In the early afternoon hours when rain fell lightly, a carriage made its way along a dirt road.
The interior of the carriage trembled gently with the rhythmic jolts of the road outside. The sound of wheels striking stones was the only steady rhythm filling the silence within. The dirt road stretching beyond the window curved toward the capital, while the daylight had begun to soften slowly.
Selene cast a brief glance at the woman sitting across from her.
Her aunt Evelyne looked flawless, as always. Her dress, made of simple yet fine fabric, combined with the natural grace of her posture to reveal that subtle distinction setting her apart from an ordinary noble. The measured self-confidence carried by someone who had spent long years in the capital... neither too little nor too much.
The woman holding a paper in her hand was carefully reading its contents. After finishing, she turned to her niece with an expression that was quite surprised by what she had read, yet also slightly excited.
"Magnus gave you this? Our little Magnus, is that right?"
Selene nodded. "Yes... what do you think?"
The carriage hit a rut, a brief jolt. But neither of them reacted. Evelyne leaned back. She still held the notebook in her hand.
"This... if it truly works..." She did not finish her sentence.
There was no need to.
Selene continued.
"The clothing of nobles. Letters. Candles. A lasting scent of three to five days."
Evelyne exhaled slowly.
"This kind of knowledge isn't even taught at the academy."
Selene's lips pressed into a thin line.
"I don't understand him either."
A brief silence followed.
Then Selene spoke, her voice lower this time.
"He is only a ten-year-old child... where did he learn all of this?"
Evelyne gazed out the window for a moment. She watched the leaves on the trees bend slightly under the weight of raindrops and release the water to the ground. She was thoughtful, for her sister's son might have been a genius.
Elara had always mentioned in her letters how intelligent her second son was, and Evelyne had never taken it very seriously. After all, what mother does not think her child is clever?
There were plenty of mothers who believed their children would become great generals simply because they had learned to speak a little early or had shown interest in swords at a young age. But Magnus was different.
She had noticed it herself. Every year, whenever possible, she visited Elara's family, and each time she spent there, witnessing Magnus's abnormal intelligence and maturity, she found herself surprised all over again.
'Perhaps Magnus truly is a once-in-a-million kind of genius' she thought.
"What do you think I should do, Aunt?" said Selene, pulling the woman out of her thoughts.
Evelyne drew her gaze from the window and fixed it on her niece. A wide smile spread across her face. She handed her niece the file that detailed perfume and how to achieve a monopoly in the perfume industry.
"What do you mean, what will you do? Your brother is a genius and you are worried about that?"
Selene took the paper back into her hands. She examined each sentence, each measurement, each note carefully, as though seeing it all for the first time.
"What do you mean? Should I just accept this as if it were something normal? Is it normal for a ten-year-old child to know this much about both chemistry and commerce?" she finally asked.
Evelyne tilted her head slightly. The answer had not surprised her, but she had taken it seriously.
"It is not normal, of course... but what is the problem with that? Your brother is a genius, perhaps even a genius among geniuses. What we should be doing is not worrying and questioning him."
Selene drew a deep breath. She folded the paper and set it on her knee.
"Then what should I do?"
Evelyne did not answer for a moment. She simply looked at her niece, as though she were weighing not the question but the person asking it.
"Just do as he says, dear. Most geniuses like him are erased from history and leave no trace because of their circumstances and family. Your brother may become someone very important in the future, and if we are not going to help him with that, what is the point of being family?"
Selene's thoughts drifted to her brother's eyes, those eyes that genuinely cared for her. He was only ten years old, yet he had come wanting to offer a remedy for her troubles. He had simply wanted to help his older sister.
'She is right. My brother may truly be a genius, and more importantly, he shared this knowledge because he wanted to help me. And I have been busy questioning him...'
That was true. She had questioned the intelligence and knowledge of the very brother who had helped her. Yet his being a genius should have made her happy. Instead, because of needless and meaningless thoughts, she had even forgotten to thank him.
'What a terrible sister I am' she sighed inwardly.
She made a promise to herself that from that point on, she would stop questioning Magnus or his intelligence.
Her younger brother's words came to mind. She recalled what he had said about what she needed to do to grow wealthy and powerful in the capital, and to prove herself to their father.
Selene smiled as she gazed at the distant fields.
"Don't worry, your big sister will do exactly as you said and will do everything it takes to grow and become wealthy in the capital... but I will not be doing it to prove myself to our father. I will be doing it so that when the time comes, I can watch your back."
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"Huh...! Huh...! Haah!"
Magnus, breathing heavily, stared at the pell in front of him. Straw and splinters of wood were scattered everywhere. It was the result of his relentless sword training.
He was only ten years old, but thanks both to his military background from his previous life and to his constant physical self-improvement in this second life, he had gradually begun to master the sword.
"System, show me my stats," said Magnus as he dropped and sat on the ground.
