So, today is March 7th. That means my birthday is in 2 months and 10 days. This will be my very first birthday in this world, and I'll turn 5 years old. Five years already… Time here has only helped me so far. I made a promise to myself to go out and explore the village, even though I'm shy and avoid people. But now I wonder if setting that promise was a good idea. I've become cunning and ruthless, even though I always intended to be kind to myself. Maybe it's because I've broken almost every promise I made that wasn't related to work. But hey, crowds make me uncomfortable. People should figure that out on their own, right?
"But hey, I have a new promise now, one I don't think I'll break. I always have a good option when I grow up. What is that option? Let's just say it's a promise… or an agreement between me and Philia."
What Happened…
While Romian gazed at the village and sat down on the grass, he asked Philia in a curious tone:
"So… what's the village like? Are there a lot of people there? Are they kind? Any kids my age? And do you have a lover~?" Romian added teasingly, his voice playful yet provocative.
Phillia, in good spirits, sighed and replied as if humoring a helpless child.
"Oh, young master… Why don't you just go to the village yourself and find out? The people won't bite. There are plenty of children your age there. How about making some friends? And as for me having someone… Why is the young master so interested in my love life~?" She ended her sentence with mock sarcasm and humor.
Romian glanced at her, smiled faintly, then turned back to the village and spoke carelessly, his tone tinged with melancholy:
"Ha—Why should I go? What if they're mean or want to hurt me? Besides, I don't care. I already have enough people by my side: you, my parents… Why bother with strangers who might hate me? And am I not allowed to ask about the maid of our house?" He glanced at her briefly again, his smile fading into a melancholic gaze as he stared at the village.
He remembered how he'd been treated in the past, how many people wished him harm, shaping him into who he was now: distrustful, pessimistic, ruthless, unempathetic, and devoid of empathy.
But he couldn't help smiling. He was in a different world now, with loving parents and a maid he saw as… what? A close friend? A guide? An ally? Or even a romantic—
No, not the last one. Maybe a mix of the others?
As Romian pondered, Phillia broke the silence after a moment:
"Ah… How can someone so young be so pessimistic? You need to step out of your comfort zone and face your fears. Otherwise, you'll never find someone to share your life with. Your parents won't always be here. Even I might leave someday to live my own life. That's why you must keep moving forward, not stay stuck!" Phillia's tone was exasperated but well-meaning.
Romian smirked. "Ha—If only you knew what the world is truly like. You're young. You don't understand this vile, ugly world. In my past existence, I was over thirty, while you've barely reached fifteen. The world is a place of horrors—full of malice and petty schemes. People claw their way to the top of the hierarchy. Heh… I was no better. My obsessions and perversions were just as despicable. But now, with this second chance, I reflect on my existence and strive to be better. Yet most people judge by appearances. If you're not tall or beautiful, they despise you for no reason—rarely for who you are. That's why optimism is foolish. Those you trust most will gossip behind your back and exploit you. Pessimism is wiser—it shields you from disappointment.
"What's wrong with improving slowly? Why must we always rush forward? This philosophy of endless progress is nonsense, born from human naivety. Those who follow Machiavellianism devour such fools easily. Only the goal matters; positive coincidences are just bonus points. Life is a game of survival and climbing. Some find peace with family, others chase power, wealth, and pleasure. But it all depends on the 'equipment' you're born with. A golden spoon in your mouth? You're destined to rule. But the talentless and poor? They're slaves to the powerful, condemned to darkness. That's how this game called life works.
"My path? I walk alone. A path that uses my intellect, ensuring I'm no one's slave. The path of manipulation—the strongest way. The powerful are born with golden spoons, but true lone wolves rise from the depths, outsmarting the elite with wit. Never underestimate them. But you don't know these forces. As a maid, you'd never survive outside these walls. Your beauty would make you prey—exploited, abused… The thought is unbearable, but that's this world. Right now, somewhere, it's happening. The world is full of monsters… and I might be one of them."
Romian's inner monologue swirled with thoughts he could never voice—his greatest secret: he was reborn into this world, different from the one he came from.
Turning to Phillia, he sighed and feigned attentiveness.
"You're partly right, but why must I keep moving forward endlessly? People retire for a reason—if we're meant to 'never stop,' what's the point? I get the perspective of never looking back, but constant progress can backfire. Perfection breeds arrogance. Even if you've been humbled, success without struggle corrupts. Sometimes it's better to pause, reflect, even step back to see your mistakes. That's how you grow without losing yourself. So… I prefer my approach. Different perspectives, I guess." Romian spoke monotonously, shrugging as if his logic were irrefutable.
