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My name is Rudeus.
It has been two years since I came into this world.
I'm not having a good time here.
Sure, I could use my status as a baby to get away with things I couldn't in my previous life.
But that damned boy—no, that damned kid—keeps getting in my way again and again.
Today, I'll make him pay for humiliating me.
With that resolve, I tiptoed toward Roya's room. The door wasn't shut all the way. I gently pushed it open, and the hinges didn't make a sound.
Then—suddenly—I burst into the room, ready to make a scene.
But what I saw inside left me frozen in shock.
That pretty little boy stood there, holding a dagger between his white, slender fingers.
The blade was pitch black and seemed to be woven from countless threads of dark silk.
The moment I opened the door, Roya turned to look at me.
Those red-gold eyes were cold, unreadable.
The magic blade spun in his hand with fluid grace, flipping like a butterfly knife, leaving faint black arcs in the air.
"Very handsome…" I muttered, completely stunned.
Then I felt his gaze lock onto me. It was calm, without a trace of emotion.
"Rudeus, don't you know how to knock?"
Roya's voice was composed, smooth. Though still childish, there was an elegance to it—a faint sense of authority.
I raised my chubby little hands, trying to explain something, anything.
But when I met those clear, piercing eyes, my courage vanished. My head dropped like a stone.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled.
He sighed softly. "Don't do that next time."
Then he waved his hand, motioning for me to leave.
But curiosity overpowered embarrassment.
"Brother Roya… was that a magic trick just now?" I asked.
He gave a small nod.
"What kind of magic is that? Why didn't you need to chant?"
Ever since I turned one and realized this world had real magic, I'd been obsessed with learning it.
I'd trained my mana every day and had finally managed to cast intermediate spells without chanting—something I was quite proud of.
But hearing that magic just now… seeing it…
It was different.
Roya raised the corners of his lips. I thought he was sneering. But instead, he said casually, "Who told you that you need to chant to cast magic?"
I froze.
"But… the books all say you have to chant long incantations," I stammered.
He glanced at me sideways. "You really believe the words of those useless magicians in books? If they can't do it, that doesn't mean you can't. Just because they follow the rules doesn't mean you have to."
I was speechless.
I stared at this four-year-old child—my brother.
I opened my mouth, but couldn't find the words.
He made me feel… small. Inferior.
I thought I was special, reborn into this world, making fast progress.
But somehow, he seemed further ahead than me.
After a moment of silence, Roya continued, "It's a technique I developed. I call it the Magic Sword."
My eyes lit up.
"Can I… can I learn it too?"
Roya didn't seem surprised I'd been secretly training. He thought for a moment, then asked,
"How good is your mana control?"
"It's okay."
"Can you gather your mana?"
"Yes," I nodded confidently.
Roya nodded. "Then try this—don't convert your mana into fire, water, wind, or earth. Just keep it as raw mana. Keep compressing and condensing it, don't let it transform into elements. See what happens."
I frowned and concentrated.
Within moments, I could feel my mana draining rapidly. My face paled. I exhaled deeply and admitted,
"No good. I don't have enough mana. This technique takes too much."
Roya sighed and waved his hand. "Then it's not possible for you yet."
That one word—No—felt like a sword stabbing through my pride.
My face flushed with frustration.
I looked at the cold-faced boy in front of me. He still had no expression, but I was sure he was mocking me.
I wanted to scream.
You did that on purpose, didn't you?!
Outside, the sky was bright, and the heat of summer shimmered in the air. White clouds drifted lazily across a brilliant blue sky.
Roya seemed to think for a moment, then said,
"Let's go out."
The word "out" sent a chill through me.
I wanted to refuse immediately, but before I could speak, Roya added in his usual icy tone,
"That wasn't a suggestion. It was an order."
I gave him a bitter smile and protested, "Why do you want to go out? It's hot out there. It's much cooler inside…"
He didn't reply—he just stared at me.
Under that gaze, I shrank back. I wanted to protest again but couldn't bring myself to say the words.
Eventually, he dragged me out by force.
I managed to say to Lilia, "I'm going out," and followed Roya like a grieving orphan.
But the world outside… was beautiful.
The air wasn't too hot. A soft breeze cut through the warmth, carrying a pleasant coolness.
Golden rice and wheat fields stretched before us. Farmers worked in the distance, and children our age played nearby.
Even so, I couldn't shake the nervousness.
Even after two years, the trauma of my past life still clung to me.
I was… still afraid.
Then, something warm wrapped around my hand.
I looked down—then up—and saw Roya smiling faintly.
Like spring sunlight, like autumn wind—gentle and fleeting.
A rare expression on that always-calm face.
The sunlight caught in his golden hair, and his long locks fluttered softly in the breeze.
His eyes were clear, serene, like a deep, still lake.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Roya led me to the rice fields and whispered,
"Stretch out your hand."
I obeyed. Roya gently raised my hand to the swaying rice stalks.
The plump grains shimmered in the light. As I brushed my fingers across them, I felt a soft tickle, and noticed a small insect crawling along the stalk.
I blinked in surprise, then looked up at him.
Roya's eyes met mine.
Those eyes… they were deep. Calm. Clear.
And in that one glance, I felt like he saw right through me.
Then he said quietly,
"I don't know what you're afraid of… but you only have one life.
Your health, your mission, and the people you love… those are what matter most."
I stared at him, stunned.
His face glowed gently in the light.
Beautiful. Serene. Strong.
In that moment, I didn't just see him as my older brother.
I saw him as a god.
Roxy's throne… had been taken by Roya.