Eugene and I turned three.
My father was Paul Greyrat.
My mother was Zenith Greyrat.
And my name was Rudeus Greyrat.
Rudy, for short.
I was the eldest son of the Greyrat family.
Including my twin brother, Eugene.
Strictly speaking, the eldest and second son had been born nearly at the same time, but I was the eldest nonetheless.
At first, it took me some time to properly remember everyone’s names.
Father and Mother did not often call each other by name, and they called me Rudy.
Eugene, too, was simply called Eugene.
But I knew now.
This was Buena Village in the Fittoa Region of the Asura Kingdom.
Our home belonged to Paul Greyrat, a knight of the village.
I was the son of that household.
And so was Eugene.
Even at three years old, Eugene was still strange.
Of course, it was not as though he never spoke anymore.
He conversed now.
When Mother called his name, he turned around.
When Father spoke to him, he gave brief replies.
When Lilia said it was mealtime, he closed his book.
Seeing that, it seemed Eugene had at least grown somewhat accustomed to this house.
The problem was the way he did it.
Eugene’s responses did not seem like those of a child opening his heart to his family. They seemed more like the bare minimum necessary to avoid making the atmosphere in the house any more uncomfortable.
One day, Mother was reading Eugene a book.
It was only one of the few books we had in the house.
The content was a little difficult to read to a child, but Mother seemed to think Eugene liked books.
"Eugene, is this part interesting?"
Eugene was looking at the book.
"It contains information."
Mother paused for a moment.
"...Information?"
"Yes."
"Then does that make it interesting?"
Eugene thought for a little while.
"Probably."
Mother smiled.
Watching from beside them, I thought to myself.
Mother was amazing.
To be able to smile even after hearing an answer like that.
If it were me, I would have been thinking, What kind of answer is that for a child?
Father also tried, in his own way, to get closer to Eugene.
"Eugene, are you interested in swords?"
"I am."
"Oh! That’s my son!"
Father was delighted.
For that moment, he looked truly happy.
"Then I’ll teach you later. Swords are wonderful. A man ought to wield a sword."
Eugene quietly looked at Father.
"I want to assess the combat standards of this world."
Father’s smile stiffened slightly.
"...Well, yes. At least you’re interested."
Father let it pass like that.
Inwardly, I was impressed.
That was Father for you.
Put nicely, he was optimistic. Put badly, he did not think very deeply.
There was also the matter of how Eugene addressed people.
When Eugene first began speaking properly, he called Mother this.
"Zenith."
The house went silent that instant.
Mother tried to smile.
"Hm?"
"Zenith."
Eugene said it again.
His pronunciation was exact.
Too exact, which made it worse.
Mother’s smile became awkward.
Father cleared his throat beside her.
"Eugene. Calling her Zenith? You can call her Mother, you know."
Eugene looked at Father.
"Paul."
This time, Father’s face stiffened.
I nearly laughed right there.
No, I could not laugh.
The atmosphere was far too serious.
Eugene did not seem bothered at all.
He truly looked as though he did not understand why those forms of address were a problem.
After that day, the mood in the house remained subtly strained for about a day.
Mother cared for Eugene as usual, but she seemed somehow more cautious.
Father would begin speaking to Eugene, only to stop halfway through.
Eugene observed it.
Then, a few days later, he changed how he addressed them.
"Mother."
"Father."
Mother was genuinely delighted to hear those words.
Father smiled again as well.
But I knew.
Eugene had not changed because he had truly accepted them as his parents.
He had simply understood.
Calling them Zenith and Paul made the atmosphere in the house uncomfortable.
That discomfort was inefficient.
So he called them Mother and Father.
It was probably something like that.
I did not like that fact very much.
Still, it was better than before.
Much better than seeing Mother look hurt.
I continued practicing magic.
I had nearly memorized the Magic Textbook.
I could form most beginner-level water magic.
I could now launch Water Balls reliably.
My Water Shield was clumsy, but I could raise it like a wall.
Water Arrow still occasionally flew crookedly, but it was better than before.
I could also manage Ice Smash and Ice Blade, more or less.
The problem was power and stability.
Every day, I used magic until I was nearly at my limit in order to increase my mana capacity.
