Good morning everyone. Rise and shine.

The sun was as warm as ever today as well. It doesn’t seem like it was going to rain.

Well now it’s raining. Great.

The lady picked the entirety of me up in one swoop and walked briskly inside, muttering unintelligible words (to me) that sounded like:

“It was still sunny just now, how come?”

I almost wanted to ask the same question, but the only difference was that I knew the answer myself, so there was no need to waste my breath on that. And there was the fact that I was still a little toddler who couldn’t even move half of my body, let alone utter a sound...

I was moved from the rather comfortable position of lying alone in a cradle next to the window sill, taking in the sun completely, to one of the inner rooms. I think it was supposed to be called the Second Reading Room, but that was unnecessary information for a toddler.

It was a small, cozy study. Not exactly small, when I was actually brought inside of it instead of just looking past it. The furnitures really looked a notch more luxurious here than my usual sleeping and dining location, so I took sometimes to observe my surroundings.

The typical Old European/Victorian style room, with wooden a table, bookshelves filled to the brim with thick and colourful books, and a very warm-looking fireplace. Maroon carpet filled the room, which looks much more comfortable to sleep in than my small bedroom.

It was a little bit difficult to imagine that a room like this was just a few doors away from the furnitureless, windowless and carpetless room that I sleep in.

Holding the little toddler that was me in a way that was a little bit tighter than necessary, the lady spoke in a rather small voice, much different from the carefree tone she used moments ago. Putting aside the discomfort of being pressed into her well-endowed chest, I strained my ears and tried to make out their conversation.

It was surprisingly boring, living as a baby.

“Sir..., I have to..., I can’t possibly...and...raining...possible...here?”

“..., I may not be able to...small child...here also...”

“Sir......please”

“...Alright.”

The lady bowed deeply. I was more grateful for the fact that she let up on her grip and I could breathe normally again.

She looked at me, with a look half of reproach (for whichever sin have I committed? I could not fathom) and half of...pity.

“Child, stay here and behave yourself.”

Glancing over her shoulder at the figure that was now fully looking at the paperwork that filled the wooden paper, she whispered again:

“You only have Sir Marcus to protect you in the house of Duke Howard.”

...

I sat, or half-sat-half-crawled, on the maroon carpet. It was thicker and more furry than it looked. Stood in front of me was the imposing bookshelves filled with thick books that could probably be fatal if dropped on me. I never knew bookshelves were such a fear-inducing objects until I became a toddler.

I was thinking of the lady with slight resentment. She had left me in this uncomfortable pose without thinking of how much these little muscles in my body must be creaking from having to support the full weight of a baby (which was not much, but still). I tried to flip over and lie down, but as expected I could not move the lower half of my body as I wanted and could only remain in such a position.

At least the carpet was comfortable.

I looked over to “Sir Marcus” working at the table. He donned a rugged light brown hair with red eyes...no kidding, red eyes. I would be thinking of a vampire right now if I was still in my previous world, but who was I kidding.

God of J told me, or slipped up, that people can use magic in this world. Just that statement was enough to prove that having weird eye colours was nothing unusual. In fact, I was the odd one out to think such eye colours were weird in the first place.

I wanted to touch my own hair, but it was too short to be visible. I wondered if I had similar hair and eye color to this “Sir Marcus”, seeing that we live in the same house...but on second thought, I hope not. For some reason, I felt that having brown hair was really unacceptable. Red eyes are fine though.

“Sir Marcus” was remarkably handsome for his age, in my opinion. He couldn’t be less than 20 and was probably less than 30 years of age, but he could pass for a mature-looking 18-year-old young man. However, if he kept on squinting his eyebrows over looking at the documents, he was going to get those wrinkles soon and became an old man faster than he could blink.

Well, it was none of my business. I turned my head around. There was nothing that was interest. So, so boring...

CLACK

A door was opened somewhere. I turned my head to the source.

A whole head of an ashen grey was situated at the entrance. A kid – a legitimate kid – was standing there, a whole two heads taller than me. And if my eyes were not deceiving me, he was even straining his back to stand up straight, which made him look even taller.

Well, taller from the perspective of a toddler at least. When I glanced at the height of the wooden table in front of him, he seemed just as small and petite as I was in front of him.

Keeping my uncomfortable pose, I stared at him.

He was wearing snug little clothes that looked comfortable to move in and yet still seemed quite more luxurious than the garb that “Sir Marcus” had on himself. His feet fit in small shoes that looked like intricate embroidery works, with something that looked suspiciously like gold sprinkled at the edge.

What a piece of work.

The little brother took small steps into the room. He was bumbling here and there a bit, but managed to look composed nevertheless. He seemed to try really hard to not look like a kid at all.

Sir Marcus did not lift his eyes from his documents. From where he was standing, the little brother was hidden from sight, as the wooden table was really a huge obstacle.

