A month has passed since the incident with Alisa. During this time, I showed her around the mansion—the vast garden leading to the back courtyards and the main entrance. Little by little, she began to open up to me, sharing fragments of her past. She confessed that she was born a slave and that her parents, along with the people she lived with, were murdered by other humans.
She survived only because of one woman: the servant who brought her here.
That's why I gave her time to adjust to her new life. And also, to earn her trust. Or at least, that's what I want to believe.
But today is not a day to think about the past. Today I will train with my father.
We've trained before, and I always end up defeated. But this time is different. I've pushed my body to its limit, straining myself to exhaustion. I don't possess the so-called "powers" of this world, but I have two advantages: intelligence and unbreakable discipline.
My parents used their abilities—or whatever they prefer to call them—to measure my magical or spiritual energy. They didn't find a single trace of it in me. Yet, they didn't seem upset.
Because they know, just as I do, that the mind is a human's most powerful weapon.
I opened my eyes and sat up. The sheets rustled in the silence of the room. I rose and walked to the window. As I opened it, a cool breeze enveloped me, carrying the distant songs of birds announcing dawn. The sky still held traces of night, but on the horizon, a reddish glow began to paint everything in its light.
Below, in the training yard, my father was already practicing with his sword. His movements were fluid and precise. The blade whistled as it cut through the air with each strike.
From my room on the mansion's upper floor, I had a privileged view. I watched him in silence. He didn't seem to notice my presence… until suddenly, he turned his head and gave me a slight nod.
Or maybe he knew I was watching him all along.
I raised my hand in greeting and turned to leave the room. Just before opening the door, I heard footsteps.
Even so, I cautiously turned the knob.
It was Alisa. She stood motionless in the hallway, as still as a statue.
As always: relentless. But this time, she didn't seem nervous. Maybe, with the time I gave her, she had finally started to trust me. Or at least, that's what I wanted to believe.
"Good morning, Alisa. Did you sleep well?" I asked as we walked toward the stairs.
She fell into step beside me without hesitation.
"Yes, I slept perfectly well. Thanks for asking," she replied in her usual cool tone.
I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Maybe it wasn't coldness… perhaps that was just how she spoke. Though her posture remained rigid, her steps were more confident than before.
"I'm glad," I said without changing my tone.
When we reached the waiting room, a warm aroma of spices and hot broth filled the air. The fireplace crackled softly, casting an orange glow across the space. My mother, with her serene smile, was setting out the dishes. My father, on the other hand, had just arrived and took his seat with his usual firm posture, as if even breakfast was part of his discipline.
"Good morning, Mother. Father," I greeted, approaching the table.
Right at that moment, my stomach growled loudly—a sound that could easily have been mistaken for an animal trapped in a well.
My mother raised an amused eyebrow and let out a soft chuckle.
"My, my. Seems like my little Seik is hungry," she teased.
"I'm not a kid," I retorted with mock seriousness, playing along.
"Of course, of course. Quite the little man, but with the stomach of a dragon," she added as she set a plate in front of me.
My father barely hid a smile. He's always been more serious, but when my mother is around, he softens slightly. Maybe she's the only one who can get any kind of reaction out of him.
I sighed and sat down at the table, but Alisa remained standing behind me, as if waiting for instructions.
"Alisa, sit beside me. Don't just stand there."
She looked at me with her usual unreadable expression, though her eyes flickered ever so slightly toward the food.
"I already ate ten minutes ago. There's no need to worry about me..."
And right at that moment, her stomach growled like a traitorous beast.
She froze. Then, with the faintest blush on her cheeks, she averted her gaze.
Why are girls like this?
"Hmm… in the end, your stomach spoke for you."
Alisa sighed and, with obvious resignation, took a seat. Her expression wasn't as stern anymore. My mother, wearing a satisfied smile, placed a plate in front of her.
"There's no need to pretend, Alisa. Food tastes better when shared with others."
