I came to the Second Reading Room several times after that. Different from the first time, Sir Marcus took his time looking at me in between his paperwork, with such a lovesick sugar-sweet look that I almost convinced myself to be his lover for a few seconds.

This person seemed like someone who really, really dotes on his children. I was lucky that I was still a toddler and the other party a fully-grown man. Looking from the intensity of his gaze, he would probably crush me to death with one of his hugs alone.

Thankfully, he seemed to be aware of this too, so Sir Marcus was content at just looking at me from afar, while I was left lying comfortably on the thick carpet.

Though I couldn’t help but shiver every time he turned that look in my direction.

I did not like his brown hair, not at all. But he seemed to genuinely love me. Could he be my father, perhaps?

One day, my caretaker lady, instead of putting me on the carpet like usual, put me in the taut arms of somebody else instead. I immediately realized those ridiculously lovesick eyes, and was genuinely scared for my life for a moment. However, I seemed to be safe for now. His hug was a bit less comfortable than the lady’s, but that was only to be expected from a grown man’s embrace.

..I guess I did not want to mention this, but it felt safe to be in those arms.

I could not remember the last time I hug my parents back in my previous life. My memories after university graduation had been hazy at best, but something told me that I should not probe too hard. It was okay to indulge in this sense of security for a while.

I had missed this feeling of being protected, of being loved unconditionally.

I never saw my mother. I didn’t think too much of it though. Sir Marcus..no, Father seemed to love me twice as much as a normal parent would. I couldn’t respond to that feeling yet, but I would at least lie and sleep peacefully in those comforting arms.

Time went by. Some days I would be left alone next to the window sill, looking over the sky from dawn to sunset. Some days I would be sleeping in Father’s arms as he scribbled through his infinite stack of paperwork.

Some days, people would come visit Father as he worked from morning till night. Women wearing the same clothes as my caretaker lady, some of them would bring food or drinks to my Father, who would gobble them down quickly and get back to his paperwork. A butler with a kind and sympathetic look on his face, as he refilled the stack of paperwork that Father went through and make it high again. And once in a while, the white child would come. Those times, I would tug on Father’s sleeve, watch as he was astonished for a full second, before pointing towards the door where the white child stood waiting.

Time went by.

Out of boredom and repetition, I was finally able to understand at least 80% of what people around me was saying.

I could finally move my arms, just enough to notify Father when I needed to do my business.

I could crawl a bit, just a bit, though I would rather fall down half way so Father could laugh exasperatedly at my “efforts” and pick me up eventually.

I could poke at the books at the bottom layer of the bookshelf when my Father was not around, but as expected, a toddler’s arm strength was so insignificant that I might as well be crippled. I did wish, often, that some forms of entertainment would fall out of the sky to help me pass the time besides sleeping and looking at paperwork. But having a book fall down on me would surely kill me in one strike, so I dispel that notion.

My wish did get granted though.

One day, one very beautiful day, my Father picked me up and carried me out of the Second Reading Room. We walked on the hall way, and instead of turning left to where my room was, Father turned right this time. I noted the change, and was fairly excited. Finally I was going to see something else in this house!

I pushed aside the weird feeling I had when we walked along the hall way. There were other things to think about!

Father walked out from the shaded hall way, and into a garden. The white child was standing at the middle of a stoned platform. He seemed to have grown a bit, his posture slightly more composed. But even that could not hide the light of excitement in those amber eyes of his.

He was holding a staff. A short silver staff with green gems on top.

Father gave me to a lady wearing the caretaker clothes standing at the side. This lady did not hold me with a lot of force. It did not feel as comfortable as it should have though. I really did get too used to being held by my father’s rough arms.

Father walked over to the stoned platform. The white child gave a slight bow, with as much elegance and poise as he could muster. But I could tell that he was quite excited for what was going to happen now.

They were not holding any weapons, so sword practice was out. They were both wearing light clothes, no armor, so melee fight was out. The only thing that was out of place was the short staff.

I strained my eyes. I had a hunch of what was to come.

And I was right: it was magic.

Father nodded at the child. The white child tightly gripped the staff for a second, before exhaling slowly. He then closed his eyes.

I could feel, feel, that something was shifting in the area around us. I could not make out what it was, but it felt like something dense in the air was thinning, and was gathering towards where the white child was standing.

The gem on the staff suddenly shone a brilliant green color, so much so that it illuminated the whole garden. Or I was just not used to any kind of gems that could shine so brightly like that.

What followed was a wind, a strong gush of wind, that cut across my Father’s torso. It was such an aggressive wind that I could feel a wave of air hitting me and the lady holding me in the face.

