The stylus had become my personal addiction.
Every spare second, every sliver of silence, every moment not spent being smothered by children or parents or the ever watchful Alicia, practice Mana Flow Control.
Or at least, that was the plan.
Reality? Reality threw toddlers at me like divine projectiles.
Morning lessons began with Alicia going full professor mode.
“Dungeons,” she announced, setting a stack of illustrated boards beside her, “are the backbone of civilization.”
I nodded sagely, or as sagely as a two year old could nod, while chanting “Dun! Dun!” to maintain cover.
Inside, though?
Dungeons? Loot? Adventurers? Hell yeah.
Alicia continued, completely unfazed by my baby charade.
“They expand over time, grow deeper, increase in difficulty. Their cores provide endless mana if stabilized correctly... In ancient times, nobles controlled them, but outbreaks, failed management , forced reforms.”
Outbreaks. Dungeon breaks. Monster swarms.
novels had prepared me for this moment.
“So now,” she said, “any registered adventurer may enter. With proper supervision. And rules.”
She moved on to etiquette drills , truly hell’s most unnecessary invention, and basic math, which, at this point, felt like a personal insult.
I tried practicing under the table.
She caught me instantly.
“Vivian,” she said without stopping her lecture, “that would make it too easy for you. Focus.”
Too easy?Lady, I have fought for every dot of mana like a miner chipping diamonds with a soup spoon.
I pouted. She ignored it. She always ignored the pout.
Then class ended, and the children descended.
“Vivi! let's Play!” Finn demanded, grabbing the stylus mid stroke.
“No, no, give!”Too late. Scribble ruined.
Freya poked the paper. Clara held it upside down. They jabbed and giggled and collectively crushed my hopes like grapes under a giant’s boot.
I laughed along. Dead inside.
Lunch saved me, sort of.
Nora went to the shed for herbs. Door creaked open...
...and Lily and Pete exploded out like guilty fireworks.
Red faces. Rumpled clothes. Mumbled excuses about “inventory.”
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Nora’s laugh was instant and angelic.
I giggled too. Because of course I got the situation. I wished I didn’t. Some knowledge should be locked behind parental safety filters.
Oliver walked in, catching only the tail end.“What’s funny?”
Nora brushed it off, but I knew he knew I knew.
And later, as I “napped,” I heard them outside.
“Our boy’s too sharp,” Oliver muttered. “We need to… you know… move him out of our room.”
“Yes,” Nora whispered back, mortified. “Tonight was too close.”
Oliver grunted. “I’ll build new rooms. One for us, one for him. More privacy.”
YES. PRAISE THE GODS.Finally, no more hearing things no child, adult or reincarnator should hear.
The next two days were a cycle:
Practice.Fail.Meditate.Kids interrupt.Mana drains.Repeat.
Then, on the second night, it hit.
The wall.
A fever crawled under my skin, searing hot. My head pounded. My core throbbed like it was cracking open.
Mom had warned me:“You will hit the wall several times before your ring expands. It’s normal, but painful.”
Normal, yes. Enjoyable? No. I curled up, sweating, praying it would pass by morning.
Morning came.It did not pass.
Nora took one look at me and screamed.
“OLIVER! HE’S BURNING!”
I was whisked to the Healer’s Hut, dumped onto the cot. Alicia stormed in, eyes sharp, tone clipped.
“Out. All of you. I need privacy.”
Door shut.
She snatched off my bracelet, saw my mana core signature, and slapped her forehead.
“I am an idiot,” she muttered. “Of course you’d hit a wall again. But the second ring? At your age?”
She handed me a potion.“Drink.”
I drank. Pain eased immediately, though the exhaustion lingered.
“You need three days of rest,” she said. “Absolutely no magic.”
I nodded weakly.
She sighed.“I actually brewed a special potion for this weeks ago, one that stops these symptoms instantly if taken right when the fever starts.”She grimaced.“And I forgot to give it to your parents.”
I blinked.The genius elf… forgot?
Honestly, it fit her brand.
Then she put the bracelet back on, straightened her robes, and summoned my parents inside.
“It’s a harmless condition,” she lied flawlessly. “It flares occasionally and disappears in a few years. Just give him this potion immediately if he ever shows symptoms again.”
Nora clutched it like it was holy relic.
Oliver nodded solemnly.
I lay there thinking,
Alicia might be the greatest enabler in the history of enablers.
Three days bedridden.No stylus.No mana use.Just boredom and regret.
But recovery came, and time was slipping, Kael was leaving soon. My saffron supply, my culinary dreams, depended on me.
I dove back into training.
Dot , Smear , Dash , Broken line.
Meditate.Try again.
Finally, on the last night before Kael’s departure, it happened.
A single, clean, perfect mana line.
I almost cried.
At dawn, I marched up to Alicia, holding it up triumphantly.
“Saffwon,” I declared.
She inspected it, eyebrows raised.“Well, well. Impressive, little scholar.”
Then, she pinched off one fifth of the saffron.
“One fifth,” she said. “I promised some. Not all.”
Thief, powerful thief, so I accepted the terms.
At lunch, I waddled to Nora with the saffron.“Mama! Put in! Tasty!”
“Saffron isn’t for food, sweetie. It’s for dye…”
I unleashed the tantrum.
Arms flailing, Crying, Full toddler meltdown.
She caved instantly.
When the stew was served, silence fell.
Then:
“This is incredible,” Oliver breathed.
“What flavor is this?” Kael murmured.
Nora confessed.All eyes turned to me.
I locked eyes with Kael and pleaded:“No stop spice. Pwease.”
He laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
“Fine, little chef,” he said. “I’ll keep buying spices. And I’ll visit from time to time. Impress me next time.”
Wagon wheels rumbled away hours later.
Saffron secured.Spice connection preserved.Goal achieved.
And I?I was already thinking about the next breakthrough.
Mana waits for no toddler.
