Math Is Magic

{ 1 MONTH LATER… }

"And that's how…" Vincent concluded, slowly closing the hefty tome of philosophy. The book's gilded edge caught and reflected the sunlight, giving the moment an almost solemn aura. "…even the smallest gesture can change destiny. Like a pebble thrown into a pond, the ripples spread far, and the consequences can be unpredictable."

The dull sound of the book closing marked the end of the lesson.

Since the young Prince had begun his private lessons with Vincent, the schedule of subjects had been reorganized several times over the year.

The changes, however, were never random.

The curriculum was meticulously designed to keep the Prince motivated and stimulate his curiosity, avoiding the monotony of repetitive weeks.

Every variation was carefully orchestrated under the directives of King Arthur, who occasionally intervened personally to decide which subjects to reduce, deepen, or even eliminate entirely, ensuring the Prince acquired the knowledge deemed essential for a future sovereign.

Thus, some disciplines had been reduced to one or two lessons per week, while the order of subjects had been rearranged no less than three times so far.

And that is why, on that particular day, Philosophy—which was usually scheduled for Tuesday mornings—had been moved to the last hour, replacing the two-hour slot usually reserved for Continental Language.

Much to Mirac's relief, King Arthur had also recently decided to reduce the weekly hours of Math from four to three!

For him, who detested the subject, this was a monumental victory!

The announcement had felt like an unexpected gift, and every time he glanced at the new schedule, he couldn't help but smile with satisfaction.

That schedule, however, now lay closed on the edge of the desk, next to the quill Mirac was using to carefully transcribe the final notes from the chalkboard.

The chalk, which only moments earlier had screeched against the rough surface, seemed to still echo in his mind as his eyes followed the simple diagrams illustrating the principle of action and reaction.

Having finished the transcription, he carefully placed his quill down and sighed—a breath that carried a subtle, almost adult unease. It wasn't the fatigue from the lesson weighing on him, but something deeper, a tension that shook him ceaselessly from within.

"It's already been a year since we met, Professor Shirkenn…" Mirac began, his tone grave, devoid of his usual lightheartedness.

Vincent, notoriously awkward, flinched. He scratched his neck nervously with a clumsy smile, the typical gesture of someone caught off guard. Mirac knew that reaction all too well, now an integral part of their daily routine.

"Oh, you're right, young Prince," Vincent replied, letting out a nervous chuckle. "It feels like only yesterday we had our first lesson. Heh, wow! How fast time fli-!"

"For how much longer do you intend to continue like this?" Mirac interrupted, his tone decisive and his gaze unwavering.

Vincent froze, disoriented by the young Prince's unexpected firmness.

"C-C-Continue like this? What do you mean, young Prince?" Vincent stammered, trying to maintain an appearance of control. 

Beads of sweat, however, already dotted his forehead as the overwhelming sensation of being exposed engulfed him. A part of him feared that everything was about to collapse.

"You know exactly what I mean…" Mirac retorted, calmly rising from his chair. His movements were slow, yet they carried a confidence unusual for a child of his age.

He approached the desk, his eyes locked onto Vincent's.

"I'm sorry to say this, but I've already spoken to my mother," the young Prince continued, his tone calm but firm. "Of course, I wish I hadn't had to, but I had no other choice. I needed an outside perspective to figure out what to do..."

Vincent seemed frozen, as if the desk in front of him was the only shelter from an impending storm. He swallowed loudly, his arms stiff as though an enchantment had stripped him of control. The only movement he managed was loosening his tie slightly, perhaps to breathe more easily.

"I-I still don't understand, young Prince…" he murmured, but his trembling voice betrayed his growing unease.

"For all this time, I've pretended not to know anything," Mirac continued, taking another step forward. "No offense, but every time I watched you—during lessons, at lunch, in the hallways—I couldn't help but think you were really a terrible actor!"

Mirac's voice was calm, but the weight of his words hit Vincent like a ton of bricks.

"I waited for months for you to make the decisive move. Of course, it's not really my business, but… I can't keep ignoring this situation! You've left me no choice but to force you to reveal your own hand…"

Vincent was visibly uncomfortable. He tried to respond, but the words caught in his throat. Instinctively, his hands went to the knot of his tie, loosening it.

"Young Prince…" he finally stammered, his voice cracking under the tension of the moment.

"Professor Shirkenn…" Mirac interrupted, not raising his voice, but with a resoluteness that silenced any attempt at a reply.

The silence that followed was heavy with tension, a moment where the world seemed to hold its breath. Mirac's eyes were fixed on Vincent's, as though daring him to say something—anything!

"You…" the Prince finally began, letting a moment of pause amplify the weight of his words, "…are interested in Carmen, aren't you?"

After that question, the silence in the room became so dense it felt almost tangible. The only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the clock: tick-tick-tick, marking the charged anticipation.

Vincent remained rooted in place, unable to form a response. His face, usually awkward and benign, twisted into an expression of pure embarrassment. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out—not even a stammer.

Mirac did not avert his gaze. His eyes, sharp as blades, pierced through Vincent's feeble defenses without hesitation.

