Taking up residence near a walking path, it was a stray cat that, by its bad behaviour, came to be hated by passers-by.
At one point it attacked and bit my master's favourite boots, which bothered him to the point that he began to investigate a way to get revenge using magecraft. One day, that stray cat was hit by a vehicle of some sort. It was already unpleasant enough to look at before, but now it looked like nothing but a blood-stained lump of meat.
For someone like me, who hadn't yet become used to living in London, I hadn't been sure how normal the response of those passers-by was. I knew my master was a bad person, but I had no idea as to what degree of bad he was.
Normally, he was very sensitive to even just getting his clothes dirty. At that time alone, with a mood similar to as if he had just spilled his soup, he held the cat until it breathed its last, and didn't leave its side until it was properly buried.
Foregoing even his customary cigar, while covered in dirt and mud, he watched over its grave with a bored expression. As expected, it wasn't a good story at all. Really, I didn't consider it a good story either. As someone who had been associated with death for an extended time, I found my master's behaviour to be far too sentimental. Walking on top of the earth or sleeping under it, there wasn't all that much of a difference anyways.
If there was, it was just that there were those who were supposed to be sleeping that were instead walking around. If you wish to follow the path of magecraft, you don't have time to get caught up in these kinds of things. For starters, if I had been a skilled Magus, healing those kinds of injuries should have been possible.
For not getting there in time, the one who didn't have the necessary power was me, after all. Of course there was something wrong with that, just accepting things the way they were. How someone like my master became so sidetracked, even I didn't know. Somewhere in the space between a discerning heart and blind acceptance, something had become core to him.
That much was clear, but what that something was, I could never figure out. As a Magus, that could indeed be something terrible. As someone beyond human, that could indeed be something logically unacceptable. Even if you help someone, it's not like that helps you. And if it saves yourself, you can't know whether you really helped that person. Misunderstandings, miscommunications, disagreements, false understandings.
This laughable repetition is what makes up the world we live in. It was no more than self satisfaction - a defect of the human body. In her light violet eyes, my own figure was being reflected.
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