Zen…

  The holidays ended far too quickly.

  That’s your fault.

  With you, time flows differently—

  as if it accelerates, as if it takes off and disappears,

  as if it’s afraid to linger beside you for too long.

  We trained, argued, fought, laughed—

  and every single minute held more life

  than half a year at the Academy.

  To be honest… when I left,

  for the first time in my life, it was truly hard to go.

  But more importantly—

  a fire lit inside me again.

  Not excitement.

  Not pride.

  Not the hunger for victory.

  A fire—the one you once ignited in me.

  I walked through the Academy corridors, and everything felt different.

  Or maybe… I was the one who had changed.

  I decided:

  I will become a leader.

  Not for a title.

  Not for praise.

  Not to prove anything to Princess Lyrella or anyone else.

  But because I know—it’s the right thing to do.

  I will become the person who leads others

  to places they’re afraid to even look at.

  To heights they’re ashamed to desire.

  To be honest, I’m afraid myself.

  But I remembered your words:

  “You’ve always been stronger than you think.”

  And I stepped forward.

  A month has passed.

  And… you know what’s strange?

  They listen to me.

  Not everyone.

  Not always.

  But they listen.

  Sometimes, when I explain something,

  I see the same expression in their eyes

  that I used to see in yours during training—

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  when you pretended to understand,

  while actually analyzing everything a thousand times deeper.

  Sometimes I catch myself speaking in your words.

  “Breathing first. Power later.”

  “Don’t force mana. Guide it.”

  “Don’t be afraid of falling—be afraid of standing still.”

  You’re still with me, even when you’re not here.

  Every day I make them run, expand their reserves, meditate,

  work with mana “blindfolded”…

  And slowly, clumsily—but they’re growing.

  Their pride?

  Oh, it’s still here.

  Sometimes they remind me of puppies trying to roar like lions.

  Sometimes I want to scream.

  But I hold on, because I know—you would have held on.

  You once said:

  “Don’t make them strong yourself. Give them the chance to become strong.”

  And I follow that.

  Every single day.

  I’m participating in the Norino Festival.

  You would fall in love with this tournament—

  with both its chaos and its beauty.

  You’d appreciate its scale.

  This isn’t just a tournament.

  It’s a place where mages, swordsmen, warriors,

  and archmages from every land converge.

  I’ve already passed the first stages.

  The victories… are too easy.

  Too easy.

  And I hear your voice in my head:

  “Give your opponent a chance to show what they’ve learned. That’s respect.”

  So I stopped breaking people in a single second.

  I give them three.

  Sometimes four.

  Let them show what they can do.

  Let them feel their training wasn’t pointless.

  But I still win.

  Do you know what a strange mix of feelings that is?

  Shame—because victory comes too easily.

  And loneliness—because no one here can walk beside me at the same pace.

  Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine you standing among the participants.

  And it becomes easier.

  Zen…

  Something is wrong in the caves.

  There are more demons.

  And they’re… not chaotic.

  They’re organized.

  As if someone is controlling them.

  They set ambushes.

  They retreat when they lose an advantage.

  They test boundaries.

  And the most unsettling part—

  whenever I enter a cave, someone is watching.

  They don’t join the fight.

  They don’t approach.

  They just watch.

  At first, it felt like coincidence.

  Now—it feels like a pattern.

  But I can’t catch that gaze.

  I can’t find its source.

  The class notices nothing.

  They’re still children—they want to believe academic assignments are safe.

  I don’t want to scare them.

  They’re not ready for reality yet.

  But I know:

  whatever this is—it’s waiting.

  And it knows that I’m stronger than the others.

  Summer is close.

  The class has grown stronger.

  I can see it.

  But I still can’t trust them with my back.

  Not in a fight.

  Not in a cave.

  They try,

  but their confidence is fragile.

  They believe in themselves only when I’m nearby.

  Do you know how strange that feels?

  To be someone’s backbone?

  You often were mine.

  Now I’ve become theirs.

  Sometimes I think I finally understand what real strength is.

  It’s not attacks.

  Not mana reserves.

  Not titles.

  It’s the ability to stand in front—

  even when you’re tired.

  And that is…

  pleasant.

  Difficult.

  Heavy with responsibility.

  But pleasant.

  I’m counting the days.

  Seriously—every evening, I put a small dot in the margins of my journal.

  Sometimes Princess Lyrella asks:

  “Do you love your village that much?”

  And I smile:

  “Very much.”

  But the truth is, I don’t love the rest.

  I love the fact that I’ll finally see you again.

  I have too many questions about the demons.

  Too many thoughts.

  Too many things I want to tell you in person—

  without letters, without paper, without barriers.

  I miss you.

  In the right way.

  Summer break is coming soon.

  I’ll come.

  And I have far too many questions for you.

  Especially about the demons.

  — Mira