At first, she said nothing. She bit her lip, sweating slightly as she scrambled for a response.
"Damn! I talked too much. No normal 4-year-old—especially one who's barely interacted with anyone outside his family and maid—would spout such philosophical nonsense! This is so suspicious…" Romian cursed himself for slipping up again.
She opened her mouth to reply, her voice trembling, but stopped and took a steadying breath.
"Your perspective is too cynical for your age! Caution is fine, but what about the people around you? The villagers suffer because of your choices. They think your parents are hiding you or that you don't even exist! Petty rumors spread, and your refusal to engage hurts others. In a small community, selfishness destroys everything. You must move forward, face your fears, and never retreat!" Her tone was stern, almost teacher-like, but her concern was genuine.
"Everyone's entitled to their views, but do they really think I don't exist? Even after seeing Mother pregnant? Those idiots! Do they hate us that much?" Romian asked, feigning innocence.
"Rumors exist, but don't call them 'idiots,' young master. If you're so confident, let's make a bet." Philia smirked, baiting him.
"She thinks I'll bite? Let's turn the tables…" Romian stifled a dark chuckle.
He turned to her, stood up, and said casually:
"Hmm~ Fine. If I win, you marry me—mutual consent, obviously. If I lose, I'll be your slave for life. But… what's the bet?" He already knew the answer but played dumb.
He'd crafted the stakes to scare her off, never intending to become a slave. But before he could backtrack—
"O-okay… Deal. The bet is simple: Go to the village, talk to people, and make friends." Phillia blushed but held her ground.
"That's it?! I set up this whole scheme to intimidate her, and she flips it into a playdate? I even prepped a decoy who's 'objectively' hot… Ugh, I'm not a criminal here, but my past sins still haunt me." Romian rationalized, unsure if he believed himself.
He extended his hand. "I'm in. You?"
"If you stick your head out, I'll smack it," she retorted, shaking his hand to seal the bet.
"What kind of cursed bet is this…?"
Some time later…
Romian walked back inside, aimlessly wandering up the stairs until he entered the room filled with books and other artifacts.
He approached the shelves and noticed someone else there—a rare occurrence. His eyes first landed on a book titled "The Sage Magician's Tome of Thunder Magic."
"Wait… She's a Sage Magician?! What rank is that? Skipping the basics, it's somewhere between Grandmaster of Elements and Arch-Chronomancer… What the hell?!"
As Romian stood frozen in shock, his expression stiffening at the realization of his mother's hidden talent, she noticed him and set the book aside, greeting him with a warm smile.
"Oh~ Someone else is here too," she said, motioning for him to join her.
Romian snapped out of his daze, plastered on a casual smile, and grabbed a random book before approaching her.
"Ohh~ Attempting to read 'Master Trialist Magical Control' at your age? That's no small feat," she remarked, genuinely impressed and radiating pride.
"First of all—YOU'RE A SAGE MAGICIAN AT 24!! And how can we afford all these books? Aren't they insanely expensive in this era? Is there magic that auto-copies them? Too many questions… But I've been exposed to magic before—well, through light novels. They had similar concepts, and I binge-read them, so theory comes easier to me. But I've never actually practiced magic… Eh, whatever."
As Romian spiraled into self-deprecating monologue, his questions grew increasingly audacious.
"Ugh, this praise is overkill. I'm not bad at grasping concepts, and magic is basically math if you think about it. Memorize patterns, combine them, master control. Creating your own spells? Just invent them, but include fundamental principles. Chanting spells aloud is standard, but experts can cast silently through visualization—quality over quantity. Talent means nothing without control, though. Mess up, and you'll damage your magic nodes, requiring healing… or worse. A Master Trialist should have nearly all nodes unlocked, but the number varies. Fewer nodes mean faster casting—ideal for battle mages. More nodes allow finer control and diverse spells. But—"
His mother watched with an amused smile until Romian suddenly froze.
"Damn! I rambled again! How suspicious is it for a 4-year-old to understand magical theory and battlefield tactics?! Yep, I'm screwed…" His heart sank as panic surged through him.
"You're truly… a genius!" his mother exclaimed. "To grasp all this at four years old! You could read before you could walk, Romy. You've got the knowledge and the talent to be a mage. Though… I still sense no mana in you. Is it because you're suppressing it?" Her praise was effusive, but one detail unsettled Romian.
"She senses… no mana?!" He was stunned. He'd only studied theory—how could she detect nothing?
Romian had always been physically weak, struggling to hold heavy books. Now, this revelation felt ominous.
"No mana? In a world saturated with magic? That's… not good." He brushed it aside for now, enjoying the moment.
But this oversight would haunt him far into the future.