There was a knock on the door. Brogen perked up from the table and excitedly went over to answer it.

“Sweetie, there's someone at the door,” his mom called put from the kitchen.

“I got it!”

Brogen opened the door and cheered up even further when he saw the person outside. Wearing her usual ragged clothing, Tin-Tin looked at him sheepishly as an older woman hovered behind her. It was Mrs. Farrell, the landlady.

“Do you know her?” the woman asked with a frown on her face.

“Er, yes Mrs. Farrell, she's my friend.”

The woman just snorted in disdain and left. Tin-Tin glared at the woman's back before she looked back at Brogen.

“You could have fetched me downstairs you know. Street urchins like me don't get to go wherever we want,” said Tin-Tin with a frown.

“Oops, sorry about that. I didn't think Mrs. Farrell would stop you. Anyway, come in, come in!”

Tin-Tin slowly entered the apartment, her shoulders hunched in apprehension. When she saw the modest living space, her eyes took on a dreamy look, wondering what it would feel like to live in a place like this compared to her small shack.

“Mom! My friend is here, come meet her!”

“Brogen, there's no need to introduce me to your parent!” Tin-Tin whispered in panic. Brogen may be kind and naive, but she knew adults would look at a street urchin like her with suspicion, especially when she was inside their home.

“Oh! You mean the girl you keep talking about? I'll be there in just a minute, sweetie!”

The sound of an oven slamming shut sounded from the kitchen before Brogen's mother exited while wiping her hands on her apron. She saw Tin-Tin and a look of worry passed over her face for a moment, but it was immediately replaced with a welcoming smile.

“Hi, you must be Tin-Tin! Brogen always talks about you, you know?”

“H-He does?”

Tin-Tin shot a questioning glare at the boy at her side, who just smiled stupidly at her.

“I'm Brogen's mother, Elena. Are you hungry? I've baked some chocolate chip cookies for you two, it'll be finished soon. Just sit there and make yourself at home, alright?”

“O-Okay…”

Elena patted Tin-Tin's head and ushered her to the couch. Tin-Tin was still reeling from the fact that Elena didn't kick her out the moment she saw her. Although she saw a bit of apprehension in Elena's eyes earlier, she knew it was normal for everybody who dealt with children like her.

“Over here, Tin-Tin! I've already set up the chessboard!”

Tin-Tin absentmindedly followed Brogen to the table and sat down by the chessboard.

“I swear I'll beat you this time! I watched professional chess players on the internet, and I learned a few tricks. You won't stand a chance, Tin-Tin. Hehehe…”

Tin-Tin won a few games after Brogen's declaration, much to the boy's dismay, then Elena came back with a tray full of hot cookies. Tin-Tin ate them with relish, even choking at some point when she gobbled them up too fast. Thankfully, Elena patted her back and gave her a glass of water to wash it down.

After that, Elena offered to give her a bath and fix her hair, an offer that Tin-Tin initially refused out of shyness. But after a little pushing, Elena finally managed to convince the girl.

Tin-Tin blushed as Elena washed her in the bathroom. Elena made small talk with her as she shampooed Tin-Tin's messy hair.

“Do your parents know you're here?” Elena asked while scrubbing Tin-Tin's scalp.

“Er, I don't have parents anymore, ma'am. I don't know my papa, and mama left me a few years ago.”

Tin-Tin felt Elena's hands on her head pause for a second before resuming.

“Oh, I'm sorry for bringing it up, Tin-Tin. And none of that ‘ma'am’ business. You can call me Aunt Elena.”

Tin-Tin looked over her shoulder at Elena, soap bubbles dripping down her face. The woman just gave her a bright smile.

“You can stay with us if you like. This place is a bit lonely with just Brogen and me.”

Tin-Tin stared at Elena with wide eyes for a few seconds before quickly facing forward again.

“I-I think… I think I'd like that, ma— Aunt Elena. ”

Elena continued to wash Tin-Tin's head, choosing to stay silent as the girl's quiet sobs echoed in the small bathroom.

●●●

“What motivated you to open a clothing store, sweetie?”

“I just thought it would be an easy way to earn money and train my power at the same time.”

“Is that all?”

I glanced at Mom, who was giving me an inquisitive look as we walked through the streets. We were headed to the town square to find a store that sold cheap fabrics to start my business. There was a store in the town square where Mom used to buy her fabrics, but unfortunately, they closed down every winter.

“Um, nor really. You remember how I used to have this weird attraction to fabrics when I was a baby?”

“Yes, I remember,” Mom said with a chuckle.

“I think I have the same thing happening to me right now. Every time I see worn or ugly clothes, I get this urge to replace them with something better.”

“That's weird,” Mom muttered beside me. Then she looked at her own winter clothes which consisted of a thick coat that was extremely worn down and a scarf that looked like it had seen better days. She looked back at me. “Are you having the same urge now?”

“Absolutely. Your outfit looks horrible. Ow!”

Mom pinched my cheek in retaliation. “You don't say those kinds of things directly, sweetie. Especially to a young maiden like me.”

“What does it matter if I say it to a man or woman…” I grumbled as I rubbed my cheek. I believe in gender equality!

Was gender equality even a thing here? The Church of the Holy Mother allowed females in their clergy, so maybe it is? Or maybe this world was actually sexist against men? That would be shitty.

The walk to the town square was uneventful. The snowstorm had finally abated last night and the skies were clear, although the streets were filled with piles of snow. There were already people working on shoveling the snow to the sides of the streets. Hopefully, the streets would be clear on our return trip.

When we arrived at the town square, we didn't immediately start looking around for a fabric store. Instead, we headed towards Hayes' stall located on the north side of the square. Hayes' stall was a medium-sized wooden structure with shelves of children's toys organized in several aisles. Customers could walk around the small store to browse the products and go to the counter at the back to pay. The man himself was standing behind the counter, talking with a pretty lady. When Hayes spotted us, he excused himself and gestured us over.

