Chapter 9
Disappearance (1)
“Huff, huff.”
Isaac was running.
And he kept reciting a passage in his mind.
O one who begins the journey.
Are you lonely enough—so utterly alone—that you can stand before infinity by yourself?
A solitary world where only mana and you exist.
You—realize yourself.
Let go of thought.
Abandon the perspectives etched into your life.
Break free from the leash of the past.
Become yourself.
Embracing deep despair, heaviness, and dizziness.
Words he repeated to himself.
So he wouldn’t go mad in the deep darkness underground, so he could steady himself.
It was a maxim he had created for himself.
Rather than the meaning of the passage itself, it was the comfort and reassurance brought by the words, phrases, and sentences he had recited for nearly half a century.
And in that state of emptiness, Isaac could focus entirely on the flow of mana.
His body felt like it might collapse at any moment, but his mind was calmer than ever.
In just one week, a change had occurred in Isaac’s vessel.
The three mana circuits had increased to four.
His vessel had stabilized further, and at the same time, the number of spells he could use had increased from three to four.
Part of it was thanks to pushing himself to the limit while fighting the winter spiders.
But it was also because he had been diligently running recently.
To use magic requires understanding, calculation, and intuition.
It is an extremely troublesome process.
It consumes mental strength.
Mental strength and physical strength are not separate things.
When the body collapses, the mind collapses as well.
You lose the will to do anything and only crave comfort.
You no longer want to endure any hardship.
And that means losing your standing as a mage.
Because the path of a mage—one who seeks knowledge and pursues truth—is walked by those who would endure any hardship, even risking their lives.
“Huff, huff.”
The world is nothing but an illusion of the mind.
Infinite mana constantly urges one to move beyond that world.
Thus, the realm a mage desires is always far away.
A faint blue point shining in the distance.
A place forever out of reach.
Possibility and impossibility hold no meaning.
Can you keep running along that path?
Can you endure without going mad, without giving up?
That is the only way a mage survives.
Otherwise, a mage meets death in one form or another.
They may take their own life out of helplessness and insignificance.
Or live on like a walking corpse with a dead soul.
Or fall into emptiness during battle and die at the enemy’s hands.
Either way—they die.
You cannot tell whether a surviving soldier is good, outstanding, or a coward.
But a surviving mage is a good mage.
An excellent mage.
That is why Isaac needed a strong mind.
And a strong body.
Sweat poured off him like rain.
His heart pounded as if it would burst.
His vision blurred, and his head spun.
Before long, he collapsed to the ground and caught his breath.
As soon as he stopped running, the cold wind cooled his sweat, sending chills through him.
He was about to return to his room and wash up when—
“Good morning, young master.”
Schiller entered the room.
Behind him stood a middle-aged man.
“Good morning, young master.”
The man wore glasses and a silk hat.
He was the personal physician Count Goethe had assigned to Isaac.
“How are you feeling today?”
“I’m fine.”
“I saw you running early this morning. Do you feel any discomfort?”
“No.”
“I’ll examine your face for a moment.”
The doctor checked the whites of Isaac’s eyes, his mouth, and his pulse.
“Does your heart race excessively? Any tightness in your chest? Difficulty breathing?”
“…No.”
The doctor assigned by the count was the best physician in the neighboring territory of Oton.
But unfortunately, he didn’t understand Isaac’s constitution better than Isaac himself.
He simply relied on fragmented medical knowledge passed down from previous eras.
“There doesn’t seem to be any major issue. In fact, you seem healthier than before. The medicine must be working. In that case… we should adjust your prescription.”
The doctor nodded, drawing his own conclusion.
Isaac felt frustrated but didn’t show it.
He was only twelve now.
Playing the role of a young master burdened by his fate was enough.
It would make dealing with what lay ahead easier.
“This is a potion called Panacea, which stabilizes the flow of mana.”
The doctor opened the wooden case he had brought.
“It doesn’t have the potency of an elixir, but if taken consistently, you’ll gradually see results.”
