Chapter 26

He stood straight at the podium as thunderous applause filled the hall.

But then Mel did something rather strange. Without saying a word, he silently raised his head and stared at the ceiling, motionless.

The summit was being held in the congressional assembly hall, which could accommodate over a thousand people. Its high dome had something of an ancient architectural style. Mel stood at the podium, steadfast and unmoving under the gazes of everyone present. Tiny lights flickered in his eyes, like starlight reflected on a clear lake.

The camera stayed fixed on Mel as he gazed upward. After about ten minutes, whispers filled the hall. Attendees pointed and murmured, and quite a few raised their heads to look around. The host hesitated over whether to ask what he was doing, and the comments scrolling across the video were full of question marks. I was the only one who couldn't help laughing at the screen.

Mel, oh, Mel... He's practicing writing runes!

I laughed for quite a while. By then, people in the hall had begun to notice something. Several mages raised their heads and watched intently with serious expressions. After someone tipped off the camera operator, the camera promptly panned up toward the towering dome of the auditorium. It really was very high, and the camera could barely make out what Mel was writing. But thanks to modern technology, it could zoom in on the scene, and soon everyone saw lines of fiercely burning text appear out of thin air on the dome. Under Mel's precise control, the strokes flowed smoothly together, and the script was beautiful. Though slower than handwriting, the blazing expanses of fire elemental energy were dazzling, and soon drew wave after wave of astonished cries.

The writing was clear and beautiful, but quite difficult to decipher-because Mel was using the ancient Elven language we had studied that day! I couldn't help admiring him. He could already write freely in that ancient script, while I could barely recognize it. If I had to write it myself, I was afraid I'd stumble through it and make mistakes everywhere. I certainly wouldn't be so effortless.

Using brilliant fire elemental energy as ink, he left line after line of scorched writing across the auditorium's magnificent golden dome. The flames that had yet to go out were a bright orange-red, while the marks they left behind were an elegant, solemn black. But then I was startled. Mel wasn't writing runes. He was only using this method to write ordinary text, and...

Mel? Are you... writing a diary?

I stared in astonishment. Those lines were unmistakably a diary!

"...The Holy Light City Grand Library. I'll never forget this place as long as I live. It's my sacred ground. I met Xipei here. That day, we both reached for the same book, and I caught Xipei's fingers... They were so long, and very soft..."

I shook my fingers without thinking... Hmm... I remembered that Mel's fingers were long too, and just as delicate to the touch.

"...Two mages locked up in prison together. That was so funny. It was the most out of control I'd been since becoming a mage. We actually destroyed the library's tables and chairs. If Teacher finds out, he'll laugh himself to death at me..."

That was the most out of control I'd ever been too. Uh, blowing up someone's phone didn't count. I'd done that on purpose.

"...Xipei's notes are exceptionally neat, and his handwriting is beautiful too, unlike mine. Sometimes I just write down whatever comes to mind. Xipei's notes are especially clear and well organized. I couldn't resist copying so many of them..."

Not really. I'd only organized them afterward. My notes were often just whatever came to mind too. Sometimes, when I wrote too much, they'd get messy, and only then would I have to get another notebook specifically to organize them.

"...Practicing spells with Xipei in prison was wonderful. Xipei knows so much. He knows so many amazing spells. Oh, Xipei even knows the Soul-Searching Technique. Although he didn't actually use it, he sternly warned me that it was an extremely dangerous soul spell, and that I must never use it lightly unless I had absolutely no other choice... Strictly speaking, soul magic is a branch of necromancy... He possesses great power, yet never flaunts it... Xipei is truly the gentlest dark mage I've ever met... I like Xipei so much!"

I stared at that line. The fire elemental energy in it seemed especially active, as though it were about to burn right through the screen and onto my face!

Good heavens, Mel! How could you write that on the auditorium ceiling?!

I-I-I... I...

I snapped the laptop shut, my heart pounding wildly. This was far too conspicuous! Mel had burned those words into the dome; they couldn't even be washed away. Would everyone have to hold future congressional meetings under Mel's words, "I like Xipei so much"?

Mel... I couldn't help touching my burning face. This was terrible. I couldn't control myself at all!

I... I like Mel so much too!

Chapter 26

I paced around the room several times. I thought I probably looked even less dignified now than when I'd accidentally destroyed the library. A mage living alone, pacing around the room red-faced in the middle of the night as though under a confusion spell—what kind of sight was that?!

Fortunately, I hadn't gone to Moli's house with her, or I wouldn't have had a shred of authority left as her teacher.

But... that was Mel. Mel had openly written "I like Xipei so much" in the congressional assembly hall. How was I supposed to stay rational? I couldn't help being excited. Even the breath I exhaled felt hot. There was such an outstanding mage in this world. He understood me, he was willing to pursue knowledge with me, he admired my magic, and he had even said... he liked me so much.

How could I possibly have the resolve to turn him down?

After quite a while, I felt a little calmer and sat back down at the desk. I opened my laptop and resumed the replay I'd abruptly shut off in my excitement. Mel's speech had been scheduled to last two hours, and he had actually stood there writing for a little over two hours without saying a word. When he finished, I saw him stretch his neck, walk calmly down from the podium, and return to his seat, as though he had just given a perfectly ordinary speech rather than covering the assembly hall ceiling with writing that couldn't be erased.

The whole hall buzzed with discussion.

Because ancient woodland Elven was so obscure, I guessed hardly anyone in the hall could read it. They probably didn't even know what language it was. The comments scrolling across the online video offered all sorts of guesses too, but none came close to the truth.

Watching those politicians discuss it seriously, pointing at Mel's casually written diary with thoughtful expressions, I couldn't control myself. I burst out laughing again and collapsed onto the desk.

Mel, you're really so wicked!

I could hardly stop laughing. So many members of the Mages' Association, the research institute, and the Magic Council were studying it intently, completely unaware that it was just a diary full of everyday chatter, with nothing academic about it at all. And in the second half, Mel was writing almost entirely about... me. He wrote over and over, thinking about what gift to give me. He'd write one idea, then write that it wasn't good enough, and then write another... Actually, Mel, I'd be happy with anything you gave me, because meeting you was the happiest thing of all.

I saw that he finally decided to give me the ring he'd made before. I touched my left hand. Yes, it was already on my finger.

It was the best gift I'd ever received in my life.

As the camera panned over the attendees, I suddenly spotted an elderly mage with a long white beard sitting upright amid the noisy crowd. He was the old director of the research institute. I wasn't quite sure exactly how many years over two hundred he was this year. It was this old mage who had overruled everyone else's objections and recruited me into the institute. He was still our director, but he had long since stopped handling practical affairs, attending only important occasions at most. The one actually in charge of the institute was the fat five-star old man.

The old director lifted the eyebrows that covered his eyes. I'd once made him a hair-care potion. He deliberately kept his eyebrows and beard long; he'd secretly told me that way no one would notice when he slept through meetings. He glanced at the ceiling, took out a monocle, held it up to his face, and read carefully. Then he looked surprised. My heart skipped a beat. Could the director actually read ancient Elven?

I felt the heat beginning to return to my face.

The old director turned to look at Mel, and Mel noticed him too. I saw them exchange friendly smiles. The old director even gave Mel an affectionate thumbs-up, his face full of approval.