“Good morning Miss Helen and Brogen. What brings you here in my humble shop?”

“Please, just call me Helen. We're looking for a store that sells cheap fabrics and thought that maybe you knew of one?”

“Ah, unfortunately, I have no idea, at least not here in the town square. There's a stall that sells expensive exotic textiles, but I don't think that's what you're looking for.”

Mom frowned with disappointment and thanked Hayes for his help, but the pretty lady by the counter stopped us before we could leave.

“Excuse me, if you're looking for cheap fabrics, I know a supplier.”

Mom and I stopped in our tracks and faced the woman. Her auburn hair fell to her back and she had a radiant smile on her face. She wore thick woolen clothes with cute floral designs. Her face had a few wrinkles, but it only gave her a mature kind of beauty.

“Oh thank goodness, we don't have to search for one ourselves,” Mom said with relief. “I'm Helen, and this is my son Brogen. Say hi, sweetie.”

“Nice to meet you, ma'am.”

The woman's eyes lit with recognition at the mention of my name and clapped her hands together. “Oh, you're one of Ralf's friends!”

“You know him?”

The woman chuckled with mirth as well as Hayes behind the counter. “Sorry for the late introduction, my name is Thelma. Ralf's my son.”

I had to use all my willpower to not give Thelma an incredulous look. This beautiful and sweet woman is the mother of the grim and dark Ralf?!

Thelma must've detected my shock, but thankfully she wasn't offended and she just chuckled. “I know, it's a bit unbelievable, but it's true. As much as I try to make my son a little more cheerful, he just takes too much after his father. I even tried to make him smile sometimes, but it doesn't usually turn out so well…”

The memory of Ralf's smile popped up in my mind and I shivered.

“Anyway, this supplier I know of lives near one of the farms in the outskirts of town. I can take the two of you there.”

“Oh, no need, we don't want to bother you too much,” Mom replied quickly. “Directions would be enough help.”

“It's alright, I have the rest of the day off anyway, and I'd like to know more about Ralf's friend,” Thelma said while smiling at me.

“Thank you very much for your help, Miss Thelma,” Mom said gratefully.

“Just Thelma is fine,” she replied with a kind smile.

“Then you can also call me Helen.”

With the pleasantries done, we bade farewell to Hayes and followed Thelma's lead.

●●●

The fabric supplier that Thelma led us to was located in the outskirts of town in the same area where our house was. Good thing it's close. Resupplying would be easier.

We stood before a large warehouse with men carrying heavy sacks to and from the building. According to Thelma, this place was the supplier for most fabric shops in Erfeld as well as the nearby villages. I could see why when I looked past the building to the fields beyond.

Several acres of land were filled with hemp, flax, and cotton plants with people tending to it. With the size of the farm, I could see how it could supply several towns' worth of fabric.

When I tried expanding my senses, I was flooded with information about tons of fabric just sitting in the warehouse. I could even sense the fibers being spun on what I assumed to be spindles, and even the fibers inside the plants on the farm. Wait, I thought I couldn't use my power on plants?

I tried moving some of the fibers inside the plants, and although it was hard, I managed to do it. Maybe it was possible because of the years of training I did. I have to study my Authority some more.

“This is the supplier I've been talking about,” Thelma said as she led us to the entrance. “They sell decent-quality fabrics for low prices, so this would be the perfect place for supplying your future store, Helen.”

“Wow, I've never seen so many fabrics in one place,” Mom said as she saw a large crate filled to the brim with hemp. “Thank you so much for guiding us here, Thelma.”

“It's no problem, I enjoyed the trip anyway,” Thelma answered with a chuckle.

The time it took to get here was enough time for both Mom and Thelma to become good friends. I was impressed with Mom's talent for social interactions, although I strongly feel that the embarrassing stories they told each other about their own sons were the catalyst to their friendship. I didn't know Ralf adored flowers. I mean, there's nothing wrong with that, but I just can't imagine the grim-faced Ralf sniffing pretty flowers in the morning.

“If you ever need to buy flowers, don't hesitate to come by our shop!” said Thelma as she walked away.

Mom and I waved her goodbye until Thelma was out of sight, then we knocked on one of the doors at the side of the warehouse. A balding man answered the door with a bored expression on his face. He was wearing a thick shirt made of cotton and pants made of hemp. The small tear by his collar was bothering me, but I stamped down my urges caused by my Authority.

“Yes, how may I help you?”

“Good day sir, we were informed that we can buy fabrics in bulk from this place?” Mom asked.

“That's right, ma'am, and our prices are the most affordable in the area,” the man answered with a bored tone. “I assume you want to buy some? Then please, come in and we can negotiate inside.”

The man invited us to his office where he and Mom negotiated prices for one batch of hemp fabric. We weren't exactly the richest, and Mom only had a few silvers she earned from Mother Betha's allowances as a helper in the chapel, so she opted to buy the cheapest fabric available.

When I asked Mom about the system of currency here, she told me that the money being circulated were coins of copper, silver, gold, and platinum. The value of each coin was as follows:

25 copper coins = 1 silver coin 50 silver coins = 1 gold coin 100 gold coins = 1 platinum coin

Mom said that the values fluctuated in other countries, but only by a small margin.

After haggling with the prices, Mom paid the man for one small crate of hemp fabric that cost two silvers, a veritable fortune for us. I had no idea whether this was cheap or expensive for hemp, but I'll assume it was cheap since the product was made locally, so there were no transportation expenses that would increase its price. Plus, hemp was the cheapest fabric available. I'm gonna have to make sure this business venture is successful to earn back our losses.

The man sent one of his men to deliver the heavy crate to our house since Mom can't really lift it by herself. It would be possible if I helped her with my Authority and manipulate the fabric inside, but obviously it was a stupid idea. There was no sense in risking the discovery of my power for something like this.

And so, we got back to our house with one crate full of hemp and two silvers poorer. I hope this is gonna be worth it.