Alisa lowered her head and muttered something inaudible, but she picked up her spoon and began eating—small, careful sips at a time.
I watched her curiously. I hadn't noticed before how precise she was while eating. Not a single drop out of place, every movement measured, almost mechanical. As if a single stain on the tablecloth would be an unforgivable mistake.
As we ate, my father broke the silence:
"Seik, after breakfast, we'll go to the room."
Alisa looked up from her plate, watching my reaction carefully.
"I know, Father. I'm ready," I replied without looking away.
He reached for the bread, but his gaze never left me.
The only sounds in the room were the faint clinking of spoons against plates.
"I expect to see the results of your training."
My father, sees me as both his son and his treasure. Or something like that. I know he cares for me, but his way of showing it is through unyielding discipline. According to him, it's for my own good. According to most fathers, it's always for our own good. Though, personally, it doesn't bother me at all.
My mother clicked her tongue.
"Darling, you can't say that to him before he's even finished eating. He'll choke on the pressure."
She was the perfect counterbalance to my father—that much was obvious. But I wasn't sure if she had any hidden skills of her own up her sleeve.
My father glanced at her with his usual Stoic expression.
"Pressure is part of the training."
Alisa, who had stayed quiet until now, murmured:
"So… Seik has never beaten him?"
I couldn't tell if she asked out of genuine curiosity or with a hint of disbelief.
"Not yet," I replied, leaning slightly to grab a piece of bread.
My father set his spoon down on the table and stared at me intently.
My mother sighed and shook her head with an amused smile, as if watching two children fighting over a toy.
Breakfast continued with light conversation—my mother insisting I eat more, my father silent, watching me like he was already assessing my every move.
Alisa, for her part, finished her soup without another word. But at some point, I caught her glancing at me from the corner of her eye.
I didn't know if it was curiosity… or if she was just sizing up my resolve.
When I finished breakfast, I calmly set my utensils down on the plate and wiped my hands. My father was already standing, waiting.
"Seik."
I nodded and rose to my feet. But before I could take a step, my mother approached and—without warning—pulled me into a tight, almost suffocating hug.
It wasn't the first time she'd done this, but this time, there was something different in the way she held me. Her arms clung with more intensity than usual, as if she were trying to sear my presence into her memory.
"Don't push yourself too hard," she whispered against my shoulder. "I don't want you to get hurt."
My father remained silent, unmoving. He knew this moment wasn't his to interrupt.
"I'll be fine, Mother," I said, though I didn't pull away immediately.
She sighed and loosened her grip just enough to look me in the eyes.
"I know. But I also know that man won't hold back."
She shot a glance at my father, who gave no reaction. His expression remained as unreadable as ever.
My mother sighed again, resigned.
"Go, before I change my mind and lock you in the house for the rest of the day."
She squeezed me even tighter. This woman has superhuman strength… I swear, there's no escaping her grip. Finally, just before I could suffocate, she let go.
She wore that ever-present smile plastered on her face, as usual. If anyone ever asked me who the most beautiful woman I've ever seen is, I wouldn't hesitate to say it's my mother. Though sometimes, I get the feeling she might just kill me without a second thought.
I straightened my shirt and walked toward my father without overthinking it. Beside me, Alisa followed silently beside me.
"Seik, don't let your father smash your head in. If possible, smash his first and then come running back to my arms." My mother stretched out her arms and blew me an exaggerated kiss from across the room.
There was worry in her voice... but also love.
How ridiculous.
"Mother, stop saying embarrassing things like that." I glanced at my father, hoping for backup.
But that traitor simply turned away, ignoring me completely.
My mother smiled sweetly, as if she'd anticipated my reaction. Then, without warning, she started marching toward me again.
Oh, no. Absolutely not.
"Let's go now, it's getting late." I quickened my pace. "If we don't leave now, she'll be the one who's going to blow my head off."
"Wait, Seik! Your goodbye kiss! Seik!"
Sorry, Mother, but I choose life.