"My Lady."

"Mh?"

"I’ve always been curious; what song is it that you’re humming?"

As we walked, I didn’t notice when I started doing it, but I’d started humming. Upon it being pointed out, I immediately stopped.

"I often hear you humming it. It sounds familiar to me, but I can’t quite put my hand on where I’ve heard it before."

"I don’t know. If it’s not you, then this has to be one of her songs; I must’ve heard it from her—my mother, then it stayed," I said, half lying and half telling the truth.

The moment I made mention of my mother, Ane immediately tensed up. "I see," she simply said then on that word, she decided to sink into a silence that she only broke when asking, "Are you sure about going in like this?" before suggesting. "How about a bath and then heading there later in the evening?"

"No, I’ll be fine like this."

"Understood," she replied, relenting to my decision.

As Ane and I traversed one of the castle’s many, overly large corridors, our destination this time was not the backyard but deeper and higher within the castle—to Grandfather’s room. The day had already stretched into the late evening. Having been summoned since this morning, it was about time I made my way there. If given the choice, I would have certainly preferred to wait until tomorrow. I was the first person who wanted to take a bath and sleep until the next day. However, this was one of those rare obligations I couldn’t simply ignore.

As much as I didn’t feel like, gotta please Grandpa.

After some more walking, we arrived at the segment of the corridor leading straight to Grandfather’s room. The door was already in sight, but an unexpected commotion unfolded before it.

What’s this?

A group of young girls, all in their early teens and about my age or perhaps slightly older, were clustered around a tall figure. As we approached, the figure seemed to notice us, and my pace slowed, partly from confusion.

Could it be that I wasn’t the only one summoned by the old man?

As we drew closer, the girls, who had been previously clinging to the tall figure, dispersed, allowing me a clear view. Most of them had black hair, except for one who appeared the youngest and barely older than me, with a hint of red in her hair. But even then, with or without the black hair, from their bone structure to their eyebrows, and the expression on their faces when they noticed me, they looked very much like the two siblings of mine I had encountered earlier in the day. DNA tests wouldn’t be needed for these ones; the family’s genes did their thing. Unlike the siblings from this morning’s lavish robes, these girls were dressed more modestly. Yet, from the perspective of someone who hadn't known much luxury and understood true humility, their attire still seemed rather elegant to me.

Casting a simultaneous glance at the man they had previously clung to, they bid what looked like a quick goodbye before taking their leave.

As they did, they walked in our direction. A few meters before closing on me, they, with a slight bow and very simultaneously, greeted, "Good evening, Little Sister."

"Good evening, sisters," I greeted back.

As they simply walked past me after our brief exchange of greetings, I couldn't help but feel a bit let down. I had braced myself for at least a short yet very boring chit-chat, but there was none.

Come on, sisters, I thought, feeling a bit disgruntled. I'm fine with you doing that to me, but what about appearances? People will think there's some bad blood between us when there's none.

Pushing aside the brief encounter, I quickened my pace to reach the man standing at Grandfather’s doorstep. With a polite curtsy, I greeted him, "Good evening, Lord Father."

"Good evening, Faye," he greeted back.

He was clad in a black robe adorned with the Weiß family's sigil on the chest area. Although he didn't look drastically different from the man I remembered from the day I acquired the eagle eye skill, which granted me heightened vision, I could see the subtle changes time had wrought on him. His once entirely black hair was now beginning to turn gray.

Eleven years had passed since then, after all.

The man who once appeared to be in his late forties now truly seemed to be in his fifties. Along with gray hair, wrinkles had etched their story into his face, making him resemble more closely the man he had stood beside that day.

Completely overlooking Ane’s presence, he scrutinized me briefly. "Done with today’s training?" he then inquired.

"Yes, we've just finished. I was about to meet Grandfather; I heard from Mother that he summoned me. And you, Father, did he summon you too?" I asked, genuinely curious about his presence here.

"I was waiting for you," he revealed.

"Waiting for me?" I echoed, slightly surprised.

"Follow me," he instructed, leading the way. "Your grandfather isn’t in his room; he's in the library."

"I see," I replied, a bit taken aback but intrigued.

So, you’ll be my valet today then? I thought, humorously considering the situation as I followed him.

"How was your training today?" he inquired, glancing back at me as we walked.

