible… for now, you mean?" she asked, her tone almost teasing but carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of determination.
"Nah, I mean, that's like asking God to show himself in front of you. No way that will happen."
"But they do."
"Eh?"
"I mean, when I was ten years old I was blessed by the Goddess of Time."
"You were?" I blinked, utterly thrown off. Wait, what? I know I'm in some other world, and in most of the stories I've read, gods tend to show themselves to their chosen heroes. But that's fiction—at least, it was supposed to be. "Seriously?"
She nodded, her expression completely sincere.
My thoughts were a jumbled mess. Blessed by a goddess? So the gods here are... real? Not metaphorical symbols, but actual, tangible beings? And they interact with people? Just thinking about it made my head spin.
In my world, gods were nothing more than ideas—revered by some, debated by others, but never something you'd expect to meet over tea. Yet here was Sylvia, casually dropping this bombshell as if it were just another Tuesday.
I shook my head, trying to focus. "No, really, that and that are completely different things," I said firmly, cutting off her train of thought. I waved a hand vaguely, dismissing the earlier comparison I had made. "I don't know how to help with that, so I can't."
Then, steering the conversation back to the more pressing matter, I leaned forward. "More than that—magic. I want to learn how to use magic."
My voice carried a weight of determination, and I could feel my heart pounding with excitement. Magic wasn't just some fantastical concept anymore; it was real, and it was within my reach.
"Okay, okay, can't be helped then," she said, finally giving up on the idea of recreating my phone. "So, where should I start?"
She paused, muttering the question more to herself than to me. Taking a sip of her tea, she followed it with a bite of a cookie, then let out a long sigh. Her shoulders slumped, and it looked as though all her energy had drained away.
"Oi?" I called out, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm thinking," she replied, her tone flat as she waved a hand dismissively.
Time dragged on. One minute passed, then two, then five. She still hadn't said anything.
It was starting to piss me off.
Finally, she broke the silence. "Why do you want to learn magic?" she asked, her voice calm but probing.
"Why?" I repeated, leaning forward with a spark of excitement in my eyes. "Of course I want to learn magic! It's something I could only dream about in my old world, but here, it's totally possible. Who wouldn't jump at that opportunity?"
I felt my voice rise slightly as I continued, unable to suppress my enthusiasm. "Being able to soar through the sky, fight off monsters, and become the kind of person I always dreamed about when I was a kid—how could I pass that up?"
My words hung in the air, my heartbeat quickening as I imagined the possibilities.
"Coming from a world with that kind of technology," she began, her tone thoughtful, "what good would learning magic really do for you?"
Her question hung in the air, as if pertaining to something, carrying a weight I didn't expect.
"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning slightly.
"While we do have healing magic, it only repairs wounds and injury, meanwhile a doctor who learned all about the physiology of man is capable of healing sickness even wounds. Between the two what do you think is better? Same for agriculture, and almost every occupation. Coming from a very advanced world, I'd like to think that you possess advanced knowledge you can make use of here." she said in a long monotone voice.
Perhaps I understand where she's coming from. If you think about the deeper meaning of her words, then it's easy to arrive at what she's hinting at. I may not be excellent when it comes to academics and stuff.
But I am not dumb. I am an overthinker, not a flex really, but it helps me see things from multiple angles.
"There's not much of things that magic can do better than a professional who studied to advance human knowledge." She continued.
"If anything, there's one thing that magic does better than anything else..." she said, stopping midway.
I already knew where she was heading. I had read about it in countless fantasy books. One thing magic does best is killing. It's no secret, and it's perfectly understandable. A trained swordsman can take down a single opponent at a time, but a trained mage? That's a whole different story.
I bit my tongue, stopping myself from saying, 'Enough with all the nonsense ranting.' If I said that, I'd probably find myself dodging a left and right, and a hook to the chin. So, I chose to stay quiet.
"Killing," I blurted accidentally
"Understanding the nature of the world." she continued
We said it at the same exact moment. It was like we were in sync, thinking of the same thing—only to realize we were completely different.
And I praised myself heavily for figuring out what she wanted to say only to be completely mistaken. I mentally facepalmed so hard that I imagined a concussion was imminent. The pain of cringe was excruciating, and every passing second only seemed to amplify it.
"So where is the bathroom again?" I said in complete embarrassment of what I had blurted out.
'This is why I hate overthinking things,' I thought, groaning internally.