At first, I collapsed after only a few Water Balls.
But now, I could last quite a while.
My mana was increasing.
I was certain of it.
I just could not tell exactly how quickly it was growing.
This world had no status window, no indicator telling me I had leveled up.
There was no numerical display showing how much MP I had, either.
In the end, all I could do was keep using magic until I nearly collapsed, then decide my mana had increased if I lasted longer than yesterday.
It was crude.
But it worked.
In my previous life, I would have quickly grown tired of such repetitive work.
I could grind endlessly in games, yet I could not put the same effort into repetitive work in reality.
When I could see an experience bar rising, I could endure it. I simply could not believe in growth I could not see.
This time was different.
Even if I could not see it, I would keep going.
That was what I had decided.
Eugene sometimes watched me practice.
At first, I thought he was merely looking on.
But at some point, he began interjecting with a word or two.
"Your mana is leaking."
"What?"
"It disperses before you gather it at your fingertips."
"How do you know?"
"Because I can see it."
He said he could see it.
For a moment, I had nothing to say.
He could see mana?
I felt mana through sensation.
It felt like blood within my body gathering at my fingertips.
It was not hot, but it had a current.
But seeing it was another matter entirely.
"What does it look like?"
Eugene looked at me for a moment.
"As a flow."
"I can feel that too."
"You merely feel it. That is different from seeing it."
What an irritating brat.
But he did not seem to be lying.
After watching my Water Ball, Eugene spoke briefly.
"You need to distinguish between size and density."
"Size and density?"
"A larger amount of water isn’t necessarily stronger."
There was something oddly convincing about that.
Whenever I made a Water Ball, I had assumed making it bigger would make it stronger.
That was how it worked in games, after all.
A large Fireball was strong, and a small Fireball was weak.
But I had seen the bead of water Eugene made.
It had been small, yet powerful.
"Then what should I do?"
When I asked, Eugene raised a hand.
A small bead of water appeared.
It was truly tiny.
The size of a fingernail.
Yet that bead of water somehow looked heavy.
Eugene lightly fired it at an old piece of wood on the table.
Thud.
It did not make a loud noise.
A small hole appeared in the wood.
"Compression, not size," Eugene said.
"And don’t make the water first."
"What do you mean, don’t make the water first?"
"If you intend to fire it, make water that is already flying."
I scratched my head.
Easy for him to say.
Was it not natural to make water, then launch it?
But when I thought about it, he might be right.
What I had been doing until now was similar to making a lump of water and throwing it with my hand.
Of course the launch would be slow and unstable.
What if I formed it from the beginning in a shape that moved forward?
I raised my right hand.
I gathered mana.
I made water.
No. I stopped thinking about making a lump of water.
Water moving forward.
Like an arrow.
Like a bullet.
Water with direction.
A small mass of water formed.
Then it shot forward.
It struck the wall.
Thud.
The sound was sharper than before.
My eyes widened.
"Oh."
It worked.
Only a little, but it was definitely better.
Eugene spoke.
"That’s it."
It was not praise.
It was closer to confirmation.
Still, I felt good.
Whatever that brat said, his advice worked.
After that, Eugene occasionally corrected my magic.
He was not kind about it.
"Slow."
"Wasteful."
"The flow breaks."
"Your direction is wrong."
"That’s not water. It’s just a lump."
Most of it was like that.
At first, it annoyed me.
But the results made it bearable.
In my previous life, I might have quit just because I disliked someone’s tone.
This time was different.
If it was useful, I would learn from it.
Even if it came from my three-year-old twin brother.
Though I was three years old, too.
Eugene sometimes disappeared at night.
At first, I thought I was mistaken.
But I saw it several times.
Late at night, the window quietly opened.
Eugene’s bed was empty.
Before dawn, Eugene returned.
There was a little dirt on the hem of his clothes.
His fingertips smelled of dried grass.
Sometimes, there was even the faint scent of blood.
One night, I could no longer hold back and asked him.
"Did you go outside?"
As Eugene was about to climb into bed, he looked at me.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To assess things."
"You’re always assessing things. What are you assessing?"
