Words. As limitless as it is, one sentence is enough to change one’s whole life.

They may be delivered filled with limitless affection, or perhaps with deep bone scorn and aversion, or perhaps with not an inch of warmth or cold.

[–Oh, hm… about the size of an eyeball, perhaps?]

The girl must have been troubled in forming her response.

Just how could she explain it to a child who can’t ever see?

For the young boy is blind.

That’s why he won’t understand.

Sizes, for instance.

Shapes, however, are easy to describe. As to how big or small it was…

It is the problem that’s tormenting the girl all this while.

And so, she decided. The young boy might not have seen it, but since he has it, then he must have an idea about it. She used his eyeball as to the size’s reference.

But the moment the words spilt out of her mouth, regret came back in an instant.

How could she tell someone who can’t see with their eyes to use their eyes?

Even though she can’t find anything else that could be used by the young boy as a reference… Perhaps she could have worded it better instead of speaking like it’s like someone else’s problem.

[I – I’m sorry, I, no, I don’t mean… to…]

The girl, however, wasn’t able to say anything more than that.

For when she saw the face of the boy, her words were immediately cut.

The young boy had raised his head.

The young boy’s silver eyes which can’t see even the tiniest bit of light reflects her surprise.

As he was always looking down, trying to avoid any kind of attention from everyone, whose thoughts can’t be understood by anyone… No one would think of anything else by looking at him except he’s already had enough of his life.

*Boing*

Then, the young boy, who’s holding the water ball, drops it as he loses control and the ball bounces as it falls to the floor.

[…About the size of an eyeball… a round… water… like a ball? About the size of an eye? Like an eye? Ah… yeah… that’s right…]

The young boy said such things repeatedly over and over as if he’s muttering a curse.

Ten, twenty, and many many more times.

As if the words are water that will finally satiate the thirst of his heart which had nothing but drought.

Dry.

Empty.

Desolate.

Until he heard the words that are now as good as engraved in his heart.

The young child is about seven years old.

–It is probable that at this very moment, the mage, Kunon Gurion, was born.

Translator’s Notes: