Amidst the darkness, a burst of light flooded the world, awakening Marcus to his own existence. After enduring a whirlwind of events, he found himself bearing witness to his own birth—a bizarre and surreal experience. However, the tender slaps on his buttocks by the maid, instead of causing embarrassment, surprisingly stung more than expected, leading him to cry before quickly calming himself.
In a rush, a young man in his mid-twenties burst into the room, his voice booming, "It's a BOY!!!" His jubilant proclamation momentarily drowned out the child's cries. With a wide smile, he turned to his youthful and beautiful wife, who wore a tired yet contented expression. Hurriedly, he approached her and inquired, "Octavia, are you alright? You have done well. You can rest now. You have given birth to a beautiful child."
This young man was Larson Boyd, the third child of the Boyd patriarch. His tousled, thick, wavy brown hair complemented his tall and lean physique. Despite a slight scar on his sharp chin, he exuded a handsome charm in his simple white and grey attire. His scar gave him an air of seriousness until he spoke, "Oh, my dear boy! Here's your father. Here's your father!" Carefully, Larson took the precious bundle of joy in his arms, but the child's cries suddenly intensified, louder and more piercing than before. Concerned that he may have caused harm, Larson promptly returned the child to the maidservant, fearing for his safety. Once again, the child settled down and ceased crying within seconds, leaving those around him bewildered, wondering, "Why does he cry for such a brief period? It's peculiar."
The maid placed the child next to his mother, her voice gentle and soft, "He is a beautiful baby. Madam, what name will you give him?" Octavia gazed lovingly at her baby boy, speaking tenderly, "His name is Marcus." As the baby boy's adorable eyes wandered, they paused their exploration to fixate on his mother for the first time. He beheld a young lady, seemingly no older than twenty. This young lady was Octavia Boyd, once hailed as a prodigy in her own right. 'Is this a mere coincidence, or has someone orchestrated this? Could she truly be my birth mother?' Marcus pondered, perplexed by his own thoughts. Octavia was taken aback by her son's reaction. "Look, he is already responding to the name Marcus. My beautiful, clever Marcus, thank you for coming into this world."
A dam broke, and tears brimming with emotion streamed down the baby's face. Marcus cried uncontrollably, his wails echoing throughout the day and into the next. Many nicknamed him "crybaby" or "wuss," unable to find respite from their sleepless nights. Surprisingly, however, after that day, the child never shed another tear. Even Octavia and Larson were astounded by their son's peculiar behavior.
In the blink of an eye, two years flew by. Nestled in a corner of a vast compound stood a two-story house, adorned by a towering olive tree. Frantic maids scurried through the hallways, searching every room. "The young master is nowhere to be found! What about you, Mina?" another young girl asked, exhaustion etched across her face. Mina, the daughter of a senior housemaid, known for her courtesy and diligent work, had been assigned as the young master's personal maid when she turned fifteen. Working in such a prestigious household was highly sought after, as maids were to be neither touched nor harmed unless they had committed a crime. Mina found solace in her position at Larson House. Master Larson possessed an easygoing nature and appeared to be under the thumb of his wife. Although they never quarreled in public, Mina was certain that Master Larson would comply with any request from his wife. Their relationship seemed harmonious, and Mina enjoyed a steady and pleasant work routine. However, everything changed after the birth of their baby. The child was mischievous, waiting for her to turn away before vanishing. He would often dart off, setting traps for those who pursued him, turning it into a game. Since the time he could crawl, he brought the maids tasked with his care to their knees.
