As I sit at the dining room table, a needlessly long table in a large room dubbed the Sunset Hall because of the stained window glass high on the west wall that projects a sunset onto the east wall, I face my father on my right. “Tell me honestly, Papa, Mama.”

“What is it, Nova?” my father responds, dabbing his mouth with his napkin.

“Do you not think I am weird?”

My mother, across the table from me, puts down her fork and swallows her food. The temperature in the room drops. “Did anyone mention anything of the sort to you?”

“No, but I admit that if I saw a child as intelligent and mature as myself, especially at the young and tender age of five, I would find it not just weird, but also creepy.”

The temperature in the room returns to normal, but a silence falls upon us as my parents stare at me for a while.

Finally, my father heaves a sigh. “We do not find you weird, Nova. You are the sole joy of our lives and besides, during your incident, you may have had a fortuitous encounter which would explain everything.”

“What if I’m another existence taking on the form of your child?”

“If that were the case, your mother would know even if I didn’t. She is the one who birthed you, after all.”

Picking up her fork, my mother says, “Nova, it does not matter if you are transformed. Even if you became a priestess, a queen, an assassin, a lazy brat, or even a demon, you are still our sole, beloved, irreplaceable child. No matter what happens in the future, no matter what you or anyone else does, Mama and Papa are always on your side.” She continues to eat her meal as if what she said was an insignificant fact, but my chest feels tight and tears well up in my eyes.

Soon, I’m crying, and as my father becomes anxious, my mother merely smiles and looks nostalgically at the east wall. It seems that she too has some sort of unspoken history.

My father passes me his unused handkerchief and as I wipe my face, a maid knocks on the door and opens it, pushing in a cart of pie and tea. I almost lose my composure as I spot the apple strudel placed on the table with black darjeeling tea. Dessert can really change the mood in the room.

“How are your studies going, Nova? It’s been a week since you started.”

I look up to my mother, who sips her tea and waits for my answer. “It’s going well, I think. Teacher Broffenberg is surprised by my progress with magic and Teacher Mannes has started with the history of our country. Speaking of history, were demons really just wild beasts back then?”

Clearing his throat, my father places down his teacup. “To be more precise, the wild beasts turned into demons after absorbing too much mana. The reason why we magicians practice purifying mana after absorbing it is to keep it from running rampant within our bodies, thus keeping it under control. If the mana is allowed to run rampant long enough, it will cause brain functions to deteriorate and turn one into a first generation demon, a violent being that acts on its instincts. If a female demon births a baby, a second generation demon will be born. This generation is intelligent.”

“Couldn’t we technically get along with demons? They are just an unfortunate race.”

“While it is true that they are unfortunate, demons grow up shunned by society. The only difference between them and the homeless is that they have power. Their unique bloodline gives them the ability of raw mana, which is four times stronger than purified mana. They are also angry beings that keep vengeance in their hearts.”

“Then what if we were to find a demon that was a baby and raise it as a human?”

“It doesn’t change the fact that they are shunned by society, seen as the devil’s spawn.”

“What if we were to teach them morals?”

My mother interjects, “Right now, that doesn’t matter. All the demons were found and killed in the Demon War and there is an extremely low chance of a second generation demon appearing, as the raw mana in the air is much less than it was when demons first appeared.”

“Then if raw mana is much stronger than purified mana, has anyone tried to figure out a way to use raw mana?”

“Nova, this thought process of yours is unique. Be wary of who you speak your true thoughts to in the future.” She goes back to sipping her tea.

I look down at my plate dejectedly. “Okay.”

Sighing, my father picks up his cup. “Nova, you are still young. You have plenty of time to learn, plenty of time to experiment. You don’t need to rush. It’s not your duty to save the world.”

Looking up at him, I can’t keep the corners of my mouth from turning up. “Okay!” That's right. Lately I've been so caught up in the idea that I might have to fight against the demons that I thought of all kinds of possibilities for why and how the demons will appear. I forgot, though I was reborn into this world, it's not my duty to save it; after all, it's not like I met a god or anything like that.