"Rio has always been a kind child..."
Albert began to speak softly.
"Whenever she makes a magic tool, it’s never for her own sake. Usually, she tells me she’s making it for someone else."
Albert spoke with a faint, wry smile. Though his expression carried a hint of bitterness, his eyes remained unmistakably gentle.
He reached up to the goggles resting on his forehead. With a practiced motion, he pulled them off and held them up.
They were incredibly clunky. The lenses were mismatched in size, and the frame was warped. The leather head-strap looked like an ordinary belt that had been repurposed; it was oddly long, with the original buckle and adjustment holes still intact.
Even with the most generous praise, it would be difficult to call them a sophisticated magic tool.
Yet Albert stroked the goggles with his fingertips as if they were a precious treasure.
"This was the first magic tool she ever made."
"The first...?" Lene asked.
"Yes."
Albert nodded quietly at Lene’s question.
"It’s a Magnifying Glass for Precision Work. She used to watch me narrow my eyes whenever I handled small components. When she was five years old, she came to me with her face covered in soot and said, 'That must be hard for you, isn't it?' then handed me this."
His smile deepened as he recalled the memory. A sense of pride seemed to radiate from him.
"When I actually tried them on... well, I was stunned. The construction was a mess, but the lens adjustments were exceptionally well-done. Fine engravings and circuits became crystal clear."
Albert let out a soft, tender chuckle.
"That said, they look like this. Rio is always telling me, 'Stop using that old failure already.'"
"...I can imagine."
The scene was easy to picture. She would likely be pouting with a red face as she complained. Given her perfectionist streak, she probably hated seeing him use something so unrefined. The thought brought a wry smile to my own face.
Albert must have been envisioning the same thing, as his shoulders shook with a small laugh.
"The craftsmanship is certainly crude. From her current perspective, the structure is nothing to be praised. And yet, it still works. It helps me. And above all else..."
He returned the goggles to the top of his head. The movement was so fluid it was clear he had been wearing them for years.
"It was the first magic tool she ever made for me."
There was a distinct note of pride in his voice.
Silence settled over the workshop for a moment. Albert remained quiet, eventually turning his gaze toward the back of the room where various magic tools were piled haphazardly. Most were of unknown purpose, though I recognized a few that had appeared in the game. Many were likely unfinished prototypes, given how carelessly they were stacked.
"...That girl is a genius."
I had heard him say that line countless times through the screen. There was no hesitation in his voice now.
"Her theories, her mana control, her ingenuity—she is superior to anyone I have ever known."
Albert let out a soft sigh.
"Though, I have never told her that myself."
"What?"
Lene let out a small gasp of surprise. I played it cool, but honestly, I felt the same way. In the game, every time you interacted with him, he would invariably start bragging about his granddaughter. I had assumed he was just as vocal when she was around, but apparently, I was wrong.
Albert gave a troubled smile at our reactions.
"Ever since she was a child, she would get carried away the moment she was praised. Even a little compliment would make her beam with pride... and while that’s undeniably adorable, she lacks a certain caution required of an engineer."
His eyes narrowed as he stared at the mountain of tools.
"Invention is always shadowed by failure. A Magic Stone might explode, or mana might go out of control. Malfunctions are common. That is why a technician must always be prudent."
He continued slowly.
"When she is absorbed in an invention, she doesn't consider the danger to herself. Even if she understands it intellectually, her body won't stop moving."
He gave a light shrug.
"She wants to build magic tools that help people. As her grandfather, that makes me happy, but as a fellow engineer, I couldn't let it go. That’s why I made sure she didn't get a swelled head. I made a point of never praising her skill... but..."
A shadow fell over Albert’s face. He turned back toward the workbench, his gaze landing on the blueprints. The diagrams depicted—
"A Teleportation Device?"
"Yes. She said she wanted to reduce the number of people who lose their lives during a Labyrinth Conquest, even if only by one."
Albert nodded.
The 'Teleportation Device for Labyrinth Escape.'
