I was strangely calm. Maybe it was because the scene before me was too magical, too unlike anything I had seen. I glanced at Father’s worried face, and the white child, whose face had stopped being too pale and was now stricken with shock over the vortex appearing. The gem on the staff that he was clutching on was no longer glowing.

From what I could tell, his magic was going out of control? However, the gem was not glowing, his eyes were also not glowing, which meant he was not the one controlling that vortex right now. Apparently, something went wrong with that invisible thing and now it was going haywire on its own.

There was a brilliant spark at the vortex. It ate up the floating ice shards and gave out a very loud ZAP sound, accompanied with 2 ultra-fast lightning streaks, which seemed to burn the very air that it was travelling through.

Lightning at close distance looked much more brilliant, and much, much more dangerous.

Why did I feel like, it was going to come for me?

True to my word, out of the two streaks, one of the lightning zapped towards my direction. The lady was already holding me with such loose arms; she let go of me as soon as the lightning was heading towards us.

I didn’t even have time to flail my arms helplessly. But time did feel a bit slower as my toddler self dropped from a high of over a meter towards the ground, and the beautiful lightning heading straight towards me.

Why did I feel like, the lightning was really targeting me?

For a second, I imagined my skin sizzling like a piece of steak on the grill. It would be quite painful. I heard adults even died at being struck by lightning, let alone toddlers. I hoped I was spared of a painful experience.

My heart was really, really calm. Strangely calm.

The brilliant light hit me in the face, but I only felt a wave of heat. It struck the membrane that was centimetres away from my skin. I was relieved, but was also much engrossed in observing the lightning that broke and was dispelled by the golden layer in front of me.

Father protected me. Now I could confirm that he could do chant magic, and he was really good at it in fact. This layer seemed really thin, but it could even block lightning! Could I do something similar also?

The other lightning hit a soil patch of the garden and burnt it black. My skin would have been similar had my father not chanted fast enough.

Magic was wonderful, but it really was dangerous to leave it in the hands of small little kids.

Although it was not really his fault, the white child’s face was deathly pale as he looked at my toddler self lying on the floor. I tried to crawl back up, but there was a sharp pain at my back.

I had forgotten that the little bones in my body was obviously not strong enough to support my little toddler self when I fell from that height just now. The lightning bursting in front of me had clearly distracted me from that fact.

Deciding that it would be best not to move anything, I laid on my back motionlessly. Thankfully the sun was not too bright today. I could see the architecture on the outer wall of the building I was staying in all these time. It was intricate from all those flowers and curves...not something you would see in the modern world outside of museums.

I had almost forgotten, my doting father was here, as well as a seemingly very responsible and mature child. Well, he ran over to my side even faster than Father did, and though he looked very anxious, he did not dare to touch me and could only look over with worry and guilt all over his amber eyes. I wanted to pat his head and tell him that it was not his fault (the lady really should have held me a bit tighter), but the pain in my back  was telling me not to move a single muscle.

Father came over like the wind. He was calm in his demeanor, but his red eyes were flaring with anxiety. He wrapped his fingers around my back very gently, much more gently than how he held me all the time, and lifted me up. It was painful, but I held back the urge to cry. Father was clearly a soldier, so I could not expect him to have soft cotton candy hands to be able to painlessly carry me away. He was already so wrecked with worry; I would not want to worry him even further.

..He sure had grown on me.

At the edge of my vision, the white child was trotting along us, his eyes filled with guilt. He was gripping the staff so hard that it looked as if the small muscles of his palm were going to break. His face was pale and his eyes were down cast.

I did not like that look very much.

He was thinking too much for a kid.

So for the first time, I tried to exercise my vocal chord. It was a very weird feeling, to try to use something I had almost forgotten how to because it had been such a long time.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The word that came out...was just a small squeak.

Father’s hands that were holding on to me shook slightly (which was painful, and I held back once more), and he muttered “Charlotte?”, but his feet became even quicker.

I turned my neck and looked hard at the white child. He was also shocked at my “word”, the guilt temporarily being replaced by surprise in his amber eyes. We locked eyes, and I took a long look at his beautiful amber eyes.

Then, by some instincts, I raised the corners of my lips, and smiled so hard that my eyes were half closed. My face muscles felt cramped from lack of use, but I was sure that I was smiling as hard as I could.

The white child opened his eyes wide at my smile. His amber eyes were bright again, like the curious look that a kid should have, instead of a guilt-stricken face that he had a few seconds ago.

Suddenly, Father took a turn into a room. The door was closed before the white child could come in. My face immediately fell.

Father was speaking in a loud voice; he really was a soldier and not an office worker. I thought that this side of his, the side that was less calm and spoke more clearly, was a bit more lovable than how he was normally.