On the other side of the desk, Vincent swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously as he lowered his gaze to escape the oppressive intensity. His hands, clasped tightly together, trembled visibly.

"Y-Young Prince…" Vincent stammered, his voice hoarse and lacking conviction. "I… I don't know what you're talking about…"

Mirac didn't move. His body was still, his posture calm and relaxed, but his gaze allowed no escape. He waited, with a patience that seemed endless, for a more sincere response.

"Carmen… is a respectable person, of course…" Vincent continued, his words fragmented and laden with nervousness. "But I… I don't… I mean… I don't intend to…"

As he stammered, his tie, now almost completely undone, hung awkwardly around his neck.

Mirac let a few seconds pass before responding. After a long sigh, he broke the silence:

"Then why do you tremble every time she's near? Why do you stutter when you talk to her in the hallways? And, above all, why do you ask her for coffee every day, when you never actually drink it?"

His words were accompanied by his finger pointing towards the desk. There, a cup of coffee, untouched and now cold, sat abandoned, like incriminating evidence. A detail that did not go unnoticed.

Finally, retracting the hand with which he had pointed to the cup, he added:

"It's been obvious for too long, Professor Shirkenn. I don't want to cause you anxiety, but I don't believe I'm the only one at the castle who has noticed your interest in Carmen."

Vincent appeared to have no way out now. 

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncertain how to respond. But the truth was clear, and it was evident that Mirac would not accept lies.

"Alright!" Vincent finally exclaimed, as if he had just gathered the courage to drop the mask. "Yes, it's true, young Prince! I admit it… I like her! I like her a lot!"

His hands opened in a gesture of surrender, and the relief mixed with resignation was clear in his voice.

"But please, don't tell her anything! She… she doesn't know, and she absolutely mustn't find out! It would be too embarrassing for me to bear..."

Mirac took a step closer, leaning slightly forward, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Professor Shirkenn…" said the Prince, his voice calm but authoritative. Then he straightened, returning to a more solemn posture. "But knowing her, I think she's already noticed by now."

Vincent's eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, is that so? Well, actually… I think so too…"

He bit his lip, his eyes still fixed on the floor, while his nervous fingers drummed against the edge of the desk, as if searching for something to distract him.

Mirac, maintaining his composure, continued:

"Don't worry, Professor Shirkenn. I haven't said anything to her, nor do I intend to, of course. It wouldn't be right towards you. But I think, sooner or later, you'll need to do something about it. You can't go on like this forever. After all, you've already hidden it for a whole year, right? Don't you think it's time to act?"

Vincent nodded hesitantly.

"Exactly, young Prince. It was exactly a year ago. Since she helped me fix my shirt collar, the first time we met, I've practically lost my mind! And yet, even today, I'm not sure I can do anything about it…"

Vincent finished the sentence, again lowering his gaze. His hunched and fragile posture betrayed an intense vulnerability.

Mirac slightly shook his head, with a serious yet sympathetic expression.

"I understand how you feel..." the young Prince said, his voice measured. "But I repeat, you can't keep going on like this! I mean, when did you plan on telling her, exactly?"

The words struck Vincent like an arrow. He turned his eyes away again, staring for a while at the landscape outside the window, as if he could find the answer he was looking for there.

"I-I don't know..." he finally admitted, his tone broken by a deep insecurity. "I... I'm not good enough for her, young Prince. She's... beautiful, brilliant... amazing! And me? I'm not even... not even presentable!"

His voice cracked again, and those words seemed to weigh on him like a burden carried for far too long.

Mirac remained silent, letting the weight of that confession fill the room.

'It's just like my mother said!' he thought, a jolt of realization running through him.

Vincent's words echoed in his mind, sparking fresh memories from a month ago.

After dinner on the first of March, in fact, Mirac had discussed this situation with his mother, seeking her advice.

"He's probably thinking he's not good enough," his mother had explained to him, with that gentle yet firm tone she reserved for the most important truths. "I think he's scared. Scared of not measuring up. But maybe, my son, you could help him find the courage he needs."

Following his mother's advice, Mirac had promised to wait until the first of April, exactly one year after meeting Vincent.

In the meantime, Mirac had hoped that Vincent would take the initiative, without him needing to get personally involved in this matter.

And since that hadn't happened, he felt it was time to intervene!

To help this man overcome his insecurities...

To resolve his love troubles...

After all, for Mirac, there was no obstacle that could stop him when it came to extending a hand to someone...

Especially a friend!

"Again, I can imagine how you feel..." Mirac finally said, his voice softer, almost consoling. "But there's something far scarier than rejection."

With his eyes slightly widening, Vincent quickly shifted his gaze back to the young Prince.

"Oh, r-really?" the man asked, his tone filled with curiosity and apprehension. "A-And what could be more frightening than that?"

Mirac stared at him carefully, with a wisdom far beyond his years.

When he spoke, each word seemed carved in stone, unwavering:

"Regret for not even trying, Professor Shirkenn!"

Vincent froze.

