They grow up too fast, don't they?
If you stop and think about it—just for a moment—you'll understand.
At first, they're nothing more than a speck, smaller than an ant. A fragile whisper of existence, barely there. Then, slowly but surely, they grow—a tiny pea, then a plum, then something bigger, something undeniable.
One day, you look down and realize your belly is no longer just yours. It stretches before you, swelling with life, with a heartbeat that isn't your own.
You feel it—the flutter of tiny feet, the rhythmic thrum of a life forming inside you. Every little movement, every shift and turn, fills you with a joy so pure it washes away everything else. Sadness, fear, loneliness—nothing stands a chance against the simple act of rubbing your stomach and knowing they are there.
And then, one day, they leave.
Not your heart, never your heart—but your body. They enter the world with a cry, a fragile, piercing sound that somehow feels more like music than noise.
And oh, the pain—unbearable, agonizing, like being torn apart from the inside. I know. I felt it.
But the moment I saw her… the moment my Lily was placed in my arms, everything else faded.
For a split second, I thought she was slipping back inside, retreating from the world before she had even fully arrived. And yet, there she was—tiny, wrinkled, warm. Eyes half shut, lungs filled with life, crying? Actually, my Lily didn't cry.
Though I wanted her to. I wanted to hear with a voice so small yet powerful enough to make me forget everything.
She didn't give me what I wanted in our first meeting, yet I smiled.
Yes—at the pain, at the exhaustion, at the overwhelming weight of it all. I smiled at her tiny weak frame because it was the first proof of her existence beyond me.
Bruno, by my side, was just as lost as I was. And when she opened her eyes—from the very first day—we both fell even harder.
One blue, one green.
Heterochromia. A rare, stunning contrast, mirroring the impossible beauty of her existence.
A single speck had become this.
Something so delicate. So powerful. So gorgeous.
Yeah… they grow up too fast.
And just like that, a year passed.
Lily grew, blossomed. Her hair—thick and wavy like her father's—held the perfect blend of our colors, streaks of black and blonde intertwining as if the universe had painted her with equal parts of me and Bruno.
She was beautiful. Too beautiful. The kind of beauty that would surely be trouble someday.
Ah… They grow up too fast.
One moment, she was a newborn in my arms. The next, we were gathering our friends to celebrate her first birthday. Laughter filled our home, warm and light, echoing through the walls. Every guest congratulated us—not for any achievement of ours, but simply because Lily existed.
And that was enough.
Everyone wanted to hold her, to cradle her tiny frame, to press gentle kisses against her cheeks, her hands, her forehead—even her little legs. She was cherished, adored.
Then there was Romeo.
He was the happiest of them all. Whenever his eyes landed on her, the weight he always carried seemed to lift, if only for a while. The academy had been draining him lately, pulling him deeper into a world of responsibilities, but here, with his niece in his arms, he looked at peace.
It was comforting.
Until he pulled out the necklace.
A simple thing, yet it felt heavier than it should have when he fastened it around her tiny neck. A Flow Pendant. A sign. A declaration.
"She's an Awakener," Romeo said, his voice filled with certainty. "A future Flow Practitioner. Maybe even gifted enough to awaken early."
His words should have filled me with pride. They should have made me happy.
Shouldn't they?
But all I felt was unease.
Pride, because she would definitely make me proud.
Joy, because she would become someone extraordinary.
And fear—gut-wrenching fear—because this path came with danger.
One year old, and her fate was already decided.
One year old, and she had no say in it.
My little Lily… she grew up too fast.
Two years and six months passed, and my little Lily became even more independent.
She no longer needed us to walk her through the house, to change most of her clothes, or even to help her eat. She was a quick learner—too quick. The way she devoured books, how she watched specific programs dissecting the Flow system… it felt as though her mind was evolving at an unnatural pace, absorbing knowledge far beyond her years.
And her words—gods above, her words.
