Vol 3 Chapter 13 – Boyhood: Early Summer at Twelve・Part 3

So, ghosts—or “Geists,” if you wanna get fancy—are a thing here. Like, literal urban legends with a side of “oh crap, they’re actually real.

Let’s be real, I’ve got no clue why they pop up. Rumor says it’s when some bigshot’s about to kick the bucket and goes, “Screw it, I’m haunting this joint!” with enough spite to scorch their existence into the world.

Oh, and bonus: they supposedly burn all the magic they would’ve made if they’d lived longer—in one go. So yeah, they’re basically OP ghostly rage-quitters.

Total BS, right? That’s what I thought too.

But then you hear about that farmer’s daughter—no magic, no training—who cursed a whole clan of creeps into oblivion. Or that noble girl who got stomped in a power struggle and turned her family’s castle into a five-star haunted resort. With evidence. Hard to laugh it off after that.

At least, until one decided to crash my day.

Ice-cold wind slapped me in the face as she materialized. The air itself whimpered. Summer warmth? Gone. Even the rocks started frosting over. Hell, Master’s “conceptual barrier” (don’t ask, it’s nonsense) got iced up like a freezer shelf.

And there she was: Death in a drop-dead gorgeous package.

I mean, literally drop-dead. But damn—she was a stunner. Soft curves, doe eyes that could melt glaciers, a nose just sharp enough to cut glass, and lips that screamed “sinful dessert.” Her brunette locks dripped with jewels, screaming, “I’m rich and I’ll haunt you fabulously.”

Her translucent form flickered, her back visible through tattered edges—late teens or early twenties, maybe? The loose gown hid her tall frame, but if she’d been alive, men would’ve lined up to simp.

If not for the soul-crushing magical pressure making my knees wobble like jelly.

Gotta admit, I almost felt bad for the lecture hall newbies and bureaucrats who didn’t flee fast enough. Pants-wetting? Totally valid.

But hey, I kept my cool thanks to Eliza. Poor kid froze like a deer in headlights at first, then started bawling when the cold hit Master’s barrier. Big Bro Mode™ activated—hugged her tight while praying she wouldn’t magic-vomit everywhere. Master warned her mana might go Chernobyl if she panics. Priorities!

I shoved her face into my chest (blocking the nightmare fuel) and tanked the cold like a champ. Summer clothes vs. blizzard temps? Not my brightest moment. What kind of high-ranking mage throws a tantrum this epic anyway?!

“My, my~ What’s got you so worked up? Did someone steal your favorite spellbook~?”

STOP POKING THE BEAR, LADY! I’ve been saving my Skill Points™ for months! All I’ve got is this janky “Invisible Hand” barrier stretched into a “Giant Palm.” Not exactly boss fight material!

Sure, I’ve trolled bigger fish before—made ’em rage-quit or cough up loot. But doing that without save points? Not funny!

“How many times must I endure your ignorant replies to my letters…?”

Beautiful women going nuclear are scarier. Her tear-streaked “sweet girl” face now looked straight-up yandere.

I almost cried too. Throwing a high-level raid boss at a newbie who just finished the tutorial? Uncool! Let me grind four more party members first!

We glared in silence until I debated wasting my SP on a Hail Mary barrier… when suddenly, the cold vanished.

No—poofed. Summer warmth returned like someone flipped a switch. Frost melted, furniture unfroze. Only the phantom itch of post-freeze thawing remained.

Wait—if the aftereffects disappeared… Was that magic?! Magic’s supposed to guzzle mana like a gas-hog! What kinda monster casually drops an ice age then bounces? How many XP do I need to solo her?!

“…Apologies, little ones. This fool simply… vexes me.”

The death babe finally noticed us, gliding past Master to squat at eye-level. Then—WHAM—semi-transparent hug attack! My face got buried in… surprisingly warm, very cushioned assets.

Huh?! Ghosts can touch stuff?! Why’s she soft?! Why’s she got heating pads for boobs?!

“Hahaha! ‘Fool’ is rather harsh~”

“You. Silence.”

My brain short-circuited—equal parts panic and boob-induced static. As she hoisted me up, declaring “tea time,” one thought prevailed: This yandere ice queen’s gonna be trouble.

【Tips】 Imperial law treats ghosts as “deceased,” stripping inheritance rights—but any wealth/status acquired post-death stays theirs. Chaotic evil loophole? Absolutely.

Minutes later, we’re dumped in some fancy-pants VIP room. Plush sofas, carved tables—the works.

No way a country bumpkin like me belongs here.

And this wasn’t just hospitality.

Why the hell am I sitting here with Eliza and someone who’s gotta be top five in this building’s hierarchy?! Someone teach me how to not scream.

Look, I get why we fled the hall. If we’d stayed, those receptionists—glaring like we’d murdered their goldfish—would’ve gone full Karen mode. Their eyes screamed, “I’ll strangle nobles and professors if they delay my coffee break.”

But why’s our ghost hostess plopped Eliza on her lap for head pats while I’m trapped in a boob prison?! And Master, you’re supposed to be my employer and Eliza’s teacher! Stop sipping tea like “ooh, delicious~” and DO SOMETHING!

“Explain. Now.”

“Whatever do you mean~?”

Master’s playing clueless, but someone pissed off a nuclear-tier ghost. Spill the beans already—and quit pouring oil on this dumpster fire!

A low growl: “The three months you took to return.”

Eliza flinched on the ghost’s lap. Her tiny death grip on my hand confirmed she hadn’t forgotten the ice apocalypse.

“My, a professor who can’t calculate travel time? How… quaint.”

Okay, I’d doubted her noble creds before, but this “polite savagery” screamsss aristocrat. Even sleazy merchants show some shame!

Sure, Master dragged us through every backwater inn, but three months isn’t that unreasonable…

Wait. That idiot kept using short-range teleport spells for dumb reasons. If he could yoink me across counties, why the Amazing (horse carriage) charade?!

“Surely you haven’t forgotten the spatial magic limitations from your own license exams?”

Called it! He could’ve fast-traveled but chose the scenic route?! Why?!

“And submitting Eliza’s paperwork behind my back—even name-dropping her father?!”

“Paperwork’s so tedious, darling~ Best to file early!” Master flicked a document into existence. It slid across the table like a passive-aggressive hockey puck.

The ghost—Lady Reisen—scanned it, hunting for typos like a grammar Karen. I peeked too.

…This is legalese hell. Flowery prose, archaic references, family trees longer than my crippling debt—my brain melted.

Thud. She slammed it shut. Flawless. Of course.

Ah. So the Amazing delays were just buying time to forge this masterpiece.

“Twenty-one years ago, you said—and I quote—‘I’ll return if I take a responsible apprentice.’ Remember?”

Master smirked. Lady Reisen’s aura dropped to -30°C. Eliza and I huddled like Popsicles.

“Surely the great archmage hasn’t forgotten~?”

Stop poking the demon, Master! I’ll literally assassinate someone if it ends this!

“And… this child?!”

Lady Reisen stabbed a finger at me.

“Even if I permit Eliza… this one’s not on the documents! Cheater!”

Cheating… how?!