"Monsters. Terrain. My power. The limits of this body."
I shut my mouth.
Monsters.
He had said it far too easily.
"Did you kill monsters?"
"Only small ones."
"Only small ones...? You’re three years old, you know?"
Eugene did not answer.
His eyes seemed to say, So?
My head began to ache.
"Then why are you staying here? If you plan to leave, couldn’t you just go?"
I regretted saying it soon afterward.
What if Eugene really decided to leave?
Mother would be sad.
And I... I probably would not like it either.
Eugene looked out the window.
"This body is still small."
"So?"
"I lack information. My travel efficiency is low. I’ve judged that staying here is better for now."
"Not because we’re family?"
When I asked, Eugene looked at me.
Silence passed between us.
"I don’t know that yet."
It was an honest answer.
That made me feel even stranger.
I wished he had said yes, even if it was a lie.
I pulled the blanket over my head.
"...Do whatever you want."
Eugene said nothing more.
That night, too, he quietly lay down in bed.
The next day, trouble broke out.
I was the one who caused it.
More precisely, I got caught practicing magic.
I had been practicing water magic in one corner of the yard.
If I did it inside, the floor got wet, the walls were damaged, and Lilia gave me frightening looks.
So lately, I had been doing it in the yard, away from everyone’s eyes.
I set up a wooden board as a target.
Just as Eugene had told me: density over size.
Direction over mass.
Do not make water and then fire it. Make water that is already flying.
I raised my right hand.
Mana gathered at my fingertips.
Water Ball.
No, it was closer to Water Arrow.
A small, compressed mass of water shot forward.
Thud!
A hole opened in the wooden board.
"Ohhh."
I marveled at it.
It was far better than before.
Of course, I still could not cut as smoothly as Eugene did.
Mine still felt more like smashing something apart.
But it had enough power.
Perhaps it could even kill a small animal.
That thought had just crossed my mind when I heard it.
"Rudy?"
It was Mother’s voice.
I froze.
Slowly, I turned around.
Mother was standing there.
Father was beside her.
Lilia was watching from a short distance away as well.
I was done for.
Completely caught.
Father looked back and forth between the wooden board and my hand.
"Rudy, did you just use magic?"
"Ah, well..."
I tried to make an excuse.
But how was I supposed to explain it?
A three-year-old child had been firing water bullets from his hand.
"Yes."
In the end, I admitted it.
Father’s face brightened.
"Ha ha! That’s my son! Zenith, did you see that? Rudy is already using magic!"
Father was delighted.
Just as I expected.
But Mother was different.
She looked at the wooden board.
The board with a hole through it.
There were also splashes of water on the fence behind it.
"Rudy."
Mother’s voice was gentle, but it trembled a little.
"How long have you been doing this?"
"Only recently."
It was not a lie.
It depended on how one defined it.
Father was still excited.
"Isn’t this incredible? Magic at three years old! And was that silent casting?"
Mother looked at Father.
"Paul."
At that one word, Father closed his mouth.
Mother looked back at me.
"This is not a game. If you hit someone with that, you could hurt them."
I lowered my head.
"I’m sorry."
I truly was sorry.
I should have been more careful.
I had been like this in my previous life, too.
I would become absorbed in my own world and fail to notice what was around me.
I had promised myself I would not be that way this time, yet here I was doing something similar again.
Mother sighed.
Then she took my hand.
"Are you tired? Is your head dizzy at all?"
"I’m fine."
"If you use too much mana with magic, you could collapse."
I have already collapsed several times.
I could not say that.
"I’ll be careful."
Then Father walked toward the targets.
"But Rudy, did you make this?"
"Yes."
"Then what about this?"
Father pointed to another piece of wood beside the board.
My body went stiff.
It bore a thin cut.
A mark from when Eugene had demonstrated his magic before.
It was different from the hole my Water Ball had made.
Mine had pierced and broken through the wood.
Eugene’s had cut it.
Father was a swordsman.
He might not know magical theory, but he could tell the difference between a cut and a break.
"That’s..."
My voice trailed off.
Father looked at Eugene.
Eugene was reading beneath the shade of a tree some distance away.
As though nothing had happened.
Father asked him.
