The old man carefully hide the money under the stall and glanced around cautiously.
He then sighed in relief and picked up the dagger.
The dagger was rusted in places, but its blade exuded a sharp, menacing aura.
“Is there something you’d like carved?”
“Anything will do.”
The old man took some pieces of wood out of his bundle and spread them on a corner of the stall.
They were the most ordinary scraps of wood—eaten by insects and soaked with water.
Grabbing one of the pieces, the old man inspected it from various angles before he began carving without hesitation.
“What are you carving?”
I asked as I watched the wood chip away under his blade.
“Oh, this one here is a rabbit,” the old man replied, not pausing for a moment.
As the blade swished and sliced, the wooden block began to take the shape of a rabbit.
Like the other figurines on his stall, this one brimmed with lifelike energy.
“The hind legs are key for something like this. They need to look ready to spring, or it won’t seem like a real rabbit.”
As he spoke, the old man carefully carved out the rabbit’s hind legs.
In less than five minutes, the rabbit was complete.
It crouched on the stall, looking like it could leap at any moment.
At the center of this energy were the hind legs, just as the old man had explained.
It left me astonished.
There was no trace of magic in this carving, yet it was so full of life.
“How is something like this even possible?” I asked, amazed.
“Ah, that’s my trade secret, y’see…”
The old man hesitated, unable to continue.
Licking his lips nervously, he checked the gold coins hidden beneath the stall and then shut his eyes tightly.
“I can tell you, but you can’t go around sharing it with others, alright?”
I nodded, and the old man picked up another piece of wood.
With his knife, he began poking at various parts of it.
“These spots here are what you’d call this piece’s weak points.”
Looking closely at the wood, I could see dense knots, decayed patches, and traces of insect damage.
The old man was deliberately scoring these areas.
“Knots are places where the wood didn’t grow properly, while rot and insect damage are signs of its weakest parts.”
It was just as he said.
“When you connect these weak spots, you’ll notice a sort of grain emerge.”
The old man traced a peculiar curve, linking those areas.
As he joined them, the unique features of the wood became strikingly clear.
Even as I watched, I couldn’t understand how this flow was being revealed.
“If the grain of the last piece coiled like a spring, this one stretches straight and firm.”
This particular wood gave off a sense of rigidity, much like the straight hind legs of a rabbit.
As the old man worked the knife over it, he soon carved out a bird.
The wings of this unnamed bird seemed to capture the wind, as though it might take flight at any moment.
“Each piece of wood carries its own grain, and I simply bring it out by adding the most fitting shape.”
Grain? It was an entirely new concept to me.
It felt strange, almost incomprehensible.
To resolve this curiosity, I continued questioning the old man and even tried carving myself, but I couldn’t capture the essence he spoke of.
Still, I kept trying to understand his teachings. Learning something new like this was an exhilarating experience.
***
The endless conversation with the old man finally came to an end as the sun set.
His stamina had given out, and he could no longer continue carving.
Though I felt regretful, I couldn’t keep him there.
I had learned everything I could from him—now it was up to me to master it.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
The old man bowed repeatedly as he pocketed the coins hidden under his stall.
I bowed back.
While those gold coins might have been an immense fortune for him, the knowledge he had shared with me felt like a far greater treasure.
Floating the figurines he had carved in the air, I made my way back to my workshop.
This was it.
I could see a breakthrough.
Rushing into the workshop, I grabbed a carving knife, just as the old man had done, and picked out the simplest piece of wood I had.
I began to carve.
After a long while, I finally completed one.
It was a terribly crude carving, even worse than the first figurine I had ever made.
I couldn’t sense the grain the old man had mentioned.
Undeterred, I picked up another piece of wood.
‘The weak points of this wood… He said that connecting those weak points reveals the grain. But why does connecting them create the grain? What exactly is this grain?’
I kept carving.
Still, the grain remained elusive and incomprehensible.
I tried carving a rabbit this time.
There was no sense of vitality in it.
Vitality… That’s it.
I examined the old man’s figurines again.
Following the grain resulted in vitality.
The rabbit seemed ready to leap, the bird to take flight, the snake to slither, the human to brim with energy.
I needed to focus on that sense of vitality.
***
Months passed.
I still couldn’t fully grasp the concept of grain or vitality.
It was the culmination of the old man’s lifetime.
Expecting to master it in such a short time was unrealistic.
Still, I had made a little progress.
I took out a piece of greenwood and began carving again.
At first, I made birds and rabbits.
By now, I had become so accustomed to carving without magic that these figurines were completed quickly.
