The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Chapter 257: Blooming the Flower (8)
“Why is this flower dead?”
The White Tower’s forest.
At the child’s question, his master bent down to examine the flower.
“Lloyd, this flower isn’t dead, it’s withering.”
“What does withering mean?”
“It means the flower doesn’t have much time left.”
“Then what’s the difference between withering and dying?”
The master patted the boy’s head, as if finding his student admirable.
“That’s a good question. Simply put, withering is the process, and death is the result.”
The process of a flower dying.
That is what it means to wither.
Taking in the information, the boy’s violet eyes stared at the dying flower.
“...Then it’s not dead yet, so does that mean I can still save it?”
“You don’t want this flower to die? Why?”
The child, who always had quick answers to difficult questions, fell silent.
He himself didn’t know the reason.
He was simply moved by the pitiable sight of a flower drooping and losing its spirit.
“I don’t know. I just feel sorry for it.”
“Compassion, then. Shall we try to save it?”
“Is that possible?”
“Let’s give it a try.”
Lloyd carefully transplanted the wilting flower into a pot his master had brought.
He placed the pot by a sunny window and watered it at the same time each day.
After a week of such days, the flower began to regain life.
“Heyyy! Stop right there!”
“How dare you ‘hey’ your big brother... and no, I’m not stopping.”
“Ughhh, if I catch you, you’re dead!”
Even when his younger siblings noisily ran through the halls, he didn’t scold them.
Because the only thing on his mind was going back to his room to water the flower.
The bloom in the pot, now fully opened, looked vigorous and lively, unlike when he first found it.
Every time he saw its healthy, radiant state, Lloyd’s heart filled with joy, and his days felt happy.
“Hm? Lloyd, what’s that pot you’re carrying?”
“Hello, Magiro. This is a flower.”
“I can see that. I mean, why are you carrying it around?”
“It’s my companion flower. I think it feels a bit stuffy inside, so I’m letting it get some fresh air.”
“...R-right?”
He spent more and more time with the flower.
Though embarrassed to tell anyone, he even gave it a name—“Sydney.”
Perhaps because he had saved it, just looking at healthy Sydney filled him with pride and warmth.
‘Could it be that Master looks at us with this same feeling?’
He thought maybe so.
After all, his teacher always gazed at them with such warmth and affection.
“Hm?”
One morning, he noticed the flower in the pot was withering again, just like when he first found it.
Sydney was dying.
“Master! Master!”
Though he normally scolded his siblings for running in the halls, Lloyd himself dashed down the corridor clutching the pot.
Reaching his master’s room in a hurry, he swallowed nervously.
“Th-the flower! Sydney is dying again! What do I do?”
“...”
Oscar, who had been sorting documents, glanced at the flower and gave a faint, wry smile.
“It seems this child’s time has finally run out.”
“What does that mean... then what should I do?”
Lloyd couldn’t accept it.
He believed he could save it again—he had already done so once.
But his master shook his head.
“No matter what you do now, nothing will change. This flower has already lived far longer than it was meant to.”
The flower’s true name was Elone.
It was a blossom that bloomed briefly at the end of autumn, then died when winter came.
But now it was already spring.
Oscar rose from his seat and approached Lloyd, who was reeling in shock.
“Surely, this flower was happy. It may have even been the first Elone to endure a harsh winter and survive until spring. And that was all thanks to you.”
“But...”
Lloyd didn’t want to admit it.
Or rather, he refused to.
It felt like suddenly parting from a dear friend he had lived with for months.
“Isn’t there any way? Master, you’re an incredible mage—you can do amazing magic!”
“Hmm...”
Oscar looked troubled.
Of course, magic wasn’t omnipotent.
Especially when it came to life bound by its natural span—magic couldn’t change that.
In fact, the miracle was that the flower meant to die in winter had survived into spring.
It showed how much effort and love Lloyd had given it each day.
“Sadly, I don’t know any magic that can extend this flower’s life.”
“Ah...”
To him, his master was the greatest mage alive.
If even he didn’t know, then such magic surely didn’t exist.
Seeing the boy’s disappointed face, Oscar added quietly.
“But Lloyd, you might find it one day.”
“...Me?”
A magic even his master couldn’t use?
Seeing the disbelief on his student’s face, Oscar gently stroked his hair.
“Not yet. But someday, when you create your own world, it may not be impossible.”
“Ah.”
Lloyd let out a short breath.
He remembered reading in a book from the library.
that mages who reached the pinnacle could form a “world,” within which they wielded godlike power.
“...Then, if I create my own world, will I be able to make a flower that never withers?”