Those words, simple yet incredibly powerful, struck him with an intensity that surpassed any experience he had known up until that point.

"R-Regret?" he repeated quietly, almost fearful to utter the word, as if just invoking it carried a weight he had never truly considered.

"Exactly. Maybe you've never really thought about it, or maybe you have, but I assure you, when you come to the edge of life, regret eats away at you more than old age ever could! So my suggestion is not to wait until it's too late to act! Life doesn't wait for anyone, and no one can go back to change what's been done."

Vincent remained absorbed, lost in his thoughts. Those words seemed to fill him with a strange energy, and his body straightened slightly, though a shadow of hesitation still hung over him.

"Maybe... maybe you're right, young Prince. Maybe I should give it a try! But..."

Mirac stiffened, his face turning serious in an instant, and interrupted him before the sentence could finish.

"No 'buts', Professor Shirkenn," he insisted, his voice firm and resolute. "Just try! Don't condemn yourself to live with the burden of what you didn't have the courage to do."

And besides this, a thought resurfaced in Mirac's mind, one of those he could not afford to speak aloud, but one he so much wished he could say:

'Don't make the same mistake I made in my previous life!...'

In complete silence, Vincent stared at the wooden desk, his arms crossed and his brows furrowed in an expression of deep introspection.

His hands, gripping the sleeves of his shirt tightly, trembled slightly, while his eyes wandered uncertainly, suspended between doubt and the fear of choosing.

'What should I do?' he kept thinking, scratching his head, frustrated by the uncertainty of what to choose: whether to reveal his secret or not.

Mirac also took a moment, crossing his arms over his chest as Vincent had done, and reflecting carefully before speaking again:

"Carmen is a person who values sincerity a lot. After a year spent here at the castle, you should know that by now. That being said, Professor Shirkenn, I won't insist any further. After all, the decision of what to do is entirely up to you. My words were merely suggestions and advice, which you are perfectly free to disregard if you wish. I certainly won't hold it against you. But please, consider what I've said! Don't be afraid of failing or being rejected! Because, in the end, what will truly matter is the courage to have at least tried! Right?"

Mirac took a step back, then turned, slowly moving away from the desk.

As he returned to his desk to gather his things from the drawers, his words seemed to still vibrate in the air, like an echo impossible to ignore.

For a couple of seconds, they remained resonating in Vincent's mind, like waves crashing on the shore.

He barely nodded, almost imperceptibly, as if that small, continuous gesture could help him organize the thoughts he was struggling to grasp.

And soon after, surprisingly, a subtle smile began to appear on his face, likely born from a timid but growing determination.

His hands, previously rigid and trembling, began to relax.

His breath, which had been shaky just moments ago, steadied, as though he were releasing a pressure that had held him captive for far too long.

With an absent-minded gesture, he scratched the back of his neck, letting his usual awkwardness fall away.

His eyes, uncertain until just a few moments earlier, lifted to meet Mirac's. They now gleamed with a newfound, quiet determination.

The smile, timid but genuine, dominated his lips with vigor, like the first ray of sunlight after a long night.

It wasn't the smile of someone who had all the answers, but of someone who had finally chosen to stop running.

"You… young Prince… speak like a man far wiser than your age."

Mirac blinked, slightly startled by what was likely meant to be a compliment.

'Oh, come on!' he thought. 'Why does everyone keep saying that? Am I really that bad at playing the part of a child?!'

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face before a nervous smile softened it.

"Ah, is that so? Well, I hear that a lot…" he replied with a sheepish chuckle, averting his gaze in an attempt to hide his sudden vulnerability.

Unaware of it all, Vincent took a deep breath.

"So… I need to be braver, huh?" he said at last, his voice a bit lighter, as if trying to convince himself of what he had just said.

Mirac responded with a small smile, an expression of quiet satisfaction that nonetheless concealed the pride he felt at seeing Vincent begin to move past his doubts.

Then, as if jolted by a sudden determination, Vincent slammed his hands onto the desk and straightened abruptly.

"All right, I've decided!" he exclaimed, his voice alive with newfound energy. "No more waiting! After an entire year, it's time to put an end to this charade! This Sunday… yes, this Sunday, I'll confess to Carmen! It's do or die, right?!"

The laughter that followed was nervous, almost embarrassed, but it was lit by an enthusiasm he had never shown before. His face glowed with a mixture of budding courage and lingering fear, as if he was already second-guessing his decision.

Then, with a solemn gesture, Vincent bowed deeply, his heart pounding so hard it seemed audible in the room.

"Thank you, young Prince!" he said, his voice filled with heartfelt gratitude.

Mirac shook his head slightly, a kind smile on his face.

"There's no need to thank me, Professor Shirkenn," he replied simply, waving a hand to motion him to rise. "Just know that if you need any help, you can always count on me!"

As Vincent straightened, he looked at the young Prince with eyes full of hope.

"R-Really? Well, it's good to hear you say that!"

Then, with a shy but warm laugh, he added, almost hesitantly:

"If that's the case… could you help me with some preparations?"