The magic within the greenwood didn’t resist the blade.
After a long stretch of carving, I felt I had come to understand the nature of the greenwood.
From that point, I began to carve human forms.
When carving human figures, I delicately infused the blade with magic.
This was the small breakthrough I had achieved.
While I couldn’t comprehend or manipulate the grain of life, I could at least see the grain of magic.
The technique involved not opposing the wood’s magical flow but rather following it.
The magic-laden blade naturally skimmed across the wood.
‘So this is what it’s about. Could this grain exist only in wood? No, any being with magic must have its own grain.’
Even I must have such a grain.
That small realization was like rain nourishing the budding sprout within me.
I could feel the grain of that sprout, and its flow gradually expanded.
Sensing the surging magic, I lost myself in carving.
From within, the image of the figurine naturally emerged.
I sought to capture the years carried by the woman in the portrait and express them through the figurine.
That would be her natural grain.
***
I began crafting the framework of the figurine piece by piece.
It wasn’t just about copying her outward appearance but imagining the grain she must have possessed as I carved.
The project involved three figurines in total.
A girl, a middle-aged woman, and an elderly woman.
Capturing her essence required more than just a single piece.
To portray the elderly woman, I preserved the rough grain of the wood, emphasizing the passage of time.
For the girl, I carved delicately and meticulously, capturing her innocence and fragility.
It took nearly a year to complete the carvings.
Yet, throughout that time, my heart was brimming with fulfillment.
With each component I finished, a profound realization washed over me.
The sense of a sprout growing within me was more satisfying than any pleasure.
Finally, when the figurines were complete, I sat down and wept with joy.
Each one embodied its own span of years.
Yet I still wasn’t satisfied.
I felt I could perfect their grain even further.
To that end, I searched for the right materials: ancient wood, stones brimming with the earth’s power, water teeming with life, bones of magical beasts.
Examining these magic-infused materials, I meticulously selected the components to enhance the figurines.
The eyes came first.
For humans, the eyes are the most critical feature.
To craft them, I procured amber gemstones forged in molten lava and embedded them into the figurines.
These amber stones, imbued with the heat of the lava, breathed life into the eyes, giving them a piercing brilliance.
To make the joints appear natural, I sculpted and carefully overlaid them with the bones of magical beasts.
For the body’s fur, I melted various ores with magic, spun them into threadlike fibers, and adorned the figurines.
To infuse the skin with vitality, I powdered the milky-white spirit stone, mined deep beneath a remote island, and applied it to the surface.
Beyond these materials, I gathered other items to enhance the figurines’ grain.
The result was a set of figurines so lifelike that they seemed ready to move.
Although I spent all the gold coins I had on this endeavor, I had no regrets.
During the creation process, I thought of nothing else—not airships, tickets, university, or anything else.
I simply immersed myself in the joy of crafting these figurines.
These figurines would soon go to my father.
Why had my father asked me to make them? I didn’t even know who this woman was.
But I understood that she must be someone he longed for.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kept her portrait so carefully.
When I first began this project, I didn’t think much of it.
But now, these figurines felt like my children.
Perhaps that’s why I wanted to make them as perfect as possible.
I thought of my father’s house—more like a cave than a home.
With his power, he could have built a massive castle, yet he chose to remain in that cramped space.
The furniture, from chairs to tables, was all old and worn, yet he never replaced them.
I guessed it was because of the memories embedded in that place.
So, I decided to encapsulate those memories in the figurines.
Recalling the cave’s scenery, I began to etch magic into the figurines.
This magic was not something Ojo had taught me.
Somewhere along the way, as I worked on the figurines, it had sprouted from within me.
Ojo had said that as a mage grows, they discover unique spells known as “signature magic”—magic only they can use.
I named this spell “Magical Resonance.”
It had only one function: to synchronize with the heartbeat of the figurine’s magical core, imparting a rhythm and vitality to it.
When activated, this magic made the figurine feel alive.
Previously, I had used this magic solely for embedding it into the magical core.
But after understanding the grain of magic, I realized it had far greater applications.
Instead of limiting it to the core, I could weave it into the figurines’ veins and weak points.
This would make the figurines even more lifelike.
The girl would have run and played energetically.
By her middle years, she would have managed the household.
In old age, she would have battled illness.
Through all these phases of life, she would have shared those moments with my father in that cave.
They might have exchanged bouquets as gifts, shared meals at the table, and faced the aches and pains of aging.
My father, as a mage, would have been there to help her.
Looking at the portrait’s depictions, I let my imagination run wild.