●●●

“Ow!”

“Be careful sweetie, those needles are sharp.”

“They're surprisingly too sharp for needles made of wood.”

Mom and I were seated by the table where she always sewed in her free time. She was teaching me the basics like how to thread the needle and how to properly use it such that I didn't poke myself with the pointed end.

“When you pull the needle to do a stitch, make sure the needle is always pointed away from you,” Mom lectured beside me as I did my best to practice the basic types of stitches. It was already the fourth time that Mom told me to keep the point of the needle away from me, but I always forgot to keep doing it after a few minutes. As a result, I had several needle wounds on my body and some on my face. Good thing I didn't poke my eye.

The cloth in front of me was already filled with all kinds of stitches as I practiced the basic types. So far, I already had a decent mastery over running stitches since it was one of the easiest to do.

“There, I'm finished.”

I wasn't simply doing stitches randomly on the cloth. I was trying to stitch an outline of Tedd using colored threads, but the end result looked less like a teddy bear and more like a demented dog. I looked over to Mom's work, which was an outline of us holding hands. There were even small details that gave her work a cute appearance. Comparing her with mine is like comparing the difference between night and day.

“It's alright sweetie, you'll eventually get used to it,” Mom said as my face took on a dejected look.

I initially thought that I would be able to easily master the basic stitches within a day, but it looked like rushing it was counterproductive. The more I practiced without stopping, the more my focus dwindled, which resulted in more needle stabs.

I even tried to use my Authority to try and do the stitches. I was confident that I could do the stitches more easily if I used my power since I had very fine control of it. Years of unwinding weaves in fabrics using my Authority resulted in my perfect control. I was even sure that I was more dexterous with my Authority than with my own fingers.

Using my Authority turned out to be fruitful for the first few seconds. What I did was to harden and force the end of a piece of thread through the fabric and make stitches. I was able to do stitches rapidly and I was even sure that with enough training, I could become even faster than sewing machines.

Unfortunately, I couldn't manipulate the needles themselves. Piercing a fabric without a needle and using only the end of a thread required a large amount of mana. A single thread could only exert very little force if I used my Authority the usual way, so I had to use more mana to make the thread exert the minimum amount of force needed to pierce the tough hemp fabric. If I was controlling a larger ball of thread, then it would have been easier to make it exert a larger force using the same amount of mana since more mass meant more force.

When I used my Authority to do the stitches, I immediately ran out of mana in minutes. If I wanted to use my Authority to make stitches, I would have to train and expand my mana pool further until I could use my power for longer periods. If several years of training meant that I could use my power to make stitches only a few minutes, then how long should I train to even make my power work for longer periods?

On the other hand, trying to manipulate the thread while it was attached to a needle was useless as well since I couldn't control the needle itself.

As a result of my findings, I was forced to learn sewing using the normal way: with my hands. For the past few days, Mom had been teaching me how to sew and my skill with the needle improved greatly, but the fact that I still couldn't use my power to do it made my mood plummet. At this rate, the idea of opening up a store and supplying it with only Mom and me doing the work is not feasible.

“Come on sweetie, let's take a break for a moment and eat some meat buns. Linny sent them earlier this morning while you were practicing,” Mom said, trying to cheer me up.

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“Okay. I'm tired of stabbing myself with the needle anyway,” I muttered. Mom just chuckled at me and ruffled my hair.

●●●

Maly and I were sitting on the stairs at the back of the chapel where we watched our other friends help Mom with the garden work.

She was wearing a black day dress with white polka dots, and her hair was tied into twin tails with white ribbons that contrasted her dark red hair. The dress was made of good quality linen and gave her a cute appearance. Pretty nice.

We just finished this week's Sunday School session and I managed to learn more about this world. For instance, the name of this world was Thera, and there were five major continents. Mother Betha described each of them briefly.

Gigas was the biggest and most populated continent, inhabited mostly by humans. According to Mother Betha, this continent was the 'most peaceful,' although that was relative to other continents. My mind wasn't really paying attention during the discussion so I forgot the names of the other continents, but I did remember their general description.

There was one continent that was completely covered in jungles and was mainly inhabited by beast-people who lived in tribes. Another continent was inhabited by the Orthodox Churches and their followers. The next was not actually a continent, but rather a massive archipelago whose territory rivaled that of the other continents. Lastly, and the most notable one, was a continent shrouded in darkness where its people were constantly fighting against some invaders from another dimension.

I would have been gawping in wonder at the information I just learned, but my continuous failure in using my Authority for my business venture was bothering me greatly. I even brought my little sewing kit to practice sewing with my hands, then apply what I learned later using my Authority. Am I being too desperate?

“What's with the sad face, Brogen?” Maly asked beside me. She was fiddling with my sewing kit while crying out in pain now and then when she stabbed herself with a needle.

“My progress in improving my skill in sewing is too slow,” I answered. It was a lie since my progress was actually pretty decent, but I can't just tell Maly that I was sad because I can't use my power to be an overpowered clothes merchant that could churn out dozens of dresses in a short time.

“Why are you rushing anyway? It's not like you could immediately become good at something right after you just started doing it,” Maly said as she examined one of the wooden needles.

“I already started more than two weeks ago, Maly. I still don't have anything to show for it.” Although I've already mastered the many types of stitches due to constant practice, making the real thing is still beyond me. My measurements are always wrong and my attempts at making shirts ended up looking more like a bunch of rags sewn together randomly.

“If you started just two weeks ago, then that means you did just recently start. You're still a beginner.”

“Well, maybe you're right. But that doesn't change the fact that I still suck.”

“I just realized that you're pretty impatient, huh?” Maly said while looking at me. “You're just ten years old, Brogen. You still have plenty of time to be a master at sewing.”

“Y-Yeah, you're right. I'm just ten years old. Although I sometimes wished that I was older.”

