A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 63

Chapter 63. Summer Break (4)

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The White Sand Beach, dusted with fine sand, shimmered under the height of summer’s heat.
Colorful parasols dotted the landscape in every direction, vendors wandered about hawking food, and tourists savored their vacation to the fullest.
The season drew crowds in abundance. And today, Dezir Armang was one of them.
Wearing short shorts, Dezir shaded his eyes with his hand, scanning the area for someone. His party members. They’d agreed to meet somewhere around here before parting ways.
“Have you been waiting long?”
At the sound of a voice from behind, Dezir turned.
There stood Romantica in a bikini, the bottom half styled as a skirt—a detail that only heightened her charm.
Seeing Romantica reveal herself so boldly, so different from her usual self, Dezir was genuinely taken aback, though he kept his composure and answered flatly.
“No, not really.”
“Then I’m glad.”
“Glad? Considering that was just politeness, shouldn’t you ask me back out of courtesy?”
“If you say it wasn’t true, I don’t see why I should pretend otherwise.”
They rented a parasol and set it up on the beach.
After finishing all the preparations for their outing, Dezir was catching his breath when Romantica ventured a question.
“So… what do you think?”
“It’s nice. I have to admit, coming to the sea like this was the right call.”
“You fool! The Swimsuit, I mean the Swimsuit!”
“It suits you well.”
At that, Romantica puffed out her chest with pride.
“I designed this Swimsuit myself. Of course it looks good.”
“You designed it? That’s impressive.”
Dezir had not expected it. He hadn’t known she possessed talents beyond magic.
“I have a natural gift for design. I even passed my merchant practical using design work. I picked out the Swimsuits for Fram and Azest too.”
“You chose for both Fram and Azest? That makes me a little nervous…”
“Ha! You’ll see soon enough!”
Splash.
The sound of waves crashing echoed across the beach. Perhaps five more minutes passed?
Someone approached the parasol where they had settled.
“I’ve been searching for you all this time.”
Fram wore a Coat that reached down to her thighs.
Understanding what Dezir’s gaze meant, Fram hesitated, then slowly lowered the Coat she was wearing.
“I… I was just a bit embarrassed to wear it on its own…”
The Rash Guard peeking from beneath the Coat clung tightly to her body, unforgivingly emphasizing the slender contours of her frame.
Below the rustling Coat, Fram’s smooth thighs lay exposed.
“Does… does it not suit me after all?”
More striking still was Fram’s expression—she gazed up at Dezir with an embarrassed flush, hesitant and uncertain.
One might think her a girl without contradiction. And with such a face turned upward toward you, anyone would fall.
At the sight, Dezir found himself momentarily lost.
‘What a devastating combination this is…!’
Romantica stood with her arms crossed, nodding with immense satisfaction.
“There. I knew you’d make that face.”
To her, Dezir spoke.
“Romantica.”
“Hmm?”
Dezir raised his thumb.
“I’m sorry for doubting you, even for a moment. You’re the best.”
“Hehe. My, my. About time you recognized my true worth—though you’re terribly late.”
“What exactly are you two talking about?”
Fram couldn’t make sense of their conversation.
“It means you’re truly adorable, Fram.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Isn’t that right, Dezir?”
“There’s no two ways about it.”
“Wow.”
Fram’s cry of delight.
“Wow.”
Just then, a faint murmur drifted across the beach from somewhere.
The attention of everyone gathered on the shore seemed to shift in one direction. The cause was far too easy to guess.
“Could it be Azest?”
“Probably.”
It was the second turn at bat. Romantica rose from her spot, brushing the sand from her skin as she spoke.
“You can expect something good.”
They got up from under the Parasol and walked toward the sound.
Azest was wearing a Swimsuit of quite simple design.
Yet paired with her snow-pale complexion and platinum hair that cascaded down to her waist, it rendered even the ocean’s beauty pale by comparison.
Dezir had been about to compliment Romantica on the choice—it wasn’t as brilliant an idea as Fram might have come up with, but it suited her considerably well.
“No.”
“Huh?”
“I didn’t bring that outfit.”
The muscles of Romantica’s face were trembling faintly.
Dezir couldn’t fathom what was going on.
Even so, Azest approached Dezir’s group.
Having gained experience from his conversation with Romantica, Dezir spoke first.
“It looks good on you, Azest.”
“Thank you.”
Azest gave a brief acknowledgment and stepped toward Romantica, handing her something she’d been holding.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t wear the Swimsuit you gave me, Romantica.”
Thud.
It was the Swimsuit Romantica had given her.
“Why didn’t you wear it?”
“The one you gave me fit too tightly—it was uncomfortable. So I had no choice but to buy a new one.”
“…… What? Too tight?”
“Yes. Especially in a certain area……”
“Wait.”
Romantica raised her hand, cutting off anything further Azest might say.
“Don’t say another word. I might actually get angry.”
“Why?”
“I can’t… explain.”
Azest nodded.
“Well, I don’t understand the reason, but I’ll respect your wishes.”
Romantica, glancing back and forth between her own chest and Azest’s, clenched her fists and trembled.
“Tsk.”
Azest had won a victory without even realizing it.

