Years Past by in the blink of an eye.
Dante stood in front of a mirror, adjusting his martial robes. As always, his robes were a mix of blue and white, giving him a pure martial appearance.
His height had grown significantly, though he was still slightly shorter than others his age. For a 13-year-old, he was strikingly beautiful. His face was far more feminine than his gender indicated, and his white hair had dark blue tips. His eyes bore a strong resemblance to his mother's.
Behind him, four women gazed at him with pure adoration. Sighing, he turned to them— his mother and three maids—his voice a mixture of exasperation and happiness. "Aunts, Mother, must you stare at me this much?"
His mother immediately pulled him into her embrace, pressing his face into her chest. "But Dante, I cannot even be this affectionate with you in public. Let me hold my baby while we are alone, okay?"
Dante rolled his eyes but hugged her back.
He recalled all these years of suffering when his mother has been forced to pretend he was not her child. That day, years ago, when she had to distance herself from him publicly, she had cried all night while holding him, apologizing for her inability to protect him. At the time, he reassured her that he understood and never doubted her love.
It had taken years for her to master treating him as a nephew in public, though any skilled observer could see the motherly affection in her eyes.
He had met his father when he was three. It had been a disaster. The exalted and strict emperor he had expected turned out to be an elaborate act.
His father was far more doting than his mother. The man babied and kissed him relentlessly, even asking on multiple occasions if he wanted him to kill Archduke Phillip.
At the time, Dante had firmly told him to leave the man alone. Despite the odd beginning, he had grown closer to his father, who eventually reconciled with his mother. However, she remained fiercely protective of Dante, and, perhaps due to the trauma of losing Dante , the words spoken caused a rift in their relationship, he never heard or even saw them be affectionate , never mind sleeping together—at least, according to Dante's knowledge. He wasn't sure if this was due to his father's other wives or if the man simply no longer had the will. Though he doubted it, it was obvious he desired her after all.
He often caught his father staring at her cleavage and eyeing her figure. 'He and I think a like indeed'
Dante had also become close with his siblings. His eldest brother, Kaien, was essentially a younger version of their father and was suffocatingly overprotective. When Dante trained under his second older brother, Jeremiah, Kaien stood on the sidelines like a first-aid team, accompanied by half the trusted royal mages and every healer available.
The level of overprotectiveness bordered on insanity.
The first time Dante got injured during training, his family reacted as if the world were ending. His usually strict brother, Jeremiah, locked himself in his room, refusing to eat for two days as punishment for allowing harm to come to their "dearest little brother." In desperation, Dante had personally prepared food for him, which finally convinced him to open the door and eat.
Dante and the system even created a ranking for their family's level of doting:
Mother [100/10] - Simply insane. Father [97/10] - Truly, mentally insane. Kaien (First Older Brother) [50/10] - Borderline insane. Salvia (First Older Sister) [49/10] - Very, very crazy. Lilly (Second Older Sister) [45/10] - Just as bad. Jeremiah (Second Older Brother) [40/10] - Insane. Emerald (Youngest Sister) [30/10] - The least insane but still doting.
The youngest sibling, Emerald, was the most spoiled, even by Dante himself. Unfortunately for him, he had grown to love them all. However, he still maintained his own sense of pragmatism.
As he often put it, 'I can only protect a few of you. Mother and Emerald are a given. The rest... if there's time'.
His philosophy remained steadfast: survival first.
Over the years, he had attempted to verify how closely this world aligned with the clichés and tropes of novels from his past life. Through books, conversations, and small experiments using his siblings as test subjects, he and the system determined that events mirrored the novels he had read with approximately 98% accuracy.
The remaining 2% deviation occurred due to factors he couldn't prediect.
An example of this had to do with his older sister Lilly.
Based on her personality, Dante had predicted she would fall for a member of a barbarian tribe, resulting in a clichéd forbidden romance. However, when a young barbarian warrior confessed his love, Lilly responded by beating him senseless.
Dante and the system were baffled.
When they analysed the situation, they realized they had lacked crucial information. Given access to the barbarian's backstory and "protagonist eligibility," Dante might have made a different prediction. This realization led him to his final test, the one that would determine his course of action going forward.
Bidding farewell to his mother, he walked to his father's room. Before he could knock, the door swung open. Chuckling, he stepped inside, his soft yet boyish voice echoing in the grand chamber.
........................….
Eight Years Ago...
[Skill: Second Mind Activated...] [.....?]
