Chapter 55: Infinite [Volume 4 Finale]
On the last day of his tenth year at the Academy, Jake did what he always did: he went home for Sunday dinner.
His mother was older now. Slower. Her hair was silver, her hands less steady. But the doenjang-jjigae was the same, and the kitchen was the same, and the way she said “you’re late” was exactly the same as it had been since he was fourteen.
“I brought a friend,” Jake said.
Sol stepped through the portal behind him. She’d graduated two years ago and was now the Academy’s Student Wellness Coordinator—a position created specifically for her, because no one else could do what she did.
“Another one?” Jake’s mother peered at Sol. “This one doesn’t glow. I like her.”
“I’m Sol,” Sol said, bowing. “Thank you for having me.”
“Sit. Eat. You’re too thin.” The universal Korean mother response to every new guest.
They ate. They talked. Sol charmed Jake’s mother within five minutes—a record previously held by Null, who had managed it in seven despite being made of void and not eating food.
After dinner, after Sol had been sent home with three containers of leftover banchan (Jake’s mother’s highest form of approval), Jake sat on the kitchen floor and helped his mother clean up.
“Mom.”
“Hmm?”
“Are you happy?”
She looked at him. Really looked, the way only mothers can.
“My son has infinite magic powers. He teaches at a flying school. He saved the universe. Twice. His best friend is the sky. And he still comes home every Sunday for dinner.” She smiled. “Of course I’m happy.”
“I mean… is this life enough? All the craziness. All the danger. All the impossible things. Was it worth it?”
“Jake.” She set down the dish she was drying. “Before the System came, before the mana, before any of this, you were a college student who didn’t know what he wanted to be. You came home on weekends and ate too much and didn’t clean your room.” She touched his face. “And I loved you then exactly as much as I love you now. The mana, the magic, the universe-saving—that’s your life. But this—” She gestured at the kitchen. “This is what makes the life worth having.”
Jake didn’t trust himself to speak.
“Now.” She handed him a dish towel. “Dry. And tell me about the student who doesn’t glow. I like her.”
He dried. He talked. The kitchen was warm, and the night was gentle, and above Seoul the dimensional fabric shimmered with the attentive love of a Weaver who had once been nothing and was now everything.
Jake looked at his mother—small, silver-haired, invincible—and thought about all the infinite things in his life. Infinite mana. Infinite dimensions. Infinite possibilities.
But the most infinite thing was this: a mother’s love. Constant, boundless, requiring no mana and no magic and no cosmic architecture. Just a kitchen, a meal, and the choice to show up.
Every Sunday. Without fail. For as long as either of them existed.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I know. Now dry faster. I want to watch my drama.”
He dried faster. She watched her drama. The universe continued.
And Jake—Professor Jake, the infinite one, savior of reality, terrible rice chef, beloved teacher, devoted son—sat in his mother’s living room and felt, with the absolute certainty of a man who had found the answer to every question worth asking, that he was the luckiest person in any dimension.
Not because of the mana.
Because of the soup.
END OF VOLUME 4
The story continues…