Chapter 42
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I am Tenmei Canyone.
A sixth-year student at Greifner Magic Academy.
My grades are below average. I've learned all the way up to intermediate in the Quartet of "Earth," "Water," "Fire," and "Wind." From a regular person's perspective, it might seem like an enviable level of magical ability. But with such half-baked skills, I'd at best end up as a member of the town patrols, never advancing, and living out my life in mediocrity.
I understand well that I lack talent for magic. I've gone through the usual anguish and jealousy of youth towards talent, and now I struggle to transcend myself by humbly accepting that fact.
A so-called page from youth.
I carry an utterly foolish, hopeless, yet serious, so small it's massive kind of worry.
Inside me lives a fairy.
Thanks to that fairy, I've somehow managed not to be expelled and have moved up grades.
How many times have I cursed my lack of talent, how many times have I faced setbacks?
The fairy held my heart together just before it shattered.
You think I have some amazing talent to house a spirit within me?
The answer is both yes and no.
Because that fairy dwells equally within everyone's heart.
It burns from within like the flame of Jealousy God Tyransil, reminds us of sincerity like Oath God Diagois, grants unyielding spirit like God of War, Pariopoteth, compels deception like the false god Washashiel, and blossoms a graceful, beautiful flower in the heart like the beauty god Cnorellil.
The fairy's name is Amy Golden.
Her enchanting smile and the silly personality that contrasts her mature looks nail our souls in place before we realize it.
If you think it's ridiculous, you're welcome to check at Greifner Magic Academy. Countless people carry Amy the fairy in their hearts, tasting hope and despair like cooking prime meat on the soles of their shoes.
For us, living without her is no longer an option. It's like a lottery where all the answers lead to the same outcome, just as a newborn cannot live without its mother.
Like demon moths drawn to "Light," we search for her figure on campus. It's like the worst drug in history—Balalay. Reason rings the warning bell to stop, but instinct yearns for the fairy's presence.
Some pursue the unreachable, ignore reality, and boldly throw themselves into doom. They send her letters of love that never reach her feet, taste the harsh rejection, and wet their pillows with tears.
Crying or screaming won't make the tears go away, nor will the fairy in our hearts disappear. The fairy dwelling within always stays close, smiling. Yet at the same time, she is distant like a flower blooming beyond the grave.
This is love.
No, it isn't even love.
If it's not love, then what on earth is it?
I don't know. I want to understand what this feeling truly is.
Another day I let out a sigh for not seeing her again, looking up at the sky in the backyard. If I could frame that sky and give it to her, would it make her happy? If I offered her those free, unbound clouds, would she smile just for me? What am I even saying? I scoff at myself, such a hopeless romantic fool.
I made an impromptu frame by forming right angles with my thumbs and index fingers and touching the tips together.
The more I looked, the more the sky turned into a painting, the school building into a sketch, and the ground into a cutout. If I could freeze time now and create a landscape painting, maybe I'd be satisfied.
With the finger-made frame, I sketched the scenery around me.
I etched it in my heart so that one day I could convey the scenery, the colors, and the sounds I saw and felt to her.
I search this mundane life for various angles, beautiful curves, golden melodies, and the truths of the world.
"Are you a photographer?"
Was that a bell rung from the heavens?
An angelic voice came from behind.
I turned around, still holding the frame with my fingers.
"Ah, I knew it."
Inside the frame was the faint image of a fairy—a pudgy little girl.
"Come with me for a moment."
"Who are you?"
My voice came out tenser than I expected.
A sense of unease swept over me, as if my entire being up until now were about to be destroyed.
Her eyes were too intense.
"Pardon my manners. I am Ellie Golden, fourth daughter of the Golden family."
Her graceful movements, as if reflecting the beauty of her heart, took my breath away.
My heart leapt like a grasshopper, sensing something incredible was about to begin.
"I'm looking for a photographer. May I ask you?"
Why, I wonder.
I didn't even know what a photographer really was, yet like a marionette, I nodded while keeping her in the frame of my fingers.
"I'm glad I searched all over. You're definitely the best photographer."
"Is that so..."
"Yes, that's right."
She nodded confidently—radiantly.
I couldn't look directly at her and instinctively averted my eyes, gazing into the distance.
Wait, Golden?
The Golden family's fourth daughter, Ellie Golden?
That means she's from that Golden family?
Of my beloved fairy, Amy Golden...
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhh?!"
I screamed.
"Kyaa! Don't shout so suddenly!"
"Ah! Sorry! You're, uh, the youngest of the Golden family...?"
"I'm Ellie Golden."
"Which means your sister is here at this school..."
"Amy Golden."
"Wh-What the hell..."
"Ah. Ahh~"
The younger sister of my beloved fairy nodded knowingly with folded arms.
"You like Sister Amy, don't you?"
"Nuh-hah!? Wh-Wh-wh-wh-what are you saying?!"
"You're panicking way too much."
"Hauh! What the hell..."
"It can't be helped," said Lady Ellie, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"Because Sister is just too cute. Telling a normal high schooler... no, a male student not to fall in love is impossible. She's like a natural disaster."
"You! What a perfect metaphor! Exactly! Lady Amy is humanity's ultimate magical tool, equipped with unmatched beauty and cuteness!"
"Exactly!"
"As expected of her sister! Wonderful! Indeed, this overwhelming feeling I have isn't love! It's like a force of nature or the earth itself! Haha, thank you, Lady Ellie! For giving a name to this feeling!"
"That's love."
"............Eh?"
"Not 'eh.' That's love."
"........................Huh?"
"Not 'huh.' That feeling of yours, it's love."
"....................................Hii?"
"Not 'hii.' That unbearable feeling of yours, it's love."
"Th...This is........................love?"
"Of course it is. That pent-up feeling and unreachable longing—there's no way it isn't love."
"........................Eh, but..."
"No 'but.' That's love."
"So this is love."
"Yes."
"L-Lady Ellie... I see. So that's what it was... this feeling of mine... this truly is... the compassion of the god of love, Babyllubill, shared equally among all humans... this is...............'LOVE'..............."
"Pfft, you're weird."
Lady Ellie covered her mouth with her hand and laughed cheerfully.
Ah, I wonder why.
Somehow, I feel healed...
"Well then, let's go, you pervy photographer."
She smiled sweetly and held out her right hand.
Even if she called me a weird name, I found her straightforward gaze beautiful. I see, she had already made her way into my heart. That plump little girl, shining brilliantly with the sun at her back, was pure, righteous, beautiful, and divine.
From that day on, my beloved inner fairy became two—Lady Amy and Lady Ellie.