The Golden-Haired Summoner - Ch. 2

Was this tunnel always this long?

The more I ran, panting and gasping for air, the blurrier my vision became. My arms and legs stopped moving the way I wanted them to.

“Is anyone there? Someone, anyone…”

My throat tightened as though something had caught in it, leaving me unable to speak further.

The air around me was thick with acrid smoke, and soon, I couldn’t see anything at all.

There was no sign of people, only the sound of things exploding—one after another. The flames were faster than I had anticipated.

“This… this can’t be happening.”

Tears started streaming down my face out of nowhere. I hadn’t even run that far, but I was already beginning to feel exhausted.

The tunnel was horrifyingly vast and dark, stretching endlessly. Was it even possible to escape from here?

There was no light, no hope in sight.

Though my legs kept giving out beneath me, I forced myself to move. I struggled to take even one more step.

If I stopped, I’d collapse, and if I collapsed, that would be the end.

For the first time in my life, I felt the raw instinct to survive.

Then, my foot stepped on something.

Horrifyingly, it was the body of a dead person.

“Ahhh!”

My heart pounded wildly in my chest.

In the dim light of a car’s headlamp, I could barely make out the face of the person. They seemed to have been trampled to death. Their flesh had been torn apart, and bits of it spilled from their gaping mouth.

The sight filled me with so much fear that I felt like throwing up.

But I couldn’t. I had to keep my legs moving.

Even as the strength drained from my body, I forced myself to endure.

I pressed on, relying on the faint orange glow that barely illuminated my surroundings.

How far had I managed to walk since stepping on that body?

Six steps. That was it.

I felt like I’d tried so hard, but that was all I could manage. I couldn’t take another step.

As if on cue, the dim orange lights around me flickered and then went out entirely.

With that, the feeble light I had been relying on vanished, leaving me surrounded by pitch-black darkness.

Eventually, I collapsed to the ground as well.

“…Mom.”

At that moment, I suddenly remembered the phone in my bag. I pulled it out and tried to turn it on, but it was too dark to see the buttons.

I pressed anything I could find, but the phone wouldn’t turn on.

Why? Why isn’t it working?

Tears streamed down my face, soaking my hands.

“Mom… Dad…!” I wailed uncontrollably.

Nothing was going the way I wanted. I didn’t even know why I felt so overwhelmed with sorrow, but I broke down and cried.

I was crying because I was frustrated, scared, and full of regret. My whole body trembled, and I could barely breathe. Even crying felt like a luxury at that moment.

My head spun violently, and saliva started dripping from the corners of my mouth.

I must have inhaled too much of the toxic gas.

Like the others who had already died.

The thought of the phone battery I had removed earlier crossed my mind after I gagged and retched.

With shaking hands, I reached into my bag. I fumbled around, found the battery, and inserted it back into the phone before pressing the power button.

The time it took for the phone to boot up felt unbearably long. I wondered if it would even turn on before I died.

“Please… hurry…”

Finally, the phone powered on, casting a faint light in the suffocating darkness.

With trembling hands, I saw that Mom had left me several missed calls. I pressed the call button, and the phone started ringing.

Beep. Beep.

Please pick up. Pick up! Mom, please!

It was such a strange feeling.

The idea of being trapped in this horrible place felt less terrifying than the thought of not hearing my mom’s voice at that moment. That was what truly scared me.

Thick, toxic smoke seeped through my nose and mouth, into my throat. My body shuddered uncontrollably.

Beep. Beep. Click.

“Hello?”

“Mom!”

It felt as if I’d been rescued from the depths of darkness. Just for a moment, I thought that.

“Oh, my! Why are you yelling again? You were like this earlier too! What kind of manners are those? Who hangs up on an adult like that? Did I raise you like this?”

“I won’t do it anymore, Mom. I really won’t.”

“Don’t just say ‘won’t.’ Say, ‘Yes, I understand.’ What’s gotten into you, Jeanie?”

“Mom, I… please save me. Cough! I don’t want to die…”

As soon as I said it, the despair I’d been holding back overwhelmed me.

