Chapter 3: Fantasy high school: celestia (2)

A decade had passed.

I was compelled to finally acknowledge a truth I had long evaded.

This colossal magical library, I realized, was not a physically tangible space.

It was only after years of dedicated research into illusion magic that I finally grasped this reality.

“……”

Yet, this library was no mere illusion.

The Phantasmagoric Archive, Celestia, undeniably existed.

It simply manifested not in physical form, but as a construct of magical energy.

A space of consciousness, akin to both a dream and an illusion.

Such was the true essence of this immense magical library, the Phantasmagoric Archive, Celestia.

And my own essence, I surmised, was not so different from this vast magical library.

A pseudo-lifeform, its body lost, its consciousness adrift.

This was the conclusion I had reached after a decade of sifting through the library’s countless tomes and conducting my magical research.

“Yes… I missed this taste.”

It had been ten years since I dedicated myself to magical research.

The fruits of my prolonged study weren’t limited to merely uncovering the library’s identity.

Only today had I finally obtained what I had so ardently yearned for.

Clutched in my hand now were a hamburger and a cola.

The taste of food, which I had sought for over a decade.

I had finally succeeded in acquiring it.

“To think the moment would come when I could taste Earth’s food again in this place…”

My eyes, moist with emotion, gazed at the hamburger in my hand.

Illusion and reality. What defined the boundary between them?

What distinguished something real within a space of consciousness from a mere illusion?

Through such profound contemplation, I had come to understand the true nature of a ‘space of consciousness’.

And now, at this very moment, I had finally succeeded in attaining my goal.

And not just any goal, but the ability to savor the full, authentic taste of Earth’s food.

The hand clutching the hamburger’s wrapper began to tremble ever so slightly.

“How, in the world, had I endured ten years without these?”

Hamburgers. Pizza. Jeyuk-bokkeum (TL Note: A spicy Korean stir-fried pork dish.). Kimchi-jjigae (TL Note: A savory, spicy, and hearty Korean stew made with kimchi and other ingredients.).

Countless dishes flashed through my mind.

Memories of my lost home surged anew in my thoughts.

My emotions welled up, stirred by a simple, ordinary dish.

“……Someday, I will return home.”

It was the tenth year of my magical research.

I finally grasped the humanity I had long forgotten.

****

Fifty years had passed.

I slowly had to admit that I was growing old.

I wasn’t referring to my visible face or outward appearance.

Within this space of consciousness, my appearance remained that of a young man.

However, I felt my spirit gradually eroding.

“……”

My emotions began to wither.

My preferences for food shifted.

My memories grew hazy.

Instead of the fast food I once cherished, I now preferred tea time spent in the rooftop garden.

Even my manner of speech, lacking a conversational partner, slowly rusted away.

“……Even if I returned home now, it would be meaningless.”

I had lost the purpose of returning home.

That realization was profoundly heartbreaking.

I still hadn’t found the answer.

Not only had I failed to discover a way back to my home, but I hadn’t even found a means to escape this place.

“What was I even doing all this for?”

I urgently felt the need to research magic.

I needed a method to preserve my memories.

If things continued like this, my mind would collapse.

Thus, I had to seek out a way to protect myself.

“……Out.”

The human mind is remarkably fragile.

In solitude, one becomes vulnerable.

I realized this truth acutely.

“……I must go outside.”

I needed a catalyst.

Only an unyielding obsession, which I could not relinquish, sustained me still.

****

A century had passed.

Over the long expanse of time, I had to confront the reality that I was slowly losing my mind.

Yet, even amidst that descent, my struggle to retain my humanity persisted.

I reclassified all the library’s tomes from scratch.

Though no one would ever visit this library, I meticulously categorized countless grimoires according to their difficulty and subject matter.

The Phantasmagoric Archive, Celestia, was reorganized into four distinct sections.

The First Archive: A section housing numerous magical theories, treatises, and everyday spells.

The Second Archive: Dedicated to general combat magic.

The Third Archive: Containing ‘special’ grimoires and magical theories I had penned over a long period.