I enjoyed being a kid since I didn't have any responsibility besides helping Mom in whatever she did. But sometimes, I resented the fact that my choices were limited because of my age. For instance, I wanted to get a job so Mom could just relax at home and pursue her hobbies, but the minimum age that people considered as the ‘legal working age’ was fourteen.

That was why I found the idea of starting up a business as killing three birds with one stone. Mom wouldn't have to work so much, we would be earning more money more easily, and I would be able to satisfy this weird urge of mine to replace all the atrocious clothes I see with fashionable and decent-looking garments. I can't believe my Authority is turning me into a fashionista.

“Personally, I wish I could stay as a kid forever,” Maly said with a solemn look. “Being an adult sucks.”

I looked at Maly beside me and remembered that she was already fourteen years old. People still considered fourteen years old as young, but they also viewed it as old enough to be responsible about their choices. I don't know everything about Maly's family situation, but I remembered that she wanted to be a merchant just like her father. I even saw her attending to their stall in the town square sometimes. Maybe dealing with many different people, some probably rude and arrogant, finally exposed Maly to the real world. That would explain her more mature temperament these days.

Maly perked up and put on a cheerful smile, the previous solemn air gone. “So you gotta enjoy your time as a kid, Brogen. You never know when it'll end!”

“Yeah, you're right. I can't believe you're the one giving sound advice this time.”

“What's wrong with me giving advice?!” Maly exclaimed with an indignant look on her face.

“Nothing, I was just used to seeing you as a cute kid spewing stupid stuff or whatever.”

“I never ‘spew’ stupid stuff! I just— wait, did you just call me c-cute?” Maly asked while she fidgeted in her seat, her cheeks blushing a bit.

What the hell is up with that shy and embarrassed look?! Maly's reaction was also causing me to get embarrassed and making the situation awkward. I never meant my statement to be taken that way! Plus, I'm ten and she's fourteen! There's no way she took my words as flirtatious… right?

“Y-Yeah, but I just meant it as, um, you know. A friendly compliment.”

“O-Oh, is that so?” Maly answered. “I-Is this how you ‘thread a needle’?”

Maly's attempt at changing the topic was as subtle as a brick through a window, but I welcomed it wholeheartedly.

“No, what gave you that idea anyway?” I chuckled at Maly's attempt to ‘thread the needle.’

“It's my first time! You don't need to mock me!” Maly exclaimed in a huff.

I looked at what Maly did and laughed hard. Instead of inserting the thread through the eye, Maly looped it around the needle's body.

“You can't sew with that!” I said while laughing. “Unless you can make the thread stick, it would just slip off when the needle passes through the cloth.”

After a few more seconds of laughing, my mind suddenly froze as an idea formed. What if I did have a way to make the thread stick to the needle? What if a person has a certain power that controlled cloth and threads? If the thread was stuck to the needle while it was wrapped around it, then one could possibly sew using Maly's way of ‘threading the needle.’ Eureka.

“Maly, you're a genius!” I exclaimed while hugging my friend.

“W-Wait, what are you doing?!” Maly said in a fluster. She was previously sulking because of me laughing at her efforts but was now bewildered.

Mom and my other friends were starting to look our way, so before I could further attract attention, I took my sewing kit, patted Maly on the head as thanks, and rushed to Sister Lina's room to test out Maly's idea.

●●●

“Hehehe… Hahaha… MUAHAHAHA — cough”

After failing my evil laugh, I beheld the fabrics in front of me. All of them had various shapes stitched on them. One displayed Tedd with his cute button eyes, while another held an outline of our house. There were several other fabrics embroidered with shapes and designs on them. Although the aesthetics needed more improvement, the quality of the stitches themselves was flawless. I turned to face the plushies displayed on Sister Lina's desk. Tremble before me, for it is I, the Human Sewing Machine!

The execution of Maly's idea was perfect. The ten mini-tapestries before me were done in thirty minutes using my power. Compared to the full hour I needed to finish one by hand, the efficiency was extraordinary. Finally, my plan to open a clothing store is now reachable!

The initial trials were a bit wonky, but as I acclimated to the sensation of manipulating a needle by looping thread around it and making it rigid, my speed in making stitches using my power increased. I was still nowhere near the speed of a modern sewing machine, but it was only a matter of time and effort. Each of the mini-tapestry measured one foot on each side and I only needed three minutes to finish each.

I was so ecstatic that I started dancing, although it was more apt to call it wiggling randomly. I controlled the threads and fabrics around me and moved them in time with my dance. Oh yeah! I can't wait to start mass-producing clothes and making mad bank! I need to learn how to make proper clothes ASAP.

I was so distracted that I lost control over the suppression of my fabric sense. I always suppressed it in public places so it wouldn't overwhelm me with useless information, but the short lapse in my control was a godsend. I sensed a nun's habit just outside the door, positioned to open it. In less than a second, all the floating spools of thread and fabric around me fell to the ground, just in time as Sister Lina entered her room.

“Brogen! What— wait what's up with all these fabrics lying around my room? Oh! Is this you and Helen?” Sister Lina picked up one of the mini-tapestries with the figure of me and Mom stitched on it. “It's so cute! Can I keep it?”

“U-Uh, sure Sis. I was just using it as practice, anyway.” My heart was beating so fast it felt like it would explode in my chest. Holy shit, that was too close for comfort. If I was late by even one second, Sister Lina would've learned my secret. I've been too careless.

My life here in Erfeld had been peaceful, which I realized made me take everything too easy. Remember, Brogen. One mistake is all it takes for my life and Mom's to go downhill, and there will be no second chances.

“Thanks, Brogen! By the way, what are you doing here when your friends are all in the garden?” the nun asked, then her face suddenly shifted to a conspirational look. “Oh, are you trying to avoid them? Did you guys have some fight or something? Come on, spill! I won't tell anybody!”

“Woah, just calm down for a minute.” Sister Lina was pushing her face so close I could see my own face reflected in her eyes. “There was no fight. I just uh, had a good idea for a mini-tapestry, so I went to your room to have some peace and make it.” I pointed to the fabric that she was holding in her hand.

