As soon as Merlin learned to walk, he took advantage of every opportunity to roam around the house on his fragile feet, always ensuring that his mother was nowhere in sight. It wouldn't do him any good if his parents saw their barely months child strolling about like it was nothing.
Humming softly, his childlike voice echoed down the hallway as Merlin surveyed the rooms.
His movements clearly expressed his desire to gain some insight into the brand-new world into which he was reborn. However, one thing frustratingly hindered his quest for knowledge.
O curse those weak legs! He jerked them in annoyance, making his displeasure known at how incapable they were of climbing the steps. His age certainly wasn't helping his pre-planned adventures.
"Hmm."
"Master Rudeus?" The voice came from behind him, and Merlin inwardly grimaced. Pretending to be a child was a prick to his pride—what wouldn't a true magus do for the sake of knowledge?
It was a woman with striking features, beautiful enough to rival his mother. Merlin had often wondered how she looked without her glasses.
"Did you get lost?"
"Mn."
"Ah, I see." The red-haired maid nodded as if she understood the babbling coming from his lips. "Were you perhaps looking for the way upstairs?"
"Yes~! Lilia help?" Merlin smiled adorably, though dealing with adults while trapped in a child's body was nothing short of annoying. He briefly glanced at the woman, noting her stoic patience and understanding, along with what he imagined might be fear. Wait, fear?
"Very well." With a flick of her dress, the maid amiably took his hand and slowly led him up the stairs. "Please be careful in the future. Lady Zenith would be displeased if she learned I failed my duty while she was away," she said sternly.
"Careful."
"That's right. Master Rudeus must be more responsible; otherwise, he might hurt himself. Falling from the stars without supervision hurts. Please remember what I said."
Merlin nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow. Did this woman truly believe a child understood words like "supervision"? She spoke to him with a confidence that suggested he could comprehend her words, which made it hard to maintain the composure of his pretense.
As they reached the upper rooms, he tried to keep a semblance of childlike curiosity while Lilia began her cleaning routine in the nearest room.
To his disappointment, there was nothing noteworthy on the upper floor. All he found were the typical closets filled with clothes, household utensils, and dust.
There was still one room left to check—the only one with a closed door. Merlin discovered it was locked. Shame. He still tried to open it but couldn't reach the handle. Even so, he persisted. Using magic proved to be a futile effort; most required reconnection with the Garden, something he preferred to avoid for now due to the risks involved.
Unfortunately, the room was locked from the start, so all his efforts were in vain.
"Are you trying to open that door, Master Rudeus?" All sounds suddenly ceased, and Merlin felt like he had been caught at a crime scene. "Do you wish to find out what's inside?"
"Yes!"
The handle moved, but the door didn't budge. "Hmm, it seems to be locked."
"Key?"
"I have it." The way she looked at him, suspiciously, made it difficult for him to stay calm. Merlin felt his heart rate spike. "Lady Zenith keeps her dear possessions in there. But I'm sure it could use some cleaning too."
He entered excitedly, the maid observing his back carefully.
Once inside, the first thing Merlin noticed was how dirty the room was. Hanging on the wall was a fancy outfit intended for travel, complete with a breastplate and pants. This wasn't equipment for fighting but rather made for protection in case of an attack and swift mobility.
This led to the implication that his parents were most likely warriors—perhaps knights or exiled nobles. This couldn't be dismissed, especially since they had a maid who clearly knew her job well.
In the corner of the room was a chest. Peeking inside, Merlin barely contained his glee at the sight of books. Pure treasure! He quickly picked up one titled A Textbook of Magic. Magic, not magecraft! A book containing such knowledge couldn't possibly have spelling mistakes, which meant it had to be true!
What secrets could lie within?
"Ah!" The object proved too heavy for his childlike strength, and Merlin soon found himself pinned beneath it. Oh dear.
"Master Rudeus!" Lilia scolded him after his irresponsible display, admonishing him not to attempt it again. Merlin sat through the scolding in silence, feeling uncomfortable when an adult reprimanded him.
Eventually, he managed to defuse the situation by saying, "'promise to never do that again!"
Of course, he was lying blatantly.
"Does Master Rudeus wish to hear a story?"
"Book."
"Hmm. Let me see... There's a tale about Hero Perugius. It was read to me as a child. I will tell Master Rudeus about him then."
She began narrating The Legend of Perugius.
A fairy tale was not what Merlin wanted to hear, especially with a magic book just a few feet away. But he swallowed his irritation and forced himself to listen as the maid began.
Perugius' tale was about a summoner and his companions who slayed demons in an epic battle to save the world. A classic Heroic Spirit candidate, he thought. Merlin was sure there was more to the tale than met the eye, but greater matters were at hand.
As Lilia's soft voice faded into the background, Merlin felt overly tired. A sound similar to a yawn escaped him; the human mind got tired all too quickly, he grumbled. The world around him, illuminated by sunlight, began to turn black, a warm sensation pulling him from within.
The reincarnated magus promised himself that at the next opportunity, he would explore the secrets of the magic book.
As his eyes closed, he recalled the way the maid had looked at him when he reached for the book. Her expression of fright was clearly visible to his sharp senses.
