#21. Change (2)
It was during etiquette training that Sasha began explaining to Pavel how one should behave in various formal situations. When she explained what kind of ceremonies take place at a coming-of-age celebration and what the celebrant was expected to do, Pavel snapped in irritation.
“What’s the point of learning all this? It’s not like I’ll ever use it. Can’t we just skip it?”
Sasha blinked in surprise and looked at him.
Normally, Pavel would gauge her reaction to see if he had hurt her feelings. But this time, he just clamped his mouth shut.
Seeing that, Sasha realized something.
Maybe I started off wrong… Instead of just saying we should study, I should have explained why it’s necessary.
The real issue for Pavel wasn’t the material—it was that he had no sense of a future.
At least, that’s what Pavel believed.
So he had no motivation to study. What was the point if he was going to die anyway?
In that case, I need to show him why it matters.
Sasha stood up, and Pavel flinched.
“…Where are you going?”
“Just a sec. I’m getting a book.”
She returned with a thick, worn-out book from her shelf.
“Want to take a look?”
Inside were pages written in strange letters Pavel had never seen before.
“What is this?”
He spoke bluntly, and Sasha patiently explained.
“These are ancient runes. The book was written a long time ago, so it’s all in the old script.”
“…”
Sasha, seeing his confused gaze, gently asked,
“Do you know what it says?”
“…”
“It’s all about the ‘Blessing of Mana.’”
“What’s that?”
Sasha explained in detail.
The “Blessing of Mana” was a rare condition where someone was born with an unusually high affinity for mana. If the person could withstand the flow of powerful mana, they could become legendary. But if they couldn’t, they would die young.
After listening, Pavel frowned.
“So what?”
Clearly unimpressed, he scowled at the ancient book.
Then Sasha looked him in the eyes and said something that would change everything.
“You know how it said that only a few people are born with the Blessing of Mana?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re one of them.”
“…What?”
Pavel’s eyes widened in disbelief. Sasha calmly continued, never looking away.
All the times he had been sick, all the doctors who said he had a fatal illness—it all came down to this.
“It was never a disease. It was the Blessing of Mana.”
Pavel stared at the unreadable text as if it had insulted him.
Sasha watched him nervously.
This wasn’t the reaction she’d hoped for. She never expected him to be overjoyed, but…
What if he lashes out and storms off?
While she hesitated, Pavel slowly raised his head.
“I have a question.”
“Y-yeah! Ask me anything!”
“You said I wasn’t sick, right? That I was just suffering because of this… blessing.”
“Yeah.”
Was he believing her?
Sasha studied him carefully, trying to read his true feelings.
“Then…”
His voice cracked.
But in his eyes, something began to shine.
Sasha recognized it instantly—it was hope.
“Does that mean… I can live?”
Sasha bit her lip. Her throat tightened.
His hands trembled. His face was tense, but full of cautious anticipation.
“…Yes.”
She wet her lips and continued.
“It’ll take a lot of hard work, and you’ll have to endure some rough patches. But if you push through, you’ll live a long, healthy life. Everyone who’s overcome the Blessing of Mana lived long lives. The average lifespan is 150 years.”
Pavel’s expression shifted. A flurry of emotions passed across his face.
He covered his face with his hands. Sasha quietly waited.
After a moment, he let out a soft laugh.
“…150 years? That’s… a bit much.”
Sasha, encouraged by his reaction, responded with a teasing tone.
“Too long for your taste? Don’t worry—you won’t age much. You’ll stay young-looking the whole time.”
Pavel shook his head.
“Still don’t want to live that long.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
He glanced at her with an unreadable expression, making Sasha blink.
Why are you looking at me like that?
She was about to ask, but he spoke first.
“But…”
His eyes, which had wandered, focused again.
“So I can become an adult.”
“…Yeah.”
“Then I can succeed my father as Duke Volkov?”
“Of course.”
“My father’s healthy, so he’ll live a long time. Guess it’ll be a while before I succeed him.”
“You’ll be a grandpa by the time you’re Duke.”
“That’s not too bad. A duke’s got a lot to handle.”
“Exactly. There’s a huge territory to govern, trade to manage, borders to protect, and wars to fight.”
Sasha listed them off, counting with her fingers.
Pavel listened quietly and then nodded.
“You’re right. I should study.”
“…!”
“I hate being looked down on. Better to be ready before I take over.”
Sasha smiled brightly.
Without another word, Pavel pulled the book toward him, signaling his willingness to continue.
Sasha gently placed a hand on his shoulder, patting him silently in support.
And so, the lesson resumed.
After learning about the Blessing of Mana, Pavel’s concentration drastically improved.
But his body and mind couldn’t keep up with his will.
He had no foundation to build on—he had never received proper education.
How could the heir to a duchy know so little?
Count Tula must’ve interfered.
He barely had any maids. Surely, no one was assigned to teach him properly.
And he lacked stamina.
He couldn’t sit and concentrate for long, no matter how determined he was.
The more he felt his limitations, the more discouraged he became.
He sighed often, frowned through each lesson, glared at the books like they were enemies, and sometimes pulled at his hair when frustrated.
Sword lessons were no better.
Sasha, who had been a renowned knight in a past life, trained him herself.
She emphasized the basics above all.
But mastering the basics was dull and grueling.
She made him swing downward hundreds of times, over and over, until he tasted blood in his throat.
Even when unused muscles screamed for mercy, Sasha didn’t lighten the training.
Had she taught him flashy sword techniques, he might’ve felt a sense of accomplishment.
Instead, she made him practice a single downward stroke until it was flawless.
“You’re doing great. Only thirty-four more.”
“….”
“Ah, no good. That one was sloppy. Let’s start over—thirty-four more.”
“…Damn it!”
Frustrated beyond belief, Pavel finally threw down the sword.
“Pavel!”
“Hmph!”
His exhausted body had reached its limit, and so had his patience.
Pavel shouted angrily.
“I’m done! I’m not doing this anymore!”
“Pavel…”
“What’s the point in trying? I can’t even do something this simple. What good will trying harder do? Better to quit now than waste time.”
It was a bitter self-mockery.
Pavel had spent his life being treated as someone who couldn’t do anything right.
His self-esteem, crushed before it could grow, lay in ruins.
And yet, to protect what little pride he had, he sharpened his thorns and refused to bow.
Because of that contrast—high pride, low self-worth—people said he had a bad personality.
Sasha knew.
She understood that Pavel wasn’t angry at her, but at himself—for not meeting his own expectations.
So she waited for him to calm down. It didn’t take long.
When his heavy breathing eased, she finally spoke.
“Don’t give up.”
“….”
Pavel didn’t answer—he just bit his lip.
“Pavel.”
She stepped closer and took his hand.
His battered hand, covered in burst blisters.
He flinched at the sudden touch and tried to pull away, but Sasha gripped tighter.
Their warmth passed through their skin into each other.
Sasha, feeling the heat radiating from his palm, said,
“You only just got to the starting line. This is just the beginning—things will only get better from here.”
“….”
“Even if it feels like you’re constantly behind, one day you’ll look back and see how far you’ve come.”
She pressed his palm, applying gentle, firm pressure.
“You’re doing really well. So don’t be too hard on yourself.”