“Mini-tapestry? Oh you mean this one? Well, isn't that so cute!” Sister Lina ruffled my head and took my hand. “Sewing is good an' all, but it's time to eat. Helen and your friends are already waiting for you downstairs.”

“Okay, let me just clean up my mess first.”

“Do it later. I'm hungry and Mother Betha said I couldn't go down unless I brought you with me,” the gluttonous nun said without shame.

●●●

“So, what got your spirits so high?” Mom asked me as we made our way back home. My other friends also asked me the same question earlier while we were eating and I told them that Maly gave me a nice idea for a design, and they just went along with it without any doubts. Maly even looked smug. I feel a bit guilty for lying to them, but there's nothing else I can do.

I just realized that showing off my ecstatic reaction earlier in public was risky, especially if it was related to my Authority. The next time a situation like that happened again, I'll have to make sure to school my expression.

“I finally got a solution to my ‘problem,’” I told Mom vaguely, and she immediately got the meaning. “Thanks to Maly's, uh, ‘unique’ way of thinking, she gave me a brilliant idea to circumvent my issue.”

“That's wonderful to hear!” Mom exclaimed. “I know you can't tell Maly about your secret, but make sure to repay her in some way or another, okay?”

“Alright, I wouldn't have thought of the solution without Maly anyway, so I'll make sure to remember this debt.”

“Good,” Mom said as she patted my head.

As we walked through the streets, I kept my fabric sense activated to about a quarter of its range. It was late in the afternoon and a lot of people were walking through the streets, probably making their way home after work.

I already learned my lesson earlier, and I was not going to take risks just because my fabric sense caused me discomfort. Maybe my fabric sense was causing me headaches in the first place because I wasn't using it that much. Well, looks like I have another aspect of my Authority to train.

Unfortunately, even though I could detect people everywhere around me, it didn't give me any information whether they had ill intentions toward us. The only thing I could use my fabric sense for was to know if somebody was following us or how much their clothing was worth. The better their clothes' quality, the more likely that they had more money.

Another thing I could glean from people's clothing was their personality: if it was too gaudy and attention-grabbing, they likely wanted to show off, while if it focused on practicality instead of aesthetics, then the person wearing it was probably pragmatic. I guess it's true that a person's attire tells a lot about them.

Since I was training my fabric sense anyway, I decided to make it more enjoyable by trying to assess people's tastes in their clothing. Wow, that ruffian likes hearts on his underwear, huh? Wait, that dude over there's not wearing any underwear at all!

My fabric sense even allowed me to know the color of clothes without having to look at them directly, so I could tell their design even if I wasn't facing the person I was assessing.

I spent the rest of the walk judging other people for their tastes in clothing while Mom held my hand.

●●●

“Wow, you're growing up so fast, sweetie,” Mom said. My arms were raised as Mom took my measurements with a measuring tape.

After many days of continuous practice, I was about to make my very first shirt. It's probably going to end up a failure, but I always welcomed mistakes since I could learn a lot from them.

“Not really. I bet Terric and Ralf were way taller when they were my age,” I muttered. Compared to other boys my age, my height was on the smaller side. I was a bit conscious of it since I was used to the feeling of towering over other people in my previous life. Come to think of it, my growth spike back then only happened when I reached the age of twelve, but before that, I was just a little squirt.

“There, that should be the last of your measurements,” Mom said as she stood up.

“Thanks, Mom. Now I can get started on my shirt!”

“Be careful with the needles, okay? If I see you stab yourself with a needle, I'm gonna make you practice with basic stitches again,” Mom warned me.

“Don't worry, I'll be using my Authority so I won't be personally handling the needles.”

“Alright then, I'll be watching you work,” Mom said as she sat down on the couch.

I felt more pressure with Mom watching me, but I pushed it aside and manipulated the spools of thread around me. Strands of thread floated in the air as I used my fine control to shape them into thin tentacles and used them as ‘extra hands,’ picking up the materials I would need without having to personally get them myself. Ever since I found out I could do this to pick far-away objects without having to stand up, I started using it every day. For training, of course. Not because I'm lazy.

Using my thread-tentacles, — I guess I'll call them ‘threadtacles’ for short — I grabbed a piece of paper larger than my torso and a quill. After dipping the quill in ink, I started drawing an outline of the simple shirt that I was going to create while making sure the measurements were right. I used one of my existing shirts as a guide to draw an outline for the main body of the shirt and two more separate outlines for the short sleeves.

I sent out another threadtacle to grab a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut the outline. Handling a pair of scissors using a threadtacle required a lot of precise control, but I was already used to it after days of practice. Unweaving a cloth was several times harder.

With my outlines ready, I laid them on top of a large brown hemp fabric and used them as a guide to cut out the shape of the shirt I wanted. I made two copies for the main body of the shirt and two as well for each sleeve, so all in all, I had six pieces of cutouts. Alright, time for the hard part.

The next step was to sew the two cutouts for the torso together. Mom said that the strongest type of stitch was the backstitch, so I decided to use it for the entire process. Using my threadtacles, I laid one of the torso cutouts on top of the other cutout and started sewing the shoulder parts together using my thread-manipulated needles.

My needles moved smoothly through the fabric without any wasted movement, a product of hours and hours of training. Compared to the jerky movements of my thread-manipulated needles several days earlier, my control now was flawless. Wow, I didn't think it would be this easy.

I initially thought that sewing the shirt together would be more challenging, but weirdly enough, it was easy. Too easy.

With my initial success hyping me up, I proceeded to attach the sleeves to the shirt with the same backstitch. The same thing happened: my needles flowed smoothly and made perfect stitches along the seams.

As I continued my work, I suddenly felt something stir inside me, like a weird subconscious. It was telling me how to make each stitch stronger and more beautiful, how to make the seams have a better fit, and how to make my shirt look better overall. It was guiding my Authority. Wait, that wasn't it. It wasn't guiding my Authority, it was my Authority.