* * *

Dezir’s group split into teams to play volleyball. Dezir and Fram were on one side, while Romantica and Azest were on the other.
Since the losing team had agreed to prepare dinner, the match was fierce.
The current score was 10 to 11.
Azest and Romantica’s team held a narrow lead.
The aces of both teams were Fram and Azest, and the ball flew between them at tremendous speed. It was practically a duel between the two of them alone.
The weak points of both teams were Dezir and Romantica. In fact, all the points scored had come only when the ball went to them.
“Kyaaah!”
Romantica, unable to receive the ball due to the height difference, tumbled backward. The score was now 11 to 11.
Since they’d started the game betting on 12 points, just one more point would decide the match.
“You and Dezir certainly live up to your reputation as mages.”
Dezir worked the tension from his shoulders as he replied.
“Well, we’re mages, so naturally we’re different from you physical types.”
Romantica brushed the sand from her body and got to her feet.
“If only we could use magic, we wouldn’t be so helpless.”
At Romantica and Dezir’s words, Fram made a suggestion.
“Then for the last game, what if Dezir and Romantica use magic? Of course, Dezir won’t reverse-calculate. You’ll just test your abilities against each other through magic alone.”
At Fram’s suggestion, Romantica and Dezir exchanged a look.
“Fine. Let’s do it.”
“I’m in.”
Once the proposal was accepted, everything moved at breakneck speed. Dezir served first.

[Balance.]
[Strength.]

Dezir reinforced his body with enhancement magic.
With Pawn-Class ability secured, he tossed the ball skyward and drove it straight down.
Whoosh!
The ball traced a linear path, rocketing toward Azest’s team’s court. It was unmistakably different from his previously limp serves.
“So that’s how you’re coming out from the start.”
Azest moved in close and returned it.
Then Fram rushed forward and sent it back.
Pop! Crack!
The exchange happened in an instant.
If this tempo continued, the ball risked bursting. Whoever burst it would lose.
Judging it was getting dangerous, Azest lifted the ball instead of slamming it back. She’d set it up for Romantica.
“Romantica.”
“I know!”
Formulae arranged themselves before Romantica.

[Gust Wind.]

The ball accelerated to tremendous speed, as if struck by invisible force.
A powerful spike.
“It’s impressive, but at that level I can still return it directly!”
As Fram cried out and moved to receive the ball, it suddenly curved, bending into an impossible trajectory. Trajectory control of a flying object—for Romantica, this was already second nature, something she could do with her eyes closed.
‘This is the training method you taught me, Dezir.’
The ball’s trajectory bent in the exact opposite direction from where Fram was moving. By the laws of inertia, Fram couldn’t twist her body to intercept it.
But Dezir, positioned behind her, managed to receive it with effort.
“Stay sharp, Fram! Magic can alter the trajectory however you want!”
“Yes, understood!”
The game flowed decidedly in Azest’s team’s favor. Romantica’s wind magic controlled the ball’s path efficiently, and a trajectory managed by a 3-Circle mage was formidably threatening.
Recognizing this, Azest took on the role of supporter, setting up plays for Romantica rather than attacking directly herself.

[Storm of Abarossa.]

3-Circle.
Magic that recreated a miniature tempest.
“Hold on, 3-Circle magic is overkill!”
“So what? It’s fine as long as you control it properly, isn’t it? You’ve been running drills like this all along anyway, Dezir.”
“So you’ve been sharpening your claws this whole time.”
A threatening ball bearing down rapidly.
Because the ball’s trajectory could shift at any moment, Dezir’s team couldn’t afford to mount an offensive and were barely managing to hold on defensively.
Fortunately, Fram, a Knight-Class Warrior, never lost her focus, and several times with movement nearly acrobatic, she knocked the ball away mere inches from the ground, leaving Romantica on tenterhooks.
But there was a limit to how long they could sustain this defensive position.
“Left side!”
In that instant, Dezir read Romantica’s intent and called out the trajectory to Fram.
Once she knew the ball’s path, receiving it was no difficult task for Fram.
The ball Fram cleanly returned sailed over the net straight at Romantica.
“…!?”
The ball seemed slightly faster than expected, and Romantica, who’d moved to receive it from the back, gasped. The ball had stopped on the court.

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