“A flower that never withers? That’s what you wish for?”
Oscar chuckled softly.
It was the kind of laugh born from knowing how great the power of a “world” truly was.
A child’s innocence could be so beautiful.
‘Honestly, I thought he would wish for something grander... like reviving the dead.’
That was how adults thought.
If one had such power, one could save not only flowers, but people.
But all Lloyd wished for was a flower that would never wither.
That alone was enough for him.
He desired nothing more.
“Of course it’s possible. But as that day approaches, your dream may change.”
“No.”
Lloyd hugged the pot tightly and declared firmly.
“My dream will never change.”
“Truly?”
“Yes.”
Oscar smiled faintly at him.
Perhaps it was childish bravado, or perhaps it was the resolve of a true mage.
Which it was, only time would reveal when Lloyd grew older.
“I’m curious too.”
Would this child be able to protect his pure dream until the very end?
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Oscar, lost briefly in memory, opened his eyes.
Lloyd had been so adorable back then.
‘Maybe that’s why it shocked me so deeply.’
The boy who once wished for an eternal flower had built such a desolate world.
That truth pained him, making him want to mend it.
“No news yet?”
Staring at the impenetrable sealed subspace, Edna asked.
He nodded.
“Not yet. How much time has passed?”
“Only 7 minutes and 32 seconds so far.”
“Seven minutes here.”
But it was a quintuple-layered subspace.
Inside, that would mean a year and 158 days had passed.
‘Has Lloyd been wandering that long in the depths of his memory?’
A bitter taste filled his mouth.
How hard must life have been, that it took him so long to remember his own dream?
Edna asked.
“Wouldn’t it be better to pull him out now, even if it means lowering the layers?”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? What if he fails to find it before time runs out?”
“He won’t.”
Oscar’s unwavering faith shone through again.
Arms folded, he stared at the still subspace.
“And besides, it’s meaningless. The answer lies within him.”
Finding the answer within himself.
Even if it took an eternity, Lloyd had to do this to move forward.
“...”
“...”
Tick, tock.
The ticking of the clock filled the room, louder than usual.
Perhaps because each second here meant nearly seventy days for him inside.
“Ah.”
Edna’s lips parted slightly in reaction.
Crkkk.
The sealed subspace began slowly opening.
From within stepped Lloyd, unchanged from when he had entered.
“He looks the same as before.”
“...He trimmed his beard.”
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“I see.”
It was just like Lloyd to maintain a clean appearance.
Oscar nodded unconsciously, then smiled.
“Did you find what you sought?”
“The answer is within me. You were right.”
Nodding confidently, Lloyd’s eyes looked deeper than ever.
Before, they had been like bottomless pits, now, they resembled the ocean’s abyss.
Hard to explain, but there was a clear difference.
“That’s a relief. Then take the rest of your time to rest well.”
“...”
Bowing politely, Lloyd left the garden.
Edna murmured.
“He’s realized something.”
“Right? His mana feels so much more profound—”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She looked at him with faint exasperation, as though he were completely oblivious.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Do you really not know? Or are you pretending?”
“What do you mean?”
“...Never mind.”
Shaking her head, Edna walked away.
Oscar blinked in confusion for a long while.
Kudel Redmane.
The 24th master of the Red Tower entered the training hall with ease.
Inside, members of the White Tower and even imperial court mages had gathered to observe.
“We meet again, Andre.”
“...I’d rather not meet under circumstances like this.”
Andre Bright, commander of the imperial court mages.
Attending as referee for the duel between two 8th-level mages, he sighed.
Already, four 8th-level mages were assembled here.
If they combined their power, they could achieve far greater things.
‘And yet all they’re doing is brawling.’
Proof of Color, they called it, but it was really just a duel.
Clicking his tongue inwardly, Andre spoke aloud.
“As you all know, this is Proof of Color. The losing tower must abide by the victor’s terms. Since it’s a match between 8th-levels, there will be no restrictions on magic’s power. But should I judge any life to be at risk, I and the entire court mage corps will intervene to stop it. Any objections?”
At that, Kudel removed his sunglasses and hooked them into the pocket of his palm-tree shirt.
He asked.
“Disciple. Any objections?”
“None. And I told you already—I quit being your disciple.”
“Keheheh, say that after you win.”
Andre continued.
“The Red Tower’s condition is to take Lloyd Schultz back. The White Tower’s condition is that the Red Tower must never show interest in him again. Any objections?”
“None.”
“None.”
At their responses, Andre turned to Oscar.
“If you please.”
“Yes.”
Oscar tugged at the strings of space, and a rift of subspace opened, swallowing the entire training hall.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]

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