Like a master tailor, I stitched the separate parts of the shirt together just like how a dissectologist pieces together a complex jigsaw puzzle or how a conductor guides the orchestra to make a glorious symphony.

I was feeling instincts that I never had before. It was telling me to control the movement of the needle and make it consistent, to keep the shirt still as to not disturb the linearity of the stitches, to fold the seams before sewing them together. All of these, I felt it instinctually, as if I had been sewing my entire life. I was in a trance as I worked, and the best part was that it felt good.

As I deftly manipulated my appendages made of thread, I hummed to myself. It was a tune I liked back on Earth. I shut out the world around me as I sewed and I sewed and I sewed and I sewed and I sewed and I sewed to my heart's content. Aaahhh, this is glorious. This is my purpose, my calling. This is what I wanted for so long, what I have been deprived of in my previous life. I had no control over my previous life, no control over what happened around me, and no control over whether those I love get to live or die. But today, I control the threads that man has created to conceal the sorry excuse of a vessel they call a body. Tomorrow, I shall control the threads that dictate the dance of men. And when my time comes, I shall control the Threads that control Fate Itself.

“Sweetie?” a worried voice called out.

It shook me from my reverie and as I became aware of my surroundings once more, I realized that my shirt was finally finished. My gaze roamed over the hemp garment. The material was unsatisfactory, but the stitches were flawless, beautiful, perfect. It was worthy to be called the hemp shirt of all hemp shirts. It was—

My eyes saw something. Something that went against my very being, something that wasn't supposed to be there. By the collar of the shirt was a stray strand of thread peeking out. Cutting the excess thread would fix things, but it would not fix the fact that the garment I created was not perfect anymore. The length of the thread I used for the entire work should have been enough to finish the shirt without any excess thread poking out.

My hands balled into fists as my jaw clenched. Unacceptable. Such an imperfect thing does not deserve to exist.

I summoned my thread appendages and sharpened their ends to a sharp point. Doing what should be done, I sent all ten appendages speeding towards the failure. The sharpened ends pierced it along with the wooden floor beneath it, making a loud booming noise as the wooden floor shook and dust flew. I did not stop. I lifted the failure with an appendage and proceeded to rip it to pieces.

When it was finally purged, I felt something on my body. I looked down and noticed my clothes. My dirty, torn, ragged clothes. You dare!

I shrieked in disgust as I ripped the vile fabric from my body with my hands. In just a few seconds, I was naked while a pile of ripped filth lay on the floor. I would rather be naked than be covered by these disgusting shits.

“S-Sweetie, what are you doing?”

I heard the same voice again, albeit with a tremble.

I looked up and saw Mother. Like my state earlier, she was covered in disgusting filth. Those disgusting pieces of shit think they deserve their places on my Mother's skin?

My eyes glinted as Mother took a step back.

●●●

Helen looked at her son with fear. It was an emotion that Helen never expected she would feel towards her own son. Brogen was standing before her, naked, as tentacles of thread swayed back and forth behind him. Despite their colors being varied beforehand, the threads that Brogen controlled turned black.

Helen took an involuntary step back to try and get away from her son, but that was all she could manage before her body froze in pure terror. She tried to get her voice to come out of her mouth, but all she managed was a bare whisper.

“S-Stay away from me…”

Helen was angry at herself for fearing her own child like this, but seeing Brogen rip away his clothes had triggered memories best forgotten. The way he ripped his clothes off his body had a primal violence to it, familiar violence that she had witnessed all those years ago.

Helen trembled as Brogen walked towards her slowly. She tried to make her legs move, but they were paralyzed in place. As Brogen got closer, Helen's worst nightmare finally reared its ugly head. Memories flooded her mind.

The guards brought the scullery maid to the Baronet's room. She was screaming and shouting for help, but nobody heard her. Inside, the Baronet was waiting. Without preamble, he ripped away his expensive clothes, revealing his naked, obese body and walked slowly towards the lowly scullery maid as she trembled. He had a lustful look on his face.

Brogen put his hands on Helen's clothes and started ripping them off her body. At Brogen's touch, Helen finally got out of her paralysis and started struggling to get away.

“No! No! Stay away from me!”

Brogen did not listen and restrained Helen's arms and legs with threads. Helen struggled to break free, expecting the thin threads that bound her to snap easily, but the threads that her son manipulated were hard as steel. Hundreds of strands of thread bound her limbs and prevented her from moving. With her limbs restrained, Brogen ripped Helen's clothes violently, exposing his mother's supple breasts and her smooth, pale skin.

“No! Stop!”

The boy did not pay a single glance towards her body but instead focused on the pile of torn clothes on the floor. Then he started stomping on them aggressively.

The Baronet clutched the scullery maid's uniform and ripped it off with so much force that the girl stumbled to the floor. Without waiting for her to get up, he pushed her to the bed and pinned her arms with strong hands. The maid tried to fight back, but the Baronet was too strong. He straddled the maid, his body pressing down on hers and making it difficult for her to breathe. Then the Baronet defiled the young maiden.

Helen was now fully naked with her clothes lying in tattered pieces on the floor. Her body was exposed to the frigid winter air, causing her nipples to harden. Her tears were streaming down her face, her choked sobs pleading.

“Please… stop…. get away…”

The Baronet moved back and forth as he violated the young maiden. She screamed and pleaded and begged for him to stop, but her pleas only further aroused the vile man. It went on for hours until finally, the guards collected the broken woman, brought her to a deserted alley, and dumped her there, naked. With mocking laughter, they left her torn uniform beside her and called her a whore before walking away.

Helen's struggles ceased. She remained still as the threads kept her suspended in the air. She tried to shout for help earlier, but for some reason, her voice refused to emerge. What came out of her lips were soft sobs.