The Fourth Archive: Reserved for crucial documents related to dangerous research.

Upon this four-sectioned library, I placed security enchantments that required separate access permissions.

Those without authorization for higher sections were thus prevented from entering the archives located on upper levels.

Furthermore, on the first floor of the library, I established a separate dining area.

Instead of conjuring whatever I desired as before, I could now select from a predefined menu.

Frankly, it was an act utterly devoid of meaning.

Yet, despite its meaninglessness, I felt a sense of being alive through these actions.

‘I wonder what I should eat today.’

I still lived within this library.

This colossal library alone served as the sole proof of my existence.

****

Three hundred years had elapsed.

The collection housed within the Phantasmagoric Archive, Celestia, had grown immeasurably vast compared to before.

And I, too, had acquired a rather refined hobby, quite unlike my former inclinations.

It was to unfold a book and partake in a solitary tea time after completing my meal.

During the hours spent sipping tea, I would embark on the meticulous task of reviewing the library’s tomes.

“……”

Rustle, rustle—.

Sipping fragrant tea, I turned the grimoire’s pages one by one.

Grimoires penned long ago occasionally contained inefficient impurities.

Identifying and rectifying these impurities had become my new pastime of late.

It was undeniably a dignified hobby, befitting a Grand Mage of over three centuries.

As I continued turning pages and reading in this manner today,

I suddenly perceived something alien intruding upon my vision.

“Hmm…”

Lingering within a space of consciousness for extended periods often led to hallucinations.

The frequency had only increased since I surpassed the three-century mark.

It was evidence that my mind was gradually eroding.

Of course, there was no significant issue, as they would revert to normal if left undisturbed.

Today, too, I intended to let the situation pass quietly, thinking along those lines.

Whirrr—.

That is, if a translation spell hadn’t suddenly activated by my ear.

“Do you really think there will be even more incredible magic if we go up there?”

“Of course, there will! Haven’t you seen it already? Incredible magic is hidden within this library! This is a monumental discovery, one that will go down in history!”

“I’m a little worried if we’re even allowed to touch such precious items without permission in the first place…”

“Don’t worry! It must be a legacy left behind by some great mage for future generations!”

Startled—.

Hearing the voices by my ear, I doubted my own senses.

Though I had experienced several visual hallucinations, I had never before heard auditory ones.

Yet, the voices by my ear continued to resonate with striking clarity.

And what’s more, they were being conveyed through the translation spell I had developed 150 years prior.

“Even if you are from the Blue Magic Tower… it feels a bit risky to take your word for it, especially since we just met today, Senior.”

“Is that all the passion you have for magic, young one! That’s precisely why your achievements are stuck at the level of an apprentice mage!”

“Ugh…!”

“A true mage must risk their very life in the pursuit of the unknown! Shouldn’t you, too, undertake new challenges to ascend to the upper echelons of the Magic Tower?!”

I shifted my gaze towards the source of the loud voices echoing through the library.

Beyond the bookshelves, densely packed with countless grimoires,

I saw a middle-aged man, staff in hand, bellowing loudly, followed by a girl trailing behind him, her arms laden with grimoires.

Perhaps she regarded the tomes clutched in her arms as precious treasures.

The girl, wearing a witch’s hat, held them tightly, clearly exerting herself to avoid dropping them.

The first human figures I had encountered since entering this library.

Upon seeing them, a heavy voice automatically escaped my lips.

“To live long enough to see thieves break into my archive, indeed.”

Thump, thud-thud-thud—.

At my words, countless tomes spilled from the girl’s grasp.

As grimoires bound in luxurious covers tumbled across the floor,

A stammering voice escaped her flustered lips.

“Th-thief… N-no, I’m not…”

As she spoke, the girl made an effort to avoid my gaze.

Her trembling eyes.

And the witch’s hat pulled low over her face.

From these details, I could discern the unfolding situation.

The people before my eyes were, by no means, mere illusions.

“First, perhaps you can explain how you came to be in this place—.”

This was the first such incident since I had entered the Phantasmagoric Archive, Celestia.

Uninvited guests had arrived in my magical library.