I looked over at my Father’s torso. He seemed fine, but his hand was hovering over his left side. The strong wind must have left an impact, but it was not an injury. My father seemed to have trained his body to some extent.

The white child opened his eyes, his amber orbs bright in apparent happiness. He looked over hopefully at Father, who gave a satisfied nod.

“Good job Julian! Now you know how to cast chantless magic. How did it feel?”

“It was amazing, Uncle! There was so much magical energy in the air that I felt like I could cast any spells! But this method really takes time to gather the magical energy in the air...”

“With practice you’ll be able to do it more easily. This magic allows you to cast more magic in your life time. Not everyone was born with an abundance of magical energy after all.”

“I understand.”

“And in battles, you can prevent your opponent from knowing what magic you have set up. Against first-time opponents, you could even hide your strongest and weakest elements in order to gain an upperhand. Of course, that does not apply to you, who has high aptitude in all elements. But you must not be complacent with your inborn talents. Strong magic used in untrained hands is just a waste of magical power. So make sure to practice using magic along with your sword training for transition between the two in a real battle. Do make use of your talents and train well to become a proper magic swordsman!”

“I understand, Uncle!”

“Good. Now try casting Fireball using chantless magic.”

So that was magic.

Gathering something invisible in the air in order to create miracles. I wonder if I have aptitude for it as well? Father did not cast any magic, so I did not know whether or not he could do it. But seeing that he was instructing the white child with “chantless magic”, he should be able to to some extent right? After all, my Father did not look like a researcher but more of a soldier.

And since this is “chantless magic”, so there is magic with chant also? I was not sure if I could take the mental damage from chanting lines like “God of Fire, heed my call and grant me your power and perform your miracles. Come forth, Fireball!!” like how my eighth-grade cousin used to say. Since my Father was an instructor of “chantless magic”, I hoped that I could also perform the same feat and save myself from the embarrassment.

It was also much more convenient. Imagine having to remember so many words for just one spell.

The fire ball of the white child split into three dark orange balls. They glowed with great intensity, dying all the leaves in the garden with a sunset color, before disappearing away like a magic trick. Although, I was pretty sure that even my Father would get hurt if he was hit with that.

Some sweat formed on the white child’s face, but the determination on his face was unchanging. His small hand that was holding on the short staff was unwavering. His form demanded some kind of respect for his efforts – for such a small child to be so focused in doing something that was not playing around. He took a few short breaths, and this time he did not close his eyes. As that invisible thing was shifting in the air again, and the gem was shining, his eyes were also glowing softly, like a pair of topaz.

It looked a bit out of this world, a bit devoid of common sense, for someone like me who came from a world with nothing as magical as what had transpired in this garden these few minutes.

The thought left me a bit excited. I hoped this world did not have too severe sexism, so much so that they would not let women learn magic. That would be too depressing indeed.

The next spell was creating shards of ice. Three pointy and very sharp-looking ice shards appear above the white child’s head. They were suspending using some kind of special rules of gravity, but I was going to attribute all that to magic. It was not worth it to think too much about these details.

The shards were huge. They were twice as long as the white child, and half the width of my father’s torso. They looked like dangerous weapons indeed. If a child as small as the white child could cast something like this, wasn’t magic a very dangerous thing to teach to young children?

My father sucked in a light breath. He was probably thinking the same thing. As expected of my Father.

“Okay, now slowly disperse the magical element and return the magical energy back to the surrounding.”

He instructed in a clear voice. The white child nodded, and kept both of his palms firm on the handle of the staff. The three intimidating shards start emitting light at the tip, where they slowly disintegrated into little white balls of light and into the air.

Half way through, suddenly the flow of the invisible thing around the white child was disrupted. His amber white stopped glowing. Huge beads of sweat fell down his forehead, and his face seemed even paler than usual. There was alarm in Father’s eyes. A split second after the disruption, the invisible thing seemed to be dender around the ice shards that were still in the middle of disintegrating.

“...Light Shield!”

My Father shouted. It was a chant, I think, but he spoke it so fast that it sounded like a blur. His magic was clearly faster than the chantless magic that the white child had been casting just now.

Contrary to when the white child did it, there was no shift in the atmosphere. A thin golden membrane appeared right in front of my eyes – it was covering the whole of my small toddler body. Another golden layer was wrapped around the small stature of the white child.

..I forgot, but the invisible thing that was collecting around the ice shards kept on accumulating. There was a tense silence, and a glooming feeling that something bad was going to happen. All of this happened in a split second.

The next moment, something like a small vortex opened up near where the shards were disintegrating. There was a cackling sound, and some rays of light were bursting out of the vortex. It was like a mini black hole, just that it was not black.

This could be dangerous.