She was barely three and a half, yet she could already argue circles around grown adults. It wasn't just childish stubbornness; it was logic, sharp and undeniable.
Then, one day, she stood before us, back straight, eyes steady, and declared—
"I awakened."
Three years old. Three and a half. And she spoke those words as if she understood the full weight of them.
How could she know? How could she tell?
She was still a toddler, barely past the stage of discovering the world around her. She shouldn't have been able to grasp the difference between today and yesterday, let alone the significance of awakening.
But Lily was no ordinary child.
She held herself with a presence that felt too much for her tiny frame. There was no hesitation in her voice, no doubt in her heterochromatic gaze—just a quiet determination. A sense of duty.
Her eyes were too heavy for someone so small.
At first, Bruno and I dismissed it, brushing it off as childish imagination. But something inside me stirred—an uneasy whisper that refused to be ignored.
What if she wasn't mistaken?
She had always been too perceptive, too mature for her age. What if she truly understood what she was saying? What if she had awakened?
Neither Bruno nor I had the Flow gift. We had no way of verifying it ourselves.
So, we turned to Romeo.
And his answer did nothing to ease my fear.
He confirmed it.
Lily had awakened—far earlier than normal. And not only that, but she held too much power for a child. Enough that… she might become a target.
I don't even want to think about what that means.
Three years old. Three and a half. And already, she was being thrust onto a dangerous path.
Why is she growing up so fast?
Deep down, I knew there was only one way to protect her.
We had to leave her in Romeo's care.
It was the best decision—the logical one. Romeo held a respected position at Chasles Academy, surrounded by powerful people, and was a formidable force himself. He wasn't just anyone—he was Bruno's brother. Someone we could trust, someone who would ensure Lily's safety. And since he was family, we could visit her anytime.
And yet…
I didn't want her to go.
I didn't want her to walk this path so soon. She was too little for this.
Too little… yet somehow already too big.
Had I blinked and missed it? The way she had grown, the way time had stolen those fleeting years away from me?
I wanted her here, with us. I wanted her to live a peaceful life—one untouched by battles, unburdened by expectations. I wanted her to grow up under our care, go to school, make friends, experience the warmth of an ordinary childhood. Maybe one day, she'd come home giddy with a first crush, then later, choose her own career, forge her own path in a world free of conflict.
That was the future I had envisioned for my daughter.
But fate had other plans.
And so, I swallowed the ache in my heart, buried my selfish desires, and—together with Bruno—made the hardest decision of our lives. We entrusted her to Romeo, agreeing to let him train her until she was old enough to attend Chasles Academy.
She grows up too fast, this daughter of mine.
Not even a week had passed since she left, and then… I got the call.
Romeo's voice carried something different that day—a weight, an astonishment he rarely let slip.
"The Very Sponsor of Experience wants to train her."
The words sent a shiver down my spine.
A Sponsor—one of the strongest existences in the world—had taken notice of my little Lily.
Can you imagine it? A child so gifted, so brimming with potential, that Sponsors had their eyes on her.
She was already slipping further from me, walking a path I could no longer follow.
So who was I to stand in her way?
Wherever she goes, I know she will make me proud. She will rise, she will shine.
So I will not hold her back.
I will help her spread her wings to the fullest.
We visited her every two weeks, spending the day together. It wasn't enough—not for me—but I didn't want to stand in her way.
Still, we talked on the phone every day, made face calls whenever possible. We weren't really that distant, were we?
And my Lily—she loved us just as much.
Whenever we visited, she would drop everything—her books, her pens, even her training—just to run into our arms. She never hesitated, never held back, always throwing herself into us like we were her entire world.
She always prioritized us. That thought alone made me the happiest.
One weekend, Bruno and I made our usual visit. The maid welcomed us warmly and led us toward the training room.
It was supposed to be like every other visit.
But what we found that day… wasn't what we expected.
Lily wasn't sitting with a book in hand, absorbing Flow theory. She wasn't practicing the basics or working through a theorem.
