It was past 8 pm, and at the Ellens Church Welfare Home, the dim flickering of a single light bulb created faint shadows that danced across the walls.

The room was small, barely enough to hold the essentials—an old bed, a wardrobe, and a simple desk, but it was enough for the boy living in it.

"Oh, I can't stand it anymore."

Alex Wilson, a lean kids of about eleven, stared at the reflection of his face in the mirror. He kept rubbing his chin absentmindedly while flexing his fingers as though trying to catch something in the air. His slender but strong hands opened and closed, a reflex action he barely noticed anymore.

It's been 11 years. Eleven years since he found himself in this strange world. He had arrived as a baby but with the memories of a grown man. Being stuck in an orphanage in the 1980s with no computers or cell phones was unimaginable to someone from his previous life. Every day, he longed for something more than this slow, analog existence.

Just as his thoughts drifted, a knock pounded loudly on his door, snapping him out of his daydream.

"Alex, boss, you in there?" a voice called.

Alex frowned and crossed the room. "What are you doing yelling at this hour?" he asked, opening the door just a crack. "Aren't you afraid the staff will catch you?"

On the other side stood William, a boy about seventeen, slightly taller but scruffier than Alex. His shirt was wrinkled, and his pants, held up by suspenders, looked like they had seen better days. Still, William grinned sheepishly, trying to hide his tiredness as he lugged a large cardboard box in his arms.

"Sorry, boss. This thing's heavy nearly wore me out." William let out a nervous laugh.

Alex rolled his eyes. "Why are you so late? You didn't run into those punks from the North District again, did you?"

William shook his head quickly. "Nah, ever since you sorted them out, they haven't dared mess with us. It just took longer than expected today. We picked up a lot of good stuff," he said, fishing a few folded banknotes out of his pocket and handing them to Alex. "Here's our share for the week."

Alex took the money without a word, his face calm. "Good work. Get some rest."

He turned back to the box, ready to open it, but William lingered, rubbing his hands together like he had something else on his mind. Alex raised an eyebrow.

"What is it? I've got practice to get to."

William laughed awkwardly. "Well... since it's still early, we were thinking we could—"

"Play poker?" Alex cut him off. "Fine, but don't gamble. If Mama catches you again, she'll confiscate everything."

William lit up and quickly grabbed a wooden box from under the bed. "Thanks, boss! I'll bring it back in a couple of days." With that, he hurried off, leaving Alex alone.

Shaking his head, Alex muttered to himself, "Teaching them to play poker was probably a mistake. They're addicted now." He sighed but smiled as he turned his attention back to the cardboard box. Inside, he found what he'd been looking forward to—bottles of soy sauce, sesame oil, vinegar, and other condiments. The simple sight of them made him feel a little more at home.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Finally, some proper seasoning," he muttered with satisfaction. "If I have to eat bland food one more day, I might actually lose my mind."

Living in an orphanage had its challenges, especially without any of the comforts of modern technology. Alex had spent countless nights wondering if he was reincarnated or simply thrown into another world. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had to adapt. He had memories from his previous life, and he had been a soldier, so staying calm and calculating was second nature to him. There was no point in panicking. He packed away the condiments, locking his door out of habit. After all, he had a secret no one else knew about.

Alex turned his gaze toward a dumbbell lying in the corner, a heavy 25-kilogram weight. He lifted his hand, focusing on the object. Slowly, as if being pulled by an invisible force, the dumbbell floated into the air, hovering a few inches above the floor.

He grinned. The ability to move things with his mind—his "superpower," as he called it—was something he had discovered years ago, back when he was just a boy.

One day, after a long workout, he had been too tired to get up and grab his water glass. The moment he wished for it, the glass floated over to him as if his thoughts had commanded it. Ever since then, Alex had been careful, practicing his powers in secret.

He knew that in a place like this, run by the church, people would see him as a monster if they ever found out. They might even try to get rid of him. Alex watched the dumbbell float above his head as he walked to his desk and sat down, flipping open a worn-out book. This was his routine—practice controlling his power while reading or relaxing. He called it "time-lapse training."

He had tested his abilities many times over the years and found that the more he trained his body, the more control he had over his powers. It was almost as if there was a link between his physical and mental strength. Whenever he was calm and focused, his powers were stronger.

Alex placed the dumbbell back down gently, feeling the slight strain in his mind ease. As a soldier in his past life, discipline and structure were familiar to him, so he had set up a strict regimen for himself. Every day, he practiced martial arts, meditated, and trained his superpower. He was determined to master it, knowing full well that in a world like this, such abilities were both a gift and a curse.

Still, part of him couldn't help but wonder if he was wasting his time here, stuck in an orphanage, hidden away from the world.

With a quiet sigh, Alex looked out of the window into the dim London night. "I'm not sure where this road leads... but I'll be ready when the time comes."

Because Alex noticed that the change in weight during his training didn't make him feel the usual fatigue, he knew something wasn't right. From his years of physical training, he understood that if his muscles didn't feel the strain and tearing that came with real effort, the training wasn't effective. Realizing this, he adjusted his approach.

Instead of focusing solely on increasing the weight, he began to practice what he called "time-lapse training." This involved using his "mind power" to keep objects floating in the air for as long as possible, forcing him to stretch the limits of his abilities.

Sure enough, this new method worked. At first, he could only manage to keep objects suspended for about five minutes before a wave of dizziness would wash over him.

Alex knew better than to push himself too hard without understanding the limits of his ability, so he stopped whenever he felt too tired. After resting for a day and feeling no lasting mental strain, he was reassured that the training was safe. From then on, he committed to practicing every night, slowly building up his stamina. Over the years, he noticed steady improvements. What started as five minutes of concentration gradually became longer.

Now, after more than a year of focused practice, Alex could keep an object afloat for nearly forty minutes without feeling overwhelmed.

Tonight, he hovered a dumbbell in the air, making it revolve around his body like a planet orbiting the sun. With each rotation, he shifted the dumbbell's path—sometimes making it trace a figure eight, other times flipping it vertically as though it were performing a complicated movement. The mental exertion was beginning to build, and Alex could feel the subtle tension in his mind.

Sensing that his training session was nearly over, he guided the dumbbell back to the corner of the room where it belonged and stretched his arms. "It's getting easier," he muttered to himself. "Who knows, maybe one day I'll be flying swords like those guys in the novels."

Little did he know, as Alex joked with himself about the future, far to the north, in a magical school called Hogwarts, owls were being sent out with letters of acceptance. One of those owls was already flying through the night sky, making its way toward the Ellens Church Welfare Home in London.