The sky over London was as gloomy as ever.
Lk Orphanage.
Room 201.
"Blat!"
The heavy wardrobe floated gently in the air before settling quietly on the ground.
Robert looked at the small notebook in his hand, filled with his neat handwriting in english characters. He added a final line using a pencil with a broken
Closing the notebook, Robert slipped it into his pocket along with the pencil.
"For now, the manipulation experiments have reached their limit. Next, I'll begin phase two: repair experiments," he said to himself as he dragged a cracked chair from the corner of the room.
He raised a hand and lightly patted the chair. It collapsed instantly, scattering into pieces across the floor, as though it had been clumsily glued together with inferior adhesive.
Robert studied the fragments, his young face solemn. He stretched out his right hand, focusing his mind.
"Repair!"
The fragments began to move, slowly at first, like a film playing in reverse. They reassembled piece by piece until the chair was whole again. Cracks remained visible, but there were noticeably fewer than before.
Taking a piece of rope, Robert measured the longest crack. A smile spread across his face.
The crack was shorter than it had been in his previous attempt. Elated, Robert retrieved his notebook and jotted down his findings.
[As expected, this power can repair objects. The incomplete restoration is due to my current lack of mastery. As I improve, the results will undoubtedly become better.]
His excitement faded into melancholy as he stared at his palms. Though this power was extraordinary and filled with potential, he would give it up in an instant if it meant returning to his original time.
Yes, Robert was a time traveler.
A week ago, during a critical experiment in his lab, he had blacked out. When he awoke, he found himself here, in this unfamiliar era, his body inexplicably reverted to that of an eleven-year-old. To his shock, he also discovered his newfound ability to manipulate and repair objects with his mind.
Sent to the orphanage as an apparent orphan, Robert quickly pieced together the basics of his new reality.
This was London in 1938—an ominous year, with the world on the brink of war. Robert knew that the failed art student from Austria would soon ignite a global conflict, and London would become a target for relentless bombings.
The looming crisis made Robert even more determined to master his strange power. It might be the only thing that could help him survive. Fueled by curiosity and necessity, he immersed himself in experiments, making significant progress within a week.
Now, as he prepared to dismantle the chair again for further testing, a loud bang interrupted his thoughts.
The door to his room burst open, slamming against the wall with a deafening crash.
Robert frowned and turned to see a boy his age standing in the doorway.
The boy had jet-black hair and a strikingly handsome face that could easily win favor—if not for his pale skin and unsettlingly sinister eyes.
"So, you're the new Oriental kid," the boy said, his voice smooth but laced with arrogance. "Nothing special to look at… So, how'd you manage to sweet-talk that old hag into giving you the best single room? Did you flash that pretty face of yours?"
Robert met the boy's gaze calmly. "Your way of knocking is certainly... unique."
Thanks to his previous profession, Robert's English was flawless, allowing him to respond without hesitation.
The boy's lips curled into a cold smile. "You don't seem impressed. A week ago, another kid thought he could defy me too. I made him watch as I hanged his pet rabbit from the ceiling."
Robert's expression remained neutral. "I see. Did that make you happy?"
"Happy?" The boy stepped into the room, his smile growing darker. "No. I do it to make people fear me. Fear ensures obedience, and I don't tolerate defiance."
"I see," Robert replied evenly. "So, what does this self-proclaimed enforcer of fear want from me?"
At first, Robert had thought the boy was just a typical troublemaker, perhaps with a penchant for cruelty. But now, he realized there was more to him than met the eye.
The boy's sinister grin widened, clearly pleased by Robert's apparent submission.
"I've been asking Mrs. Cole for weeks to move me into this room, but she keeps making me stay on that damp, dark first floor." His voice turned bitter.
Robert nodded. "So, you want to switch rooms with me."
"You catch on quickly," the boy said, satisfied. "If that old bat hadn't locked me in solitary for a week because of some stupid rabbit, I would've been here much sooner."
Robert nodded again. "I understand completely. No one likes a dark, damp room."
"So, you'll agree, then?"
"No. I refuse."
The boy's smug expression faltered for a moment, disbelief flickering across his face.
Robert's calm demeanor didn't waver. "I'll stay here. If you're unhappy about your room, perhaps you should bring it up with Mrs. Cole again."
The boy's dark eyes glinted with anger. For a moment, Robert thought he might lash out. But then the boy's sinister smile returned, colder than before.
"You're an interesting one," the boy said softly. "We'll see how long that confidence lasts."
With that, he turned and strode out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Robert sighed and shook his head, returning to the disassembled chair. He didn't have time to waste on petty power plays. The war was coming, and he needed to prepare.
As Robert focused his thoughts and extended his hand toward the chair fragments, he couldn't help but wonder: How many others in this world harbored abilities like his? And how would they choose to use them?
For now, all he could do was continue honing his skills and hope they would be enough when the time came.
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