Chapter 53
The moment I said it out loud, a wave of buried inferiority surged through me.
Inferiority toward myself—born a Ferris, yet unable to manifest the very trait of the Ferris bloodline.
For no reason at all, I started resenting Eden in front of me. But then he suddenly exclaimed,
“Yes, yes!”
His face lit up like a scientist who had just discovered a new formula.
Was he making fun of me? I glared at him sourly, but Eden only asked as if confirming,
“You don’t have any magical talent either, right? Like handling mana inside your body, the basics?”
“No, I don’t. Are you just calling me talentless right now?”
Rodelia shot back defensively, and Eden’s eyes widened like saucers.
“Talentless? Who said you’re talentless?”
“Well, I’m a Ferris who can’t use aura, and I don’t have any magic talent either! Doesn’t that make me useless?”
Do I really have to spell this out myself?
She glared at Eden, face flushed with humiliation. Saying it aloud only made the shame worse.
But instead of mocking her, Eden explained seriously.
“True, without aura or mana you’d be no different from an ordinary person. But there are other kinds of gifts in this world.”
Still, Rodelia remained sulky.
“Yeah, sure. You don’t have to console me.”
She slumped back against the sofa, making it obvious she’d lost interest. At that moment, Eden asked something strange.
“By any chance, when you were young, did plants grow unusually well under your care? Or did animals seem to follow you more than others?”
“…What?”
Now that he mentioned it, people had often told her she had a knack for gardening.
Even seedlings considered hard to raise had flourished under her hands, enough for her mother to praise her.
As Rodelia faltered, Eden pressed on.
“Or perhaps, did you often come across injured animals?”
“Uh… yes.”
Ever since she was little, she’d often stumbled upon hurt animals. And she never walked past them—she’d care for them, learning basic first aid until it became second nature.
She had never once thought of it as anything special. After all, animals could sense who meant them harm and who didn’t.
But Eden clearly thought otherwise. Adjusting his glasses, he murmured,
“As I suspected.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he added gravely,
“It’s possible, Lady Rodelia, that you have the qualities of a Summoner.”
A Summoner—a person who could contract directly with magical creatures or plants and summon them from another realm.
The stronger their affinity with nature, the stronger the beings they could bond with. Summoners could even wield their partners’ powers directly.
It had once been a familiar profession. But eventually Summoners vanished, and with them the lineages of high-ranking magical beasts.
Only lower creatures remained—those that could exist without contracts. And even they were difficult to tame, usually only found in places like the Tower.
And now Eden was telling her she might have talent for that legendary profession?
“You must be mistaken. There’s no way I have that kind of gift.”
“In the Ferris family, where aura swordsmanship is prized, it would indeed be unusual…”
“See? You’re just frightening me for nothing—”
“I looked through your maternal lineage. Among your direct ancestors, there was a Summoner. You may have inherited that blood.”
This meticulous researcher had apparently investigated her mother’s family, too.
Half shocked by his thoroughness, half doubtful, Rodelia asked,
“So what does not manifesting aura have to do with being a Summoner?”
“Because the power of a Summoner and aura are fundamentally opposed.”
“Opposed?”
“Aura exists to fuel sword techniques meant for slaying. Summoning, however, draws on affinity with nature to create harmony. They’re opposite forces.”
Seeing her puzzled look, Eden elaborated gently.
“It means you were never meant to use aura. For someone whose vessel is suited to Summoning, trying to manifest aura would always fail.”
Even after hearing all that, Rodelia stayed silent.
Gone was her earlier sulkiness; now she sat demurely, mulling it over. Finally, she muttered, touching her chin,
“I’ve never once thought about it that way.”
“Of course you haven’t. The lineage has long since disappeared. But this is only a hypothesis—it needs to be tested.”
Eden produced something he had prepared: a small stone, about the size of a quail egg.
“What’s that?”
“It was once used to test for Summoner potential. If you plant it and make it bloom, it’s said to open the door to the other realm.”
“You want me to plant a rock?”
It wasn’t even an egg—just a stone. Asking her to make it bloom felt as impossible as brewing an elixir of immortality.
She gave him a doubtful look, but Eden explained,
“Because records about Summoners are so scarce, the exact method isn’t known. Even obtaining this was no easy feat.”
“So if I manage to make this bloom, it means I might be a Summoner. And that would help your experiment somehow?”
She asked for confirmation, and Eden answered firmly,
“Of course. The core ability of a Summoner is purification. If you awaken as a Summoner… you could purify the ice dragon’s corrupted glacier. That’s likely why the Testie briefly purified when you touched it.”
The corrupted glacier.
She didn’t need him to say who was being consumed by it right now.
With resolve settling over her, Rodelia gripped the stone.
“Alright. I’ll try it.”
There was nothing to lose if she failed.
“But if that’s the case, why were you trying to keep this a secret from Ren oppa?”
“Well… ever since I suggested letting you touch the Testie again, the Tower Master turns icy cold whenever I even mention your name.”
He didn’t have to explain. She understood perfectly.
Alperen was the type to go overboard the second she was in danger.
“That’s your fault. You can’t just risk me like that—what if I’d gotten hurt?”
“I admit I was too hasty in my research. But rest assured, this stone could never harm you.”
“It had better not. If anything happens to me, at least four people will go on a rampage.”
Already, she could think of four names off the top of her head.
Checking the time, Rodelia rose from her seat.
“My friends are waiting, so I’ll get going. How should I contact you?”
“Here.”
Eden handed her a business card. She tucked it into her bag and returned to the lounge.
***
The Magia club’s Tower tour ended without incident, and everyone left happily with their souvenirs.
Sierra and Glaster in particular looked extremely satisfied.
Thanks to this, we’ve learned so much. If our project succeeds, we must repay Rodelia.
Judging by how relentlessly they had peppered Eden with questions, they were clearly up to something. But it was probably deep in “nerd territory”—nothing a non-specialist like her needed to pry into.
Besides, Rodelia had enough on her mind with Eden’s assignment.
Don’t get your hopes up too high, she warned herself.
She glanced at the stone resting safely in her bag.
Ever since regaining her past-life memories, she had known she wasn’t the protagonist of this world.
Worse, she was a side character doomed to be discarded by the story.
That bitter truth had explained why all her efforts had always ended in failure—because she was never meant to be the heroine.
Still, she had managed to avert the prison ending with her own strength.
And now Eden’s hypothesis filled her with both excitement and dread.
The fear of being disappointed if it was false, and the fragile hope that maybe… just maybe… it could be real.
Trying to push away her tangled thoughts, she moved on to her next stop: the real estate office.
The broker beamed as soon as he saw her.
“You’re here!”
“I didn’t expect your call so soon. You said a property just became available?”
