It’s been five years since Marty showed up.

Five years—just enough time for me to learn how to talk and walk with a bit of dignity. Not enough to punch Tarmellon every time he does something idiotic, unfortunately.

At some point, he decided I was “too old” to sleep “without dignity,” and moved me into his bed—as if babies were known for their nightly sense of honor and etiquette.

At least the bed was bigger. Even if I had to share it with him.

But that came with two problems.

First: no more sneaking out in the middle of the night. He’d notice. And knowing Tarmellon, he’d take... drastic measures. The kind that aren’t exactly orthodox.

Second: he snores.

And not just regular snoring. We’re talking legendary snoring. I’ve spent sleepless nights camping with goblins around—Tarmellon is worse.

Actually, goblins have even more class.

Now I’ve also been dragged into more “daily responsibilities.” Chasing chickens for Tarmellon. Training my mana system for Marty.

As you can see, I have no say in my own schedule...

“Hey.”

Not that I hate magic. I just don’t want to deal with it anymore. I spent lifetimes obsessing over it when I was Bret. I’m tired of it.

“Hey, Hat!”

“…Huh?”

“You paying attention?”

It was Marty. We were in the middle of a “lesson,” as he liked to call them. He was writing with white chalk on a blackboard nailed to a tree—one that gave us decent shade next to the house.

“Yeah…”

“You sure? You don’t look very into it.”

“Should I be? I mean, it’s just magic. Not like it’s the most exciting thing in the world or anything…”

“…Excuse me?!”

He marched over and tapped my forehead with the tip of the chalk.

“Who’s been putting these evil thoughts in your head? Oh—”

He turned slowly toward Tarmellon, who was kneeling in the garden, tending to his vegetables.

“It was him…”

“Oh yes. Definitely him. You go take care of him while I nap here a bit.” I dropped down into the grass.

“You’re way too lazy for someone this young,” Marty muttered, looking unimpressed.

“I could say the same about you.”

“I study, though.”

“So do I.”

“Really? Prove it.”

“Prove it? How?”

“Here.” He handed me the chalk. “Make a light orb. Just a small one.”

“A light orb?” I stared at the chalk, wondering if it was worth the effort. “And what do I get if I do?”

“If you succeed, I’ll take you to the city for a whole week.”

Ah. What a magnificent reward. Can’t wait to be socially overwhelmed by strangers again.

…But then again, it would get me away from Tarmellon for a bit.

“Fine…” I took the chalk and drew a circle on my palm. “Lux.”

A small white orb of light appeared in my hand. Despite its size, it lit up the shadowed area pretty well.

“Oh!” Marty blinked. His surprise looked almost theatrical. “You actually did it. But… drawing the circle on your hand? Where’d you learn that?”

“Well…”

Not like I could tell him I used to do that to impress—or annoy—a certain mage.

“It just felt more convenient,” I said.

“Interesting…” He pulled a notebook from his pocket and scribbled something down.

“You’re seriously taking notes?”

“Of course! It was a clever trick!” He finished writing and tucked the notebook away. “Maybe I will consider enrolling you in the capital’s magic academy when you’re older—”

“No. Thank you, but absolutely not. Now let’s go to the city.”

“Now?”

“You promised.”

“…But—”

Convincing Marty was easy. He did promise, after all. Convincing Tarmellon, though, was another story.

“If you take that boy to the city, I’ll be a grandfather by the time he comes back!”

“…What are you even talking about?”

“Don’t worry, Sir Tarmellon,” Marty said, standing tall. “I have the magical means to curb Hatrellon’s savagery.”

“You two make me sound like a wild animal…”

“And call my son by his full name! Hatrellon Pon Areas, son of Tarmellon Pon Areas. A name to be proud of! Do you hear me? Hatrellon. Pon. Areas. Do you want me to say it again? Hatrellon. Pon—”

“No, Sir, we’re good,” Marty said, hands over his ears.

Before we left, Tarmellon handed me an old, unnecessarily large and heavy bag, claiming it had “everything I’d need.”

“You’re really not coming?” I asked from the door. It was nighttime already. Just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t stalk us or something.

“You need to learn to fend for yourself. Take care of him, Marty. And this time, do your job properly,” Tarmellon said, giving Marty that heavy stare he sometimes reserved just for him.

And just like that, we left—with the night as our only witness.