Chapter 2 - Megane Boy Departs from Albat Village

The awkward atmosphere I created lingered until the end of the selection ceremony, after which the coming-of-age banquet began. In this rural village with little entertainment, people naturally livened up once food and alcohol appeared.

Sharon and Narval, who had drawn easily understandable "aptitudes" lacking any uniqueness, received the usual celebratory welcomes from the adults.

Meanwhile, I—the one who’d drawn a baffling "aptitude" so absurd it felt like a joke—was treated like a sore thumb. Adults showered me with what I assume were meant to be comforting words.

Too uncomfortable to stay, I erased my presence early and gorged myself on the only thing I’d looked forward to: the food.
Mmm, delicious.
I’d usually say "meat is best," but Albat Village’s giant leeks are exceptional. Roasted, their sweetness shines. Simmered, they harmonize with other ingredients.

I hated them as a child, but now they’re a favorite—especially stewed with meat.

"Hey."
Only my mentor ever finds me hiding in the shadows, away from the banquet.

Bect the Hunter—a bear-like man usually clad in crude furs—now wore ordinary villager clothes. Despite his rugged appearance, he’s a master of precision hunting.

I still can’t match him. His skill towers as high as his frame. Will I ever catch up?

"Join the others today."
He sat beside me, plate piled high with food.

"I’m fine here."
I hate attention. Better unseen.

"Pathetic. No city dreams? At your age, I obsessed over making it big."

I’d usually brush this off, but today—my adulthood day—felt different.

"Did you try?"
"Yep. Ten years in the city."

"How’d that go?"
"Didn’t fit in. Ended up here after a village needed a hunter."

Oh?

"Brought a woman I fancied. Proposed while moving here."
Spare me.

"She liked me first. Keep that secret."
He’s told this story a hundred times.

"......"
"Still ignoring me, huh?"

He gave up and changed topics.
"So? How’s the Glasses?"

"Perfect."
Vision sharpened—too sharp. His receding hairline is now distressingly clear.

"Still a weird ‘aptitude.’"
Seems odd to others, but invaluable to me.

Despite the special day, we chatted pointlessly until drowsiness hit. Then Vector stood.

"Eil. Come."

———

His house sat at the village outskirts, reeking of blood from butchering and tanning. Pelts and half-cured hides lay drying—no hunting today.

"Wait here."
He vanished inside. His wife was likely still at the banquet.

"Adult gift."
He returned thrusting a composite bow—new, unmarked.

Ghostwood core, resin-treated, reinforced with black goat horn. A shortbow for adults, powerful yet light. My old child’s bow sufficed despite poor vision—I prioritized accuracy over range. This could down larger prey.

"Try it."
I strung it, nocked an unfamiliar arrow, and fired.

Thwack!
The arrow struck a training dummy’s center—not my intended edge shot.

"Hit first try!"
Needs practice.

"Thanks. I love it."
More than the Glasses.

Bect grinned awkwardly. "Would’ve beaten you if refused."

I’d always declined upgrades, fearing my degraded eyesight would show. Only he knew my pre-accident vision.

———

"Start training," he said as I adjusted to the bow. Then abruptly:
"You’ll leave tomorrow."

"Why?"
"The Glasses. Physical summoning means magic potential. You’re going to the capital."

Like my sister two years ago—though her sendoff was joyous. Mine? Villagers murmured "Glasses?" uneasily.

"See the world first."
"Why?"

"You’ve talent. Grow it. Find possibilities."

Possibilities...
"I just want quiet anonymity."

———

Next dawn, soldiers arrived.
"By royal decree, Eil of Albat Village is summoned as a magic-user."

Departure followed breakfast. The same wagon that brought them would take me—under orders from a faceless king.

As I boarded, villagers bid farewell in baffled whispers.

Thus I left my birthplace—the Megane Boy, off to an uncertain future.