After climbing the stairs and reaching the second floor of the central part of the royal palace, Carmen, Mirac, and Professor Shirkenn stopped in front of the classroom door. The long corridor, adorned with plants and golden candelabras, seemed to observe the young Prince with a silent warning.
"Now that we've arrived, I'll leave you alone then," said Carmen, executing a flawless about-face to return to her many duties.
But after just a few steps, she stopped abruptly, casting a final piercing glance at Mirac.
"Young Prince… I don't think it's necessary to remind you to behave with the proper respect toward Professor Shirkenn, is it?"
A cold shiver ran through Mirac, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
'Damn, when Carmen looks at me like that, she's really scary!' he thought, trying to keep a composed expression.
Without waiting for a response, Carmen walked away with a determined stride, leaving Mirac and Shirkenn alone in a silence heavy with expectation. For a moment, the two stared at each other, a brief instant of mutual appraisal.
"Alright. Umm… Shall we go in?" said Vincent, attempting to break the awkward silence as he placed his hand on the door's golden handle, uncertain whether to wait for a cue or to proceed.
"I'd say the answer is obvious, Professor Shirkenn," Mirac replied in a slightly bored tone.
With a quick nod and a deep breath, Vincent opened the door, revealing the classroom that would become their daily meeting place.
"Wow!" exclaimed Mirac, unable to hide his amazement as his eyes roamed eagerly around the room.
The classroom was a marvel of elegance and attention to detail, perfectly suited to a young Prince.
The space was a large, bright rectangle, with a light wood plank floor that added warmth and a natural touch to the room. The walls were divided horizontally into two sections: the lower half was covered in dark, polished wood planks, smooth and well-maintained, continuing the natural and inviting theme of the floor. The upper half, on the other hand, was simply plastered in a vanilla-colored shade, similar to that of the palace corridors, helping to reflect the light coming from the windows and giving the room a sober yet sophisticated appearance.
Tall arched windows dominated the wall opposite the door, flooding the room with natural light and offering a panoramic view of the royal gardens. The lush flowers and plants seemed to sway gently with the breeze, as if cheering on Mirac for his future lessons.
In the center of the room stood the only desk, entirely reserved for the young Prince. The wood was polished and finished with golden details along the edges, a symbol of refinement and royalty. On the desktop lay a few books, a notebook bound in black leather, and a silver inkwell with a raven feather, ready for the first lesson.
At the short end of the room, far from the door, a large oak lectern decorated with golden floral inlays dominated, accompanied by velvet-cushioned red chairs. On one side of the table, a selection of leather-bound volumes ranged across history, philosophy, and military strategy texts, promising to guide Mirac through the vastness of knowledge.
Behind the professor's lectern, a large black chalkboard framed in dark wood awaited formulas and notes, with white chalks neatly aligned along the edge. Above the board, a decorated bronze clock ticked rhythmically, marking each moment of this new beginning.
Along the wall opposite the windows, a row of dark wood shelves housed books, ancient maps, and various study instruments: globes, compasses, and brass astrolabes.
Between the shelves, curious objects could be glimpsed: a small golden telescope, scrolls tied with silk ribbons, glass vials filled with vividly colored liquids, and an ancient globe with unknown continents that sparked the young Prince's curiosity.
'I'll study them carefully during geography lessons...' Mirac thought, already imagining himself exploring those mysteries.
Hanging on the walls, portraits of illustrious scholars and ancient rulers seemed to scrutinize every corner of the room, watching the young Prince with stern eyes.
'Am I mistaken, or are they watching me?' Mirac wondered, though he ignored the strange feeling and looked up.
In the center of the vaulted ceiling, a crystal chandelier hung elegantly, though more modest than the majestic one in the reception hall, the setting of Mirac's first and later birthday celebrations.
The vault itself was a masterpiece: a fresco of dancing flames and wise warriors of the past, who seemed to come to life under the natural sunlight.
Fascinated, Mirac turned his head, trying to follow the fresco's intricate lines, and without realizing it, sat at his desk, still absorbed in his contemplation.
Meanwhile, Vincent closed the door and made his way to the teacher's desk, carefully setting down his duffel bag.
'Wow, I'm surprised he didn't fall...' Mirac thought, casting a glance at the professor.
"So, shall we begin?" Vincent asked, placing his hands on his hips and looking at Mirac with a smile that exuded a certain confidence, in contrast with his initial awkwardness.
Mirac didn't respond immediately. He simply tilted his head slightly to the side, as if his silent approval was more than enough.
Vincent, not paying much attention to the Prince's lack of words, pulled a parchment-bound document out of his bag and placed it carefully on Mirac's desk.
"Young Prince, this is the complete list of lessons and schedules. Every day, from 8 to 13, we will cover a wide range of subjects," said Vincent, almost with pride.