Of course, it was all just fantasy in my head.
But through this process, I discovered the kind of magic I wanted to imbue in the figurines.
***
For the girl’s figurine, I infused her veins with vibrant energy.
With every beat of the magical core, the figurine radiated vitality.
For the middle-aged figurine, I depicted the decline of youth.
Slight imperfections and the wear of time were embedded in her features.
For the elderly figurine, I conveyed only faint traces of life.
The essence of aging and the approach of death defined her grain.
It took another year to complete these processes.
When it was finally over, I called for my nanny.
She, too, had grown older, her hair white and her face lined with wrinkles.
“Tell Father that the figurines are complete.”
With that, I collapsed into sleep.
When I woke, I found myself on a bed—likely moved there by my nanny.
Sipping the water she had prepared, I reflected on my achievements.
She informed me that Father’s attendants had come to collect the figurines and looked at me with concern.
I didn’t know if they would satisfy my father.
But I was certain that I had done my best.
No, I could even say with confidence that they were perfect works of art.
I never learned my father’s reaction to the figurines.
***
A week later, when my father sent me a ticket for an airship, I knew he was satisfied.
Word spread about my figurines, and their popularity soared.
By the time the airship arrived, I had earned enough to buy another ticket.
Before leaving, I gave half the money to my nanny.
Leaving this amount behind for her future didn’t feel wasteful.
My nanny had grown frail, and her life was like a weed’s—she would likely pass away soon after I left.
I considered taking her with me, but I couldn’t bear to subject her to the hardships of traveling to the mainland at her age.
This was where our bond would end.
As she wept bitterly, I consoled her before boarding the airship.
“Let’s go to the mainland, enroll in university, and become a true mage!”
The airship began to rise.
Below, the land where I was born and raised grew smaller and smaller.
Soaring above the clouds, the airship turned toward the mainland.
Looking back, the island was smaller than I had imagined.
The airship pressed onward toward the mainland.
I became a mage and followed Ojo’s teachings to leave the island.
Indeed, I acted exactly as he intended.
Ojo instilled in me a vision of the mainland and university.
I followed his lead and eventually left the island.
Why had he wanted me to leave? Bound by his contract, he couldn’t harm our clan.
Perhaps he wanted me far away.
My father likely knew of this but allowed it anyway.
But Ojo’s intentions didn’t stop there.
It was only after years of hardship on the mainland that I realized his trap.
That mage hadn’t taught me his best—only the basics required by his contract.
Even the knowledge about figurines was superficial.
When I realized this, I ground my teeth in frustration.
He had acted as though he was bestowing great wisdom, but it was all elementary.
Ojo was a sly fox, hiding much beneath the surface.
Believing him was my folly.
He had adorned small truths with grandeur and guided me with selective facts.
None of it violated the contract.
I was left as a half-baked mage wandering the mainland.
***
Ten years after leaving the island, I finally arrived at the university town.
I had spent all my money and faced life-threatening dangers to get there.
By then, I no longer felt anger but admiration and genuine respect for Ojo.
Bound by a disadvantageous contract, he had devised a way to gain the greatest benefit for himself.
Such self-preservation and profit-seeking were the foundational traits of a true mage.
That was Ojo’s final lesson.
Now, the past was behind me.
The future lay ahead—university!
The young man who had once dreamed of this moment endured countless trials over ten years to arrive here.
No wall could stop me now.
I would become a great mage and astonish the world!
Then, suddenly, my surroundings began to blur like ripples in water.
All those bold resolutions melted away like foam.
Hope extinguished, replaced by a clammy unease.
Ah, right. It’s just a dream.
“Damn it.”
I clutched my head, using magic to dispel the remnants of alcohol clouding my brain.
Being dragged out of such an uplifting dream back into reality was unbearable.
This beer—high in magic purity? Nonsense.
They must have infused it with nightmares to bulk up the volume.
There’s no other explanation for such a foul dream.
I’ll smash their shop tomorrow.
Selling defective goods like this? Outrageous.
Grumbling, I hurled the mug across the room.
***
Ten years passed.
It had been 20 years since I left the island and 10 years since I arrived in this massive city.
Despite the long years, I hadn’t made any progress.
I hadn’t even set foot inside the university gates, let alone enrolled.
In that time, I had failed the entrance exam nine times.
Ah, today marks the 10th failure.
“Damn it all…”
Something wet trickled down my face.
‘Was it raining? No, definitely not tears.’ Absolutely not.
At the age of 63, I remained an 11th-year candidate still striving for university.