Math Is Magic Chapter 25: CHAPTER 25: Terrible Actor

Read chapter 25 of Math Is Magic by iminchoo on NovelPedia.

{ 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