The sun was long gone. They invaded the atelier, leaving their shoes at the front door. The night crickets called for mates.

“I’m sure you two are hungry. We can deal with everything at the dinner table.”

“Sure. Thanks for the food, then,” Frances said.

“Could you two please do me a favour and call the kids down?”

With a groan, Frances and Hye-Sung made their way up. The space inside the atelier was far more vast than what the exterior eluded to. From the outside, who would have thought that the bamboo shoot-looking place was this huge? Dark stained windows that resembled the colour of a well roasted coffee, and 5 separate rooms. A nameplate hung outside, its thin rope supported by a nail in the door.

“Pretty dangerous, don’t you think?” Frances asked.

“As a doctor, I can’t say I recommend having exposed nails near children. Or near anyone. Tetanus is a real issue.”

“Any treatment available here?”

“Don’t know. Not my expertise. By the way, I’ll be gone tomorrow. Gotta get herbs for your painkillers.”

“For fucks sake, what do you not know about me?”

“I know everything there is to know about your body.”

Frances sighed. She stopped in front of Roy’s room. Even their name plates spoke of their personalities. For him, it was efficient. Just Roy, and nothing else. Comparatively, the other two drew on flowers and pictures with crayons. She knocked on his door. Behind the wood, he scrambled and opened it after a short while. With the signature glare, he nodded with understanding and headed down. He was the easiest to handle of the bunch. Smart by all accounts, and a boy of few words.

“Ange, come on. I get that you’re pissed that we’re here, but you can’t just throw a tantrum over this,” Frances said to the girl behind that door.

“I don’t think this is how you handle children.”

“Do you have a better idea then?”

“Nope. Should I just kick the door down?”

“Wait, wait. I’m coming out...”

She left the safety of the four walls. Clutching a toy, she rubbed her eyes. Had she been crying? Over a pair of strangers? Even for a child, there was a limit to childishness.

“Did you plan that?”

“Nope.” Hye-Sung shrugged. “I was planning to kick the door down if needed.”

“Well, next one then.”

“It's okay! I heard it.”

“Good. It's dinner time.”

Yohnas picked up a pot and greeted them. The grey stew sported bits of vegetables, mushrooms, and the occasional bit of herbs. He stirred it with a wooden spoon, sending a whole wave of aromas.

“Are you two fine with mushroom stew?”

“Of course. Not picky, are we?”

“No, we aren’t.”

“See this?” Yohnas lifted the pot to show off its bottom. Carved into it was a mysterious rune that seemed to turn off and on when he tapped it. In its off state, it stayed the neutral grey of the steel pot, while it glowed red hot once it was on. “Now kids, do you recall our third lesson? Does anyone want to explain this to them?”

“Alright~ First, the rune is drawn. And that’s the rune for...” Markus’ words trailed off.

“Fire.” Roy rolled his eyes.

“Ah! Yes, fire. This rune dictates what characteristics the spell uses.”

“So essentially, you’ve managed to store a spell?” Hye-Sung asked.

“Yes, exactly.” Yohnas nodded. “Though, casting one is very different from storing it.”

“I’d imagine it's a lot more difficult.”

“That’s why pretty much every single magic item is manufactured here, in Limβurs. There are occasionally a few made in places like the Atlas, but those are rare.”

Hye-Sung engaged the mentor in a deep conversation. Terms that she didn’t understand got thrown around. Mana efficiency, casting time, maintenance. As they talked, Roy scooped out his own portion of stew. He raised his eyebrow, and gestured with the ladle, as if asking ‘Want some?’

“Please, thank you.”

Frances passed the wooden bowl. He scooped out the grey mush. It still steamed. Bits of mushroom stalks floated up as she stirred it around. Roy passed a basket full of fresh, fluffy bread.

“Later, could I talk to you? Please?” Roy asked in a low voice.

“Sure. Alone?”

He nodded. Behind the fringe, he seemed far more mature for his age. Quiet, and contemplative. She could almost see the gears turning in his head.

They met up in his room. Through the open windows, a cool breeze filled the room. Beneath the wide, open stars, the moon gazed upon the quiet planet.

“Come.”

He gestured to the outside. They climbed to the top of the atelier. Sitting atop the green tiles, she could only take a deep breath. How small they were. Even the nukes that she would soon have would barely scratch the earth. A wave of deep sadness rose up.

“Frances?” Roy nudged her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“It's about Ange.”

“Why she’s angry?” Roy nodded.

“She told me before. Love.”

“The professor?”

“And she thinks you two are here to seduce him.”

“Young love is fleeting.”

“I know.”

“This is a nice view, Roy.”

“I know.”

“The stars watch over us. And it's quiet. Truly amazing.”

“This is the first time I’ve done this with someone else.”

“My. To think I had the honour.”

“Lady Frances.”

“Don’t.”

“Lady Frances. I’m not good with people.”

“Please. Don’t.”

“I know I’m not good with emotions.”

“Roy, please.”

“But I don’t want to die with regrets.”

Frances let out a quiet sigh. She knew what he was going to say.

“Lady Frances. I love you.”

“Young love is fleeting. It comes at a time when you— your heart— doesn’t know protection. You will get over me soon. But you will never, ever, forget your first love.”

The story of the kindergarten crush was a tale as old as time. A pair of children, confessing with flowers picked from the playground or school garden. Fond memories, certainly. She could recall the time she confessed to her kindergarten teacher at an age of 6 years old with a bundle of white flowers.

“I am grateful that you feel that way towards me. But trust me lad, young love is something to be cherished.”