Mirac stopped at the threshold of his room, his arm full of books, as a thought struck him with force.

  ‘What’s the point of spying on my sister?’ he asked himself again, his mind rag through possible answers.

  It was not a trivial question.

  But once again, Mirac had no way of reag an a that moment.

  The volumes he clutched to his chest suddenly felt heavier, as if they carried not just words but also the weight of his worries.

  ‘Whatever the reason, I won’t let this person tio disturb my sister!’

  Determined not to let the thought torment him any further, Mirac sighed to clear his mind a off towards the royal library.

  The pace’s long corridors were steeped in solemn silence, broken only by the soft rustling of his footsteps. The golden afternoon light filtered through the tall arched windows, castile shadows on the white walls.

  When he reached the grand, intricately carved wooden door of the library, he paused for a moment.

  “Damn! I almost fot to knock…” he muttered to himself.

  With a slightly clumsy yet determined motioightened his grip on the books to prevent them from falling and, using the only hand he had, kwi the door. It wasly a graceful gesture, and for a moment, he feared losing his bance, but in the end, he succeeded.

  “e in!” a deep, hoarse voice called from inside.

  Without hesitation, Mirac pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped across the threshold.

  The familiar st of old paper and aged wood enveloped him immediately. Shelves towered up to the ceiling, filled with volumes that seemed to guard secrets waiting to be unveiled.

  To his right, a long wooden ter stood perpendicur to the wall he entrance. Behind it, seated with his usual posure, was the librarian.

  “It’s been a while, Mr. Matthew,” Mirac said, pg the stack of books on the ter with a soft thud.

  It was no surprise to find the man engrossed in a book, so absorbed that he didn’t even g the newer.

  “Good afternoon, young Priell me, how may I help you?” Matthew asked in his usual dry tone, his eyes still glued to the pages of his book. Even those meeting him for the first time could immediately tell that he wasn’t a particurly sociable person. He was a rather reserved man who preferred to keep versations short to avoid wasting time on unnecessary chatter.

  ‘Does he always have something to read? Does he ever leave this library?’ Mirac bit his too hold back the ent that nearly slipped out. Instead, he simply stated in a ral tone, “I’ve e to return some books.”

  Matthew sighed—a long, theatrical gesture—before closing his book and pg it calmly on the ter.

  “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve brought.”

  With his usual methodical slowness, he began taking the books one by one from the top of the pile. He sed each title quickly, searched for it in the long list recorded in his botebook, and once he found it, marked a check before setting the volume aside to his right.

  The process was repetitive, almost hypnoti operation as automatic as it was tedious, both to perform and to watch.

  But then, all of a sudden, Matthew stopped.

  His fingers froze around the cover of a burgundy-colored book. His eyes narrowed as he carefully examihe title, as if making sure he had read it correctly.

  “This is ’Elementary Mathematics: Disc Numbers‘ by Dave Arangot, am I right?” Matthew asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Exactly,” Mirac replied without thinking too much about it.

  “The first of the seven sacred volumes of mathematics, correct?”

  “That’s right.”

  “The one you borrowed when you were seven years old?”

  “Precisely.”

  “So, you’re returning it after EIGHT YEARS?”

  “Oh, uhm… yeah.”

  “…”

  A heavy silence fell between them.

  Mattheeechless, his lips slightly parted.

  “Don’t you think you’re a bit te?” he finally asked, almost incredulous.

  Mirac scratched the back of his head, a nervous smile.

  “Well, let’s just say I pletely fot about it…”

  A hesitant chuckle escaped him, but Matthew remained unfazed. He simply stared at him with an impassive expression for a long moment, his lips pressed into a thin lihat betrayed slight disapproval. A reaore than normal in such circumstances, especially for a strid methodical librarian like him.

  Then, without saying anything else, he returo his work and resumed cheg the other books.

  ‘Damn, I’m really an idiot!’ Mirac thought, feeling a slight wave of embarrassment creeping in. ’How is it possible that it never even crossed my mind to return it sooner?’

  He hated to admit it, but this time, Matthew was pletely right.

  To shake off that unfortable feeling, he turned around and took a few steps, letting his gaze wander across the shelves and the long ter in search of a distra.