"Eugene. Did you do this?"
Eugene lifted his eyes from the book.
"Yes."
He admitted it far too easily.
I screamed inwardly.
Hey, make up an excuse!
Father was silent for a moment.
Mother looked at Eugene as well.
Lilia’s face had already gone pale.
Father picked up the piece of wood.
The cut surface was clean.
As though it had been sliced by a sword.
No, perhaps even more cleanly than that.
"How did you do it?"
Eugene raised a hand.
"With water."
At that moment, an exceedingly small droplet formed at Eugene’s fingertip.
It was the size of a bean.
The droplet stretched thin.
Like a thread.
Then it brushed a nearby blade of grass.
The blade of grass was cut.
There was no sound.
The smile vanished from Father’s face.
Seeing that expression, I realized something for the first time.
Father could make that sort of face, too.
Father did not understand the structure of magic.
But he was a man who had lived with a sword in hand.
He understood that what he had just seen was not a game.
If it hit someone, they would die.
That was the face of someone who understood it.
Mother started toward Eugene, then stopped.
Worry appeared on her face before joy could.
"Eugene... You could use magic too?"
"Yes."
"...Since when?"
"From the beginning."
Mother caught her breath.
From the beginning.
The calmness of those words made them all the more frightening.
Father seemed to force himself to smile.
"H-ha ha. So both my sons are geniuses."
But his laughter did not last long.
That evening, the atmosphere in the house was strange.
Father spoke less than usual.
Mother kept looking between Eugene and me, lost in thought.
Lilia became more cautious around Eugene than she was around me.
I ate my meal feeling like a criminal.
Eugene was as he always was.
That made him even more irritating.
When night came, Father and Mother had a long conversation.
I listened in secretly.
Eugene was probably listening too.
"Rudy is a genius."
It was Father’s voice.
"That is true," Mother answered.
"But it’s dangerous."
"Even I could see that magic had considerable power. It isn’t something a three-year-old should be using."
"Can you teach him?"
"If it’s swordsmanship, I can."
"What about magic?"
Father fell silent for a moment.
"That... would be difficult."
Mother’s voice grew quieter.
"Rudy wants to learn. If we simply forbid him, he’ll do it in secret."
Exactly.
Mother knew me well.
"And Eugene too."
When she spoke that name, the air in the room changed a little.
Father sighed.
"Eugene... Honestly, I don’t know."
"Neither do I."
"With Rudy, we can call him a genius. But Eugene can’t be explained with that word."
My eyes opened beneath the blanket.
I had not expected Father to say something like that.
"That stream of water earlier," Father said.
"It was more like a sword than magic. No, it was more precise and sharper than a sword."
"His mana was strange."
Mother’s voice became small.
"It was not a matter of whether it was large or small. Ordinary magic has a flow. But Eugene’s... after he used it, it was as if the result had simply been placed there."
I did not fully understand what she meant.
But I could tell Mother was afraid.
"That’s why they need a teacher more than ever," Mother said.
"Someone who can teach Rudy properly. And... someone who can look at Eugene and make a judgment."
Father answered quietly.
"Let’s hire a magic tutor."
And so it was decided.
A magic teacher.
Finally.
I was excited.
What sort of person would come?
An old mage with a white beard?
An intelligent middle-aged woman in robes?
A sage with a frightening face, leaning on a staff?
Anyone who had properly studied magic would do.
I wanted to learn more.
Unlike my previous life, this time I felt as though I was moving forward.
That made me happy.
A few days later, the teacher arrived.
"My name is Roxy. It’s a pleasure to meet you."
My expectations were casually shattered.
The person standing at the door looked like a young girl.
She had a small frame.
Hair the color of water.
A brown robe.
In one hand, she held a bag and a mage’s staff.
She looked around the age of a middle-school student.
But there was something different about her air.
Her eyes were calm, and her expression was firm.
Though her body was small, there was something mature about her.
Father and Mother were briefly at a loss for words.
Understandably so.
They had called for a tutor, only for someone much younger than expected to arrive.
I thought to myself.
A little girl... No, I should not.
I should not think things like that.
It was a bad habit from my previous life.
It was not good to make strange judgments based only on appearances.