I would simply say "great", I thought to myself, but feeling that such a terse reply wouldn't suit the image of a loving daughter I was supposed to project, I elaborated instead, "Thank you for arranging for the new creatures, Father. They were precisely what I needed."

"I was informed by Justaff that the creatures you were training with didn’t help you level up or acquire new skills anymore, so all I did was do what seemed necessary," he explained.

"Even so, thank you, Father," I said, making sure he felt that his daughter appreciated his efforts.

"You’re welcome, then." He glanced over his shoulder at me and slowed his pace slightly. "So, how is it looking?"

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Great. I managed to level up a skill that had been stagnant at level 1 for quite some time."

"Oh? That is indeed great. Which skill is it?" He asked, showing genuine interest.

"Ice Magic."

"Ice Magic…" He echoed, falling into a thoughtful silence for a moment. After a dozen steps, he remarked, "You really do have a knack for ice-related skills."

It was true; the majority of the skills I possessed were related to ice, save for that Hydroblast. I had a few that weren’t, but they were indeed in the minority.

The very first skill I ever unlocked was [Winter's Clutch]. It manifested spontaneously one winter day, long before I began any formal training, making me, at that time, a barely four-year-old girl who had unlocked a skill capable of weakening someone to the brink of death.

Even now, I couldn’t definitively say if I unlocked the skill because of the wintry weather, if it was destined to happen that day, if it was a combination of both factors, or if there was an entirely different reason altogether. What I did know, however, was that after unlocking that first ice-related skill, especially after choosing Sorcerer as a class, I began to acquire one ice-related skill after another.

"It seems I do, Father."

With a thoughtful demeanor, he added, "However, Ice Magic... It's not typically within the repertoire of the Sorcerer Class. Normally, it's a skill more commonly associated with mages, wizards, or even druids. The fact that you can level it up is quite intriguing..."

Cleric, Warlock, Druid, Mage, Healer, Summoner—these were the 6 magic-focused core classes that can be chosen through the system. Each, despite a shared affinity for magic, showcased unique approaches and prerequisites for their respective crafts. Ice magic was one such skill that displayed the distinctions between the six classes. Unlike other "magic" skills, Ice Magic was not commonly wielded by Sorcerers; it was, as he mentioned, a skill more aligned with the domain of mages, wizards, and at times druids. After all, such skills contradicted the very essence of the Sorcerer class.

The adage went that Sorcerers dealt in spells, whereas mages dealt in magic. It might sound similar, but one encompassed a broader spectrum of magic, while the other focused on a specific aspect.

"......perhaps you would really have excelled as a mage had you chosen that path," he mused, halting at the library’s threshold. "I don't mean that as a criticism, of course. It's just an observation."

I responded with a simple nod, acknowledging his point without further comment.

With my acknowledgment, he turned to open the library door fully, stepping aside to allow Ane and me entry. Crossing the threshold, I was immediately enveloped by the unmistakable aroma of ancient books—a scent I hadn’t known to cherish until this moment. Despite never considering myself an avid reader, I found a certain allure in this fragrance; it was captivating in its unique way.

The library unfolded before us, its size defying initial expectations set by the modest entrance. It was a vast space, with multiple levels combined into a single grandiose area, housing countless shelves filled with scrolls and parchment. Given Fiendfell’s prolonged stasis in a medieval-like era, the predominance of such ancient mediums only added to the room's historic charm.

Above us, a magnificent chandelier dangled from the high ceiling, its light mirroring the brightness of day. Sunlight, filtered through stained-glass windows, fractured into a spectrum of colors upon the crystals, casting vibrant hues throughout the library. This illumination bathed the entire room in a warm, inviting glow, reminiscent of perpetual daylight.

"When you find the time, you should visit the library more frequently," he suggested, his voice carrying a hint of solemnity. "The four centuries of Weiß family history—our most precious knowledge—are preserved here. While training is important it is also crucial for you to learn about our history."

"Yes, Father, I will." I said, not meaning a word of what I just said.

Acting akin to a valet, he led us through the library to a corner distinctly different from the rest. Here, instead of bookshelves, the walls were graced with giant, colorful paintings. This gallery, predominantly composed of portraits, radiated with colors so vivid, it seemed as if the artists had just laid down their brushes. The paintings varied widely in style and subject but were unified by a vibrancy that stood in sharp contrast to the aged parchment and leather binding the nearby tomes.

