We rode in the carriage for about ten minutes before stopping in front of a simple two-story house. To be honest, I expected something grander. I thought an Arch-Mage would live in a towering mansion filled with mysterious lights and floating objects—but this looked like an ordinary family home. The walls were plain, the garden small, and even the roof looked a little worn.
"We're here," the old man said as he stepped down from the carriage.
Inside, the house was modest but functional. A dining table with four chairs sat at the center of the room. In one corner, a pot hung over a fireplace, and beside it was a small pit filled with logs—probably used as an oven. Across from it was a stone opening, likely another fireplace, but everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. It felt… lonely, like no one had lived here for quite some time.
"Sit down," the old man said as he placed his staff against the wall. "I'll cook us something to eat."
"Thank you," I replied quickly. My stomach growled right on cue. I hadn't eaten anything since before the kidnapping, and though I'd been at the marquis's mansion, too many things had happened for me to even think about food.
I watched as the old man raised his hand and formed a small bubble of water from thin air. He didn't chant or mutter anything—just willed it into existence and poured it into the pot over the fire. So he doesn't even need an incantation? Maybe it was because he was an Arch-Mage. Either way, I was fascinated. He chopped a few vegetables, tossed them in, sprinkled in some salt, and stirred until steam began to rise. When it was done, he poured the soup into two wooden bowls and handed one to me.
"That's it?" I thought, staring at the watery soup. But I smiled politely and said, "Thank you for the meal."
I took a sip—and almost regretted it immediately. It's so bland… I can't take this anymore! Still, I forced myself to finish every drop. Food was food, after all. When I set the bowl down, I looked up and said, "Master, may I be responsible for cooking our meals from now on?"
He arched an eyebrow at me. "You can cook?"
"I can manage a little," I said, trying to sound modest.
He studied me for a moment before asking, "You talk quite well for a former slave. Were you a noble before?"
My mind froze. Idiot, no five-year-old should talk like this! I needed a quick excuse. "No, but Iskar often entertained important guests," I said, recalling the name of my former captor. "We were taught a little etiquette so we wouldn't embarrass him."
He kept staring at me as if trying to see through the lie, then finally nodded and went back to his soup. I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
After we finished eating, he stood and motioned for me to follow him upstairs. The room he led me to was small but clean—a single bed, a table, and a chair tucked into the corner.
"This will be your room," he said. Then he reached into his robe and pulled out a thick, leather-bound book. "And this," he added, handing it to me, "is your Grimoire. Use it to record your spells or ideas as you grow."
The book was surprisingly heavy. Just holding it filled me with excitement—it felt like a symbol of a new beginning. But there was one problem. "Master," I said carefully, "I don't know how to read or write."
He blinked, then sighed as realization dawned. "Right. I forgot you've never been taught. I'll start teaching you tomorrow. You won't be able to use mana for a while anyway."
I nodded, grateful. "Thank you, Master."
"Get some rest," he said, leaving the room.
That night, I fell asleep quickly, exhausted but content. For the first time in days, I wasn't chained, hungry, or afraid. I had a bed, a roof, and a future—no matter how uncertain.
The next morning, I woke feeling refreshed. The dull ache in my body from the mana backlash was gone. I stretched, washed my face with cold water from a basin, and went downstairs to explore the kitchen. The pantry was nearly empty—just some flour, a few eggs, and a jar of salt. "Nothing good here," I muttered. "Guess I'll make do."
I decided on simple bread and scrambled eggs. It took me a while to figure out how to use the wooden oven, but eventually, I got it working. Before long, the smell of warm bread filled the house. When I plated the food, I couldn't help but smile. "Not bad for what I've got."
Footsteps echoed down the stairs. The old man appeared, rubbing his eyes. He stopped when he saw the food on the table and raised an eyebrow again, this time in curiosity rather than suspicion.
"Good morning," I greeted him. "I made breakfast."
He sat down without a word, picked up a piece of bread, and took a bite. Then another. "Not bad," he said at last. "Quite delicious, actually."
We ate in silence for a while. He wasn't much of a talker, and I didn't know what to say either. When we finished, he stood up. "Before your lessons begin, I'll show you around."
He led me outside first. Behind the house was a stone well with a wooden bucket tied to a rope. "That's where we get our water—for cooking, cleaning, and drinking. Until you learn water magic, you'll need to draw it manually."
I nodded. "Got it."
Back inside, we walked past a door that had been closed the night before. He opened it, revealing a large room filled with shelves, books, strange tools, It smelled faintly of ink, dust, and something metallic.
At the far end of the room was another door, made of blackened wood with strange runes carved along its frame. The air around it felt… heavy.
"No matter what," the old man said sternly, his tone sharper than I'd ever heard it, "you are not allowed to enter that room. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master," I replied immediately.
His expression softened slightly. "Good. Since we're here, let's begin your lesson."
He pulled a small board from a shelf—it looked like a chalkboard—and began writing strange letters across it. "This is our alphabet," he explained. The characters looked oddly familiar, almost like distorted versions of English letters from my previous world.
We spent the next three hours going over them—how to write, read, and pronounce each one. Thanks to my enhanced memory and how similar the script was to English, I picked up the basics quickly.
When the lesson ended, the old man nodded approvingly. "You learn fast. That's good. I have work to do. I'll be busy until dinner."
With that, he walked straight into the forbidden room and closed the door behind him.
Left alone, I decided to clean the living room. Dusting the shelves and sweeping the floor helped pass the time. I was just putting the broom away when I heard a knock at the door.
I froze. He'd said not to disturb him. The knock came again, firmer this time, followed by a voice. "Sir Lurthar, I am a knight from the Marquis's household. Are you here?"
I sighed. Great… The kid probably wants to play again. I really wanted to stay and study more about this world, but… it wouldn't hurt to stay on good terms with the Marquis's family.
Opening the door, I smiled. "I'll be glad to come."
The knight nodded and stepped aside, gesturing toward the waiting carriage. I climbed in, wondering what kind of trouble—or opportunity—awaited me next.