Lucius, the librarian, had a special sensitivity. He could sense when someone unauthorized tried to take something from the vast collection he guarded: books, scrolls, or any of the artifacts that lay deep within the library. His duty was simple: prevent anyone without permission from accessing what they shouldn't. But today, he faced an unexpected problem.

"How did you get here?" he murmured, irritated, as he firmly held the wrist of the boy he had caught in the act.

"Answer me, don’t play dumb with me, boy!" Lucius growled, pulling Myrddin away from the book he had attempted to take.

Myrddin, offering no resistance, fixed his gaze on Lucius's horns. They were twisted and dark, with a rough texture that resembled the bark of an ancient tree.

'Do demons exist?' Myrddin thought, astonished. If magic was real, then demons could be real too. Did that mean all the creatures of tales and legends could exist in this world? His curiosity plunged him into such deep reflection that he completely ignored Lucius's presence.

A few seconds passed, then half a minute, and finally a full minute, with Lucius still holding him, as the irritation on his face grew. The silence in the library, broken only by the slight creaking of the wood beneath their feet, became unbearable.

‘Is this child sane?’ Lucius wondered, frowning more and more. His intentions were no more than to give the boy a light punishment for touching what he shouldn't, but at least he expected to hear an excuse. However, he remained silent, with a gleam of curiosity in his eyes.

The dim light of the oil lamps cast long shadows on the bookshelves, while the scent of parchment and aged leather filled the air. Determined to break the uncomfortable silence, Lucius released a small amount of mana, and his voice echoed powerfully in the vast library.

"Boy! Answer, now!" he shouted, amplifying his voice with magic. The nearby shelves trembled under the pressure of his power, and dust rose from the dark corners.

It wasn't just the shelves that shook; Myrddin also felt an impact on his body and mind. It was only for an instant, almost imperceptible, but he felt pressured, as if an invisible weight was added to his being.

'Magic?' Myrddin thought, his eyes now sparkling with a new spark of interest. Despite Lucius's attempt at intimidation, he didn't seem scared. Now, his attention was fully focused on him.

"Are you a mage?" Myrddin asked, his voice hoarse from lack of use but filled with genuine curiosity.

"What?" Lucius exclaimed, surprised by the lack of the expected reaction. He had used enough mana in his voice to scare even small animals. A child that age should be trembling and obeying. So why was he acting as if nothing had happened?

"I asked if you’re a mage," Myrddin insisted, his hoarse tone sounding sarcastic to inexperienced ears, but in reality, it was simple curiosity.

A vein bulged on Lucius's forehead before he began to shout, now truly angry.

"Mage? Mage!? Stop the nonsense and tell me what you’re doing here!" With his face red with anger, Lucius thought that if the brat in front of him didn’t give him a good reason, he’d whip him until his rear was as red as an apple.

"I don't know," Myrddin replied, showing no consideration, his indifferent tone completely disarming Lucius's fury.

As if he had been splashed with a bucket of cold water, Lucius stood still, his mouth slightly open and his pupils trembling. The anger he had felt faded, leaving in its place a strange sense of bewilderment. He looked at the boy without common sense. Why bother with someone clearly not right in the head? He could only swallow his desire to hit the boy.

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‘Should I just kick him out of the library and pretend I didn’t see anything?’ he wondered, seriously considering avoiding further interaction with the boy.

The silence dragged on too long, and Lucius still didn’t know what to do when someone appeared next to them, as if by magic.

It was a young man, with white skin and black hair like coal, dressed in an elegant black and red suit, adorned with multiple golden accessories that shone under the dim light. His posture and calm demeanor exuded an aura of nobility and authority.

Lucius recognized him immediately: it was Charles Vont Percival, the butler of the house’s owner.

Charles observed the scene calmly, his presence occupying the room in a way only someone with great power could achieve. Then, he met Lucius's gaze, speaking in a slow tone, slightly apologetic.

