SYMDF 12

Chapter 12

Creak, creeeak.

The sound of a stubborn window opening spilled into the room, and sunlight rushed across his face. Ion groaned faintly, squinting against the brightness pressing on his eyelids. Through the glare, he caught sight of Yomnyong perched at the window, wings fluttering as he bit and tugged at the metal latch with determination.

Groggy even after a night’s sleep, Ion rolled over weakly beneath his covers, clutching his aching head. Reaching out toward the dragon, his voice came hoarse.

“Yomnyong? Come… here.”

“Kku!”

The dragon, shimmering with a faint azure sheen across its scales, darted toward him and settled neatly into his hand, tugging insistently at his sleeve.

Ion blinked, dull-eyed, before realization finally dawned.

“…You want me to get up?”

“Kku.”

A weary sigh escaped him, but he obeyed Yomnyong’s urging and pushed himself upright. Immediately, strings of status effects scrolled before his eyes, followed by a new statistic.

[Player’s current probability of death: 20%]

Not much better than yesterday. His chest hitched with a cough as he staggered toward the window Yomnyong had opened.

Before even reaching it, spring sunlight and fresh air wrapped around his frail frame. It was the first time since he’d woken in this world that the weather had felt so refreshingly kind. As if in confirmation, text scrolled gently across his vision:

[The fresh wind nourishes your body. Player’s probability of death decreases by 0.1%.]

Hardly a blessing. Barely more than mockery.

Suppressing the irritation, Ion clung to the windowsill for support. Even such a short walk made his vision whirl, his balance falter. Taking a steadying breath, he gazed down into the courtyard.

The Ducal garden stretched below, serene and manicured: cool weather, trees greening richly, lawns clipped to perfection. A fountain trickled at the center. Around it, flitting playfully through morning light, spun a small girl—laughing brightly with servants who struggled to keep up.

The pure laughter carried even to his window. Ion’s green eyes followed, a sliver of envy curling through him.

Then the girl looked up, gasping.

“Brother!”

She stopped mid-step, clutching her skirts. Ion, weary though he was, lifted a hand and waved quietly, offering a faint smile. At once, her face bloomed with joy, and she dashed inside. Shocked maids scrambled to chase after her.

Sure enough—moments later, the sound of frantic footsteps padded toward his room.

Knock, knock-knock, knock!

Quick as a fluttering bird, she battered the door in impatience. Frantic, Ion tucked Yomnyong under his nightshirt before opening. The girl burst in and threw her tiny arms around him.

“Brother! Brother—are you better now?”

It was only at that moment Ion noticed—she barely reached his chest. Smaller than he remembered. Awkwardly, he steadied her, holding her uncertainly in return.

“E-Emily?”

“Mother said I couldn’t come last night because you were too sick. Are you truly better? Hmm?”

Standing on tiptoe, Emily looked up at him.

“Ah…”

Ion thought back to the nosebleed that had drenched his handkerchief, then—meeting her imploring gaze—he leaned down gently to press his cheek against hers.

“I’m fine now. You don’t need to worry anymore.”

“You’re lying!”

Her immediate denial startled him. Flustered, Ion glanced toward the blank-faced servants lingering by the door. He forced a sheepish laugh.

“It was only for a short while. I feel better already.”

“No, no. Jane told me you were so sick I shouldn’t even see you.”

Jane. He guessed the name must belong to Emily’s maid.

Who tells a child such things…

Sighing inwardly, Ion guided his sister inside.

“See? I’m fine now. We’re together, aren’t we?”

Emily trailed him eagerly to the bed. She watched as he sat, then clambered up beside him with practiced familiarity, nestling against his arm. Wide, sparkling eyes met his as she whispered at his ear:

“Will you read to me?”

She asked as if it were routine. Which meant the original Ion Craiger had once been the type of dutiful brother who often read stories aloud to her.

“….”

Ion’s heart softened. Stroking her hair, he murmured, “There are no books here. What shall we do?”

“Then let’s go to the library and fetch one!”

He nearly said, No way, forcing himself to swallow the words.

He had dreaded moving, fearing every step shaved years off his life. Yet Emily tugged relentlessly at his sleeve until at last, Ion shuffled slowly down the long hall, her at his side.

[…]

[Player’s probability of death: 19.9%]

…At least walking hadn’t worsened it.

The great library’s tall doors opened at the maids’ push, like the gates of some noble archive. Emily sprinted inside, her maid in tow, while Ion drifted behind.

Yomnyong stirred faintly under his clothes—this was the same dark library where they had first met. Calming him with a rub over the scales beneath fabric, Ion coaxed him back into quiet.

With candelabras lit, the shelves loomed vast. One maid read titles softly to Emily as she skipped by, while Ion wandered with another servant at his arm.

He needed more than stories. He needed answers.

Mana…

The very essence threaded through this world’s magic, the root of curses too. His own affliction—it had to tie back to mana. Wearing the pendant Camillus gave, he could at least walk now. But without true understanding, this ignorance would cripple him.

Suddenly, his eyes caught on a title:

Basic Mana Techniques.

It rested just above his reach. A young page scrambled up a ladder to fetch it down for him.

Ion accepted it carefully. Another maid asked politely:

“Shall I read it aloud, young master?”

Yes—among high nobles, children rarely read themselves. For them, literacy was often optional, for they had attendants to read. But Ion unexpectedly could read. Clearly, so too had the original Ion—Emily had asked him to read stories.

Still, Ion passed the book back with a nod. There was no need to upset custom.

“From the start, please.”

“Yes, young master.”

The maid’s voice was clear, pleasing to the ear. Ion let it fade into the background while he scoured other spines for a suitable children’s tale for Emily.

Basic Mana Techniques, indeed, was as weighty as a killing stone. Its preface stretched endlessly—meandering accounts of when and how sages first realized the existence of mana. Infuriatingly dull, yet perfect background noise.

But finally, mid-search, a phrase seized Ion’s focus:

“…Mana is a force possessed naturally by all living humans…”

Ion froze, grimacing deeply.

…Mana exists in everyone?

Footnotes:

• Cravat (크라바트): A necktie-like garment, common in noble attire, used here where Ion feels tightness in his chest.
• Library Etiquette: Nobles often had attendants read aloud, making literacy optional. Ion’s knowledge deviates slightly but must conform outwardly.
• Mana: The life-force and magical essence of this world. The revelation that every human has mana may have major implications for Ion’s condition and curse.