In the game, this item only reached the public after the mid-game event "Searching for My Beloved Grandchild." Following Rio’s death, Albert would take over the development using the blueprints she left behind. The realization of this device fundamentally changed how people approached the labyrinths. It made retreats easy and drastically reduced the number of parties wiped out by reckless exploration. It saved countless lives.
It was truly an invention that spared the lives of many of The Chosen.
"If this is completed, many people will be saved. She is right about that..." Albert said quietly. "But to complete it, she intends to gamble with her own life."
He stared at the blueprints.
"An invention isn't finished just because the theory works on paper. It must be tested in a labyrinth to confirm if the teleportation actually succeeds. It requires a Field Test."
He let out a small sigh and shook his head.
"As an inventor, she is making the right choice. But as her grandfather, I could never allow it. If it fails, she might never come back."
Albert gave a bitter smile. He stared at the blueprints for a long time, his wrinkled fingers tracing the edge of the paper as if confirming every line she had drawn. Eventually, he lowered his eyes.
"So, I tried to stop her..."
He let out a small, self-mocking laugh that sounded like a confession.
"I said something I didn't mean. I told her, 'You have no talent.'"
The words hung heavy in the workshop. Albert looked back down at the diagrams.
"...Even though that's the furthest thing from the truth," he whispered, his voice cracking. "In fact, I have never known anyone with as much talent as her."
Silence filled the room. The bustling noise of the street outside seemed to fade, leaving a stillness so profound I could almost hear our heartbeats.
In that quiet, I finally spoke.
"...Then you should say those words to her face."
Albert’s shoulders twitched, and his dull Emerald Eyes turned toward me. They lacked spirit—the same weak, hollow look he had in the latter half of the game.
However, there was one vital difference. Right now, he hadn't lost her yet. There was still time.
"Tell her she’s a genius. Tell her she’s overflowing with talent. If you tell her the truth... I’m sure all her anger and sadness will vanish."
Albert said nothing for a long time. His wrinkled hand slowly stroked the edge of the workbench. His movements were hesitant, but there was a certain carefulness to them, as if he were weighing my words.
"...It isn't that simple," he murmured weakly. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "The words have been spoken. The hurt I caused can't be erased."
He gave a self-deprecating smile that looked ready to crumble.
"Just because you can't erase it doesn't mean you should give up on telling her how you feel, right?"
"..."
"If you hurt her, admit it. If you made a mistake, apologize. And then tell her how you actually feel."
Albert remained silent, his dull emerald eyes fixed on me.
"It can still reach her. She might be angry, or she might refuse to talk to you for a while. But at least there's a better future waiting for you than one where you can never tell her again. That’s what I believe."
Silence returned to the workshop. Lene didn't interject, watching the exchange quietly. In that stillness, Albert let out a long, deep breath.
"Good grief..."
His shoulders finally slumped.
"You’re a harsh young man, preaching to your elders like that."
His voice was a fraction softer than before.
"I've had a decent education, after all," I replied.
Albert narrowed his eyes.
"Heh..."
A small, raspy chuckle escaped him. It wasn't the bitter laugh from before; a tiny bit of strength had returned to his expression.
"I see. Then, in exchange for that education of yours... let an old man make one selfish request."
"Depends on what it is."
"It’s a simple thing."
Albert let go of the workbench and straightened his back. The strength returned to his frame.
"...Follow her."
His voice was low but firm.
"If I go, we’ll just end up arguing again. She’s stubborn... once she’s fired up, she’s hard to stop. But she might listen to you. At the very least, you can keep her from jumping into the labyrinth until she’s had time to cool her head."
I shrugged.
"You're quite the slave driver, aren't you?"
"My granddaughter's life is on the line. I can't afford to be polite."
I let out a sigh at his immediate answer and turned on my heel. I walked toward the entrance with Lene, then looked back one last time.
"...Leave Rio to us."
Albert’s eyes widened for a moment. His dull Emerald Eyes locked onto mine. The weakness hadn't entirely vanished, but deep within them, there was a clear, burning hope.
His wrinkled hands clenched into fists. Then, Albert bowed his head deeply.
"Please."
It was a single word, but it carried the weight of a grandfather’s prayers, regrets, and deepest wishes.