I was born in the capital of the kingdom of Candidus as the third child of the Osmanthus family, consisting of four children all one year apart from the next and a single father. I suppose my family was well off, as compared to other families within the capital, as we were one of the 20 minor noble families of the kingdom. We didn’t really lack for anything, nor were we lavish spenders. Unlike other nobles, however, our family disdained utilizing servants for our household, preferring to do the general chores ourselves. A rather unremarkable minor noble family.

When I was a child, I was often told that I was a docile baby, quiet, seldom crying. I apparently had my family’s trademark black hair when I was born, but over time the color faded away, leaving behind drab, gray locks. These two traits combined resulted in a rather unsettling look for a toddler, causing the general populace of the capital to be rather wary of me, but pretended to not be in front of me, as that would be rather cruel to a child.

Of course, I noticed.

When I was 5, my siblings and I were tested by a court mage and a knight, for our affinity in magic and in blade, in order to test what our future paths should be. My father’s bloodline proved to be rather excellent, as my siblings all had potential in magic and martial arts, not one had potential lower than a superior rating.

Except me.

I had proved to be the only one that is average in all aspects.

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Despite this rather disappointing result, my father’s plans and aspirations for me were no less than that of my siblings. Rather, it seemed as if he was determined to prove my rating wrong. Because of this lack of discrimination, as well as his fervent support, I rather loved my father. Of course, I loved my siblings as well, as they would help me out in my training and in school, in whichever area I struggled, and I could feel their own love for me, their brother. So, I strove my best to follow their wishes, to meet up their expectations, to not let them down.

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I also hated them.

            I hated them, because whenever grievances arose between us, I would oft hold in my bitter words, my anger and misery, as to hold the harmony within the family. I would constantly compare myself and my skills with my siblings, and find myself lacking. Of course, I would eventually lash out, but more often than not I would be proven to be in the wrong of the conflict, and accept their reasoning the logical thoughts that were so much superior to mine.

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            But I loved them.

            Isn’t it amusing, isn’t it interesting, isn’t it so… human? That such a contradiction would exist even within the heart of a child. That the expectations and love that one had poured out could turn out to do so much harm. That it came so naturally to the child lie, to hide, to evade.