Aaron stood in the manor's kitchen, sleeves rolled up, apron tied incorrectly, and holding a strainer like it was a sacred relic.
He squinted at the tea set.
"Boil water. Pour leaves. Don't burn anything. How hard can it be?"
He wasn't good at a lot of things, but tea? Tea had instructions.
He wasn't going to let some noble lifestyle rob him of basic Earth comforts. A proper cup of tea was the least he could demand from reincarnation.
As he fumbled with the kettle, a maid rushed past him carrying a pristine, flower-etched teapot. It slipped from her hands.
Time slowed.
The porcelain teapot—a family heirloom, apparently—hit the stone floor and exploded into a dozen jagged pieces.
The room went dead silent.
A few other staff gasped. One dropped a spoon. Someone whispered a curse.
Aaron blinked.
"...Oops."
The maid dropped to her knees, shaking. "T-That belonged to the late Duchess! I'm—I'm so sorry, Young Master! I didn't mean—"
Aaron raised his hands. "No no no, don't cry! It's… it's just a teapot, right?"
Her face was pale. "It was a relic of the starlit dynasty…"
"Oh." He scratched his cheek. "That… sounds expensive."
He crouched down, gathering the shards. The other maids rushed to stop him.
"Young Master, please, allow us!"
But he shook his head. "No, I broke a lot of mugs back on Earth. I mean—uh, in my past life. I'm used to this."
He picked up a particularly sharp piece and cut his thumb.
"…Ow."
---
Instinctively, he pressed his hand to the largest shard and muttered, "Come on. Fix already."
Just like that, the room shimmered.
A soft blue light poured from his fingertips. Celestial mana gathered invisibly in the air, drawn by bloodline, intent, and sheer desperation.
The shards floated.
The runes on their edges flickered.
The pieces spun, fused, and reformed before their wide eyes—no cracks, no glue, no heat. The heirloom teapot reassembled perfectly, better than before.
Then it glowed softly and settled into Aaron's hands.
He blinked.
"…Huh. Did I hallucinate that?"
The maid fainted.
---
Minutes later, Aaron sat in the dining room sipping his tea, trying to convince himself it wasn't a big deal.
> "Maybe the teapot was enchanted and auto-repaired," he mumbled.
"Or the kitchen maid did something before she passed out."
"I mean, I just touched it. That can't count."
He held up his thumb.
The cut had disappeared.
> "...Yeah, I definitely imagined that part."
---
Downstairs, panic spread.
The staff gathered around the glowing teapot, which was now being handled with gloves and reverence. A steward recorded the event in an official log.
> "The young master activated a celestial restoration rune… instinctively."
"No incantation. No catalyst."
"He restored a lost technique from the Aetherwyn star line."
One cook wept. "It was like watching history rise from the dead…"
Another maid whispered, "We can never let this leave the estate. The capital will try to steal him."
---
Aaron sat by the window, drinking his tea.
"It's still a little bitter," he said. "I bet real mages make better tea than this."
Outside, guards began doubling patrols around the house.
He didn't notice.
---
Later, the Duke of Aetherwyn received a sealed scroll.
> "Your son has awakened the Restoration Star Technique."
"He must be protected at all costs."
The Duke stroked his beard, confused.
"My son… knows restoration magic?"
He glanced at the report again, then at the attached sketch of the glowing teapot.
"…I was told he's just trying to lose weight."
---
Back in the kitchen, the repaired teapot was placed in a velvet-lined case and locked in the estate vault. Staff whispered of miracles.
Aaron saw the empty tea shelf the next day and frowned.
"Huh. They must've replaced the broken one already. Fancy."
---
End of Chapter 6