"Leon, how did you even think to turn beans into tofu?" Flower asked, poking at a piece of firm tofu with his fork. "Soft tofu is way better, though."
"It's not that different from other transformations," Leon said, stirring a pot of fried tofu. "Cooked eggs turn from clear to white, meat changes when heated, flour becomes paste. Tofu's just another change—you just never noticed the pattern." He paused, grinning. "Okay, fine, it's not exactly the same, but the idea's similar."
Flower scoffed, but there was no bite to it. "Does this have anything to do with magic?" He secretly admired Leon's knowledge, but male pride made him argue.
"It does, actually," Im said, sipping soy milk. "In magic's early days, it relied on talent and bloodline. Only those with extraordinary gifts could wield it, using the four-element theory—earth, fire, water, air. Even someone as smart as Leon couldn't learn magic if his body couldn't absorb mana."
Dahlia raised her hand— a habit Leon had taught her during lessons. "What about us? Would we have learned magic back then?"
"Maybe, maybe not," Im said. "It's unprovable. Back then, the world was full of powerful monsters and gods walking the earth. After the Gods' War five thousand years ago, when deities could no longer descend, mages shifted their focus. Instead of copying monster abilities or priestly divine magic, they studied natural phenomena. By the time the church retreated to East Pole, mage theory was fully formed—making magic accessible to those willing to learn, not just those born with it."
He nodded at Leon. "What Leon's doing is exploration. Even if it doesn't yield magic directly, he's cultivating a mage's mind—observing, questioning, experimenting."
Im cut the conversation short, gesturing to their plates. "Eat. Breakfast won't stay warm."
The morning meal was fried tofu stuffed with minced wild boar, paired with warm soy milk and smoked bacon. The bacon was fatty—essential for keeping it tender in winter, when lean meat dried out quickly. Unlike factory-farmed pork from Leon's past life, the wild boar fat was crisp, not greasy, adding a rich flavor to the simple dish.
After breakfast, Leon followed Im to his study, where sunlight streamed through the new glass windows—handcrafted by Leon in his high-temperature furnace, making the room brighter than ever. "Master, you mentioned the four-element theory is outdated. What replaced it?"
Im leaned back in his chair, impressed by Leon's sharp ears. "I wasn't planning to teach this until you're a full mage, but since you're curious… The four elements can't explain soul magic, divination, or even lightning. Adding new elements every time we discover something new isn't a theory—it's a band-aid. Now, many mages subscribe to particle theory, which posits magic is made of tiny, fundamental particles. You don't need to understand the details yet, but there are old journals on the top shelf if you're interested."
He warned gently, "Don't get distracted. It's frustrating to spend years solving a problem only to find a mage solved it centuries ago. Focus on learning first—explore later."
Leon nodded, thinking of Eldrin's journal. Exploration was important, but so was building a foundation. Still, he made a mental note to read those journals later.
Winter was halfway over, and the ice crystal grass in the herb garden would be ready to harvest soon—another source of income. For now, Leon turned his attention to cooking. He wanted to make fried tofu stuffed with pork, but he mourned the lack of soy sauce and chili paste—simple condiments that would elevate the dish. Making miso or sauce would take too long this late in winter, so he settled for seasoning with salt, garlic, and a pinch of Sichuan pepper.
Im watched him work, amused. "You're spending more time cooking than practicing magic. Should I be worried?"
Leon grinned, flipping a piece of tofu. "A well-fed mage is a better mage. And this is practice—observing how ingredients change with heat, balancing flavors. It's like refining a spell."
Im chuckled, leaving him to it. Leon's curiosity and resourcefulness were his greatest strengths. Whether it was tofu, pens, or glass, he turned ordinary things into something extraordinary—exactly what a mage should do.