Clearing the Game at the End of the World Chapter 232

Chapter. 12. Lettuce to Wind Mage (25)

+BGM: The big dipper (J Season Jo Byung-hun) Recommended

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Quiet hallway. A young wizard stood there, listening to the bustling noises outside.

“By now… preparations for departure have been completed, right? It looks like everything has been loaded. Since they are busy people… there won’t be time to hesitate.”

Trudging. Trudging. Trudging. Trudging.

Squeak-

clack.

“…It’s quiet.”

Six o’clock in the morning.

Astrad sat alone in a quiet room and thought about the professor and his party who would have left by now.

There was a mountain of things I wanted to say, but in the end I couldn’t go out and send them.

A person who was truly free even though he was not a wind wizard. For some reason, Astrade admired the strong, wind-like appearance of a man who smelled of thick dust and sand, and was only shown by those who were proud of their actions and will.

So I stayed at home. When I see him leaving like that, I feel like he’s really begging me to go with him. Fearing such an ‘impulse’, Astrad remained alone in the quiet home where everyone else had gone.

“…They were ridiculous people. From the first time I met them, I thought they were not human, but I never thought they were such monsters. With the body of such a monster, they became saints and warriors of the Church of Light, and now saints and family members of our home. He also saved others. At that early morning… he really seemed like a saint.”

‘Live as you wish, Astrad…’

In the monologue dripping with regret, the teacher’s voice passed through my mind.

“Master. “I’m a half-assed wizard who hasn’t even figured out what I want yet.”

I didn’t know that maybe the regret I had now was just that kind of ‘wind’. In the corner of Astrad’s heart, Felix Home was still falling apart.

If there are two impulses, which one does the Wind Wizard follow?

“Live as the wind blows…”

Astrad, feeling frustrated because he still did not understand what he was saying, sat in his teacher’s room and summoned his quill and ink.

The morning letter would arrive soon, so I was going to work in Master’s room today.

“I have a little time left.”

About 30 minutes. Time left until the morning letter arrives. A frustrated and confused mind and a pure white paper in front of it. I grabbed the quill without realizing it.

For the first time in a long time, Astrad began writing his own letters instead of editing someone else’s letters.

The recipient was his teacher, who is now dead.

Sasak Square – Dalkak.

“….really. me too. “Nothing has changed since I was young.”

Like a letter I sent to my dead mother. Like the letters I sent to my father hundreds of times and never received a reply.

Astrad, who once again wrote a letter that would not be returned, laughed self-deprecatingly and folded the completed letter. What if the magic doesn’t work? The person who inspects all the empire’s letters is Astrad himself.

Astrade planned to personally drop the last letter for her teacher into his mailbox.

In a way, as a wind wizard, he is also a part of the wind. So I just said that without thinking.

[Send it to the wind.]

….Palak.

His letter came to mind carefully.

“Master Shi?”

This is ridiculous. This cannot happen. Didn’t I see with my own eyes last night the body of my dead teacher turning into smoke and returning to the sky? But but… why?

Palak…. Palak….

Astrad’s letter was heading outward with a weak but clear flap of its wings. As if possessed, the door was opened and the letter flew in quietly in the wind.

Pass through the long white passage.

Past the once lively but now quiet restaurant.

Today too, I pass through the corridors of countless bookshelves waiting for other letters.

Palak- Palak-

“Heo, heo, heo!”

The young wizard ran until he was out of breath, chasing the letter through every hallway and corridor as if he were exploring the home.

After passing the central bookshelf where wizards’ mailboxes were gathered, which was expected to be the destination, the letter that was fluttering endlessly went to the destination.

Coincidentally, it was the closet where he and his teacher wrote their first letter.

Squeak –

When I opened the downward slanted swing door, the letter went inside as if it had been waiting.

in. further in. Underneath the bed where Master was.

‘Oh my gosh, Master! ‘Let’s just clean it up for a moment!’

‘Oh, no! This is my bed, my seat!!! I can’t clean it up. ‘I can’t clean it up!’

‘Ugh. So, we said we should move to a slightly larger room. yes? We haven’t lived here for a year or two, and we have a lot of spare rooms, so why bother staying here…’ ‘

Oh no! I… I am one with this bed! ‘I can never get rid of it!’

Strangely, it was a teacher who did not allow me to come near the bed. At that time, I thought it was just the stubbornness of an old man whose mind was unsound and I thought I would do whatever he wanted and left it alone.

“…..”

When he was of sound mind, he cleaned up his room on his own, and when he was not of sound mind, he threw a tantrum like that.

So, for eight years, Astrad had never seen the area under the bed in this room, which she remembered every inch of.

Sweet.

Clack rattle…. Clack rattle rattle!

“This is…”

There was something. An old letterbox that looks as if it has been hastily and roughly torn apart.

Rattle, rattle!

As seen from the shelves of missing letters, the mailbox filled with letters seemed like it was about to burst, and it was shaking to shut itself up, and Astrad’s letter was struggling to get inside.

[Gauman //// Delhast]

A name that clearly belongs to the teacher and traces that were forcibly scratched away.

However, the mailbox for the home wizard is engraved with the magic of the archmage. No matter how much I tried to erase it, I couldn’t even erase the dark traces of magic.

The erased middle name was clearly visible to Astrad, who was now in the 4th rank.

[Gauman Dylan Delhast]

[Dylan Delhast]

[Dylan]

No. That can’t be possible. Why that name? Now, why is that name, buried in old memories as a memory of my teacher, here?

Is it with Master’s name?

Fluffy.

The letter box falls from the hand of the boy who faces the truth.