It stayed with him until the next day.
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In the Present.
"Um, have you seen my glasses, Lady Zenith? I may have left them somewhere while going to bed," The maid asked, looking immensely uncomfortable. It was probably a sign of the lack of professionalism weighing on her.
"Oh dear, I can't say I have, Lilia. Did you look around the house? Maybe they're lying somewhere, and you just haven't noticed. You seemed pretty out of it after all."
The maid's shoulders slumped, though her face remained unchanged. "I shall look around some more then."
"Don't overwork yourself!" His mother said with concern. "I don't want Lilia to feel pressured. You still look pale."
"I'm fine, my lady. After yesterday, I cannot find them. It's quite distracting, but I'll manage."
"Are you sure?"
For Merlin, it was an answer that Lilia was quite a beauty without her glasses. His mother remained unconvinced, offering to take care of today's tasks, which the maid strongly denied.
"There's no need to worry. I'm doing everything within my capabilities."
"Well, just look around a bit more then," His father said, finishing the remains of the chicken.
"Shut up, honey." The man was excluded from the argument due to his bluntness.
"Lilia's glasses are under the bed in her room." All eyes turned to the young boy, meeting his amethyst gaze.
"Master Rudeus knows?" Despite not wearing glasses, Lilia's keen eyes still managed to make him feel a shiver down his spine.
"Eh?" His father asked, baffled. "How would you know that, Rudy?"
Merlin blinked, toying with the idea of telling them the truth.
Looking back at yesterday…
Lilia was exhausted after finishing work last night. In the morning, she hung the laundry outside to dry, but a terrible storm came faster than anyone had anticipated.
As a result, the woman was forced to take off the soaked clothes in the rain, much to the detriment of her health. Consequently, she felt unwell for the rest of the day.
After cleaning herself in the hot tub, she entered her room and stumbled, not noticing that her glasses had fallen from the bedside table where she had left them. She never would have thought she lost them in her own room, as that was the last place she could have made a mistake while working.
This was the truth of the story.
Of course, Merlin didn't know this himself; watching the maid's mundane activities was far from interesting.
To answer the question, he said, "I have seen it." Everyone looked at him with surprise and confusion. After all, how could he see it if he hadn't been there?
"Did you see Lilia's glasses that day, Rudy?"
"No, I tried to think where to look."
Lilia went into her room to check while Zenith wore a confused expression.
The words Merlin spoke were the truth. Without knowing the exact location or the preceding events, the only way he could know was through his Clairvoyance. By the time Lilia asked the question, Merlin already knew the answer.
A mild pressure began to build in his mind. Merlin felt a throbbing sensation growing stronger. He would rather avoid using this ability. The magus learned the hard way that using Clairvoyance in a human body was a bad idea.
There was no holding back; however, the human brain and eyes weren't adapted to seeing multiple images simultaneously. When a person closes their eyes and tries to imagine looking at an object from all angles at once, the image that emerges is inevitably blurry. The more objects one adds, the more difficult it becomes to envision such a phenomenon.
The human brain often attempts to create simulations based on a person's thoughts, crafting something akin to a true image.
In Merlin's case, however, it was different. As a partly phantasmal being, he could see multiple sceneries unfolding simultaneously. This ability didn't burden his mind as it would for a human. Yet, the repercussions of his current state were more profound than he could have imagined.
His current limit of Clairvoyance allowed for only a few visions per day, confined to the area of the Greyrat household. If he pushed beyond this threshold, he risked falling into a coma.
"Lilia?" His mother called out loudly, her voice echoing in the quiet room. The maid had been gone for a while. "Have you found your glasses?"
Lilia emerged hurriedly, clutching the circular object. "I... Yes, I found them. They were under the bed."
"Really?" Zenith's eyes widened with excitement upon seeing the glasses. She rushed over to her seated son, her smile radiant. "Rudy!" Without warning, she scooped him into her arms and planted a kiss on his forehead.
"M-Mother!?" The sudden display of affection completely caught Merlin off guard. Any mask he had prepared shattered in an instant. His eyes widened as warmth flooded through him, making his human heart race as if it might burst.
These cuddles were deadly, Merlin thought, his face heating up with a rosy hue. "S-Stop, please."
"Nope! You're so cute! Mommy loves Rudy, and he is a good boy, so he deserves a prize. Right, Lilia?"
The maid let out a light sigh. "I'm... grateful to Master Rudeus. Thank you very much." She spoke awkwardly, her gaze hesitant, before stepping closer and enveloping him in a hug as well.
Ah! Merlin found the sensation of being squeezed between two warm mountains to be quite an interesting experience.
"My son is too humble!" Zenith exclaimed, blissfully unaware of how Merlin's face had become a mix of red and purple with each passing second.
"My lady, Master Rudeus can't breathe," Lilia gently reminded her.
Paul stood nearby, gaping at the scene with a mix of jealousy and disbelief. His jaw dropped, and a piece of chicken slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.
"Maybe he really is my son," he muttered under his breath, words barely audible to Merlin.
A broad smile stretched across his face as Merlin gazed at his family.