  That was wheiced something.

  Among the registers and stacked books on the ter, a few grayish pages stuck out.

  “Oh!” Mirac excimed instinctively, excitement fshing in his eyes.

  Without wasting a sed, he reached out and pulled out the object that had caught his attention. Pg it on the ter, a small smile pyed on his lips.

  “Heh, I k… It really is the neer!”

  Of course, in this “fantasy world,” teology was not advanced, so nothing like the I existed. As a result, on the ti of Harmony, news could spread in only two ways: orally, through word of mouth, or via the neer.

  There were many news agencies, but the rgest and most iial was undoubtedly the one from the Sacred Region: The Echo of News.

  With offices spread across the entire ti, it mao circute information everywhere. But what truly made it special was the summary it published at the end of each month, seleg the most important news while discarding the less relevant stories and the usual pointless gossip.

  And today, March 1st, Mirac held in his hands the editiouring February’s most signifit events.

  With growiement, he flipped through the pages and began to read.

  On the front page, promily dispyed, was a bd-white photograph. It depicted a maly dressed, with an enigmatic air, sp long, thin, curled mustaches. His gaze seemed to stare straight into the camera, apanied by a smile that hi sharp intelligence.

  Above the image, a bold headline apanied by the date read:

  - FEBRUARY 21, 1422 -

  Andrea Nucci Shocks the World with His Latest Iion: A Revolution in Transportation!

  The Kingdom of Luxendar, known for its light and wisdom, is now at the ter of an innovatioio ge the eople travel forever.

  It is here that Andrea Nucci, a brilliant ior and magical engineer—already famous for his extraordinary creations—has unveiled his test marvel to the world: the Train!

  Acc to its creator, the Train appears to be a grand structure of metal and ented wood, powered by an innovative bination of steam and energy crystals. It will be posed of multiple ected ses, called carriages, designed for both passenger and cargo transport. This extraordinary mae will be capable of traversing all types of terrain, from pins to mountains, gliding along loal tracks that will weave through valleys and hills, creating an almost endless work.

  “There will be no more borders,” Nucci decred with a triumphant smile. “Trains will ect all the kingdoms of the ti! Everyone will be able to travel safely and swiftly, without fear of bandits or storms.”

  The annou has sparked a wave of excitement among merts and travelers, while the gover of Luxendar has weled the iion with great enthusiasm. Acc to official sources, the project will be prese the uping 1422 World ference, with the aim of involving all the kingdoms in the realization of this vast endeavor.

  * * *

  Mirac was pletely absorbed in those words, swept away by the flood of information.

  ‘Heh, iing! So not only did he ihe camera, but now he wants to ihe train too?’

  The realization struck him like a lightning bolt, making his eyes widen slightly.

  ’Yes, there’s no doubt anymore: Andrea Nucci is definitely someone who has been reinated, just like me! All of his iions are exactly the same as those from my old world, in both name and fun! Therefore, I have no reason not to believe that Andrea Nucci is also a reinator. Yeah, I’m absolutely sure of it!’

  At the thought, a smile crossed his lips, while a thrilling sense of excitement crept into his mind.

  ‘Well, it would be iing to see what happens if I meet him…!’

  And that was exactly what he inteo do.

  Mirac had already po use his educational trip and his social status to secure a meeting with Nucci. And he had no doubt that he would succeed.

  But beyond his curiosity about Andrea Nucci, there was another reason driving him to reach Luxendar as soon as possible.

  His true destination was Lithia, the capital of the Kingdom of Luxendar. A city renowned for its advanced magical teology and, most importantly, for being home to the Illuminus Library, the rgest and most renowned library iire ti of Harmony, and perhaps the entire world!

  Mirac hoped with all his heart that he would find ahere about the mysterious book he had discovered eight years earlier: “Elementary Mathematics: Disc Numbers”.

  That first volume, filled with both wonder and mathematical knowledge, had sparked a wave of curiosity and questions in him—questions he couldn’t wait to find ao.

  Over the years, while rummaging through the shelves of the vast royal library, Mirac had discovered that the book had been first published turies ago by a publishing house based in Lithia. This meant that both the Illuminus Library and the publisher likely possessed the plete and inal colle of all seven volumes, along with possible information about the author that had never been made public.