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[USER STATUS]
Name: Magnus Invictor Sellendor Age: 10
Class: Undefined
Attributes: None
Strength: 9 Agility: 16 Endurance: 5 Intelligence: 89 Intuition: 46 Charisma: 18
Passive Skill:Memory of a Previous Life
Active Quest: None
Title: None
-----------
When Magnus looked at his stats, he felt a little disappointed. They were more than sufficient for a ten-year-old child, but they were not enough for Magnus.
Since he had not yet entered adolescence, his physical and hormonal deficiencies were apparent at this point, but he still believed he could do better.
"Well, look who it is... our little chicken."
When Magnus heard a voice that had been increasingly irritating him lately, he took a deep breath and forced himself to stay calm.
The person approaching was his older brother, Raphael.
His brother had previously seen him exercising in his room and running around the estate, which was why he had given him the nickname "chicken."
Magnus was doing these things to build a fit body, but of course his brother, like everyone else living in the medieval world, had found those movements ridiculous.
"Leave me alone, I am working here."
Raphael laughed at his younger brother's attempt to brush him off and his excuse.
"Why are you working, little chicken? Swinging a sword has no meaning when you have not had your Awakening."
Magnus fell silent at those words, because this was a matter that irritated him as well.
In this world, having one's Awakening meant determining a person's destiny and future. The day of Awakening was also a sacred day that revealed whether a person was talented, and if so, in what area.
Awakenings generally occurred between the ages of five and twelve, but there was no way to know exactly on which day a person would awaken. The earlier the Awakening, the better, because it meant one could begin training in their class at a young age.
But a late Awakening often meant the power gained and the class would be of a greater magnitude. Special medicines were even produced by noble families specifically to delay their children's Awakenings.
So there were both advantages and disadvantages to both early and late Awakenings.
Yet Magnus was ten years old and had still shown no signs of an Awakening. Only two years remained, and if it did not come within that time, he would simply have to continue his life as someone without talent.
Generally it was children of royalty or of very important figures who had Awakenings this late, but Magnus was the son of an ordinary baron who was essentially a merchant.
His mother's side, and his aunt in particular, were quite talented, to be sure. But even his older sister, the most gifted person in the family, had had her Awakening at the age of eight.
This situation frustrated Magnus, and the system was being quite stingy about providing information regarding his Awakening.
"Look... Maybe instead of swinging a sword you should go knit. That way you would actually be of some use to our family. Who knows, maybe you would catch the eye of a powerful noble... I've heard some of them have a taste for young boys..."
Magnus did not look up.
But his hands... his hands had quietly clenched into fists.
His fingers, touching the ground, slowly curled inward. He had to control himself. People like Raphael fed on reactions. Staying silent was, at least for now, the more advantageous choice.
"If you are done, go." said Magnus, his voice flat and cold. "I am training."
The mocking smile on Raphael's face did not falter for a single moment.
On the contrary, Magnus's lack of reaction had emboldened him further.
"Training?" he repeated, his voice laced with thin contempt. "If you call this training, you are truly in a pitiful state."
He stepped closer. With the tip of his foot, he kicked at the straw scattered on the ground.
"You do not even have an Awakening. What are you striving for? Who are you trying to impress?"
Magnus did not answer.
But this silence was no longer a passive acceptance.This was measured patience. Raphael was not someone who would understand that.
"Put down that stick," said Raphael, his voice harder this time. "You do not even deserve to handle a fake sword."
Magnus slowly raised his head. His eyes were calm. Far too calm. And that calmnesswas not natural.
Raphael hesitated for a moment.
Then he furrowed his brows. "What are you staring at? Do you think you are something?"
Magnus rose to his feet.
The movement was slow but controlled.
"I have no interest in you. Just go." he said.
Raphael took another step forward.
He raised his hand.
Perhaps he was going to strike his shoulder, perhaps merely push his chest... but what exactly he intended was not clear. Raphael himself most likely did not know either. For people like him, what mattered was not the act itself but that small moment of breaking in the other person's eyes.
Magnus did not step back.
He simply waited.
And in that moment of waiting, the sound of quick footsteps came from the corner of the garden. Distinct on the earthen ground.
Before Raphael could turn, the slap landed.
SMACK!
Sharp. Flat. Without a hint of hesitation.
Raphael's head snapped sideways, the handprint on his cheek reddening instantly. He staggered back in shock, brought his hand to his face, and only then looked up to see Elara.
Their mother.
Elara Sellendor showed none of her usual elegant composure at that moment. Several strands of her golden hair had fallen across her forehead; she had clearly gathered her skirts and walked briskly.
Her eyes were red and wide with fury.
"Did I raise you to bully your own brother?!" she said, her voice not trembling, for this was one of her rare moments of genuine anger.
Even Magnus had never seen his mother this furious before. It was evident she had been listening from the very beginning and had heard every single word her son Raphael had said.