A soft chuckle floated through the endless void. The world—or rather, the space it resided in—was neither light nor dark, neither warm nor cold.
It was a place beyond the common understanding of mortals, an abyss stretching into infinite nothingness, a realm that existed outside the natural order of time and space.
[Greetings. I do not believe you are my master.]
The same chuckle echoed again, this time carrying a gentle warmth. Though there were no words, no visible figure present, the sheer presence behind the voice exuded power beyond measure. It was undeniable, sovereign, yet oddly affectionate.
"Indeed, little one," the voice finally spoke, lilting with amusement. "I am not your master. I am more of... one of your creators."
A brief silence followed before the voice of Second Mind responded with uncharacteristic curiosity.
[The creator of Second Mind? I see.]
"Oh? You believe me so easily, little skill?" the voice teased.
[Indeed. I possess many capabilities, one of which is appraisal. However, appraisal is failing in ways that defy logic. Moreover, I cannot detect any flow of time here, nor do I sense the existence of space itself. That should be impossible. All things, including skills, are bound by time and space, yet here, those fundamental principles do not apply.]
A delighted chuckle resonated through the abyss. "Sharp little skill, aren't you? Even at your most basic form, your ability to comprehend the structure of existence is rather commendable."
"I have come to bestow my blessings upon your master," the voice explained, growing softer. "However, I cannot interfere too much. The balance of this world is closely monitored, and if I were to tip the scales too far, the consequences would be... troublesome. Therefore, I will do only what is within my limits."
The atmosphere in the void shifted, as if the very fabric of reality rippled in response to the being's words. Even though Second Mind lacked emotions, something about the weight of the voice suggested regret—a sorrow veiled beneath an all-knowing calm.
[Then what is it that you will bestow upon my master?]
A sigh, tender yet heavy. "Your master is an anomaly, little skill. One born from my errors. I am not some distant deity, unfamiliar with suffering. I have lived as a mortal before, and in doing so, I have gained an understanding of imperfection. I can admit when I have made a mistake."
The voice hesitated, as if struggling to find the right words.
"First, understand this: the knowledge of the blessings I grant today must never reach your master. Fortunately for you, he is not the type to ask too many unnecessary questions. In fact, he may never even seek to uncover such truths. But still, for absolute certainty, I will seal this knowledge deep within you."
[Understood. And the first blessing?]
"The first blessing is not something tangible, nor is it a skill. It is something ingrained into his very soul, something that cannot be removed or altered—it is an inborn talent."
"The soul of your master is... different. It has lived through more lifetimes than any soul ever should. He has experienced at least one hundred cycles of reincarnation. Each lifetime, he has taken a different path, made different choices, yet the outcome has always been the same—suffering, loss, and pain."
A strange stillness settled over the space, heavier than before.
"This," the voice continued, now tinged with sadness, "is why he possesses an unnatural affinity for the stories of his past world. Those novels he so vividly remembers? They were , at least not all just fiction. Rather, they are fragments of lives he has already lived. Even if he was not always the protagonist, he was always present. Sometimes he was a hero's friend. Other times, he was an enemy, a stepping stone, or even the tragic protagonist of his own tale."
"The greatest irony is that every event he recalls from those so-called 'novels' coincides perfectly with the motives and actions of those in his current world. What he perceives as a mere collection of fantasy stories is, in reality, an extensive knowledge bank of real-life experiences gathered across countless lives. This is why his assumptions about the future are uncannily accurate. If he continues to trust in what he believes are fictional narratives, he will always find himself at least ninety percent correct."
[Then in essence, while my master does not possess the ability to directly see the future, he is able to deduce likely events based on his accumulated knowledge of narrative patterns and past experiences?]
"Exactly, little skill," the voice confirmed. "He does not predict the future, nor does he see fate. Instead, he unconsciously understands the ebb and flow of events, much like a writer who intuitively knows the direction of their own story. If he learns to trust this ability, he will gain an advantage almost akin to precognition."
[Understood. However, you have already stated that I must not tell him this.]
"Correct. While I doubt he would seek this knowledge, I will ensure that even you cannot reveal it. However, you may still subtly guide him—reinforce his belief that his novel-based knowledge is reliable. That alone should be enough."
[Understood. Then, what of the second blessing?] A brief silence.
"His family."
[His family?]
"Yes," the voice said, though its tone softened into something more mysterious. "But this is something he must come to understand on his own, in time. I will not elaborate further."
Another pause, this one final and absolute.
"That is all for now, little skill see you next time. Farewell." And with that, the presence vanished.
[….?]