Mirac grabbed the sheet and, scanning the dense lines of subjects and times, his eyes widened. Every day was packed with lessons: ancient history, geography of the kingdom and the continent, history of military strategies, philosophy, religion, grammar, and even an introduction to magical arts.
'Wow, so many subjects to study! Especially considering that, technically, I'm only 7 years old!' Mirac thought, as a mix of anxiety and excitement stirred inside him.
Facing those hours filled with such varied subjects, Mirac ran a hand through his hair, trying to hide his nervousness.
'On the bright side, though, I'll finally get to learn a lot about this new world!' he told himself, staring at the titles with a renewed sense of determination.
Afterward, Mirac lowered his gaze to the schedule, feverishly searching for the lesson he would have that morning.
'Let's see: Monday... Already second period, since the PROFESSOR arrived late... OH NO!'
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Before he could finish his thought, Vincent raised his voice with misplaced enthusiasm:
"Young Prince, let's begin our first lesson: MATH!"
"…"
Clenching his teeth, Mirac remained speechless. Or rather, the words swirling in his head were decidedly inappropriate to say out loud.
'I hope you're dragged to the depths of hell, and that there you find no peace in Lucifer's claws!' Mirac thought, unable to hold back the wave of mental curses.
He was definitely exaggerating, but the idea of starting his studies with the subject he hated most was driving him crazy.
It wasn't just anger: it was pure disgust, a visceral unhappiness that crawled into every fiber of his body.
Noticing Mirac's discontent, evident from the disgusted expression on his face, Vincent asked in a concerned tone:
"Young Prince, is there a problem?"
Mirac barely held back the impulsive response bubbling up in his mind:
'Yes, damn it! You show up late and think it's normal to start with MATH?! If I could, I'd sentence you to death right here!'
He was furious and knew that with the next provocation, he would explode.
'Calm down… breathe…' he thought, forcing himself to take a deep breath.
He needed to be rational: avoiding the lesson would only postpone the inevitable. Moreover, asking to move the math lesson to another day wouldn't solve anything.
With this realization, Mirac returned to studying the schedule.
'So… Four hours of math per week: two on Monday morning, one on Wednesday from 10 to 11, and the last one on Friday, again in the morning. At least they're well spread out. And today, given the delay of this oddball, it'll only be one hour!'
This discovery was a small relief. He couldn't have endured two consecutive hours of that subject he hated so much, at least not that morning.
Vincent interrupted him again, confused.
"Young Prince?..."
Mirac, calmer now, smiled with a feigned determination.
"Alright, Professor Shirkenn! Let's begin."
Vincent, confused by Mirac's reflective silence but smiling with excitement for their first lesson, turned toward the board. He grabbed a piece of chalk and began writing a sequence of numbers from zero to ten, from left to right.
"They told me that you are very intelligent for your age," commented Vincent as he finished writing the last number.
'Hehe, modestly...' thought Mirac, holding back a smirk as he copied into his notebook what appeared on the board.
"But still, it's always better to start with the basics. A castle, to be solid, needs strong foundations, right?"
After placing the chalk on the edge of the blackboard, Vincent turned toward Mirac, whose gaze was distracted. His eyes were slightly squinted, and his apathetic expression immediately betrayed the student's desire for the lesson to pass quickly.
While writing, between one yawn and the next, Mirac immediately recognized the symbols on the board. But not because of his innate understanding of the language of that new world...
The numbers, in fact, were written exactly the same way as in his previous life!
And in this regard, Mirac had discovered it a long time ago.
When he was still a child, by pure chance, he had caught a glimpse of a small notebook with a long shopping list sticking out of Carmen's skirt pocket.
'Another mystery, huh? This is already the fifth one on the list...'
This was the thought that immediately struck Mirac that day as he carefully examined every detail of the list he could see and read.
He pondered for a long time on how it was possible, convinced that it couldn't be just a coincidence.
This new evidence led him to confirm what he had already suspected: he was now certain that, in one way or another, some knowledge from his old world had been introduced into the new one he had reincarnated into!
Thus, Mirac immediately connected the mystery of the numbers to that of the Gregorian calendar. He thought it was highly likely that the person who introduced the Gregorian system might have been the same one who brought the numbers. Or perhaps someone from an even earlier time.
In any case, there was no way to solve that mystery at the moment, so it didn't make sense to keep racking his brain over a puzzle that, until his first lesson with Vincent, Mirac had almost forgotten.
"Please, young Prince," said the gray-haired man, his voice respectful yet stern, "repeat after me."
Vincent pointed to the first number with his finger and slowly moved it from left to right, pronouncing each digit and waiting for Mirac to repeat, though with visible disinterest.
