He wasn’t very interested in magic, but he wanted to have an idea of what he was doing, so he asked.
And his magic tutor’s reply caught him by surprise.
“I guess it’s about the size of an eyeball.”
There were several spheres of water floating around him, and apparently, they were each about the size of an eyeball.
His teacher’s casual, almost rude remark awakened something in Kunon. He felt shaken to his core in a way he had never experienced before.
His deepest wish, one he had thought would never come true no matter how hard he prayed, soared up inside him. Yearning flooded his heart.
“Oh. All I have to do is make eyes on the outside.”
Kunon possessed magic power, and he could release that power outside of himself.
Kunon was connected to his power.
And his power was connected to his magic.
And in that case, if he made an eyeball with magic, wouldn’t he be able to see?
With magic, maybe he could obtain the sight he lacked.
Can I do it?
Was such a thing even possible?
No—I will do it. I have to.
Whether it was possible didn’t matter. He was going to do it. No matter what.
Up until now, Kunon couldn’t even see the point of living. This was his first great wish—no, it was a desire he had harbored as far back as he could remember.
I want to see my family.
I want to see the world around me.
I want to see everything.
What did it mean to see?
I want to know. I want to know so badly.
Sight was something the people around him took for granted. But for Kunon, it was something he craved more than anything.
And so Kunon devoted himself to magic.
“Amazing…”
Could a different perspective really change someone’s way of looking at the world so completely?
Kunon had resolved to obtain sight through magic, and from the moment he decided to pursue that goal, he saw everything in a positive light.
The first difference he experienced was the way he ate.
Before, he had always eaten the same bite-size sandwiches just to survive. How they tasted was secondary. As long as they weren’t difficult to eat, it was fine. He hadn’t even known what he was eating.
But that was before.
Now he wanted to know. What was the flavor of each individual ingredient that mixed together in his mouth to create one whole taste? What was this crisp, fresh, leaflike thing? What was that acidic flavor smeared over the bread?
Oh, I know this one, he thought. Sliced apple.
“The leafy one is lettuce. There’s mustard on the bread.”
Kunon had asked his personal maid, Iko, what he was eating.
“Oh, and that’s apple,” she added.
“I already knew that one.”
Its vivid flavor and texture were unmistakable—so distinctive that after tasting it once and learning its name, he wouldn’t likely forget.
“…Actually, it’s a plum disguised as an apple.”
“Huh? Plum? What’s that?”
In order to perceive things with magic, Kunon would need a strong recognition and memory of the things he wanted to sense.
His magic tutor told him that if he was determined, anything and everything in his daily life could become a part of his training.
Kunon, who still wasn’t very skilled at using his powers, needed to learn to flawlessly employ his magic at will.
“What’s this, hmm?” asked Iko. “Do you know, Master Kunon?”
Recently, she had been amusing herself by preparing different foods for him to try.
But she was overdoing it—in several ways.
“I’m going to tell them to dock your pay.”
“Oh, my apologies. I got carried away.”
After breakfast, his tutor would come.
That morning, Kunon was to study at his desk.
It was called studying, but in actuality Kunon simply listened while someone read a book to him, and then they chatted about the content.
Due to his vision, even Kunon’s tutor often seemed perplexed about how to conduct his education. Since they couldn’t use more conventional methods, they had settled on this approach.
Baroness Flora Garden had worked as one of Kunon’s teachers for two years already, since he was five. The baroness was over thirty and had a gentle voice and demeanor.
She also had a child of her own, about Kunon’s age. She clearly felt a lot of pity for Kunon. Even after two years of teaching him, he still heard her sigh in sympathy and compassion from time to time.
“History?” she asked.
“Yes. I would like to hear about Holy Knight Histor in particular.”
The Great War of the Seventeen Kings.
To Kunon, it was a loathsome old legend—the source of his blindness. He would make a sour face whenever Flora mentioned the story, and so she made a point of avoiding it.
In Hughlia, the tale was as well-known as a children’s nursery rhyme, but with Kunon’s sensitivities…she couldn’t bring herself to teach him about it.
At a loss for how to reply, Flora looked to Iko, who was standing against the wall, waiting to attend to her charge should the need arise.
Is it okay? Flora asked with her eyes.
Iko got the message and gave a small nod.
“Very well,” said Flora.
She closed the book she’d brought for the day’s lesson.
She didn’t know why, but Kunon was trying to confront his problems. Or at least, that was how the baroness saw it.
And so Flora decided to go along with his request.
After the study session, Kunon had some free time.
With his new goal in mind, he eagerly took the chance to practice magic.
“A-ori.”
Iko had escorted Kunon to the garden, and he was now reciting the A-ori spell—the most rudimentary water-based skill.
“Good job, Master Kunon!” she cried.
Drawing upon some indefinable power within himself, he created several A-ori in the surrounding air. Apparently, he’d managed four of them, each about the size of an eyeball.
“Oh, what do we have here?” Iko said. “Just an extraordinary sorcerer, that’s all!”
Somehow, he had to make them into real eyes.
I don’t know what to do.
Even his magic tutor said she didn’t know—or rather, she didn’t seem to understand what Kunon was getting at in the slightest.
He wanted to use water magic to make eyes.
It seemed to Kunon that most sorcerers thought what he was trying to do was crazy or impossible. Or perhaps, rather than impossible, it had simply never been tried. People who could see would have no need for such things.
“Excellent form!” Iko called out.
And that meant there was no one to teach him how. Kunon would have to do it himself.
“…Hngh.”
He still wasn’t accustomed to using his power. Sustaining the A-ori spell had winded him in moments. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“I just can’t help cheering when I see a kid working so hard!” said Iko.
Before long, his concentration fizzled out, and the A-ori plummeted to the grass and burst.
“Haah, haah.”
Kunon was panting.
But then he caught his breath.
He cast the spell again.