  It was no ce that Mirac strongly suspected the Luxendar gover, or perhaps the publishing house itself, of hiding information about the author’s identity and life.

  The reason was simple: despite Dave Arangot being such a renowned figure that he was cited by all porary intellectuals, Mirac had never found a single book about his biography.

  Not even a historical refereo his life.

  Even Matthew, the meticulous librarian of the royal library, had been uo provide him with answers.

  So, as he dug deeper into the matter, Mirac had e across flig theories questioning the author’s true identity.

  For instance, some believed that “Dave Arangot” was merely a pseudonym, and that no one had ever actually seen or met the real mathemati. Other schors argued that the name cealed an unknown intellectual, while some even suggested that he was a collective figure, a so-called “Father of Mathematics” created for venience.

  Even Professor Warnock, one of the most esteemed academi the kingdom, seemed to know little about him. During his lectures, he always referred to this figure in vague terms, never directly saying his name. As if he, like many others, harbored serious doubts about the true identity of “Dave Arangot.”

  And even today, one question haunted him more than any other, day and night:

  If that Dave Arangot was really his father, why had he reinated about 400 years before Mira their inal world, there had only been a 65-year gap between their deaths!

  This temporal enigma had opped tormenting him, raising questions he couldn’t answer.

  And that was exactly why he couldn’t wait to set off: to begin his long iigation and uhe truth behind all the mysteries that had haunted him for years!

  ‘I ’t wait!’

  * * *

  Miratinued flipping through the neer, skimming the articles with a distracted gaze, until one in particur caught his attention.

  As usual, a bd-white photo depicted the subject of the news: a young man with noble features and an intense, elusive gaze. His slightly wavy dark hair framed a pale face, while his eyes seemed to ceal a secret too great to be tained. He wore a outfit, likely white and blue, typical of Fonteya’s nobility.

  Above the photo and the rest of the article, the bold, capitalized headliood out among the other news, almost as if shouting its urgency:

  - FEBRUARY 25, 1422 -

  Death Penalty for the Noble Laoe Family: A Chaotic Was Hiding Among Them!

  It has been discovered that Liam Laoe, the firstborn of the Laoe family—one of the oldest and most respected houses in the Kingdom of Fonteya—was, in fact, a Chaotic!

  Acc to local authorities, the report was received anonymously, prompting w enfort to un iigation.

  As per protocol, the suspect was summoned by the Sacred Region to undergo the magical trag test, but at the mere mention of the examination, Liam Laoe fled. The Purifiers assigo the case were uo capture him, losing all trace of his whereabouts shortly after.

  However, this event firmed beyond any reasonable doubt what initially seemed like an unfounded accusation: Liam Laoe was indeed a Chaotic!

  Unfortunately, nothing is known about his Anomalous Sintony or the level of danger he poses. For this reason, his photograph has been shared above. If you enter him, immediately notify the authorities or the Purifiers, who will take immediate a to arrest him!

  Despite the escape of the main suspect, the court did not hesitate in its ruling: the entire Laoe family has beeeo death fh treason, accused of harb and proteg a potential threat to the peace of the world!

  The execution will take pce publiarch 1st in the tral square of Kora, the capital of Fonteya.

  * * *

  Mirac stared at the article, his heart pounding wildly.

  ‘March 1st… So that’s today, huh?’ he thought, lingering on the execution date of the Laoe family printed in the neer.

  A cold grip tightened around his stomach as his mind iably drifted to the tral figure of this event: Liam Laoe.

  ‘I ’t even imagine what he’s going through right now…’

  A wave of sorrow crept into Mirac’s chest, followed by a subtle yet growing sense of unease.

  For a brief moment, the mere thought that such a fate could one day befall him as well left him frozen in pce.

  But before that feeling could overwhelm him, a sudden thought jolted him back, shifting his focus to another crucial matter.

  His expression, teil that moment, became more alert.

  ’Wait a sed! Now that I think about it… this is the first time I’ve ever read an article about a Chaotic!’

  It was a rare event.

  No, more than rare… pletely unheard of!

  Something Mirac had never read or heard about anywhere before!