She was fighting.
And her opponent… was a machine.
A towering construct, gleaming with polished steel—easily twenty times her size. It loomed over her like a nightmare given form, its metal limbs whirring as it calculated its next move.
My heart seized.
She was going to be crushed.
I almost lunged forward, but Bruno's firm grip on my wrist stopped me.
"Just watch," he murmured.
Then, before I could protest—
The machine struck.
A massive metal fist crashed down toward my daughter. The impact could have shattered the floor, could have turned a grown man into dust.
But Lily…
Lily wasn't there anymore.
A blur of movement—so fast I barely caught it—and suddenly, she was behind the machine, her tiny figure a mere shadow against its massive frame.
The machine reared, shifting its weight to compensate—too late.
Lily struck.
A single palm, delicate and small, pressed against the machine's back.
And then—
BOOM!
A shockwave erupted, rippling outward in a violent burst. The machine's torso buckled, metal caving inward as if crushed by an invisible force.
I gasped.
Bruno exhaled, eyes sharp with something unreadable.
Lily didn't stop.
The moment her feet touched the ground, she twisted—one seamless motion—and her leg came up in a powerful roundhouse kick.
CRASH!
The machine's head snapped to the side, sparks bursting from the damaged plating. It staggered, trying to recalibrate—
But Lily shot forward once more.
Her hands moved in a blur, striking key joints, destabilizing its balance. Then, with one final, precise blow—
SLAM!
The entire machine collapsed.
I stood frozen, my mind struggling to catch up with what I had just witnessed.
A six-year-old.
No—my six-year-old.
And she had just single-handedly dismantled something zillion times her size.
My little Lily, the girl I once held in my arms, who had barely learned how to walk a few years ago—
Had just won.
"Romeo, that thing was way too weak for me!" She said as she turned to us then, those heterochromatic eyes locking onto mine.
She smiled, a little sheepish. "Mother, Father! You're here!"
Like she hadn't just done the impossible.
My legs finally moved, rushing toward her before I could stop myself.
Bruno chuckled. "Told you," he whispered.
I barely heard him.
All I could do was gather my little girl in my arms and hold her close.
And yet, no matter how tight I held on, I knew—
She was already outgrowing me.
She grows up way too fast.
She grinned, pointing proudly at the wreckage of the training machine.
"Did you see that? How did it look?" she asked, practically vibrating with excitement in my arms.
I glanced up at Bruno, who let out an awkward chuckle. Then I turned back to my Lily, humming in thought.
"How should I put this?" I mused. "Actually, I didn't see you clearly, honey. You were too fast for our eyes to follow."
Bruno nodded in agreement. "Indeed."
I expected her bright grin to grow even wider, for her to bask in our praise.
Instead, her expression faltered. She pulled her head back slightly, a frown forming on her tiny face.
"Really?" she muttered, as if something didn't quite add up.
Placing a small hand under her chin, she tilted her head in thought. "But… it felt kinda slow for me. Right, Uncle Romeo?"
Romeo, who had been standing beside Bruno with arms crossed, blinked in surprise.
"Uncle Romeo?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow before shaking his head.
"You didn't use the Morphblade," he pointed out. "And your raw strength isn't anything special yet. Maybe that's why it took you longer than usual?"
…Longer than usual?
I stared at them, my mind struggling to process Romeo's words.
She had taken down that massive machine in seconds—without a weapon, without any apparent effort. And now they were telling me… she could have done it even faster?
A strange chill ran through me.
Was my daughter… turning into a weapon herself?
Lily suddenly started glancing around, her head swiveling from side to side as if searching for something.
Bruno noticed and patted her head gently. "What's wrong?"
She turned her heterochromatic gaze up at him.
"Lou—I mean, the Experience Sponsor." She frowned. "Where is he? I swear he was just here a moment ago!"