Brogen remained standing in front of her, panting as he finally stopped stomping on the tattered remnants of his mother's clothes. “You deserve better apparel than that, Mother. What were you thinking?”

He looked up fiercely at his mother and finally saw Helen's state. Her eyes looked dead, defeated, as tears continued to slide down her soft cheeks marred red by the cold. Her chest jerked erratically as she sobbed, and she was whispering something.

“Get… away from… me… monster… ”

Brogen heard her words and his mind froze. His Authority, which had been activated ever since he started his work on his first shirt, finally stopped.

Helen fell to the ground with a loud thump as the threads holding her up in the air fell to the ground lifelessly, their color returning to their original state. Brogen stared at his mother, unable to move. He had remembered everything that happened clearly. He remembered everything that he did. Brogen broke down crying beside his mother as he hugged her body to his chest.

“Oh my god, I did not mean to do this! Oh my god! Oh my god, I'm sorry! Mom, please talk to me!”

Brogen tried to apologize, but the only thing that Helen did was push him away weakly and continue whispering while her eyes stared into empty space.

“Monster… monster…”

Brogen felt as if the world came to a stop around him. Monster. I'm a monster.

Tears flowed down his cheeks as he heard his very own mother denounce him as a monster. Every time she said the word ‘monster,’ Brogen felt something inside him shatter piece by piece. What have I done?

Brogen looked around him. Pieces of fabric were scattered everywhere, ten small holes dotted the floor from where he struck his own shirt earlier and torn threads of various colors were strewn about him. Tedd and Cuddles, who he had propped up on the couch earlier so they could witness his first creation, were knocked to the side. Their lifeless eyes held no emotion, but Brogen felt as if they were looking at him with contempt, as if they were cursing him for ruining the second chance he had at life. That's what I did, wasn't it?

In the end, he lost his mother a second time. Although she did not die, denouncing her own son as a monster was as good as disowning him.

Brogen stood up with trembling legs and slowly walked over to the cabinet where Helen kept her cooking utensils. He retrieved the sharpest knife he saw, closed his eyes, and pressed it against the side of his neck. There is no sense in continuing to live this life. Mom despises me now while Mother Betha and the nuns will do the same once they learned of what happened. There's nothing left for me here. My life is ruined again, but this time, it's my fault.

Despite his thoughts, the knife on his neck did not move. It was pressed hard enough to draw blood, but it did not move to slit his neck. His grip on its handle was tight and the blade was trembling. Just like in his previous life, Brogen faced another crossroad. To live and face the dire consequences of his actions, or to die and forget everything that ever happened, the good and the bad.

Brogen decided that the latter option was better, but before he could move his hand, he heard a whisper. A motherly voice, like Helen's, but when he opened his eyes and glanced at his mother lying on the floor, she was still whispering ‘monster’ again and again.

Then he heard it again. The voice was not the voice of his mother, but someone else's. He did not understand what it said, but his previous thoughts suddenly changed. The two choices in his mind morphed entirely into something else. To live and help his mother who had done nothing but love and care for him for the entirety of his second life, or to die and abandon her, knowing that she would never forgive herself for letting her own son die before her.

Brogen stared at his mother, still whispering the same words over and over again as her tears continued to flow down her face. He always saw Helen as a strong and capable woman willing to do anything for her son. But now, she was but a husk of her former self because of him, and here he was trying to leave her behind, just like he did to Christine. Will Mom ever forgive me for this? Will she still love me as her own son?

Brogen wanted to know the answers right now, but he would never know if he chose to die.

Brogen dropped the knife.

●●●

The young maid was sitting on her couch in the small wooden house she called her home. Her parents had died long ago, making her the only person living in the house. She stared at the knife that lay on her lap.

A week had already passed since that accursed night, but the young woman could still feel the monster's touch on her skin. She could still feel the pain in her arms from where the monster gripped her to pin her down. She could vividly remember the oppressing pressure when the monster pressed his body against her.

“Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster.”

The young woman kept whispering to herself. Her voice was already rough from her constant whispering. Her body had withered to a thin frame. She had not eaten for days. Her job as a scullery maid paid enough to keep her fed, but without a job, she had nothing to buy food with.

“Monster. Monster. Monster.”

She kept whispering to herself as she fell into her usual trance, until her eyes finally fell on the knife that lay before her, then her eyes filled with desperate hope.

“I could escape him with this. I could escape. I could run from the monster!”

She grabbed the knife and was about to slit her arm when she felt nauseous. She stood up from the couch and threw up. When she thought she had finally recovered, she threw up again.

As she sat down on the couch again, she finally realized her predicament. She placed her thin hand on her emaciated belly.

“There's life inside me…”

The woman knew it instinctively. She wept. The life inside her was not even formed yet, but she knew it would die with her if she killed herself. She found herself at a crossroads. To live and take care of her own child despite having nothing to her name except for the wooden shack she called her home, or to die and find the peace she searched for ever since her parents died?

Before the young maiden could make her decision, there was a knock on the door. She opened it hesitantly and took a peek. Outside was an old priestess and two nuns that stood behind her. The old woman gave her a motherly smile.

“Good evening, child. Would you be interested in working for the Holy Mother? I assure you, food and shelter will be provided for.”

The old woman's smile was kind and genuine, a rare thing.

The young maiden stared at them. Then opened the door to invite them in.

●●●

Helen slowly opened her eyes and was greeted with a familiar ceiling. It was the ceiling of the room she used to stay in when she lived in the chapel. She looked around groggily, her eyes feeling dry and swollen after crying so much. She spotted a glass of water on a table beside her bed. She greedily gulped it down to soothe her sore throat.

Then she laid back down on her bed. Memories of last night resurfaced and she shivered. She wanted to know if her son was alright. His behavior was unnatural, as if something had possessed him. She wanted to know what happened after she passed out. She could simply stand up and find Mother Betha to ask what happened. She was not injured in any way last night, so she could easily go and talk to the pastor or any of the two nuns. But she did not.