  By now, he had fully uood that Chaotics were a taboo subject, mentioned only in school s to instill in young minds the fear of the threat they represented.

  No one spoke of them openly, least of all in the neers.

  That’s why Mirac had initially been a bit surprised and shocked by this “exception to the rule.”

  ‘But why did they write aire neer article about it this time? Is it because he’s a Chaotiehow mao escape from the Purifiers? Or maybe to spread his photo more quickly, so that more people bee aware of the case and what he looks like, ensuring Liam gets captured as soon as possible?’

  Mirac thought for a few minutes, his fingers nervously tapping on the edge of the neer.

  ‘But, even more importantly, how did they figure out he was a Chaotic?’

  The topitrigued him a lot, since Mirac himself obviously wao avoid meeting the same fate as Liam Laoe!

  Therefore, ing up with at least one hypothesis about how they had mao do it could prove useful in uanding how to protect himself and prevent a simir destiny.

  Fortunately, the Prince didn’t have to dwell on it for long: the answer was right there, printed in bd white in front of him.

  ‘The article says that the iigation started from an anonymous tip. However, they also mention the fact that it is unknown what Liam Laoe is in Sintony with. Therefore, I strongly doubt that he was reported for exposing his powers. It’s more likely that someone became suspicious of him, perhaps notig some strange nuan his behavior. Or, it could be that someoo whom Liam had fided his secret betrayed him, hoping fenerous reward after turning him in to the authorities. But without crete evidence, suspi or mere words from someone ’t possibly be enough. So, to firm the doubts, I believe the Purifiers inteo use the “Magical Frequency Reader”!’

  Mirac sighed, recalling his teacher’s words.

  ‘From what I know, and what I learned during Professor Warnock’s lessons, the Magical Frequency Reader is a device capable of deteg the magiature of an individual. But it’s such a rge traption that the Purifiers ’t carry it with them. That’s why anyone suspected of being a Chaotic is immediately summoo the Sacred Region. It’s there that all seven prototypes of the Magical Frequency Readers are stored—the only ones in the world. A rather foolish choice, I must say. But it doesn’t really matter, because all of this pys perfectly in my favor!’

  Mirasciously took on a posture that radiated fidence, puffing out his chest with a smile that lit up his face.

  ‘If the problem is simply not raising any suspis, then I have nothing to worry about. I’ve never used my powers outside my room, nor do I io do so iure. And besides, I’ve never revealed my Sintony with Math to anyone: not even to Carmen! And perhaps that was the best decision I could’ve made. Besides, no one would have any reason or ce to report me, especially sidering I’m a Prince! I be sure of that. After all, who would dare report a member of the royal family without crete evidence, knowing that if the accusation turns out to be false, the punishment would fall three times worse on him and his family?’

  A sudden lightness filled Mirac’s mind, easing the tension that gripped him every time he thought about the difficult task of hiding his true Chaotiature.

  ‘Hehehe! Being a Prince is really very ve!’

  * * *

  Miratio flip through the pages of the neer, but he didn’t find any other hat particurly caught his i.

  With a sigh, he closed the neer a baatthew.

  In the meahe librarian had just finished cheg the books returned by the Prince.

  “I’m done,” Matthew announced, writing the st title in his botebook before returning to his reading.

  “Perfect,” said Mirac, giving a slight bow as he headed for the door. “I won’t keep you any lohank you for your kindness, and I apologize again for returning the book te.”

  Matthew, without taking his eyes off the book he was reading, gave a barely perceptible nod.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he murmured in a dry tone. “I wish you a good day, young Prince…”

  Without saying anything more to the little that had been said, Mirac left the library, leaving the librarian immersed in his silence.

  Ba his room, he dropped onto the bed and allowed himself a few minutes of rest.

  But shortly after, someone knocked on the door.

  “e in!” Mirac excimed, slowly getting up.

  As soon as he stood up, the red-haired maid stepped across the threshold.

  “Good afternoon, young Prince,” said Carmen, in a calm tone, while closing the door behind her. “I heard you were looking for me.”

  “Exactly,” Mirac replied. “I o talk to you about something really important. It’s about my sister Michelle… And also the person we’ve been searg for until now!”