The grid-like wooden frame was filled with potion bottles containing liquids of various colors.
Among them, the doctor handed him three bottles of a reddish-orange potion.
Panacea… So Father really did give me something good to take.
Panacea, in the common tongue, means a cure-all.
For some, it is used as an aphrodisiac.
For soldiers, as a stimulant.
It is typically an expensive item purchased by the wealthy or commanders preparing for war.
It stabilizes the flow of mana and enhances bodily functions.
In truth, rather than stabilizing, it invigorates the flow of mana.
The misunderstanding comes from translating an ancient term meaning “to smooth the flow” into the common word “stabilization.”
If it were Isaac’s original body, it would have acted as poison.
It would have intensified his already violent mana flow, accelerating the moment his vessel would shatter.
“Alright. Thank you for your concern. I’ll be sure to take it.”
But for Isaac now, it was the perfect catalyst.
With the runestone that stimulated new mana circuits already in place, Panacea—which increased the velocity of mana—would help create even more circuits.
“Then I’ll see you next month. Please stay healthy.”
“Alright. Good work.”
After sending the doctor off, Schiller remained standing silently in the room.
“What? Do you have something to say?”
“You’re rather composed today.”
“Hm?”
“You usually lose your temper. Because of that, all the notable doctors in the direct domain refused to become your physician. That man came all the way from Oton for a house call.”
“…So? Should I have thrown a tantrum?”
“What brought this change?”
“Who knows. I guess I’m just in a good mood today.”
Isaac shrugged casually.
“……”
Schiller stared at him without a word.
“What now?”
“You’ve been running in the garden every dawn lately. Is there a reason?”
“Just because. Running makes me feel better.”
“That’s all?”
“Those who reached the ranks above 5th class all had one thing in common—they trained their bodies.”
“……”
Schiller’s eyes narrowed.
“To stand firmly in reality and draw infinity into the physical world, you need a body. Even a mage ultimately revolves around the body. Mana itself is inanimate, but the phenomena it creates resemble living things—they are born, grow, and perish in reality. If the body is what brings forth that mana, then it should at least meet a certain standard.”
Isaac spoke while gazing out the window.
Snow had begun to fall.
In the north, it was a tiresome thing—but when everything was intact and it fell quietly, it felt strangely peaceful.
It still feels unreal.
Everyone he cherished was alive.
He had been given one more chance to save them.
Perhaps it was the sudden sentimentality of an old man over seventy.
Even this trivial moment felt like a miracle to Isaac.
“You’ve changed.”
Schiller, usually indifferent, looked at Isaac with clear interest.
***
“It’s true. The children of the Black Goose have all been completely cured.”
Isaac’s physician reported as he entered the office.
On his way to the estate, he had stopped by the Black Goose to check on the children.
“You’re saying there are no symptoms of pneumonia at all?”
“Yes. A few children had mild colds, but nothing serious.”
“Are you certain?”
Schiller removed his monocle and wiped the lens with a cloth.
“There is no doubt. At least, not if the medical knowledge I studied at the college for over a decade is correct.”
“I see. You’ve done well. I’ve added a little extra to cover the house call for the Black Goose children, along with your travel expenses.”
Schiller handed the doctor a heavy pouch of coins.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You may go.”
After the doctor left, Schiller picked up a quill and began writing on a blank sheet of parchment.
It was a letter addressed to Count Goethe, who was stationed at Winterband—one of the northernmost frontier fortresses.
[It is true that the eldest young master has completely cured the pneumonia of the Black Goose children. All verification procedures have been completed. Due to his constitution, it may still be difficult for him to use magic in the future, but I cautiously believe his prospects as a scholar or alchemist may be promising. Fortunately, he seems to have regained his motivation. It also appears he is making efforts in magic…]
This should ease His Excellency’s concerns, at least somewhat.
Just as Schiller rolled up the parchment and melted wax to seal it—
Someone knocked on the office door.
