In the delicate balance of identity and emotion, we often find ourselves grappling with the expectations imposed by society and the authentic feelings that arise within us. This chapter illustrates how the passage of time forces us to confront both our growth and the complexity of our relationships. As we navigate the boundaries of class and affection, we learn that true strength lies not only in our status but in our ability to embrace vulnerability, challenge societal norms, and seek genuine connections despite the roles that are prescribed to us.
***Remius POV***
Time is a mysterious phenomenon—it passes by without waiting, indifferent to the wishes of those who experience it. Two years have come and gone, and in that span, I have grown a bit taller, a bit stronger. I am seven years old now, though it feels like just yesterday I was still grappling with the strange reality of my birth. Yet, here I stand, in front of a full-length mirror, marveling at how much—and how little—has changed.
My reflection gazed back at me, a curious mix of familiarity and strangeness. My hair is the same stark white as it was when I first opened my eyes in this world, soft and neatly styled, falling gently across my forehead and just above my ears. The mirror captures every strand, each lock perfectly in place, as though they refuse to be anything less than immaculate. My bright blue eyes, wide with the wonder of youth, stand out sharply against my fair complexion. They are the eyes of someone who has seen and understood far more than a child should, yet they retain a spark of curiosity and innocence that is unmistakably youthful.
I'm dressed in an outfit that feels both foreign and oddly fitting—a dark navy waistcoat with a crisp white shirt underneath. The collar is starched and slightly high, framing my face with an almost regal air. Over the waistcoat, I wear a matching frock coat, its fabric rich and textured, with shiny brass buttons that catch the light and gleam with every movement. The coat is finely tailored, hugging my small frame in a way that makes me feel both important and slightly out of place, like a child trying on an adult's clothes.
My pants are neatly tailored as well, a shade darker than my coat, and they fall straight to my polished black shoes. The shoes are slightly too big, a fact that I notice every time I take a step and feel my heels lift ever so slightly out of them. Still, they add to the illusion of maturity I'm trying to project, making me feel like a miniature version of the nobleman I'm expected to become. Topping it all off is a small bow tie at my neck, perfectly tied and adding a touch of elegance to my look. The whole ensemble gives me a stylish air, one that I can't help but admire, even if it feels a bit like wearing a costume.
Beside me, Celine stands quietly, a presence that has become as natural to me as my own shadow. Over the past two years, she has grown as well, though she remains as graceful and composed as ever. As I glance across the room, my eyes fall upon her, and for a moment, I feel my heart skip a beat. She has always been beautiful, in a way that is both simple and profound, but today, something about her seems different, more... enchanting.
Her dark brown hair flows in soft waves, glinting like polished chestnut in the warm light that filters through the windows. It frames her gentle features perfectly, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheeks and the soft fullness of her lips. Her dark green eyes, deep and mysterious like the lushest emeralds, hold an intelligence and kindness that draws me in, even as they reveal little of the thoughts behind them. When she catches my gaze, a warm smile dances on her lips, revealing a spark of warmth that makes the air around her feel alive.
She is dressed in a simple maid's dress of rich charcoal gray, the fabric both practical and well-fitted, emphasizing her slender frame without drawing undue attention to it. The white apron tied neatly at her waist adds a touch of contrast, framing her figure with understated elegance. Though modest in appearance, her clothing serves only to highlight the beauty of her figure—a delicate femininity that suggests both grace and resilience.
Her shoulders are softly sloped, her slender arms conveying strength as she moves about the room with an effortless fluidity. The way she carries herself, with a quiet dignity, makes her seem larger than life, as though she is more than just a maid—more than just a servant. Her waist, cinched just right, leads down to subtle curves that add a gentle fullness to her silhouette, a softness that contrasts with the sharp lines of her uniform.
Her hands, though bearing the marks of hard work, possess a graceful delicacy, moving with a swift elegance as she adjusts her apron or tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. In her presence, I feel a stirring of admiration—a feeling I have come to recognize, though I am still not entirely sure what to make of it. She is not just a maid, not just someone who serves my family; she is a vision of beauty and determination, a person whose very presence makes the room seem brighter, warmer, more alive.
Together, we stand in that moment—two worlds colliding. I, the noble child with white hair and bright blue eyes, in my dark navy waistcoat and matching frock coat; she, in her simple yet elegant attire, with a spirit that sparkles even in the most understated of garments. The contrast between us is stark, yet in some ways, we are alike. Both of us are bound by our roles, by the expectations of those around us, yet there is something more—something that draws us together, something that makes me want to understand her, to know her beyond the boundaries of master and servant.
But today is not the day for such thoughts. The duke—or rather, my father—has summoned me, along with Liora and Lysander. It seems to be an important matter, one that requires our presence in his office. My relationship with Father... I don't know what to say. I haven't met him often, besides the banquet two years ago, so I have no real opinion of him. He is a distant figure, more a title than a person in my life. My mother, on the other hand, I have not spent as much time with her either, though I wish I could. She has been rather busy lately, perhaps because Father is here, or perhaps for reasons I do not yet understand. But she seems happy, from the few moments we have managed to steal together during tea time. She is a doting mother, when she has the time to be, and for that, I am grateful.
