Lucian's bright cerulean eyes locked on the empty air in front of him, his expression caught between confusion and disbelief.
"Every day?" he repeated softly, like the words didn't quite make sense. The air in the old training room was thick with dust and silence. His voice barely stirred it. "You're saying I did this… every day?"
"Yes," the System replied, its tone flat but oddly calm, almost patient. "You displayed a consistent behavioral pattern characterized by frequent low-level pranks."
Lucian rubbed at his face, trying to process the surreal truth. "Tell me some of the pranks. Please."
There was a brief pause. Then the voice returned, still emotionless, but what it said painted a picture too vivid to ignore.
"You often switched the labels on herbs in the kitchen. This caused frequent confusion. Incorrect ingredients were used in meals. Some staff reported mild digestive distress. Others expressed emotional frustration."
Lucian blinked. He could almost picture the cooks yelling, tossing ruined meals into the fire, arguing over whether the basil was secretly mint again.
"You also regularly placed powdered hot pepper into the tea kettles. Results included coughing fits, burning mouths, and—on one occasion—an incident involving the scullery maid and a tipped over water barrel."
"Oh no…" Lucian muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Another pattern included stealing hair ties from the maids," the System went on. "You tied them into complicated knots and left them on doorknobs. The purpose was unclear. This led to minor delays and general confusion."
Lucian stared at the ground. The image of puzzled servants untangling weird knots made him cringe. "That doesn't even make sense."
"You appeared to enjoy the reaction, not the logic."
The System continued its calm recital, as if reading off a checklist.
"You also placed live frogs in several chamber pots."
Lucian winced instantly. "What the fuck?"
"Unknown. But there were ten confirmed instances. Screams were frequent."
His face turned red. He could almost hear the croaks and the splashes, the startled yelps echoing through the halls. "I'm going to need to apologize to so many people…"
"One of the more infamous events involved using a berry-based pigment to dye the Captain of the Guard's helmet. The metal changed to bright pink. The captain was not amused."
Lucian could practically see it—the towering, battle-hardened Captain trying to command a room in bubblegum pink armor. A pained sound left his throat.
Then the System said, as plainly as ever, "There were also sixteen confirmed incidents of skirt-flipping."
Lucian groaned loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please stop."
"Understood," the System said. Its voice paused, but only for a moment.
Lucian stared at the motionless training dummy across from him. Even its blank, straw-stuffed face seemed to look at him differently now. Like it knew. Like it judged.
After a moment, he asked, "He never hurt anyone though, right?"
"No. All behavior was disruptive, but not harmful. There was no intent to injure. It was mischief. Not malice."
Lucian nodded slowly, letting out a long, unsteady breath. "Still. Sounds like he was a pain in the ass."
"Accurate," the System replied without hesitation.
A silence fell over the room again. Lucian watched the dust drifting in the golden light from the high window, slow and dreamlike.
He shifted his weight, the shoes in his legs creaking softly. His voice, when it came again, was quieter, more hesitant. "What about Leora? Did I prank her too?"
The pause was just long enough to make him nervous.
"Often," the System said. "In fact, she was your most frequent target. Based on recorded data, she was your favorite person to annoy."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Favorite? That doesn't sound right. Leora's always been the serious one. She'd kill me."
"Your dynamic was one of 'antagonistic affection.'"
"…Come again?"
"You annoyed her constantly. You enjoyed her reactions—her scolding, the way she chased you, her attempts to get revenge. She, in turn, tolerated your behavior. Most of the time."
Lucian gave a small, disbelieving laugh. "Gods, that sounds like normal sibling behavior. Give me some examples?"
The System obliged.
"You once placed itching powder in her sparring gloves. She did not notice until she was mid-duel with a captain of guard. The itching was intense. She had to stop, throw off the gloves, and locate you. She chased you across three courtyards with a wooden sword. You slipped into the icy pond."
Lucian let out a strangled laugh. "That's awful. But I can't say it doesn't sound real."
"You also weakened the blade of her favorite training sword. It broke during maintenance. She threw a dagger at you. It narrowly missed."
Lucian whistled. "Yep. That tracks."
"There was one particularly dramatic event," the System continued. "You switched her hair tonic with a black ink solution. Her hair turned deep violet for two weeks."
Lucian groaned, covering his face. "Oh no, no, no…"
"She discovered the truth, found you in the west garden, and hit you with the flat of her sword for seven minutes and forty-two seconds. You suffered a fractured wrist, two cracked ribs, and temporary memory loss."
Lucian's head jerked up. "Wait—memory loss?!"
"Yes. During this time, you repeatedly mistook an oak tree for your mother. You thanked it for giving birth to you."
Lucian collapsed onto a nearby mat, laughing into his hands in disbelief. "And she didn't kill me?"
"She considered it," the System said. "But ultimately, data suggests she had some degree of affection for you."
Lucian looked up at the ceiling, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. Embarrassment. Nostalgia. Confusion. And something else—like he almost remembered it himself.
"I was a menace," he whispered. "A walking headache."
He stared up into the beams overhead, thinking about the difference between who he was now and who he'd been then. Leora was so focused, so composed. Why had his past self been such a chaos gremlin?
As if reading his mind, the System explained.
"The main cause was the lingering effect of the Creation mana potion you took. The mana bonded fully with your body, but the behavior it triggered… remained."
Lucian frowned. "What kind of behavior?"
"You became less motivated, more impulsive. You stopped caring about long-term goals. You started chasing short-term amusement. Training felt boring. Studying was pointless. You needed quick rewards, constant stimulation."
Lucian's expression darkened. "So, I wasn't just lazy. I was rewired by Creation mana potion."
"Correct," the System said gently. "Laziness, in this case, was a side effect of altered brain chemistry. The potion didn't just change your magic—it changed how you thought."
He didn't say anything for a long time. The dust continued its quiet dance through the beam of light. The dummy stood still, silent as ever. The past, for better or worse, had caught up with him.
"…Those potions are dangerous," he said at last, his jaw tight.
"Yes," the System agreed. "They alter more than energy. They shape behavior."
Lucian sighed and leaned back on the mat, eyes closing for a moment.
He couldn't change the past—but maybe he could finally understand it.