Three months have passed since I possessed Norwin, and I’ve grown fairly accustomed to this world.

  I’ve learned the script of the Arcadia Kingdom, where Alque takes pce, and believe I’ve acquired general knowledge and aristocratic education as well.

  Well, not that it matters—my house arrest hasn’t changed, so there’s no opportunity to put any of it to use.

  I still don’t understand why Norwin is treated so coldly, and it seems this confinement will continue for a while longer.

  With a grimoire spread out before me, I wore a troubled expression.

  "Is something wrong?"

  Misha, sitting beside me, peered at my face with concern.

  She was… close. Too close. Not that a sixteen-year-old like Misha would see me, a seven-year-old, as a sexual threat. She probably just saw me as a much younger brother.

  "Nah, it’s just… I’ve already finished reading this book."

  "That’s amazing! Isn’t that a good thing?"

  As she grinned and patted my head, then pulled me into a sideways hug, my feelings grew complicated. She must see herself as a parental figure…

  Big bro here might get the wrong kind of excitement from this, so please, stop.

  "There aren’t any more advanced books, right?"

  "Well, technically, there are, but grimoires for the Third Tier and above require special permission to borrow."

  Just like in the game, huh?

  In magic, the Tiers are basically ranks.

  One is the lowest, ten is the highest.

  The higher the tier, the more difficult the spell is to cast—but also, the more powerful it becomes.

  In Alque, the protagonists grow stronger step by step, and the first major hurdle is this Third Tier.

  You have to complete a special quest to get permission to learn it.

  No way I’d get that permission in my current state.

  So why am I, with my game knowledge, fixated on Third Tier spells when they’re still retively low-level in the grand scheme of things?

  Because game knowledge alone wasn’t enough to cover the technique required for casting.

  For low-tier spells, you can just chant the incantation and roughly manipute your mana to make it work.

  The First Tier is exactly that.

  The primary attributes—Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, Light—each have simple First Tier spells: lighting a fme, creating water, generating a breeze, minor earth manipution, emitting light.

  Their effects are straightforward, so casting them is easy.

  But the Second Tier adds more variables—controlling the fme’s temperature or size, for example.

  Suddenly, the difficulty and mana cost shoot up.

  I could cast Second Tier spells with just chants and mana manipution, but the Third Tier’s increased complexity made it nearly impossible.

  I could manage it maybe once every few attempts, but by then, my meager mana reserves would be completely drained.

  Meaning, I’d barely be able to train afterward.

  I was hoping the Third Tier grimoire might have some advice on casting methods, but—

  "What do I do…?"

  "There are hardly any children who master Second Tier spells in the primary attributes by age seven. I think you’re doing plenty well, Nor."

  Lately, Misha had taken to calling me Nor. She desperately tried to comfort me. How easy it would be to lean into her kindness and let myself rely on her completely.

  But I couldn’t.

  In the not-so-distant future, I’d need far more strength to protect Crescentia, my favorite character.

  Damn it. If I weren’t under house arrest, I could’ve traveled the world and gotten ahead of the events.

  Should I just leave this house?

  No, that wouldn’t work.

  The events and battles I needed to surpass the protagonist were dangerous. At my current level, I’d die instantly.

  For now, I had no choice but to build my strength—and there was no better pce to study than a noble household.

  Fine. I’ll stop pushing forward and focus on experimenting with Second Tier spells until my mana pool grows enough.

  With that in mind, I decided to explore how I could apply Second Tier magic in creative ways.

  But I had no such ingenuity—I was just cheating with game knowledge.

  After a few minutes of frustrated groaning, Misha, unable to bear it, suddenly said:

  "Wouldn’t it be amazing if you could cast a spell completely different from the incantation you’re chanting? It’d make you really strong, right?"

  "That’s it!"

  There weren’t many characters in the game who used that kind of technique. If I could master it, I’d have a major advantage in battle.

  I decided to try it immediately.

  I’d chant Fre, a Fire-attribute First Tier spell, but actually cast Create Water, a Water-attribute spell.

  "Spirits of fme—"

  My mana stirred on its own.

  This was the usual sensation. Chants had an auxiliary effect, automating the spellcasting process to some degree.

  "Heed my will—"

  Mana gathered at my fingertips, shifting from colorless to a reddish hue.

  If I left it like this, I’d just cast Fire normally and be done.

  Instead, I forcibly tried to replicate the mana flow and changes that occurred when casting Create Water.

  Then—my mind snapped.

  The mana at my fingertips crackled and burst apart.

  "Nor! Are you okay!?"

  "Whoa—!"

  Misha, who had been watching, panicked and grabbed my hand, checking for injuries.

  "Ahh! You are hurt!"

  "It’s nothing serious—"

  "It is serious! What do we do? We should at least go to the infirmary—"

  "How do you pn to expin this injury?"

  "Ah—"

  Misha froze mid-panic.

  Exactly. There was no excuse for this injury.

  I didn’t want to leave evidence of my magic training, and we couldn’t show this to anyone else.

