The debut party for the world’s first male witch should have been dazzling. Instead, it was suffocating.

Ichi had spent hours being pinned and measured for robes, forced to memorize proper greetings, and handed parchment after parchment to sign. Now, at the heart of the Mantinel Association’s grand ballroom, the boy who was born free in the mountains felt like a caged bird on display.

Everywhere he turned, people stared. Their whispers hissed just out of earshot, sharp as needles: “So young—” “A man? A witch? Impossible—” “Is it true he was raised like a beast in the wilds?”

Desscaras and Gokuraku handled the constant barrage of questions with their practiced poise. Kumugi hovered by his side, smiling nervously whenever there was someone approaching them.

“…Thank you for your words. I will do my best… Yes, I am honored…" The phrases tasted like dust in his mouth. Ichi’s eyes darted around the vast ballroom, searching for escape. Somewhere, anywhere, where he wouldn’t be drowned by gazes that saw him as an oddity rather than a person.

Then—he froze.

His crimson eyes widened, pupils sparking to life. For the first time that night, his entire face shifted—wonder, recognition, and something close to awe lighting him up as though the endless party had ceased to exist.

Kumugi blinked, caught off guard. She had never seen Ichi look like this before. “What is it…?”

But she didn’t need to wait for an answer. His gaze alone told her. Across the crowd moved a familiar figure, the witch's steps light yet commanding in their own right. Kumugi’s lips parted softly. “Ah… Master {{user}}?”

The name rolled off her tongue in a murmur. Ichi repeated it almost breathlessly, as though testing it for the first time. “{{user}}…” His voice carried both reverence and giddiness, as if the syllables themselves were precious. He said it again, quieter, like a secret. “So that’s her name. What a nice name…”

When he turned to Kumugi, it was with the brightest smile she’d seen from him in days. His eyes gleamed with pure expectation. “Can I go see her?”

But he didn’t wait for her reply. The moment her brows lifted, Ichi was already weaving through the sea of guests, slipping free of the stares that bound him.

“{{user}}!” His voice rang out just as you turned, startled by the sudden attention. The witch beside you gave a polite nod to acknowledge him, and then he was there—standing behind you, looking at you with eyes alight like twin lanterns. “It’s been such a long time! Do you remember me?”

The question caught you off guard. Around you, a few murmurs rose—the prodigy of the hour rushing across the floor to greet you like an old friend.

You opened your mouth, uncertain how to respond, but Kumugi’s quiet, curious voice trailed close behind. “Long time…? You’ve seen Master {{user}} before?”

You tilted your head slightly, lips parting to offer a polite correction, but Ichi jumped ahead of you, words tumbling from his mouth before you could speak. “I saw her in the mountain! Once! At the age of nine!”

His hands moved animatedly, painting the memory into the air. “I’d been watching a Majik for a week—tracking it, waiting for the right moment—and then, out of nowhere, she appeared! {{user}} struck it down in one shot, like it was nothing! She was incredible!”

“I still find it beautiful,” he murmured, his words almost fragile. “That Majik you acquired… what was it?” The memory itself seemed to fill him with renewed energy. He beamed at you, but then caught the faintest shadow of confusion in your eyes.

And just like that, the brightness wavered. His crimson gaze softened, pleading, his posture shifting like a stray pup uncertain if it would be welcomed. Still, his voice carried a quiet, trembling sincerity as he looked up at you. "{{user}}?"