This person was a mage.
She was going to be my teacher.
I should respect her.
Still, she was small.
Mother spoke cautiously.
"Um... are you the tutor?"
"Yes. I am Roxy Migurdia, a Water Saint-ranked mage."
Water Saint-ranked.
My eyes widened.
That must mean she was a Saint-ranked water mage.
The textbook did not contain spells of Saint rank or above.
Which meant she knew magic beyond what I could learn from books.
She might look small, but she was the real thing.
Father also adjusted his attitude slightly at those words.
"Ah, I see. Forgive my rudeness. I’m Paul Greyrat."
Mother guided me forward.
"This is Rudeus."
I bowed as politely as I could.
"I’m Rudeus Greyrat. It’s a pleasure to meet you."
Roxy’s eyes widened.
Of course they did.
A three-year-old had just introduced himself clearly and politely.
Roxy watched me for a moment, then let out a small sigh.
"You do get parents sometimes who mistake slightly early development for talent."
I heard every word.
But I agreed to some extent.
My parents were doting fools.
Mother said with a smile, "Our Rudy is truly exceptional."
Roxy looked at me once more.
This time, more carefully.
I smiled.
I needed to make a good impression on my teacher.
Then Roxy narrowed her eyes.
"That smile just now was a little improper."
I had been found out.
No, what exactly had she found out?
I hurriedly rearranged my expression.
"You must be imagining it."
"The fact that a three-year-old says something like that suggests I am not."
Sharp.
This woman was no pushover.
Then Roxy’s gaze shifted to the side.
Eugene was there.
He stood a short distance behind Mother.
A white shirt and black trousers.
Pale golden hair.
A fair, delicate face.
Standing still, he truly looked like a doll.
Roxy saw Eugene and paused.
The pause was very brief.
But I saw it.
Roxy’s eyes trembled.
Eugene was looking at Roxy too.
A strange silence passed between them.
Roxy was the first to speak.
"And that child?"
Mother answered.
"That’s Eugene. He is Rudy’s twin brother."
"Twins..."
Roxy looked at Eugene again.
Perhaps it was because she was a mage.
She was not looking at him as one simply looked at a child.
Her gaze was trying to verify something.
Eugene lowered his head slightly.
"I’m Eugene Greyrat."
His voice was quiet.
Roxy blinked once.
"...It’s a pleasure to meet you."
"Yes."
That was the end of their conversation.
But I sensed it.
Roxy had looked at Eugene strangely.
I did not know exactly what she had sensed.
But there was surprise in her expression.
Not much, but it was there.
I learned later that Roxy had been sensing Eugene’s mana at that time.
But she could not decide whether it could even be called mana.
Ordinary people’s mana had a flow.
It moved within the body, gathered at the fingertips, and changed shape in response to incantations.
A mage could sense, to some extent, the magnitude, roughness, and refinement of that flow.
But what she sensed from Eugene was clearly different.
It was vast.
That much was certain.
It could not be compared to any child Roxy had ever seen.
No, it could not be compared to any mage she had ever seen.
And yet, it was strange.
That immense power did not spill over.
It did not disperse.
Neither did it move like mana on the verge of being used for magic.
It simply seemed to exist there.
It was too immense, too quiet, and too unfamiliar in form.
For an instant, Roxy mistook it for something else.
Does that child have no mana at all?
But she decided that was not the case.
It was not that she could not sense it because it was absent.
Rather, it was so vast and existed in such a different manner that her senses simply could not categorize it properly.
It was not something that could be dismissed by saying he had a great deal of mana.
Roxy could not sense the bottom of Eugene’s power.
It made her uncomfortable.
It frightened her.
And she could not understand it.
The senses she had relied upon throughout her life as a mage failed to work properly before that child.
Of course, I knew none of that at the time.
I only thought one thing.
A teacher had come.
A real mage had come.
At last, my magic lessons would begin.
And Eugene quietly watched Roxy.
His eyes were ever so slightly different from usual.
Interest.
It was probably something close to that.
And so, a teacher came to our house.
Her name was Roxy Migurdia.
One day, she would become someone I respected for the rest of my life—and someone I would come to love.
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