I was going to die.

Unbelievably, I would die before my own mom.

Without knowing the meaning of life, having done nothing but study every day against my will, I was going to die alone in such a meaningless way.

“What? Jeanie, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I… cough… gasp…”

“Jeanie!”

I was my parents’ only child. To my dad, who always called me his precious little princess, I owed so much. Tears flowed freely from my eyes.

The words “princess” used to make me groan in embarrassment and annoyance, but now I regretted every time I’d reacted that way. Only feelings of regret and guilt filled my thoughts.

I became dizzy all of a sudden.

It felt like my throat was being squeezed shut, like I had reached my limit.

My vision blurred.

A rough, gurgling sound came from deep in my throat, and it was awful—so awful to hear.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Where are you? Jeanie, I’ll come to you! Jeanie?”

“You know I love you, right? I really… truly… gasp… love you, and thank you. Please… don’t… fight with Dad… gasp… anymore…”

Forcing the words out of my mouth caused unbearable pain in my stomach, but I felt I had to say them.

Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to speak.

I sobbed, choking and retching uncontrollably.

Eventually, I couldn’t say anything anymore. As I clutched my choking throat and collapsed, I barely heard…

“Dear! Jeanie… Jeanie’s…!”

I heard Mom calling out to Dad. But then, everything became distant. At least the last thing I heard was Dad’s voice. That was some consolation.

Dad.

I wanted to call out to him, but my will disappeared before the words could leave my lips.

“What’s going on? What happened to Jeanie? Jeanie! Jeanie?”

I couldn’t respond.

The last thing I heard was Dad’s voice calling my name through the fallen phone. Then, I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face.

That was how I died.

—

But I wasn’t done yet. I wouldn’t be buried under studying again.

—–

My consciousness was faint, as though I were a newborn baby. The older I got, the clearer my mind became.

Even with just that much, I seemed to stand out among kids my age.

By the time I fully recalled who I was—around the age of five—I was already living away from my parents. I spent my days in a space packed with books, taking difficult lessons alongside other children who appeared to be my age.

The place was a sort of talent incubator filled with prodigies.

<Royal Drike Academy>

It was a masterpiece of an institution, established by the Kingdom of Dmitri, known for its powerful knights, to bolster its lacking class of magicians.

Gifted with the ability to sense mana and blessed with intelligence, I quickly gained a reputation as a promising talent.

Magic—it was undeniably fascinating.

I’ll admit it.

Its splendor was utterly captivating, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

They said that becoming a magician meant the world and all its truths would be mine. That I would unravel the secrets of existence and surpass the limits of humanity. It was undeniably alluring.

After all, it was something that had never existed in the world I’d lived in before.

At the academy, they taught much more than just magic.

Alchemy, administrative studies, economics—countless subjects designed to solidify our intellectual foundation were laid before us.

It wasn’t just me; every student learned the same things.

Most of it was far too advanced for young children to grasp, but to me, it felt easier than the college entrance exams I’d studied for in my previous life.

Before we turned ten, we were expected to discover our aptitude and choose a specialization.

From that point on, we were to devote ourselves entirely to our studies and, ultimately, pledge allegiance to the kingdom’s ruler.

It was brainwashing, plain and simple, and it was clear that brainwashing was their goal.

But I didn’t hesitate to let that indoctrination flow in one ear and out the other.

Inside this adorable, petite girl’s body wasn’t an innocent soul—it was a jaded teenager, shaped by South Korea’s own relentless system of rote education.

Naturally, the stronger the attempts to brainwash me, the fiercer my resistance became.

—

“I don’t want to be a magician.”

“I don’t want to do anything at all.”

—

I didn’t care about any innate talents I might have been born with.

I was far more burdened by the tedium than intrigued by the novelty of it all.

Life was uncertain—no one knew when it might end. I wanted to live how I pleased.

I was determined to live comfortably, grow old, and die peacefully.

What I absolutely refused to do was die suddenly one day after wasting my life on endless studying. Never!