Reminiscing

I continued my mana sensing training with Sister Risu for about half an hour before the sun began to set. I would have loved to keep going, but, unfortunately, fate—or rather, my curse—had other plans. A bird, of all things, decided to bless me with a disgusting payload, and the droppings landed squarely on my head.

"Ugh... seriously?" I muttered, feeling my face scrunch in frustration.

Sister Risu, ever composed, stifled a laugh as she quickly used her water magic to wash away the mess.

"Seems like the birds are keeping you on your toes, young master," she teased lightly.

I sighed, shaking my head. "Yeah, lucky me."

With that, I decided to call it a day. The thought of scrubbing my head properly in the bath was more appealing than risking another misfortune.

After dinner, I retreated to my room, finally alone with my thoughts. The clock on the wall read 9:00 p.m., and I felt a spark of curiosity ignite within me. It was time to test my gift, Mirage Lab.

Sitting on the bed, I focused inwardly, activating the gift in my mind. The moment I did, the scenery around me shifted. My room—the bed, the furniture, the walls—all vanished, replaced by a vast, pure-white expanse. Large rectangular mosaic tiles stretched across the floor, walls, and ceiling, creating an endless, sterile space.

"This... is the Mirage Lab?" I said aloud, my voice echoing faintly in the void.

I looked around, taking in the sheer emptiness. There was nothing here—just an expansive blank slate. Opening my status panel, I re-read the description of my gift.

Gift: Mirage Lab

[Creating a personal simulated lab space, which the user can access anytime the user wants to practice. The lab is a completely controlled environment, and anything the user does in this space doesn't affect the outside world. A self-updating lab, it records every attempt and progress the user makes while giving suggestions for improvement. The time the user can spend in the Mirage Lab depends on their mental strength.]

"It really is just an empty space," I muttered, closing the panel. "Can I summon something here, though?"

Without hesitation, I focused my thoughts and imagined a practice dummy. Within seconds, a human-sized doll materialized in front of me, startling me slightly.

"Oh, it worked!" I exclaimed, stepping closer to inspect it.

The dummy felt real under my palm—solid and sturdy, just like something I'd find in a training ground. Encouraged, I tried creating something simpler: a clock.

Once again, the space responded to my will, and a small clock appeared on the ground next to me.

Picking it up, I examined the time: 00.00

"Let's see how long I can stay here," I mused, setting the clock down nearby.

Taking a meditative position, I closed my eyes, replicating the mana sensing technique Sister Risu taught me earlier.

I tried to feel the flow of mana around me, focusing on the subtle vibrations and energies I'd learned to recognize during training.

However, after several minutes, the result was disappointing.

'I can't feel anything,' I thought, furrowing my brows. Was it because I was still inexperienced? Or was there simply no mana in this space?

"If there's no mana here," I muttered, "what if I try creating artificial mana?"

Recalling the principles I read in the library and the sensations Sister Risu described, I attempted to mimic the process. I focused on gathering energy from within myself, visualizing it forming into a cohesive flow, like a glowing stream coursing through my body.

Sweat beaded on my forehead as I poured every ounce of focus into this effort. For a fleeting moment, I thought I felt a faint spark—a flicker of energy that was almost tangible—but it vanished just as quickly as it appeared.

Then, a sharp, pounding headache struck me, and a wave of nausea swept over me.

"Ugh," I groaned, clutching my temple. "Is this my limit?"

I glanced at the alarm clock. To my dismay, not even a full minute had passed—:00.55.

As exhaustion overcame me, the white expanse of the Mirage Lab shattered like glass, and I was abruptly back in my room. My vision swam, and the throbbing in my head made me wince.

'I really overdid it,' I thought, leaning back against the bedframe as waves of mental exhaustion weighed me down.

I rested for about two hours, letting the exhaustion ebb away before attempting to use my gift again.

Reflecting on my previous attempt, I realized the maximum time I had spent in the simulated lab was roughly one minute and ten seconds, including the moments before I summoned the clock.

When I activated the Mirage Lab this time, I focused entirely on creating artificial mana. The process was grueling, demanding every ounce of concentration and focus I could muster.

Slowly but surely, I felt it—a faint, almost imperceptible energy manifesting. I couldn't see it, but I could sense it. The artificial mana was weak and fragile, disappearing after barely ten seconds.

The lab crumbled again, and I found myself back in my room.

"Damn," I muttered, wiping the sweat from my brow. My head throbbed, and I felt the familiar weight of mental exhaustion.

Glancing at the clock on my desk, I saw it was still only 11 p.m. The hour was late, but I didn't feel like sleeping just yet.

"For tonight, I'll stay up a bit longer," I decided aloud, determined to explore my gift further.

After resting for several minutes, I stood and stretched. Waiting idly for another hour before attempting the Mirage Lab again felt boring, so I turned my attention to something else to kill time.

Approaching my study table, I took a seat and pulled out a book from the drawer. Its cover was made of black animal skin, soft and pleasant to the touch.

Opening it, I flipped through several pages filled with sketches and drawings—scenes of nature, objects, and fleeting moments I had captured in my free time.

'Yeah, it's my sketchbook,' I mused.

Turning to a blank sheet that hadn't yet been touched by the stroke of a pencil, I leaned back in my chair. I stared at the page, pondering what to illustrate tonight.

My gaze wandered around the room before drifting toward the window.

A beautiful night unfolded outside, the sky showered with stars. A bright, radiant moon gazed down upon the land, its brilliance soft and calming. For a moment, I lost myself in the serenity of the view.

However, my inspiration didn't come from the stars or the moon but from the tree just outside my room. It stood tall and ordinary, yet the interplay of its shade, the faint illumination of the moonlight, and the gentle sway of its branches sparked something within me.

'A flower, then,' I decided, nodding softly to myself.

As I picked up my pencil, an idea struck me.

"Mom likes flowers, right?" I murmured unconsciously, recalling her fondness for vibrant, delicate blooms.

With that thought, I began sketching, my strokes light and deliberate as I attempted to bring the image of a spider lily to life. The flower's intricate petals, its delicate yet haunting beauty, felt fitting for the moment.

But as my hand moved the pencil across the page, my movements faltered. I stopped, the pencil hovering just above the sheet. A familiar face suddenly appeared in my mind—one that I adored, cherished, and loved deeply. It was a face I had held close to my heart all this time, even in this new life.

"Mom…" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

The memories surged forward unbidden. In my mind's eye, I saw her smile, her warmth, and the gentle way she cared for everything she touched. She had loved flowers, much like herself—beautiful and fleeting.

"Flowers… eh?" I muttered softly. "I hope the gift I prepared... was to your liking."

My voice grew weaker with each word, until it was barely more than a whisper.

"…Mom… I miss you."

A single tear fell onto the sketchbook, darkening the paper where it landed.