“Come in.”
It was a red-haired maid.
“Roza? You again.”
Schiller let out a sigh.
“Enette hasn’t returned from Bern City for two days now.”
“She probably ran away. Is that all?”
“Clara might be one thing, but Enette is diligent and kind.”
“Isn’t that common? No one enjoys doing menial work in a winter estate like this.”
The maid’s face had turned pale, but Schiller remained indifferent.
“You could at least conduct a minimal investigation. All three of them disappeared on their way back from Bern!”
“I’ve said it before—there are no spare hands for uncertain matters. As I always tell you, Roza, you’re a kind person… but far too meddlesome.”
“But…!”
“Just focus on Young Master Isaac. That is your duty. You may leave now.”
Schiller dismissed her firmly.
***
“See? Clara might be one thing, but there’s no way Enette would just disappear. She worked every single day for three years without missing one.”
“She has to, to pay for her father’s medicine.”
The disappearance of the maid Enette became a constant topic among the servants.
It wasn’t uncommon in the Goethe household for maids or servants to vanish without a trace.
The weather was bitterly cold, with few sunny days, and it snowed or rained frequently.
Those doing manual labor always had to watch out for frostbite, and the physically weak often caught pneumonia.
There was a fortress on the frontier, but there were plenty of alternate routes—so bandits appeared often, and monsters occasionally wandered in.
Even being generous, it wasn’t a place one could call livable.
“Maybe she got tired of taking care of her sick father. Or ran off with a man?”
A servant carrying sacks into the kitchen spoke casually.
“Watch your mouth, Bill!”
“What did I say?”
He shrugged and began stacking supplies in the storage room.
“Anyway, doesn’t it seem strange? Three people have disappeared over the past two months—all on their way back from Bern City.”
“Could there still be bandits in that area?”
“Two months ago was when the forces gathered to subdue monsters were also wiping out bandits.”
“Maybe some of them survived?”
“If Hilde, Clara, and Enette were all kidnapped by bandits…”
“I think it might be black magic.”
One of the servants who had been listening straightened up and pulled a pipe from his waistband.
He skillfully stuffed a handful of drying tobacco into the chamber and lit it with a candle.
“That belongs to the master!”
“So what? Using a little won’t be noticeable.”
“Black magic, you say?”
“Yeah. They say there are all kinds of magic, right? Magic doesn’t just fall from the sky—there’s always a price. And this is a mage family, isn’t it? The eldest young master’s condition is terrible. Think about it from the master’s perspective. If you understand magic and your family is sick… wouldn’t you want to do anything using magic?”
The servant puffed on his pipe as he spoke.
“Then you’re saying those who disappeared were offered up alive—”
“Isolde, watch your words. And Bill—if you keep spreading strange rumors like that, I won’t stay quiet.”
The red-haired maid, who had been silently listening, snapped sharply.
“And what if you don’t stay quiet? I might be right.”
“The master is not that kind of person. He even took in someone like you.”
“Hah, listen to you. Just because Gisela favors you, you think you’re something special?”
The servant puffed himself up and looked down at her.
“The young master is kind too. He had Hans handle all the attending duties so we wouldn’t be burdened.”
“That’s not it. It’s not kindness—he was just a clueless kid back then. But as he grows, his noble nature will show.”
“That’s quite an interesting story.”
“Gasp.”
At the sharp, ringing voice that suddenly cut in, the servants froze.
“Don’t you think? It sounds quite plausible, doesn’t it? Though… I don’t recognize that voice.”
Thinking it was just one of the boys working at the estate, the servant turned around.
But standing there was a boy with ash-gray hair and a refined face—
Isaac, whose sharp gaze cut through them.
“Ah—!”
“Yes. Quite plausible indeed. Why don’t you explain it in more detail… Bill?”
Isaac asked calmly.
Rather than being angered by the insults directed at him, he was more interested in the other part of the conversation.
Because he already had a suspicion in mind.