I jumped to my feet so fast I nearly knocked myself over. My eyes widened, my pulse racing.
I grabbed Bruno by the arms, shaking him with all my might. "Did you hear that? You heard her, right?"
Bruno groaned, his head bobbing with each shake. "Yeah, I heard her all right—will you stop shaking me?"
Ignoring his plea, I spun toward my pouch, fumbling inside until I pulled out a small mirror.
My goodness—I looked like a complete mess! My bangs were a disaster, my hair a little out of place.
I quickly smoothed my appearance, combing my fingers through my hair in a rush.
Bruno raised an eyebrow. "What… are you doing?"
I turned to him, exasperated. "What do you mean, what am I doing?! The very Sponsor of Experience is here! We might actually meet him! I need to make a good first impression!"
"Huh?" Lily scrunched her nose, clearly unimpressed. "You want to impress… that guy?"
Bruno nodded, folding his arms. "She's right. What kind of impression are you even trying to give him?"
"A good one, obviously!" I huffed. "Come on, he's a Sponsor! I at least want to get his autograph!"
"At least?"
The three of them—Bruno, my Lily, and Romeo—shouted in unison.
I blinked at them. What was with the judgment? He wasn't just any Sponsor—he was Lou. The Lou. Thee Experience Sponsor. Strong, powerful, good-looking—of course, I'd react this way! I wasn't the odd one here. Right? You get what I mean?
Romeo cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ahem… about that. Lou… well, he's kind of a sociopath, you know?"
I stiffened.
"So, when he found out you two were coming today…" Romeo hesitated. "He, uh… ran away."
I froze.
My shoulders fell.
"...Heran away?"
Romeo gave an apologetic nod. "Yeah. Pretty much bolted the second he caught wind of your visit."
I let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
Just great. And here I was, getting all excited for nothing.
Still, this wasn't over.
Next time, I'd make sure Romeo didn't tell him about our visit. That way, he wouldn't have a chance to escape.
I'd meet the elusive Sponsor eventually.
Just you wait, Lou.
...
...But… I… I never met him... Sigh...
No matter how many times we visited, no matter how much I tried to catch him, Lou remained nothing more than a fleeting shadow.
And now, only a month remained before my darling Lily was to officially begin her training under him.
Bruno and I had spent days preparing a special gift for her—a training outfit, one designed specifically for sparring. It wasn't just any outfit either. Infused with Flow enhancements, it could help her conceal her aura, protecting her from unwanted attention. We spared no expense, paying a king's ransom for the best craftsmanship.
But when we arrived at Romeo's place, eager to hand her the gift, we were met with an empty home.
No Lily.
No Lou.
Only Romeo, who looked just as baffled as we were.
I clutched the outfit to my chest, my grip tightening as I stared at him. "What do you mean they went to training already?"
Romeo raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are. I woke up yesterday, and they were just gone."
Bruno exhaled sharply, removing his glasses to rub his tired eyes. "They started training a month earlier?"
Romeo sighed. "Judging by Lou's character… yeah, that's definitely what happened."
I swallowed hard, looking down at the outfit in my arms.
I had wanted to give her this—to give her another small push forward, to let her know that her parents were still thinking of her, still supporting her from afar.
But once again, I was too late.
She was already moving ahead, already stepping into a world I could barely keep up with.
I felt a sting in my chest.
My throat tightened.
My eyes burned.
A thud broke me from my thoughts.
Bruno's hand rested gently on my shoulder.
I glanced up at him, my vision blurred, only to find him smiling softly at me.
As always, Bruno had this quiet way of anchoring me, of pulling me back before I could drift too far into my emotions.
"She's in good hands," he murmured, nodding reassuringly. "Lily will be back home soon enough. Try not to worry too much."
Not worry?
I was a mother. Worrying was part of me.
And yet… I found myself smiling.
Leaning against his chest, I held the training outfit even tighter.
My little daughter… She's growing up way too fast, isn't she?