In the midst of this colorful canvas, a man stood behind his easel, deeply engrossed in his work. His concentration was palpable, locking onto his canvas with a focus that seemed to exclude the world around him. However, the moment he detected our presence, his trance-like state shattered, and he looked up.

"Father, Faye is here," our guide announced, stepping aside to grant me visibility.

"I can see that," the older man retorted, rising from his station behind the canvas. As he approached, he engaged in an action that would forever brand him as an asshole in my memory.

Warned by my [Identification] skill, I instantly felt it—the sensation akin to being licked all over my body, from every imaginable direction. It was not painful, but deeply unsettling and distressingly uncomfortable.

The source of my discomfort, now standing before me, forced me to crane my neck to meet his gaze, given his considerable height.

Despite his advanced age, his stature remained imposing. Yet, time had reversed the colors of his hair from predominantly black to predominantly white, and wrinkles that were once scarce now prominently marked his face. If time had spared his physique, it had exacted its toll on his visage instead.

Facing the man with a glare, as if to protest the invasive nature of his scrutiny, I greeted him with a mix of respect and undisguised discomfort, "Good evening, your Grace Grandfather."

"Good evening, Faye," he replied, his tone acknowledging my progress. "I can see that you've made advancements."

"I have. And while I would have been more than willing to report them myself, it seems I won't have that opportunity, will I?" I said my words dripped with open sarcasm, not bothering to veil my irritation at his method of 'appraisal.'

He chuckled, devoid of any semblance of regret, "You'll have to forgive me. I have this old habit of using my appraisal skill whenever I get the chance."

Internally, I couldn't help but sneer at his justification. Was he trying to level up his skill, or was there another motive? Even if that were the case, I doubted it would make much difference at his age and level.

"Old habits die hard," he remarked, as if that excused anything.

"At least have the decency to spare us," my so-called valet, or rather, "father," interjected, walking over to where the old man had been seated before our arrival to inspect his painting. "There’s nothing more uncomfortable than the sensation your skill induces. It's unsettling enough for me, so I can only imagine how it feels to a young lady."

At the mention of "young lady," the Old man cast a scrutinizing glance at me, as if sizing me up. Despite not embodying the typical image of a young lady in my current attire, I had indeed grown into one in this incarnation.

So yes, esteemed "grandfather," I would indeed prefer if you ceased invading my privacy.

As always, it took some time for me to fully regain my memories and realize the complex situation I had landed in, by being born—or rather, reborn—into this life. Being appraised almost immediately after birth was a disconcerting welcome into the world.

While I could see the value in being appraised for someone eager to prove their worth without a demonstration, the rationale for appraising a newborn escaped me, at least initially. It wasn't until later that I understood the family I had spawned in that I did.

The more I pondered it, the more I realized the extent of the entanglement I was in.

Firstly, that unsolicited appraisal exposed my name—or rather, the designation I had simply accepted as such. It rendered me suspicious from the outset, and as a helpless newborn, there was little I could do to alter my predicament. Being what I was, a baby, I didn’t even have the sufficient mental capacity to access the interface to change my name, something I normally would do upon reaching an age where such actions were possible, I was left powerless. I could only hope that the Goddess and the Mighty K.R.U.L. would make my family dismiss the name, which was in a language foreign to this world, as a system glitch or error.

Secondly, being appraised at birth stripped me of the opportunity to conceal my inherent access to the system. In all my reincarnations, I had mostly been born into families of peons, and only one where I spawned into a Verdenkind family. Thus, I had always managed to keep my status as a natural-born verdenkind—a human with system access—a secret, one that I could choose to reveal or forever hold secret.

Of course, being born into a Highbreed family in this incarnation meant that my access to the system was expected; all Highbreeds have such access at age 7 to 9. However, being appraised immediately upon birth revealed that I usually incarnate with one or two random skills or abilities, or sometimes both. This fact, coupled with the unusual name I had at birth, undoubtedly marked me as an exceptionally suspicious infant in the eyes of many. Yet, fortunately for me—very fortunately—the family into which I had been born chose to see something else in me beyond mere suspicion.