From the moment of his birth, Marcus had been filled with curiosity about the world surrounding him. However, his feeble limbs prevented him from moving as he desired. He was incredibly weak, as expected of a baby. Yet, after a month, he began to move his arms and legs in circles, exercising them in every possible way. After exhausting himself, he would make plans for the next day before drifting off to sleep. 'In my previous life, Olav deliberately hindered my strength. I was nothing more than a lamb led to the slaughter. Perhaps all that training was nothing more than a distraction. But not this time. I will take control of my own training. Olav, just wait. I'm coming for you. I just need to roll over this cushion... AAAARGHH. Why am I so weak? I need power!!... Huh...' A cute, determined Marcus grunted and flailed about, while his mother observed from a distance. "What an active child. I wonder what has captured his attention. He's incredibly adorable. Look at him go! Wait, is he exercising? HUH?!" Marcus repeated a series of jumping jacks on his back. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of his mother's gaze. 'Oh no, I've been caught. Quick, baby noises! Wait, I can't do anything else.' "BaAbawaaa waa ee," Marcus let out high-pitched, cute noises. Octavia approached the crib, lifting her son in her arms. "I suppose it's time for lunch." Marcus knew his respite was over, and after his "lunch," he would be coerced into sleep. 'Wait! Stop! I don't want milk. I want real food, meat, and perhaps even wine!' Marcus longed for something more substantial, but all that came out were endearing, high-pitched sounds. 'Whatever. It's not time yet. Yes, yes, I understand. Here is my mom. Yes, yes, congratulations on your vanishing act.' Marcus had no interest in playing Peek-a-Boo when his mind was consumed by thoughts of revenge. Entertaining others with his antics had grown tiresome. He spent most of his time sleeping, finding solace in the dream world, which brings us to the present.
While searching one of the bedrooms, Mina caught sight of a shadow lurking between the closets and beds. She hurriedly rushed in, imploring, "Young Master, there you are! Madam is calling for you. Please come with me. I have lots of sweets!" Two-year-old Marcus was caught red-handed, concealing a book behind his back. He had been in his parents' room, searching for breathing techniques to absorb mana, albeit without success.
"What are you reading there? 'Study and Classification of Magic Beasts'? Oh, this book contains illustrations of various creatures, Young Master. Do you find this particular beast intriguing?" Mina inquired, displaying a portrait of a panther-class beast. Marcus, who had been able to talk for some time now, responded, "Hmm, that beast looks incredibly formidable and powerful. What is its name?" Of course, Marcus was well aware of its name, but he pretended ignorance, knowing he shouldn't possess reading abilities just yet.
"I don't know its name, but I'm certain Madam can enlighten you. Shall we go, then?" Mina proposed, leading Marcus out of the room toward Octavia, who sat at a table beside Larson. Marcus had limited interaction with Larson, and every time his pitiful, lanky father attempted to get closer, Marcus would squirm and escape his grasp.
As Marcus approached his mother, he and Mina simultaneously bowed and greeted her, "Greetings, Mother." Octavia beamed at her son and reminded him, "You should also greet your father." Marcus turned towards Larson and bowed once more, saying, "Greetings, Father." "Good afternoon, Marcus. Did you sleep well?" Octavia smirked, prompting a playful response, "He enjoys playing so much, Marcus. Why do you always find your way into the library? Do you have a love for books?" Marcus's eyes lit up, and he responded eagerly, "I want to read books!!!" Octavia and Larson chuckled at his enthusiasm, and Larson chimed in, "Why not? Our son is a prodigy. Why wait for a few more years when we can begin his lessons early? He started speaking at just one year old and walked at five months. Marcus, how does starting your lessons tomorrow sound?"
Marcus found himself torn, 'I have no desire for lessons; I simply crave access to books. Just grant me the knowledge, no need for a tutor.'
Having already devoured numerous books, Marcus had acquired proficiency in multiple languages of the continent. He had perused several history books within his reach, yet finding information about his father remained elusive. The mention of the Margrave Empire in passing within one of the books reassured him that he hadn't entered an entirely different world.
Wearing a feigned smile, Marcus replied, "Yes, Father."
Marcus felt thankful to his father, but internally, he was conflicted. 'I'll have less free time tomorrow. I want to read history books. Although my father in this life seems like a good fellow, I can't seem to like him.'