The dim candlelight flickered atop a small, freshly baked piece of bread—his "cake." Two half-melted candles stood unevenly on its surface, their wax dripping onto the crust. Samuel couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.
"This is… quite the grand feast, Mother." He grinned, lifting his tiny hands in an exaggerated display of gratitude.
Lilia, seated across from him at the small wooden table, smirked. "Oh? And here I thought a noble young master like you would appreciate the finer things in life—like slightly stale bread with wax decorations."
Samuel laughed, shaking his head. "It's perfect." And it was.
In his past life, birthdays had been lavish affairs—extravagant dinners, expensive wine, and business deals masquerading as social gatherings. But here, in this tiny home, with only his mother and a dimly lit room, he felt more warmth than he ever had before.
Lilia reached forward, ruffling his messy black hair. "Happy second birthday, my little troublemaker."
Samuel looked up at her and smiled, but the warmth in his chest was quickly overshadowed by the worry creeping in his mind. His mother looked tired. The faint glow of the candlelight made the dark circles under her eyes more prominent. Her face, once pale but refined, now looked thinner, frailer.
And then it happened again—the cough. A deep, rattling one that made her turn away, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her worn dress.
Samuel frowned. "Mother… you're sick."
Lilia waved her hand dismissively, straightening up as if nothing had happened. "Nonsense. A little cough never hurt anyone."
"That's what sick people say."
She clicked her tongue. "And since when did you become a physician?"
"Since I started having a mother who pretends she's fine when she clearly isn't."
Lilia sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Samuel, I promise, I'm fine."
"You're lying." He crossed his arms, his small frame making the gesture look less intimidating than intended.
Lilia chuckled, though it ended in another small cough. "My, my, such a stubborn child. Where could he have possibly gotten that from?"
Samuel stared at her, unmoved. "If you're sick, you should rest more. You work too hard."
Lilia reached out and flicked his forehead lightly. "And if I don't work, who's going to feed my little loner son?"
Samuel groaned. "You're dodging the question."
She smirked. "No, I'm making fun of you. There's a difference."
Samuel huffed, puffing up his cheeks. "I'm not a loner."
"Oh?" Lilia tapped her chin. "Let's see. You don't talk to the village kids, you glare at anyone who tries to carry you, and you act like a grumpy old man when people baby-talk you."
"I was a grown man," Samuel grumbled under his breath.
She smirked. "See? You're proving my point."
He sighed. "Fine. I'm a loner. But I have you, so it's fine."
Lilia's expression softened. "That's right. You have me."
The warmth in her voice made his chest tighten. He wished he could protect her, to keep her from pushing herself too hard.
She suddenly clapped her hands together, breaking the tension. "Alright, enough serious talk. We're supposed to be celebrating, aren't we?"
Samuel nodded, deciding to let the matter drop—for now. "Then, since it's my birthday, can I ask you for something?"
Lilia raised an eyebrow. "That depends. Are you going to ask for something ridiculous, like a dragon egg?"
"No." Samuel leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Tell me more about magic."
Lilia blinked before laughing. "Of course, that's what you'd ask."
"Well?"
She exhaled, shaking her head in amusement. "Alright, alright. Magic is divided into seven major elements—Fire, Water, Wind, Lightning, Earth, Light, and Dark."
Samuel's eyes widened. "Wait, but I saw you use water magic before! That means… you can control one of the seven?"
Lilia nodded. "That's right. Most people are naturally attuned to one or two elements, though true mastery takes years."
Samuel tapped his chin. "So, what about using magic? Is it just waving your hand and saying some fancy words?"
Lilia smirked. "I could say yes and watch you embarrass yourself, but I'll be nice. Magic isn't just about elements—it's about mana manipulation."
"Mana Manipulation?"
She held up a finger. "There are five core techniques of mana manipulation: Absorption, Emission, Enhancement, Transformation, and Transmutation."
Samuel's brain immediately went into overdrive, trying to process everything. "Okay… break it down for me."
Lilia smiled at his eagerness. "Absorption is how you take in mana from the world. Emission is releasing mana externally—like creating fire or moving water. Enhancement is reinforcing your body with mana. Transformation is changing the nature of already existing physical body with mana itself. And transmutation… well, that one is complicated, but it's about fundamentally altering mana to create unique effects."
Samuel was practically vibrating in his seat. "So… how do I do it?"
Lilia laughed. "You're two. Maybe wait a few years?"
"No way! I need to try now."
Lilia leaned back. "By all means, go ahead. Let's see the great Samuel use magic."
Samuel closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and concentrated.
He focused on feeling something—anything. He willed his tiny hands to produce flames, to summon wind, to create a miracle.
Nothing happened.
Lilia barely contained her laughter.
Samuel scowled. "I-I wasn't ready yet. Let me try again."
He pointed a dramatic finger at the candle flame. Move!
Nothing.
He stomped his tiny foot. Water! Appear!
Still nothing.
Lilia snorted. "Impressive. Truly, the world should tremble before your might."
Samuel glared. "This is just a minor setback."
She folded her arms. "Oh, of course. But do tell, what exactly was that last thing you did? Were you… trying to make water come out of your fingers?"
Samuel grumbled. "Well, I don't know how this works yet!"
Lilia leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe if you yell 'fireball' really loud, something will happen."
Samuel rolled his eyes. "Oh, ha ha, very funny."
Lilia's laughter filled the small room, and despite his failed magic attempt, Samuel found himself smiling.
---
Later that night, as he lay in bed, staring at the wooden ceiling, he reflected on everything.
His past life had been filled with power, wealth, and influence. But it had also been suffocating—endless responsibilities, expectations, and shallow relationships.
Here, in this small home, with nothing but candlelight and his mother's warmth, he felt freer than he ever had before.
It wasn't perfect. His mother was sick. They were barely getting by. He had no power, no connections, and no certainty about the future.
But despite all that… he was happy.
And one day, he would master magic. Not just for himself, but for her.
He clenched his tiny fists. I swear, I'll get stronger. I'll protect her. No matter what.