I watched as he tried to call out to Sir Marcus, without actually making any noise. I wondered if thoughtlessly making noise was looked down on in this society.

Sir Marcus showed no intention of shifting his attention from his work. The little brother was clearly exasperated, but he was still composed, too composed for a kid. The room was still strangely quiet save for the rustling sound of Sir Marcus shuffling through different pieces of document.

The little brother was a few steps away from dejectedly calling out to Sir Marcus, when suddenly there was a strong wind that rushed in. Some of the paper fluttered about, as Sir Marcus tumbled over himself to grab his paperwork. The little brother was pushed again the wooden table, but he did not seem to be hurt.

I, on the other hand, was the one that was most affected. The cold wind reached me and I felt a sudden and uncontrollable urge to shrink and cry out loud. It was dignity-shattering, to cry out at one raft of wind, but toddlers are creatures of wonder. No sooner had I collected my bearings than I had been crying like the end of the world had arrived.

My cries shocked the two people in the room. The little brother was shocked for half a second before, glancing fearfully at his elder, dashing over to where I was. Sir Marcus was clearly in a daze and was even further astonished at the sight of that ashen head running towards me.

He was really a kid after all. His way of running really made me want to cuddle him. But I probably couldn’t in this life time. This kid was most likely a few years older than me, and unless I was very close to him, he would most likely outgrow me by the time my arms are long enough to cuddle someone.

As he ran over, I looked at the face beneath the ashen-coloured head. He had bright amber eyes, and peerlessly white skin. His skin was a bit too pale for a kid his age, but I figured it was an inborn trait. His whole complexion was of an ivory white, so much so that he would have looked like a ghost if he had worn nothing but white. So young, so pure...

His amber eyes were burning with something akin to concern and hurry, a mixture of the impulsiveness of a kid still growing up and a rare drop of maturity and wisdom beyond years. Maybe I was reading too much into it. His eyes were just really beautiful.

I had the urge to shy away from this white child, when I realized that I could move naught but the irises of my eyes. So I resigned myself to his childlike hands patting my head and my cheeks, clumsily asking me to stop crying and stay quiet.

I had long regained my bearings, so I stopped. The white child showed a bit of surprise, then he smiled really widely, apparently very happy with himself. He really was a cute child.

And best of all, he realized what an awkward position I was in then, and prompty flip me on my back so i can lie comfortably on the thick carpet. What a wonderfully cute child.

The chandelier atop the room ceilings looked fitted with delicate decorations and gems (that were not meant for the purpose of illuminations) and would surely be fatal if dropped onto the me now. I wanted to move to a different position but the white child just put his small pudge hand on top of my head and whispered to me in a quiet voice:

“Shhh, please don’t move around so much. Uncle looked so tired today. It’s best if we kept him company in silence.”

I glanced over to where Sir Marcus was standing. He had also regained his composure and was looking over where we were with a gentle look. He was donning a face that would probably sweep ladies of my age off their feet, but I was, for some reasons, very resistant to that kind of look. And that brown hair of his was getting on my nerves...

“Thank you, Julian. You came at the right time.”

The kid froze for a bit. He probably was debating on whether to tell his Uncle that he actually stood there for quite a while until the (un)fortunate wind came.

For such a young child, he sure was thoughtful.

He then smiled at his Uncle and said:

“I’m glad that I was of help to you, Uncle. Especially when you have so much work to do these days.”

“It is my responsibility after all. Did you need me for anything?”

“Well, I was going to ask if you could teach me some swordmanship. However, I could not trouble you with this seeing the amount of work you were given by Grandfather.”

“...You are such a kind child, Julian. I cannot accompany you now, but let us meet at the training ground in a few hours’ time.”

“..!! Thank you so much Uncle!”

I could make out words by the child, but Sir Marcus’ speech was a total blur. But I guess I was still a toddler; there was no need for me to rush in learning their language.

Drowsiness came over me, and I closed my eyes in obedience.

I was not aware of the soft look that the white child –Julian- gave me as I welcomed sleep.

“..Uncle, is this Charlotte?”

“Yes. She looks just like Leticia, with her little black eyes. I was afraid she would cry the moment Dana left, but she was very quiet the whole time.”

“I wish I could have seen Aunt Leticia...Grandfather said she was very pretty.”

“...Yes she was. Charlotte is going to look so much like her when she grows up...She was also a quiet woman...”

“Uncle...Charlotte is going to be an excellent noble lady in the future. Just now when I spoke to her..I think she understood what i was saying!”

“Fufu...Julian, you really are a kind child. I’m sorry, but I will have to go back to fig—dealing with these paperwork. I will see you at the training ground at 5.”

“Of course, Uncle. I look forward to receiving your guidance today as well.”