I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in my mind. Leopold's words were reassuring, but they carried an undercurrent of weight I couldn't yet decipher. Whatever lay ahead, I knew it wouldn't be simple. I just hoped I was ready to face it.
"You said that after the process, you would answer all the questions we asked," I said, my voice still hoarse but steady. I lifted my gaze determinedly.
Leopold's crimson eyes, glowing like tiny beacons in the dark, locked onto mine. He stepped forward. "Ah, it seems patience is not one of your strongest virtues," he said, his tone tinged with amusement. "Still, that's understandable. Transformation always leaves its mark, and questions are bound to arise quickly."
Unfazed, I pressed on. "Conveniently, there's a table with chairs in this room." I gestured toward a corner I hadn't noticed before. Sure enough, a round table made of dark wood, intricately carved, rested there, surrounded by high-backed chairs that looked inviting, though not necessarily comfortable.
Leopold raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Interesting. I've already noticed that observation might be one of your most prominent traits. But tell me, wouldn't you prefer to rest your mind first? The first moments after the transition are always the most draining."
I shook my head, resolute. "I've rested enough." My voice still carried a tinge of irritation, though it wasn't directed at him—it was for the confusion raging inside me that I desperately wanted to untangle. "Besides," I added, touching my throat, "my throat is dry. Talking like this is awful."
Leopold chuckled, a low, raspy sound that felt oddly out of place coming from him. He crossed his arms, eyeing me appraisingly.
"Very well, I'll arrange something. But tell me, what do you prefer? Water, coffee, tea, milk, fruit juice?" He paused, then gave me a mischievous smile—an expression unexpected on his usually serious face. "Or perhaps wine? Maybe beer? I think a mug of mead might be fitting to warm the soul in moments like this."
I rolled my eyes and stared at him, my tone flat and direct. "Only someone once called the 'Mad Mage' would offer wine to a child." A pause, and then my mouth curled into an involuntary smile. "I'll take the fruit juice."
"Ah, you have a sense of humor," Leopold replied, still smiling. With a wave of his hand, a soft glow filled the air, and a crystal pitcher appeared on the table, accompanied by a delicate glass. The liquid inside was a vibrant orange hue, and its sweet, citrusy aroma quickly filled the room.
"Please," he said, gesturing toward the glass. "Don't worry, it's not poisoned. Though, considering the circumstances, that would be rather redundant, wouldn't it?"
I walked to the table, my steps hesitant but steadier now. I was beginning to adapt to my new body, though the sense of unfamiliarity lingered. I pulled one of the chairs with some effort, its faint creak breaking the silence as I prepared to pour the juice. However, before I could touch the pitcher, Leopold intervened, raising a hand in a warning gesture.
"Children don't serve themselves," he said, a playful smile spreading across his face as he leaned forward to grab the pitcher.
I stared at him for a moment, one eyebrow arched. 'This old man is enjoying this far too much'. But I kept the thought to myself, deciding not to fuel his amusement with my irritation.
Leopold poured the juice into the glass with almost theatrical precision, as if savoring every second of the act. The vibrant orange liquid flowed elegantly, and he pushed the glass toward me with a slow, deliberate motion.
I took a sip, the sweet yet slightly tart flavor flooding my mouth. It was refreshing and soothing, easing the dryness in my throat that had plagued me since I'd awakened.
"Better?" Leopold asked, tilting his head slightly as he watched me. His gaze was sharp, almost analytical, yet it carried a softness, as if he were both entertained and genuinely concerned.
"Yes," I replied, setting the glass down on the table. My voice sounded clear now, free from the earlier hoarseness. For the first time, I heard what my new voice truly was: childish but steady, with an unexpectedly melodic tone. I looked directly at Leopold. "Now, please, fulfill your promise. I want answers."
He let out a low chuckle, appearing satisfied. With a snap of his fingers, a wine glass materialized in his hand, already filled with a dark, glistening liquid. He shifted his posture, relaxing as he took a small sip. At ease, he clasped his hands together and met my gaze.
"Very well," he said, his expression softening, almost casual. "Ask your first question."