I remember, not too long ago, unable to ignore the gnawing feeling any longer, I decided to ask my mom. I had to be careful, though. I didn't want to reveal too much and sound, well, childish. So, I carefully approached her while she was sitting by the window, knitting something I couldn't quite make out.
"Mom," I began hesitantly, avoiding her gaze, "I'm asking for a friend, but why does my… ahem, my friend's heart hurt when… Celine… ahem, his other friend keeps asking about someone else?"
My voice wavered at the end, and I felt my cheeks burning. I cringed inwardly, thinking I had made it too obvious. But Mom, with that gentle smile of hers, looked at me with such understanding that it almost made the pain worse.
She set down her knitting and patted the spot next to her, signaling for me to come closer. I obliged, feeling the weight in my chest intensify. As I sat beside her, she took my small hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Remius," she said softly, her voice warm and comforting, "sometimes, when we care deeply about someone, we want them to notice us more than anyone else. It's natural to feel hurt when they seem to be interested in someone else. It's because your… I mean, your friend's heart wants to be the most important to that person."
Her words made sense, but they also made the ache in my chest grow sharper. I looked up at her, trying to understand what she was saying. "But why does it have to hurt, Mom?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She smiled, a bit sadly, and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "Because caring about someone means that they have a special place in your heart. And when something doesn't feel right, or when you think you might lose that place, it can make your heart feel heavy. But," she added, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, "it can also mean that you're growing up, understanding more about how important people can be to you."
I nodded, trying to take in her words. But all I could think about was Celine's voice, always asking about Lucian, always curious. The image of her smiling at him, even just once, made the heaviness in my chest turn into a painful knot.
And then, in a burst of childish frustration, I blurted out, "But why does she have to keep talking about him? She's only seen him once! It's like she's forgotten about… ahem, my friend!"
Mom couldn't help but chuckle, pulling me into a warm hug. "Oh, Remius," she said, her laughter softening the sadness in her voice. "Sometimes, people just find others interesting for reasons we don't understand. But that doesn't mean they've forgotten about the ones who matter most to them."
As she held me close, I felt a mix of relief and lingering sadness. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe it was just a phase. But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed, that a piece of Celine's attention had shifted away from me.
I sighed, leaning into her embrace. "Mom, can we just forget about this? And, uh, tell my friend that everything will be okay?"
Mom chuckled again, kissing the top of my head. "Of course, sweetheart. Everything will be okay."
That was what happened, and now I know why I've been feeling this way! So, I have a crush on Celine, huh?
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, everything made sense—the weird flutter in my chest, the way I couldn't stop thinking about her, and the frustration every time she mentioned Lucian. It was all because I liked her. Me, Remius, actually liked Celine.
A part of me wanted to laugh at how simple it was, while another part of me felt utterly embarrassed. I had been so confused, so lost in my own feelings, and all along, it was just a silly crush. But even knowing that didn't make it any easier to deal with. If anything, it made things even more complicated.
What was I supposed to do now? Should I tell her? Or maybe just keep it to myself and hope it goes away? The thought of confessing made my stomach twist in knots, but the idea of staying silent felt just as bad.
I groaned,"Great," I muttered to myself, staring up at the ceiling. "Just great."
The sad thing is, I know this might not work out because I'm her master, a noble, and she is just a servant. But despite that, I can't help but care for her deeply. Maybe it's silly, but I want to make sure she's happy, even if it means keeping these feelings to myself. Celine deserves the world, and if all I can do is make her smile, then that's enough for me.
But I know of a solution—if I truly want to change my circumstances, I have to get stronger. I need to become powerful enough that no one questions my desires or my choices. The answer lies in reaching the SS power level. From what I understand, Mom set SS as the pinnacle of power, with F representing the lowest level. It's clear that attaining such a high level will be a formidable challenge.
With my mana type being pure Mana manipulation, the path to SS power level is even more daunting. This type of mana, while versatile, requires immense focus and control. I'll need to push my limits, train relentlessly, and master the intricacies of my abilities. The journey ahead is going to be long and arduous, but I'm determined to overcome every obstacle in my way. My goal isn't just to achieve personal strength but to prove that my feelings and choices are worthy, regardless of the status or expectations imposed on me.
I got slightly off track there. Well, now I've reached the duke's office, where Father had summoned us. I asked Celine to wait outside, along with the maid Ann and butler Ross, servants of Lysander and Liora, respectively.
From the presence of the servants, I assume that Liora and Lysander are already present. My heart beats a little faster as I raise my hand to knock on the door. The polished wood feels cool under my fingertips, and for a moment, I hesitate, unsure of what awaits me on the other side.
Finally, I take a deep breath, steadying myself. "It's Remius," I announce, my voice calm and composed despite the unease swirling in my chest.
From within, I hear the deep, commanding voice of my father, "Enter."
With one final glance at the hallway behind me, I push open the door and step inside, ready to face whatever awaits me within the duke's office.
A/N: There will be no chapter tomorrow as I'll be busy moving out. Thanks for your understanding!