Meanwhile, Merlin couldn't help but wonder why Paul was suddenly looking at him with such pride.
As soon as he managed to escape the tight embrace, Merlin sought fresh air outside. Paul approached him with a wide grin.
"You know I love you, son."
Before Merlin could respond, his father interrupted him. The unusually serious expression on his face made Merlin take a step back, sensing that Paul had something important to convey.
"Oi, Rudy, were you looking at Lilia like that?" Paul asked, leaning in closer and wiggling his brown brows suggestively. "I didn't know she was your type." He whispered, draping an arm around Merlin's shoulder.
What is he implying to a three-year-old? Merlin wondered, feeling any expectations he had to dissolve. He maintained his expression, but still...
Is he trying to embarrass me? A mischievous grin crept onto Merlin's face at the audacity of this man. "Just like Father stares from a hidden spot every time Miss Lilia takes a bath?" he whispered back smugly.
"Agh!" Paul instantly deflated like a balloon, spreading his arms dramatically across the chair as he announced his surrender.
"Mother would be mad," Merlin quipped.
"Okay, okay! W-wait! Let's calm down! R-Rudy!" Paul stammered, flustered.
"Father wouldn't do something stupid, would he? Miss Lilia is beautiful, so I worry."
"Rudyyy!"
Merlin laughed, clutching his belly at the absurdity of the situation.
As he reflected on the playful exchange, he wondered if one day he would wake up and find that all he could see were the flowers of the garden again.
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Zenith woke up in the middle of the night, something mysterious pulling her from the depths of a deep slumber. Blinking against the dim light, the blonde-haired woman rose from the bed, her hand grasping the lantern. With temperate determination, she made her way toward the source of an inexplicable pull.
As she stepped into the next room, she was greeted by a sight that stirred a mixture of emotions in her heart: her only child, curled up in the cold, gazing wide-eyed at the moonlit window.
"Rudy." The sight of him made her heart ache, and she noticed how he flinched at the sound of her voice. His curious eyes glimmered under the soft glow of the moonlight, but they lacked the usual sparkle of joy. Instead of scolding him for being awake, she chose a different path.
She approached him quietly, settling beside him as her gown danced lightly in the cold breeze. "Did you have a nightmare?" she asked softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
"I'm scared," he said, and her heart tightened at the absence of his usual easy smile. "Scared I won't wake up here."
Zenith's heart ached, a deep pang resonating within her. It was the kind of fear she herself never experienced, but she felt it fully now. She held him closer, her warmth offering a silent promise. The way he said it so frail, so childishly made her realize that, despite his maturity, he was still so very small.
"Rudy did seem sad today," she thought, recalling how he had left the dinner table earlier, a shadow of sadness lurking beneath his layers of cheer. She didn't need to know the cause of his pain to feel compelled to comfort him.
"Mother noticed?" His voice held a hint of surprise as if he hadn't expected her to be so attuned to his feelings.
It hurt a little to hear this question.
"That's how mothers are supposed to be," she replied softly, her voice gentle yet firm. "We have to act accordingly when our children are in pain." Memories of her own childhood flickered in her mind, moments where she longed for tenderness from her mother. Zenith vowed to be the nurturing figure she wished she had, promising herself that she would be gentle with her children. "Do you know what familial love is, Rudy?"
"I certainly love Mother," he answered without hesitation. "When Mother is in pain, I feel it too. When Mother is sad, I am sad. When Mother is happy, I smile. How can it be anything other than love?"
Her heart swelled with a happy sensation. "I'm proud of you, Rudy. You are already so mature. Sometimes, it makes me wonder if I'm doing enough. You seem so far ahead, and I fear that if I look away, you might just disappear."
In the silence that followed, they both gazed up at the stars twinkling in the night sky. One star shone particularly bright, catching her attention. It reminded her of Rudeus—his light so radiant it was impossible to overlook.
A thought came to her mind, so similar, but it was unreal.
The cold air didn't bother her; she pulled her child closer, wrapping him in her warmth to reassure him he wouldn't feel the chill.
"Do you want to pray with me, Rudy?" she asked, wanting to share a moment of warmth.
"I wish to watch the stars together," he proposed instead, his innocent request tugging at her.
Zenith smiled softly, easily agreeing, deciding to stay close to him through this quiet ordeal.
"Father says monsters gather around the village and may attack. He's going to meet someone tomorrow to discuss it," Her son said.
"Is Rudy worried about them?" she inquired, sensing the uncertainty in his small frame.
"Mother can get hurt," he conveyed, and her heart sank at the unsettling weight of his words. "If there's even a chance you could be harmed, I won't just stand by and watch. I won't accept a fate where such a possibility exists. Never." His voice was resolute, almost as if he was making a vow to the night sky rather than to her. She watched as he became entranced by the vast expanse above, his eyes glazed and distant.
The stars, radiant and distant, seemed to connect her to her child in a way words couldn't.
Eventually, Rudy's eyelids grew heavy, and he succumbed to sleep. Gently, Zenith lifted him and laid him back in bed, then settled beside him. As they drifted into blissful dreams together, the warmth of their shared attachment enveloped them, a shield against the darkness outside.