My mind was a torrent of thoughts, a flood of questions rising and falling as the injected knowledge within me gradually organized itself. Most of the questions answered themselves as information clicked into place, but one remained. It was persistent, rooted deeply in my curiosity, and it had been nagging at me from the very start.
"Why be so generous with us?" I asked, my voice carrying genuine curiosity.
Leopold paused mid-sip, nearly choking, and his rosy eyes turned to me in surprise. "What do you mean?" he asked, carefully setting his glass down on the table.
I took a deep breath, leaning forward slightly and resting my elbows on the table. "Given the extent of your magical power and the vast methods of manipulation I now understand, it's obvious there were far easier ways to force us to cooperate. Methods that wouldn't require this much care or... generosity."
Leopold remained silent for a moment, his expression shifting to something more serious. He crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair, a small smile curling the corner of his lips. "Interesting," he said at last. "I knew your mind would be sharp, but I didn't expect you to start questioning the essence of my motives this early on."
I waited patiently as he took another sip of wine, clearly arranging his thoughts before responding. The silence between us was filled only by the soft hum of the glowing runes on the walls.
"I could, indeed, force you to cooperate," he admitted, gazing into the glass in his hand as if reflecting on something distant. "Power is a versatile tool, and coercion is one of its simplest forms. But simple doesn't mean efficient, let alone sustainable. What I want from you isn't just obedience. It's... trust."
"Trust?" I echoed, my voice skeptical. "That doesn't sound like something someone like you would need."
He chuckled softly, this time with a hint of melancholy. "Ah, but I do. More than you realize. What's at stake here is far greater than any order or submission. And to achieve what I need, you must want to participate. There must be choice, even in the face of inevitability." His rosy eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw something beyond simple weariness in them—an invisible weight he seemed to carry.
I was about to voice my second question when a sharp, familiar pain struck me. It was as if something were piercing into my mind, crushing my thoughts under a chaotic, unbearable torrent.
"Argh, I thought this was already—" My words were cut off by the growing intensity of the pain. Instinctively, I clutched my head, trying to contain the turmoil within, but it was futile. My body trembled, and beads of sweat began to roll down my face. The glass on the table wobbled slightly, the sound of its vibrations mingling with my ragged, labored breathing.
Leopold, who had been watching me intently, leaned forward slightly but remained still. His eyes, filled with concern, betrayed no surprise. It was as though he had expected something like this, yet the tension in his posture gave him away.
"Hel... help me, you... you're... more than... capable," my words came out fragmented, weighed down by the searing pain consuming me. I managed to cling to focus, but deep down, I knew the pain would only grow worse.
Leopold, however, didn't respond immediately. He observed in silence, as if carefully weighing his words before speaking. Finally, his tone turned solemn, heavier than before, as he said, "It's impossible. Just as you must have realized when your body was being reconstructed, this is something you must endure firsthand. Unfortunately, no magic can nullify your pain."
Those words fell like a blade.
"Focus!" Leopold commanded, his voice cutting through the storm raging inside me like a silent shout. "Take deep breaths. Don't fight it."
'Easy for you to say', The pain surged again. My vision blurred, and my hands clenched into fists against the table, desperately seeking an anchor in the chaos. The pain coursed through me like an electric current, each wave dragging me deeper into an unrelenting agony that filled every corner of my mind.
The pain intensified further, a searing current of torment tearing through every fiber of my being. It felt as though something—or someone—was trying to force its way into my mind, ripping apart my thoughts one by one. Until finally, only one thought remained—a single question that rose amidst the maelstrom.
Summoning every ounce of strength I could muster, I forced out the words, my voice a broken whisper.
"Wh… Wha…" The pain made articulation near impossible, but I pushed on. "Who… is… th… this… v-voice… in… my… head?"
For a moment, silence filled the space, broken only by the sound of my labored breathing. Leopold didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady and piercing, as though he were examining the depths of my soul. He waited patiently, as though knowing the storm within me would eventually subside, even if just momentarily.
When he finally spoke, his words were simple but I couldn't fully comprehend.
"It's you."