"Zero."
"Zero..."
"One."
"One..."
"Two."
"Two..."
"Three."
"Three..."
"Four."
"Four..."
"Five."
"Five..."
"Six."
"Six..."
"Seven."
"Seven..."
"Eight."
"Eight..."
"Nine."
"Nine..."
"Ten!"
"Ten..."
"Good! Now, let's repeat it a couple of times."
'Tsz!' Mirac huffed, but followed the exercise.
* * *
After the third repetition, Vincent stopped, his finger now covered in white chalk dust. He wiped away the numerical sequence and turned back to Mirac:
"Now try it on your own, young Prince."
Despite the complete lack of enthusiasm, Mirac dared not disobey for fear of possible repercussions from Carmen.
'What's the point of all this? I'll never be good at math anyway…'
With that demoralizing thought in mind and his eyes rolling upward, Mirac recited, following Vincent's instructions:
"Zero, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten..."
After pronouncing the last number, Mirac straightened up suddenly, abandoning his lazy position. The shock took him by surprise: his eyes were glued to the now empty blackboard.
"Great job, young Prince! After just three repetitions with my help, you managed to learn how to count!" Vincent exclaimed, with a proud tone.
Mirac stared at the blackboard, unable to believe it. His hand, gripping the white quill pen, trembled above the notebook, leaving small smudges of ink on the squared pages.
"I... I learned how to count?" Mirac murmured, incredulous.
"Exactly, young Prince," replied Vincent, not understanding the full extent of his statement.
"Me? I learned to count? ME?!" Mirac repeated, his voice trembling and full of astonishment.
"Uhmm... Yes, young Prince, that's exactly right!" confirmed Vincent, puzzled but pleased.
Mirac continued to doubt it. He thought it might have been just a stroke of luck. So, he decided to try again, counting slowly:
"Zero, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten..."
And again: "Zero, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!"
Finally, almost shouting: "ZERO, ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE, AND TEN!!!"
He had not made a mistake, nor was it a fluke: Mirac had truly learned to count!
"I-I can't believe it..." he whispered, as his emotions exploded.
Vincent, noticing Mirac's trembling and his hands clutching the pages of the notebook, immediately rushed to his side.
"Young Prince! Are you all right?!" he asked, worried.
He then tried to comfort him with slow, gentle movements on his shoulder, though they felt awkward and stiff, as if it were his first time.
Mirac lowered his gaze, releasing his grip on the notebook. He then looked at his hands, where the tears continued to fall, as if confirming what he had just realized.
"Zero... One... Two... Three, four... Five... Six... Seven, eight, nine... And ten..." he counted the tears, which were actually far more than he could enumerate with the little knowledge he had just acquired.
Each single tear represented a small victory, a triumph over a past filled with frustrations and failures.
What had once been an impossible goal throughout his entire life was now finally within reach.
Yet, Mirac's mind was overwhelmed by a whirlwind of confusion and astonishment. For a few moments, he stood still, continuing to wonder how this could be possible.
'Yeah, of course!' he thought, as the answer struck him like a lightning bolt. 'How could I not have thought of this before, after all these seven years?!'
Amazed and almost incredulous, Mirac hypothesized that the cause of all this lay in his new body, radically different from the previous one and equipped with perfect brain functions. No longer limited by cognitive impairments, his brain was completely renewed, finally free from the severe dyscalculia that had tormented him in his previous life, preventing him from grasping even the simplest concepts related to numbers.
In short, at that moment, everything seemed to have been resolved!
The first ten numbers, which once were difficult for him to memorize and recite in order, now appeared familiar and easily accessible.
What once required concentration and effort—counting to ten—now occurred smoothly and naturally.
'With this new body... Will I really be able to... learn math?!'
The answer was clear and obvious in itself.
This realization was, for Mirac—no, better yet, for Vector!—the most extraordinary discovery of his new life!
"Young Princ-"
"Professor Shirkenn..." Mirac interrupted him, wiping his tears with his sleeves.
Vincent watched him with concern, locking eyes with Mirac, now filled with deep and unexpected gratitude.
"Thank you!" exclaimed Mirac, a sincere smile lighting up his face.
Vincent, taken by surprise, nervously scratched the back of his neck and withdrew his hand from the young Prince's shoulder.
"Oh, umm... You're welcome, young Prince... It was a pleasure!"
"And please, Professor Shirkenn..." Mirac added, lowering his voice.
"Yes?"
"Help me count the next tears!" Mirac exclaimed, his voice a mix of innocence and determination, as he smiled at the man who had helped him in an endeavor he never thought he could face.
Vincent, vaguely grasping the deep meaning hidden behind those words, returned the smile warmly.
"Of course, young Prince... You can count on me!"