The Last Magic Chapter 25

25 Sakurako 2

After graduating high school, I enrolled in the same university as Natsuki-senpai and joined the same club.

I believed that practicing magic while sharing knowledge with fellow sorcerers—just like we did in high school—would be beneficial.

However, Natsuki-senpai, whom I had kept in touch with, warned me:

"It's exactly what I expected for myself, but I can't say if it'll be a good place for you, Sakurako-san. At the very least, it won't be a place to refine your magic. Well, you might at least get to see what modern sorcerers are like."

And she was right. 

The Mystery Research Club was less about magic and more like a stepping stone for sorcerers to build future career connections. Most members were focused on networking with alumni to secure job opportunities after graduation.

Natsuki-senpai was actively expanding her connections, but as a result, she had far less time to dedicate to magical training.

When I asked her about it, she replied:

"I always strive to do my best as a sorcerer in each phase of my life. Up through high school, it was time to hone my magic. Now, in college, it's time to lay the groundwork for my future as a sorcerer. That's just how I see it."

It made sense. A very Natsuki-senpai way of thinking.

"But you're different, aren't you, Sakurako-san? You want to keep perfecting your magic, don’t you? So you can cast the Last Magic as soon as possible. But here’s the thing—you can’t devote yourself solely to magic forever. You still have to make a living. In that sense, sorcerers aren’t so different from ordinary people. College is like a moratorium before entering the real world. Not that I’m saying you should do what I’m doing, but even if you continue practicing magic, you’ll still need some kind of job, right? And you should figure that out during this time."

Hearing that from senpai made me realize that I had been so fixated on mastering the Last Magic that I had completely overlooked the question of how I would live my life.

I tried helping out with jobs from club alumni, but there was little magic involved—just endless socializing and forced pleasantries. Honestly, it was painful. I wasn’t bad at it, but if I had to choose, I hated it.

Looking back, I’d always been shy as a child, relying on Rin. In high school, I crafted an image of how I wanted to be seen, but deep down, I knew this kind of work wasn’t for me.

So I started wondering if there was a better way.

Around that time, Tanaka-kun, a fellow club member, began uploading magic videos.

Magic content wasn’t new—both in Japan and abroad—but Tanaka-kun was trying something different: turning magic into flashy, YouTuber-style performances to attract viewers. I found the idea fascinating. Maybe platforms like videos and social media could open new paths for sorcerers.

However, while his videos amused the club members, established sorcerers didn’t approve.

The belief that "magic should remain secret" was still deeply ingrained—even in an age where everything was recorded and shared online.

The criticism started weighing on Tanaka-kun, and he gradually posted less. But to me, this was an opportunity. Since he had already paved the way, starting my own videos would draw less backlash. Plus, his work had already shifted public perception of magic—

from something "shady and useless" to something "kinda interesting."

It felt like the tides were changing.

The problem? I knew nothing about computers. I didn’t even know how to film or upload a video. So I reached out to Tanaka-kun for help, offering to appear in his videos in exchange for lessons.

He was surprised but agreed gladly.

The videos I starred in seemed fairly well-received.

But I didn’t want to do the same thing as Tanaka-kun. I knew my strengths best—making magic look beautiful was what I excelled at. Rin had praised me for it, after all.

Next, I studied music videos and promotional videos for inspiration, researching what kind of content to create. Realizing this would be too much to handle alone, I asked Ayano, a junior from the club, for help.

I also tapped into connections I’d made in college, recruiting people skilled in videography to polish the final product. I used every resource I had.

When I appeared in Tanaka-kun’s videos, I promoted my own. I shared links on social media, asking followers to spread the word. I even reached out to acquaintances with large followings to help advertise.

Thanks to that, my videos spread faster than I ever imagined. Views soared past a million, and monetization followed almost instantly.

With some fame under my belt, unexpected work offers poured in—live performances, sponsored videos, even TV appearances as a representative of the next generation of sorcerers.

The income allowed me to dedicate even more time to magic. I moved to a quiet, nature-rich area, training from dawn till dusk on days without work.

I tried ascetic practices like waterfall meditation  and mountain retreats—things my grandmother had told me about. I hated them, but Ayano insisted we film and share them.

Since Ayano had been by my side all this time, I gave in. After all, meeting her was the best thing that happened to me in college.

Days passed like this, and by the time I turned 30, I had mastered every magic in my grandmother’s magic book.

Except the Last Magic.

The moment had come. I was confident. I had even spoken to my grandmother—who had cast the Last Magic herself—to confirm there were no issues.

My grandmother took my hand,  

"You’ve worked so hard. It took me fifty years to cast the Last Magic. You’ve done it in less than thirty. You’re surely the greatest sorcerer in the world."

and shed tears.

...Not yet. It was too soon for tears. Everything would come after success.

Coincidentally, a renowned nonfiction writer approached me about a book. I had read their work before—meticulously researched, solidly written—so I agreed to an interview.

I had always avoided talking about myself on TV, but this felt like an opportunity.

"Secrecy is the flower." A phrase Natsuki-senpai loved. By hiding themselves, sorcerers could empower their magic. But once the Last Magic was cast, that would no longer be necessary.

I confirmed the book’s release date—and made sure the contract strictly forbade any leaks before then.