Shake! Para la la la rock!

The letters inside were pushed to the limit by the shock and burst out into the room.

Letters began to flutter from the ceiling of a room filled with the smell of dust.

Feeling the magic of a familiar teacher.

Young, confused and immature. His wish from a young age.

The letters, each one filled with hand marks and tears, were all letters that Astrad herself had written to her father.

Palak.

Astrad unconsciously caught the falling letter. Even without opening it, I was able to remember what the content was just by looking at the letters.

Even though I was young, it was a letter full of deep emotions.

[The teacher made the first remark. It’s much happier than when I lived in the back alley.]

‘Astrad. ‘Do you like the sky?’

‘…It’s cool.’

[Today is mom’s birthday. You don’t even think about this.]

‘Master? What kind of pie did you get?’

‘Well… I just wanted to eat it. Shall we eat together?’

[It becomes 1 note. Now I’m a magician. I can live alone without a father or something.]

‘It’s a house! Astrad! This is our home now!’

‘I heard that wind wizards have no other home than here in the first place.’

‘Yes, you are back. Finally… it’s home. my house.’

“Ahhhh….”

A letter written day after day filled with longing and resentment. Whenever he was depressed, his teacher always came to his side, comforted him, and comforted him.

“Ahh… why why…!”

In the letters fluttering like memories, Astrad saw her teacher. Master, who looked at the letter even after his memories had faded. A wrinkled face that always smiled brightly, as if all I had to do was be by his side. And…even on the edge of death, the first thing to say….

‘You’re back…’ is back. We… came back….’

The meaning of return that you so desperately spoke of.

Astrad knew all of that.

Why did you take that skinny boy who was a petty thief as your disciple?

Why did you teach so devotedly? And…

[I hate it because it was back then. At that time, my son Astrad.]

‘…Astrad. Do you resent your father a lot?’

‘….yes. Abandoning my mother and abandoning me. I hate my father for leaving so irresponsibly enough to kill me.’

‘….okay. I see….’

Why? I wonder why my teacher’s face was so pale when he ghostwrote my first letter.

Astrad felt heartbroken as she imagined her teacher secretly wiping away tears as she opened the hundreds of letters containing that resentment over and over again until her hands got dirty, and then opening up her mailbox and hiding it under the bed in case Astrad found out the truth.

“You should have said something. Because it is left alone and festers alone! Aren’t you buried in those memories, Master…”

“If only I had said something, it would have been so painful that it would disappear into my memories!”

Quang!

“Why don’t you just… tell it to me…”

Master.

my teacher

My…father.

Beneath the memories that fell like snow, there was one more bunch of letters without magic.

[Gauman Dylan Delhast. To my disciple Astrad.]

A bunch of letters with only one corner stained from my hands, probably due to the number of times I hesitated to send them in the end.

Astrad read the letters from her dead teacher one by one among the letters from her childhood that circulated around her.

Gauman’s life as a wizard.

The love that came to him like the wind and his fate that made it impossible for him to stay in one place.

How I cried when I came back after many years and heard that both she and her son were dead.

A scruffy disciple who impulsively accepted something that even he couldn’t understand.

And after 3 months of being with him. When I heard the name was Astrad.

When that name whispered love to his wife, with whom he had only been together for four weeks. Because it was a name that came out of my wife’s mouth. If it’s a daughter, it’s Celine. If it’s a son, it’s Astrad.

Astrad because I am the child that was planted like a star by a man who would disappear like the wind.

My son, carried by the westerly wind that day.

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….I…. I finally knew that the wind of that day had granted my wish. Astrad. It’s a star in the night sky. At some point, my heart went where the wind went. It’s Astrad. I know that even if I apologize until the end of my life, I can’t cover your pain, but still… I want you to be happy.

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Pop. Drop…

The tears of the son, who was his student, fell as he read the letter that shed tears from his father, who had lived as his teacher until the end of his life.

‘Because… that’s my wish.’

“…Master. “It’s true… it’s difficult for you to say it.”

Pop. Pop.

Astrad gathered a handful of wind and held her teacher’s scattered letters and his letters in her arms.

Step by step. Step by step.

Every time I stepped down the quiet hallway, memories of running around here with my teacher flashed through my mind.

The place where his steps stopped was a hallway that was clearly exposed to the outside due to a broken pillar. A place with a view of the rocky valley and a good breeze.

Astrad sat at the end of it. The blowing wind carried both of their letters.

Purrrrrrrrrrrrr!

The letter that was never sent finally caught the wind. Towards the young wizard’s mailbox, which has not been opened even once for eight years.

Letters that were sent but thought never reached are addressed to people who are no longer in the world. Toward his teacher Gauman, who taught him everything, and his father Dylan, who gave him everything. Riding the wind up into the sky. far. further.

Astrad looked at the letters fluttering in the sky and blew wind onto the staff his teacher had carved.

A low, soft melody fills the rich man’s memories. In between.

Paralarak!

Nevertheless, it announces that a new morning has arrived. Letters flew in.

“…I guess I’ll wake up soon. If the others don’t come in quickly, the mail will be blocked today…I guess I’ll try sending it out on my own.”

Finally, after letting go of the past that had been stuck for so many years, the wizard stood up. The morning has dawned and the wind of a new day is blowing, ready to do the work assigned to him for the day.

It was unknown how his last letter found its way to his teacher’s mailbox. I just believe that the archmage’s remains, created with longing in mind, have worked a final miracle to connect the longing that has been lost for eight years.

Although it was something like a miracle.

Finally. The wind wizard’s letter to the wind wizard reached each other.

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