Time passed slowly, and the silence grew heavier.
The sound of turning pages echoed again—this time, with slightly more force.
"Men…"
She let out a quiet sigh.
"Not only foolish, but stubborn as well."
The book closed.
"Being told to leave and still refusing to go,"
she chuckled under her breath.
"Master and student… exactly alike."
At last, she turned around.
Those sharp, icy eyes met Ryn's gaze directly—
cold enough to judge his worth in a single glance.
She walked up and stopped in front of him,
her eyes scanning him from head to toe without the slightest restraint.
"Look at you,"
her voice calm, yet cutting.
"Clumsy, scruffy, and carrying a weapon…"
Her gaze paused on his sword.
Just for a fraction of a second—
then she looked away, as if nothing had happened.
"Bulky," she continued flatly.
"Completely unsuited to you."
She sighed softly.
"This is men for you."
"Always convinced they're strong."
"In the end, all they do is swing weapons around and call themselves skilled."
Aurelia tilted her head slightly, looking at Ryn's sword once more.
"That sword… it doesn't suit you at all."
"Did Richard choose it for you?"
Ryn shook his head.
"No… I chose it myself."
She laughed quietly.
"Heh."
"A poor choice, truly."
"That's what they say—fools always choose what they think is best."
Aurelia fell silent for a moment, then sighed as if giving up on something.
"Very well. I'll consider it a favor to that man."
She raised her left hand.
Above her palm, a single droplet of water appeared without a sound.
More droplets gathered—slowly, carefully—
forming a larger sphere.
Then, in an instant, it turned ice-cold.
The water froze solid, becoming a crystal-clear chunk of ice.
"In three days,"
Aurelia said in a calm, flat voice.
"If you can destroy this block of ice—"
She handed it to Ryn.
"I will accept you."
The block of ice, about the size of his palm, rested in Ryn's hand.
Cold—but not painfully so.
Yet its weight was far heavier than it should have been,
as if an enormous mass of water had been compressed into this tiny form.
Ryn closed his fingers around it firmly.
"Understood."
He bowed politely, then spoke with quiet determination.
"I will return."
Aurelia did not reply.
She did not even look his way.
Ryn turned and left the room, heading back to Richard's house with the mysterious block of ice—his trial in hand.
That evening, Ryn returned and told Richard everything without holding back:
the white mansion, the cold words, and the strange ice.
Richard listened in silence, then burst out laughing.
"Ha! Ha! Ha! That's our sharp-tongued beauty sage for you!"
He laughed for a moment longer before his expression grew slightly more serious.
"From here on, it's your responsibility."
"Whether you succeed or fail—
that's for you to figure out."
With that, he turned and walked away casually,
as if the entire matter were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Ryn was left standing alone.
He looked down at the block of ice in his hand.
Cold.
Solid.
And far heavier than it had any right to be.
"So… what am I supposed to do now…?"
he muttered to himself.
Then he raised his gaze to the campfire burning outside.
"Ice… should lose to fire, right?"
Ryn walked over, extended his arm, and tossed the block into the heart of the flames.
He sat down and watched closely.
The fire blazed.
Wood cracked with sharp pops.
Heat spread through the air.
But the block of ice…
Remained perfectly still.
It did not melt.
It did not crack.
Not even a single drop of water appeared.
Ryn sat there until the fire burned down, leaving only glowing embers behind.
He let out a long sigh.
"...Yeah. Figures."
He stood up, retrieved the block of ice, and went to rest—
without a single answer in hand.
The next morning, Ryn sat in front of the house, staring once again at the same block of ice in his palm.
"Maybe I should try using magic…"
He clenched his fist around it, closed his eyes, and imagined flames rising from his hand—
just like the mages he had seen on the battlefield.
But… nothing happened.
Ryn opened his eyes, looked at his empty hand, and let out a dry laugh.
"Yeah. That's about right."
He tried several other methods.
In the end, he placed the ice beneath the blazing sun in the middle of the yard,
letting the sunlight pour down on it without restraint.
Time passed.
Shadows shifted.
The heat grew stronger.
But the ice… remained ice.
Unchanged.
Unmelted.
As if it did not belong to the same laws as this world.
Ryn sat there in silence, watching it—
unaware that every action, every hesitation,
had been observed by Richard the entire time.
Yet Richard made no move to intervene.
He chose to let his only disciple think, try, and fail on his own.
And just like that…
three days passed.
Ryn woke up that morning to an unavoidable truth.
He had failed.
His shoulders sagged visibly.
The block of ice lay beside him, exactly as it had been from the start.
Richard stepped out of the house, took one glance, and immediately knew the answer.
He walked over and asked in his usual relaxed tone,
"So? Did you manage it?"
Ryn let out a long sigh and shook his head slightly.
"Not even a single drop…"
Richard chuckled softly and gave Ryn a light pat on the back.
"Hey, don't get discouraged so easily.
Just do what you've always done—
think it through, take it step by step.
The answer will come eventually."
Ryn gave a weak smile in response.
Yes… he had always done that.
He never gave up.
He thought carefully.
He kept trying.
But this time was different.
It wasn't that he didn't understand the method.
It was that he didn't understand what he was supposed to learn in the first place.
He didn't know magic.
He didn't understand its principles.
So what was he even supposed to search for an answer from?