  Wasting mana sucks, but I guess I’ll just use healing magic.

  As I thought that, Misha suddenly took my finger into her mouth.

  "Huh?!"

  I mean, there’s that saying about licking wounds to heal them, but…

  You’re doing that now?!

  "Ith huwtsh? (Does it hurt?)"

  "Uh, no."

  If anything, something else is starting to hurt.

  Because, come on—a gorgeous sixteen-year-old girl is desperately licking my finger.

  The sensation of her tongue sliding over my skin was divine. Maybe I should injure myself every day.

  …Ahem. Anyway, this was getting dangerous.

  "Goddess of bounty, grant thy healing."

  When I cast the First Tier healing spell, the glow emanated from Misha’s lips still wrapped around my finger.

  She must’ve remembered I could use healing magic.

  The sight of her flustered, embarrassed face was… something else.

  "Mmph—! S-Sorry… That was unsightly of me."

  "Don’t apologize. If anything, thank you."

  "Huh?"

  "Ah, never mind. Let’s just get back to training."

  First, I needed to analyze what just happened.

  The moment I tried to cast Create Water while chanting Fre, my mind short-circuited, and I lost control of my mana, causing it to explode.

  Most likely, it was because I’d attempted two spells at once—even if only for an instant.

  I was forcing my mana to go against the nearly complete Fre, maniputing it contrary to the chant’s flow.

  At that moment, it was like trying to read two books simultaneously and comprehend both at once.

  Was the problem that I only focused on Create Water halfway through the chant?

  If I shifted my focus immediately after starting the chant, could I still manipute the mana before it fully became Fre?

  Worth a try.

  This time, I’d focus on Create Water’s mana manipution the instant I began chanting.

  But when I tried, my mana exploded again.

  Apparently, the moment you start chanting, your mana takes on the purpose of that spell.

  Trying to force it into a different spell meant holding two spells at once while resisting the chant’s natural flow—overloading my brain.

  Ah. So that’s why almost no one in the game used multiple spells simultaneously.

  Even that brief transition from Fre to Create Water was enough to fry my brain.

  Meaning, no one could wield multiple spells at once.

  —Except the protagonist’s party and the strongest enemies.

  Damn it! That just made mastering this technique even more necessary! I had to condition my brain to handle the overload!

  "Heh."

  Fine. I’ll do it.

  It was difficult, but not impossible.

  If I could master this, I’d become a mage unmatched by ordinary standards.

  I might even catch up to—no, surpass the protagonists.

  From that day on, I focused intensely on training to cast spells different from their chants.

  As a bonus, during afternoon study sessions, I started reading two books at once—one with each eye.

  Of course, I couldn’t comprehend either, but I hoped my brain would adapt after months of practice.

  If it worked, I’d gain twice the knowledge and train my brain to endure heavy strain.

  Two birds with one stone. No reason not to try.

  Oh, and after that day, Misha began training in healing magic.

  Seeing me injured must’ve made her feel helpless.

  And so, my days passed in fulfilling routine—

  Until one morning, when I woke to find the annex unusually noisy.

  Weird. This pce was kept minimally staffed—rarely even voices could be heard.

  Before long, a maid I’d never seen before entered my room.

  "Huh? Is Misha not coming today?"

  The maid ignored my question, her expression grim.

  Did something happen? Did they find out she’s been helping me?

  But as she briskly attended to me, I sensed no accusatory air.

  Maybe she just fell ill?

  I brushed it off—until the next morning, when Misha still didn’t appear.

  Now I was worried.

  Had she really been found out? Or was it something else?

  To gather information, I sneaked out and eavesdropped on the servants’ chatter.

  Then—

  "Still can’t believe it. Misha-chan’s been kidnapped, huh?"

  "Seriously? When?"

  "Two mornings ago, apparently. They’ve got search parties looking."

  "Damn, that’s rough. Ransom?"

  "Doubt it. The Baron wouldn’t risk himself for a servant."

  "Ugh… So, that, then?"

  "Probably. Misha-chan was cute. Ugh, what a waste. Bet she’s getting passed around by now."

  My mind bnked.

  Kidnapped? Misha?

  I couldn’t think. Why? Who? When? For what?

  But how could I, barely allowed out of my room, possibly figure it out?

  Was she even still alive?

  —Wait.

  That word—kidnapped—itched at my brain.

  Right! Around the midgame, there’s an event where a kidnapping occurs at an inn where the party stays.

  The culprit is a vampire who obsessively targets young women—eventually killed by the protagonist.

  Post-event, it’s revealed he’d been terrorizing Romelia for about eight years before being wanted.

  After learning the danger of staying in one pce, he began traveling the world, preying on women who caught his eye.

  Romelia is this city’s name.

  And eight years before the game’s story?

  That’s now.

  This can’t be a coincidence.

  If I do nothing, Misha will die.

  With the annex in chaos, slipping out would be easy.

  Without hesitation, I ran.