Despite being concerned for Brogen, a large part of her feared him. She was sure that if she saw him right now, she would fall back into a panic attack. Helen hated herself for feeling that way about her own son. She knew her son would never do something so vile to her. Brogen did not so much as glance at her naked body last night, directing his violence at her clothes instead. But some part of her still felt fear. A part of her who remembered the past. Her trauma.

Helen's reverie was interrupted when Mother Betha entered the room. The old woman had a tired look on her face as she sat down on the chair beside Helen's bed and held the young woman's hand. Both women were silent for a while. Mother Betha broke the silence first.

“How are you feeling, child?”

Helen hesitated for a bit, then answered. “I'm… I'm feeling fine now, Mother.”

“Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes…”

“There's nothing wrong if you still need more time to be alone, Helen.”

“I-I'm fine,” Helen said with a forced smile.

Mother Betha stared at Helen for a few seconds. “Brogen is here in the chapel.”

Helen's smile suddenly morphed into a frightened look and her grip on the pastor's hand tightened.

Mother Betha saw Helen's expression but acted as if nothing happened. “Should I call him here?”

“No!” Helen shouted instantly. She did not even think, her mouth involuntarily voicing her real thoughts. Helen sobbed in self-hatred as her body shook. “N-No, I don't want to see him. I-I'm afraid. Am I wrong for fearing him, Mother? A-Am I unfit to be Brogen's mother? A-Am I too dirty and unpure to be a mother for an innocent child like Brogen?”

Mother Betha looked at Helen with pity and caressed the young woman's head. “No, child. Do not ever blame yourself for feeling that way. I do not know what kind of trauma you experienced a long time ago, but know that it was never your fault. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.”

Helen sobbed as the old woman hugged her. Mother Betha stayed with her until Helen cried herself to sleep, then left the room.

●●●

I was sitting on the front pew in the chapel's nave, staring at the Holy Mother's statue. Its smooth white stone was illuminated by dozens of candles propped by its feet as it loomed over the entire room, a guardian who watched over Her followers. The statue's eyes were etched with so much care and detail that it felt lifelike. It felt as if it was watching me with gentle eyes.

“If You're real and You really are watching over all Your followers, then please watch over Mom.”

My voice was hoarse from crying. I was so tired it felt like I could collapse at any second.

“You probably already know what happened. There are no excuses for what I have done.”

My eyelids felt heavy. My head was aching from expending so much mana in a short period.

“I thought I was finally blessed with a power that would make up for my past suffering.”

My hands clenched so hard I felt my nails break my skin. My hands were sticky with blood.

“Turns out it was a curse. A fucking curse that hurt Mom. I don't deserve to be her son. She's too good for a fucking depressed bastard like me. All these years spent playing around with my power, thinking it would make me special. All it did was make me a monster.”

I stood up and faced the statue's eyes that seemed to be watching me.

“So I hope You will watch over her. Mom is the kindest person I have ever known in this life, and she deserves more.”

“One is not supposed to curse while praying to the Holy Mother, boy.”

I quickly closed my eyes and faced to my left where Mother Betha's voice came from. I did not want a repeat of the earlier events. I heard her slow footsteps approach, but before she could get any closer, I stepped back. “Don't come anywhere near me, it's dangerous.”

My voice trembled as I spoke, the memory of what happened earlier still vivid in my mind. I already hurt Mom, I didn't want to hurt Mother Betha too. That was why I chased Sister Lina and Sister Tillie away earlier after they brought Mom from our house. Kind-hearted people like them don't deserve to be hurt by a monster like me.

The sound of Mother Betha's steps stopped. I could hear the rustle of fabric and the creaking of wood as she sat down on one of the pews.

“How are you holding up, Brogen?” Mother Betha asked with a tired voice.

“Don't mind me. How's Mom?”

Mother Betha paused for a second before answering. “She'll be fine after a few days of rest.”

“Good. I'll be going back to our house now. Please take care of her.”

“Won't you at least talk to her?”

I stopped in place, hesitating. I wanted to talk to Mom. I wanted to tell her I was sorry, that I didn't mean to do what I did, that I hoped that she will still call me her son. But I feared her reaction. Just like how I feared Christine's reaction when I thought I reincarnated back on Earth, I did not want to know what Mom thought of me now.

“I don't think Mom would want to see me anymore…” I answered with a slight tremble in my voice. “I don't know why Mom reacted so badly, but it doesn't deny the fact that it was my fault.”

I heard Mother Betha stand up and approach me again. I panicked and tried to step away quickly, but my foot got caught in one of the pew's legs and fell on my butt.

“Please, stay away! M-My power is making me do things!”

Mother Betha ignored my pleas and kneeled beside me. I tried to crawl away but her firm grip on my shoulders kept me in place. I tried to break free with my eyes still closed, but I was shocked when Mother Betha's grip remained strong. I was just a ten-year-old kid, but I was confident that I was strong enough to overpower an old woman's arms. But Mother Betha's hands did not even budge.

“Shhh, everything will be alright, child. You won't hurt me. Now, look at me child. Look at me.”

“No…”

“It's going to be alright, trust me.”

I slowly opened my eyelids, preparing to close them the moment I felt a foreign instinct invade my mind. But nothing of the sort happened. I looked up and saw Mother Betha's kind face as she smiled at me.

The old pastor caressed my head gently, just like how Mom did when I was feeling down. I've already cried so much during the past hour that it felt like I was already out of tears, but water still flowed down my cheeks and snot dripped down from my nose.

“I-I don't want my power anymore! If all it's good for is to hurt Mom, then I don't want it! Mother, please take it away! Please!”

I bawled in Mother Betha's arms, but she didn't mind as she rocked me back and forth. A man who had lived for thirty-six years was crying his heart out inside the arms of a kind old woman who whispered comforting words to him. But I reminded myself that I was crying in regret for hurting my own mother, and I was not ashamed of it.

Mother Betha stayed with me until I cried myself to sleep.