Of course, I was not going to injure myself just to see this flustered face of his. It was not good to worry your (only) parent needlessly. My back was really hurting from his hold though.

“Miss Clara, please help my child!”

“...Sir Marcus, you know very well...that I am not allowed to use my magical power on that child!”

“But she is still a baby! This kind of injury would cripple her when she grows up! She needs your healing, Miss Clara!”

“Rules are rules Sir Marcus...I can not use my magic on someone that is not accepted by Duke Howard.”

“But she is Leticia’s child! Aren’t you her best friend?”

“...”

My father exchanged words with a blue-haired lady. The lady wore white exquisite clothes, which was to some extent even more luxurious than my Father’s attire. Gold rimmed her dress and cape, and a silver cross hung at her neck.

Her green eyes lightly squinted in displeasure. She glanced at my figure laying limp in my Father’s hold. Her eyes looked straight at me, as if looking for something within the body of a toddler.

She then heaved a large sigh.

“Sir Marcus, please...make sure the door is locked.”

“..!! I’m truly grateful, Clara!”

My Father’s hand ghosted over the door knob. This time, there was no chant, but I knew that some form of magic was cast. Perhaps, this was what “Miss Clara” meant when she said “lock the door”.

“Miss Clara” looked at me with a much softer expression than previous. This person...was probably a pushover. She seemed cold at first hand, but towards those who khew her, she would probably accept all of their demands.

This was Leticia, my Mother, ‘s best friend.

Father laid me down on a bed that was very soft. It was much more comfortable than the cradle that I was subjected to every night.

Miss Clara came over next to the bed, her left hand wrapped in a white gloves with some picturesque inscriptions on it. It was a red circle with curves and small stars within it, similar to gothic patterns. Her thin gloved fingers hovered over my back. I could not twist my neck to see her, so I could only guessed what she was doing while staring motionlessly at my Father’s legs. Despite being a parent, he looked just like a robust young man, a perfect bait for single ladies when my Mother was not around.

Just the type of man that I despised...but I knew my Father was not that kind of man. He buried himself with paperwork, even though he was much better at swordsmanship, magic, or anything that involved moving around. He took less than a glance at the women that came over to visit him, even if they brought with them his sustenance. Most likely, he was more occupied over the neverending pile of documents and worried about crushing me in his arms.

He was a true gentleman.

I guess the saying that the daughter grows up to marry someone like her father makes sense, but I would make sure that my future husband does not have light brown hair like my Father. Better yet, I should tell Father to quickly go dye his hair before I yanked it out or shaved it clean when he was not looking.

..Oh dear, that slipped out of nowhere. Why did I have such a rebellious thought?

Suddenly, I felt a warm feeling in my back. Initially, I thought Miss Clara was heating my back up with magic or something...then I realized that it was not the skin on my back that was heating up. It was...my back bone.

The feeling was a bit similar to having your bones submerged and cooked in a hotpot. I could swear that I hear the sizzling sound at the back of my mind.

Mentally goosebump-ed, I tried to twist my neck to see what was going on, but I could not perform such a feat without moving my back that was burning up. The heat was not unbearable (yet), but I could not sit still and let my back bones be stewed into baby chowder!

As if responding to my fear, the heat seemed to spread across the entirety of my toddler body. Then moments later, it subsided. I heaved a mental sigh of relief. I could still move my back, so it had not been cooked by the heat yet.

My Father was awfully compliant throughout this series of child abuse. Where was his “Light Shield” that protected me from the lightning just now?

...Well, no more joking around.

Judging from his serious demeanor and expectant looks, I could guess that the heating up was actually the “healing” that he mentioned just now. I’ve read about magical healing from some of the comics in my previous life, but I’d imagined it to be something more gentle and holy, not life-threatening like cooking a person alive.

Maybe, this toddler’s body was just way too fragile, even for healing.

My guess must be correct, because after the heat disappeared, my back pain also went away. I could move my back as if I had not fallen down a height of one meter just minutes ago.

That was really magical.

Today...had been a long day. Learning about magic...but my toddler’s body could not even withstand the sacred force of healing, let alone a simple wind blade from the white child. I might as well wait until I had become more sturdy to experiment with this new field of science called “Magic”.

Now...let’s fall asleep in Father’s arms.

...

“...She endured the healing and did not cry...what a resilient child.”

“She is exactly like Leticia...quiet but very strong-willed.”

“You are just too doting on her, Sir Marcus. However, I ask that you keep this dealing between just the two of us.”

“Of course, Miss Clara. I’m truly grateful for your help. Please call upon me if you need my assistance in the future.”

“...I do not think that will ever be necessary, but I will keep that in mind. And one more thing, Sir Marcus...”

“...Miss Clara?”

“That child...Charlotte...she may be in possession of holy power.”