Why must I always be at a crossroads?

---

The question lingered in Musa's mind for longer than he liked.

"What's the matter, Musa?" asked his assistant. Musa glanced up at the mirror he was sitting in front of and realized that a subconscious scorn was dancing on his face.

"You mustn't furrow your brows too much, sire. It is unbecoming of a royal wizard like yourself," they continued. As Musa relaxed his expression, his assistant set on his table a plate of freshly cut fruit "courtesy of the chef."

Musa waited for his assistant to leave the room before he let out a large sigh. Clapping shut his notebook, he took a slice of the purple fruit and bit into it. Sweet as usual. Even when the fruits were not in season. It looks like the grafting spell did its work beautifully.

But even something as beautifully simple as this was a reminder of Musa's predicament. The fruit glistened in the afternoon sun, but the light was sunk into Musa's ever-dulling gaze. On his mind was the upcoming Annual Wizard Placement Exam – the wretched test of mind and brawn that, for better or worse, dictates the next few decades of every wizard's career. Oh, and he had to write for it.

He didn't dislike any of the genuinely difficult portions of the exams. No, the question he feared the most was "What do you want to do in the next 10 years?"

Because, well, what DID he want to do?

All he liked to do was to use his magic to, well, make things. Making a small tablet that can burn for weeks on end. Clothes that can monitor your health. Or the interesting fruit that he was now eating to replenish his mind and mana.

The issue was that he liked doing pretty much everything with his magic. He had no sense of direction, not even things that he liked far above anything else. He did not have dislikes, either, save for the summoning and handling of ancient mythological creatures. They were just human enough to be witty to no end while being wild enough to be impossible to handle.

It was precisely this lack of direction that caused Musa anxiety. Magic colleges prefer to admit those who have a clear goal, which Musa did not have. How could anybody at his age, he mused, have such a concrete idea of what their future self would enjoy, especially when everything is in flux?

Musa did briefly entertain the idea of not taking the Annual Exam, though that would mean he would have to join forces with other wizards to make a living or, Groth forbid, join an adventuring party. He shuddered at the thought. That is no place for somebody of his stature, born to a well-off family, though not noble, but bursting with opportunity. He had to be able to make something out of his upbringing.

Yet, he had done all that he was told: focus on his studies, make things, learn things, be an obedient child. It was just as his mother had dictated for him.

But now, even under her guidance, Musa could not help but feel lost.

After a short moment of thought, Musa rose from his chair and pushed it to his desk. On his way out of the room, he grabbed his wand and an empty notebook.

Musa walked for a moment down the hall and knocked on his assistant's door. The door immediately opened, and Musa gestured for the assistant to follow him.

"For what purpose do you require my assistance, sire?"
"I want to construct a Hall of Mirrors," Musa replied with a smirk, "I think it's about time for me to do some self-reflection."
"There you go with your puns again..."