#053. White Sun (3)
Veronica spent two days groaning in bed.
"You seem fine now."
"No! I'm not fine!"
"You were walking normally when you came in earlier—"
"You must’ve seen wrong! Maybe you saw a ghost! I still need to stay in bed and rest!"
"……"
The boy tilted his head.
But I’m not a ghost.
In truth, the girl had fully recovered after one good night’s sleep. Her only physical injury was a slightly sprained ankle, and her mental exhaustion stemmed from overusing magic.
Yet—
"Ray, can you get me water? Oh, and also—"
Veronica seemed to relish her bedridden days. To be precise, she basked in being pampered by Ray.
"Here."
"Thanks!"
Veronica beamed as she accepted the glass.
Gulp. Gulp.
A cool breeze fluttered the curtains through the open window.
Ray, who had been watching her drink, suddenly spoke:
"Why did you stop me back then?"
"Back then" meant two days prior.
「Ray! Are you okay? Really okay?」
「We all agreed to keep quiet about today. Though it probably wouldn’t matter much even if word spread.」
Ray remembered everything—the moment his body ignited, the fireballs hurled at scrap metal and children. He hadn’t recognized Veronica, Philip, Cedric, or his own subordinates.
No way to distinguish allies.
The shouts around him had blurred into underwater echoes. His vision swam, consumed by rage’s singular purpose: Burn everything.
「You suddenly turned toward the sector. I had to stop you—you’d have turned the whole district to flames.」
Philip’s later account wasn’t wrong. Ray had aimed to destroy more—people, objects, anything—until Veronica intervened.
Without her—
I’d have died.
His protective barrier would’ve shattered mid-inferno.
The White Sun saved him.
That brilliant light from Veronica’s vessel disarmed him instantly. Rage evaporated. His red-tinged vision cleared, leaving one thought:
The sun was beautiful.
"Back then? Ah—"
Veronica answered like it was obvious:
"I was worried."
"You could’ve died."
"Even so. We’re friends."
Ray vaguely understood now.
Friends helped without expecting returns. Worry meant wanting to protect someone precious. He’d done the same for Pale and the siblings that night in Sector 50. Philip had risked his life for Cedric too.
Yet one question lingered:
Would I risk my life for just anyone?
Pale’s siblings were special. Cedric was special to Philip. Though Ray couldn’t define why, their significance wasn’t equal to others’.
"Am I special to you?"
"Huh? Wha—? I mean—?!"
Veronica’s pupils trembled, misinterpreting at first. But she soon pondered properly.
Is Ray special?
He’d saved her bookstore. Her first mage acquaintance besides Grandfather.
"Special... I guess?"
"Enough to risk your life?"
"……"
She met his gaze—her flustered red eyes reflected in his white ones.
Why did I do it?
Objectively, a month-long acquaintance didn’t warrant such sacrifice. Yet in that moment, saving Ray was her only thought. Emotions defied logic.
"Maybe...?"
"I see."
Ray dropped the subject.
This time, Veronica asked:
"Why did you act like that? Was it mana poisoning?"
"……"
Why couldn’t I stop?
Though Ray had mulled it over, no clear answer emerged. He could’ve halted the anger mid-flow but didn’t—half by choice, half compulsion.
Differences stood out: the red mana’s source (a newly enhanced ring) and his mental fatigue nearing its limit. Combined, they likely triggered symptoms matching the old man’s description of mana poisoning.
"Mana poisoning. Probably."
"You’ve been using unrefined mana recklessly!"
Veronica’s face scrunched, concern leaking through.
"Atmospheric mana’s unrelated. I’ve used it for years."
Ray pulled out the ring.
"Ah, that’s—"
"From the mage I fought. A charging stone."
The mana within confirmed Veronica’s suspicions. She recalled Ray’s words:
「A mage tried activating a magic circle against my group. I eliminated him by reversing it.」
The man’s absence post-battle spoke volumes—only his clothes remained under sunlight streaming through the ceiling.
"Grandfather said mana extracted from humans is unbearably toxic..."
Her voice wavered.
"...Will you use it?"
"……"
The ring held high-quality mana—useful in combat but likely the poisoning culprit. If side effects recurred, Veronica might not be there next time to pull him back.
One mistake is enough.
Yet...
If she’s nearby when I use it—
"Won’t you use it? Hmm?"
"For now, no."
"Good! Better avoid it!"
Though Ray’s answer was noncommittal, Veronica brightened.
"And?"
"And?"
Ray methodically voiced his queued thought:
"Thank you."
"Huh?"
"For saving me."
By his standards, her intervention warranted immense gratitude—and future repayment.
"R-Ray..."
Veronica gaped, tearful from shock.
"D-did you eat something bad? Was the meat I cooked last time spoiled?!"
Crunch! Clank!
Pliers snipped the basement lock.
"Good work, Raphael. Skilled as ever."
"Hehe! Easy peasy! We’ll wait upstairs, Boss!"
The praised boys scampered off, chirping:
—Ray remembered my name! Praised my skills!
—Sell me your compliment-hearing ear!
—How much?
—Ten thousand shillings!
—No deal! I’ll never wash this ear!
Ray watched them go, pride swelling.
Praise works.
Philip’s advice had proven true—encouragement motivated better than threats. The starved-for-affection street kids competed fiercely for Ray’s approval.
Like magic.
He pushed the creaking iron door open.
Zzzzt—
A flickering bulb illuminated the basement. The man had likely expected to return—his desk still cluttered with crumpled letters:
「Boss, flame of my life... I still remember when you took me in...」
Ray focused on previously unchecked cabinets. Behind one door sat a weathered leather notebook.
Flutter.
A faded black-and-white photo drifted to the floor as he pulled it out.
