Frieren: Serie's Apprentice

[Sinseki Era — Year -21]

[Central Lands · Holy Capital Strahl]

The next morning.

Gut, who had awakened early at the break of dawn, sat cross-legged on the balcony to meditate. He only concluded his morning cultivation once daylight had fully arrived.

After a simple wash-up and breakfast in the inn's ground-floor dining hall, Gut packed a portion of food and brought it upstairs, lightly knocking on his teacher Serie's door.

Click—

Serie opened the door far quicker than usual—a rare sight indeed.

She actually didn't dawdle today? Perhaps a compliment would help encourage her to wake faster next time.

However, as the door swung open, Gut saw the fatigue in her eyes and the desk piled high with notes. The reason for her prompt response was obvious—she hadn't slept at all.

Handing over the meal box, Gut inquired about his teacher's overnight research as Serie began eating. Specifically, he asked about her progress in learning the spell Reparo from the magical tome.

"You mean that simple domestic-use spell?" Serie scoffed and grabbed a piece of scratch paper from the desk. She tore it into several pieces and tossed them down.

Then, with a faint shimmer of magical energy at her fingertip, she gave a slight tap in the air. Instantly, the torn pieces restored themselves to their original form.

"What the actual hell—"

Serie's display of nonverbal spellcasting left Gut stunned.

He'd assumed that even with her talent, it'd take Serie at least a night to grasp most of the foreign magical theory. He hadn't expected her to not only master the theory but also reach the level of nonverbal casting, a high-level skill.

Even in the Harry Potter universe, nonverbal magic was part of advanced coursework and indicated profound magical mastery.

To think Serie had accomplished all that in just one night was truly terrifying.

While Gut marveled at her, Serie sat comfortably, stuffing the last of her croissant into her mouth—clearly having overestimated her bite. Gut quickly handed her a warm drink when she choked a little.

Whew—

After gulping it down, she took a deep breath and cleaned up.

Serie then drew out a new sheet of scratch paper and beckoned Gut closer.

"Take a look at this," she said. "Early this morning, I managed to abstract and isolate the fundamental structure of this magical system. There are surely gaps in the details, but it should serve for general theoretical estimates."

"Based on my calculations, the upper limit of spell power under this system is quite low—significantly weaker than our current magical system."

"What do you think?"

"What do I think..." Gut hesitated, recalling that even the top-tier wizards in Harry Potter didn't have destructive power to rival this world's battle mages.

Wait—!

Cautious and sharp-minded as ever, Gut instantly realized Serie was baiting him.

From her earlier casual demonstration of nonverbal casting to this inquiry into magical systems, she was testing his familiarity with the origin of this foreign magic.

If he responded too knowingly, it would reveal that he had deep familiarity—something he shouldn't logically possess.

Staring into her golden eyes, shimmering with hidden meaning, Gut raised both hands in mock surrender.

Of course, Serie, having lived since the mythic era, was far trickier to deal with than someone like Frieren.

"Tsk-tsk." Serie chuckled at his defensive response and spoke with a knowing tone.

"I've probably told you this many times already: I don't interfere in my disciples' private matters."

"If a disciple has secrets they'd rather not share, that's normal. As a teacher, I understand."

"Some secrets are big, some small."

"Even if it's a secret that truly piques my curiosity, I won't stoop to threatening a disciple just to satisfy my own curiosity."

"Usually, I choose to wait. Wait until the disciple is willing to share it themselves."

"For example..."

"Gut, you must feel lonely sometimes, don't you?"

"After all, there's no one else here like you."

Gut: !!!

"Teacher, what are you saying? I don't understand a single word."

Dodging with obvious denial, Gut hoped to derail the conversation, but Serie just smiled and dropped the subject.

She stood and patted him on the shoulder, meeting his eyes.

"Gut, I hope you'll remember this."

"We are master and disciple."

"I'll be a teacher you can trust. And you—are the disciple I'll protect."

Then, after an all-nighter, Serie lazily lay down on her bed.

"One more thing... could you give me a bit of an ear massage before you go? Please?"

The grave atmosphere crumbled in an instant, returning to their usual daily banter.

"Sure," Gut said, pulling a chair next to the bed.

"Turn this way a bit, teacher."

"Mmhmm."

Serie obediently turned toward him, offering her ear.

"So comfy..." she murmured, eyes narrowing in bliss as Gut massaged her.

Sleepiness overtook her, and before long, her breathing became slow and even.

"Make sure... to wake me up tonight..." she mumbled before drifting off.

Gut massaged a while longer, then gently pulled the curtains and exited.

Click—

After locking the door behind him, Gut let out a deep sigh of relief.

Serie had been far too terrifying these past few days.

No sane man could endure that kind of pressure.

And...

"Gut, you must feel lonely sometimes."

"After all, there's no one else here like you."

Those words were practically calling him out.

Glancing at the golden tag [Transmigrator] in his talent tab, Gut walked back to his room lost in thought.

Serie had definitely noticed something.

Whether it was the magical tome or his other anomalies, she was piecing it together.

But still, their heart-to-heart had meaning.

At the very least, some things were now out in the open, and Gut better understood Serie's stance.

"We are master and disciple."

"I'll be a teacher you can trust. And you—are the disciple I'll protect."

Standing in the hallway with his room key in hand, Gut paused for a moment.

"Master and disciple, huh..."

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