"Mr. Quincy, I’m sorry to trouble you."

Lucius raised his eyebrows slightly. "You’re here for the brat, I suppose," Lucius grumbled, looking at Charles with a glint of annoyance in his eyes.

Charles nodded calmly, not breaking eye contact, showing a barely perceptible rigid smile on his lips.

"Then, I suppose Belial’s brat brought the boy," Lucius continued, now more exasperated than irritated.

Charles, visibly uncomfortable, averted his gaze and nodded again.

"Ugh! For the love of the Three Wise Men, when will that brat Belial stop picking up kids from the streets? He’s setting a record," Lucius exclaimed, finally releasing Myrddin's wrist, who silently watched the interaction.

"Take him away, and tell Belial this is the last time a kid sneaks into my library. If not, for every brat that gets in here, I’ll break one of his limbs!" Lucius declared and threatened before turning and disappearing as suddenly as he had arrived.

Silence returned to the library, and Myrddin began to wonder if appearing and disappearing was easier than it seemed.

Before he could get lost in his thoughts, he felt a piercing gaze on him. This gaze, unlike the old grump from before, carried a promise of serious consequences if ignored.

Raising his eyes to Charles, he noticed something different. This was not someone to be trifled with, nor did he seem to like wasting time.

When their eyes met, Charles spoke, almost giving an order: "The master wishes to see you."

Myrddin had never experienced fear, but over the years, he had noticed that his body relaxed with harmless people and tensed with dangerous ones. Now, his body was tense like a stretched rope. 'He looks more like a demon than the old man,' Myrddin thought.

'Master?' Perhaps because his body forced him to pay attention to this potential threat, Myrddin hadn’t paid much attention to Charles’s words, but upon thinking about it, it was obvious that the man dressed colorfully must have brought him here. ‘So, that must be his "master"?’

"Do I follow you?" Myrddin asked, his voice now less hoarse, more fitting for his age.

Charles didn’t seem to hear him, only stared at him as if seeing beyond the visible. Myrddin felt nothing special about that fixed gaze; everything was the same, but his body was no longer as tense. The gaze was the same, but he knew something must have changed.

The silence lasted only a few seconds, and it was interrupted when Charles stopped staring at him and shook his head slightly. "No, no need to walk," he replied and approached with steps that echoed in the quiet library.

Although Myrddin was good at judging people, he found it hard to gauge the man about to place his hand on his shoulder. All the people he had met minimally in his life, though not like open books, were easily measurable by their way of speaking and moving, but this man seemed to hide every action and word behind an impenetrable mask.

"Close your eyes," Charles ordered, slightly squeezing his hand on Myrddin's shoulder.

Though he obeyed, he cast a quick, curious glance at Charles, who was nearly three heads taller beside him.

Myrddin felt tempted to open his eyes, assuming they were about to disappear and reappear as he had seen before. But just as he wondered if he should open them, Charles released his shoulder and told him to open his eyes.

He hadn’t finished opening them when a fresh breeze hit him, and Charles spoke again, "Follow me."

As he opened his eyelids, he was momentarily blinded by the change from the dimly lit library to a place bathed in sunlight.

As his vision cleared and he quickly observed his surroundings, he felt somewhat dazed. He thought that moving like that would make him feel something; he expected to get dizzy as people did in carriages, but in reality, everything happened so quickly that, even if there was a change, he didn’t feel it.

His daze didn’t last long when he noticed that Charles was moving away without waiting for him. With more curiosity about the supposed master than about the place, he quickly caught up with him and followed closely.

Walking along a path of white tiles, while following Charles, he took the opportunity to look around. They were in a garden, a little too big to be just a garden, but not big enough to stop being one.

Due to some tall grasses, he couldn’t see beyond the garden, but he seemed to spot a building in the distance. This led him to wonder how big the place was, thinking about what they had covered so far: those corridors full of rooms, the library, and now the garden. Maybe as big as Lodran? Maybe not that big, but half the size?