The morning sun barely peeked over the horizon when Ryo began wiping down the worn wooden counter of his tavern. His movements were deliberately slow and slightly clumsy, carefully crafted to appear as ordinary as possible. The cloth caught on a splinter, and he made a show of frowning at it, even though he could have easily smoothed the entire counter with just a touch.

"Another day of pretending to be normal," he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. At twenty-five, his second life was already more complicated than he'd hoped. The memories of his previous life as a corporate slave in Tokyo felt like a distant dream, but the lessons learned stayed with him: standing out meant more responsibility, and more responsibility meant less peace.

The tavern, dubbed "The Sleeping Dragon" (an ironic name he couldn't resist), sat at the edge of the small town of Millbrook. It was exactly what he'd wanted – a quiet establishment in an unremarkable town, far from any major cities or political centers. The building itself was two stories of weathered stone and timber, with a slightly crooked sign that he purposefully never fixed, despite being able to do so with minimal effort.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "We're not open yet!" he called out, making his voice crack slightly for effect.

"It's me, you fool," came the response, followed by more insistent knocking. "I've got your weekly supply delivery."

Ryo recognized the voice of Old Man Turner, the local merchant who'd taken a liking to him over the past year. He shuffled to the door, carefully maintaining his persona of a somewhat clumsy tavern keeper.

"Sorry, sorry," Ryo said, fumbling with the lock in a way that would have made his former Japanese self cringe. "You're earlier than usual, Turner-san... er, I mean, Mr. Turner."

The merchant, a stout man with gray-streaked beard and weather-worn face, pushed past him with a cart of supplies. "Drop the mister, boy. Told you a hundred times." He began unloading crates of vegetables and barrels of ale. "And what's with that foreign word you keep using? San or whatever it is?"

"Just a weird habit," Ryo replied, scratching his head sheepishly. "From my hometown far south." The lie came easily after a year of practice.

Turner grunted, lifting a particularly heavy barrel. Ryo watched, his fingers twitching with the urge to help. He could have lifted the entire cart with one hand, but instead, he moved forward with exaggerated caution to take the other end of the barrel.

"Careful there," Turner warned. "Don't strain yourself. You're built like a twig."

Ryo wasn't, not really. His body was actually quite fit, but he wore loose clothing and maintained a slightly hunched posture to appear less capable. "I can manage," he said, pretending to struggle with his end.

As they worked, the morning crowd began to filter in – mostly farmers and craftsmen getting an early start. Ryo had specifically chosen to open early to attract this clientele rather than the rowdier evening crowd that might cause trouble.

"Morning, Ryo!" called out Beth, a middle-aged baker who always stopped by for breakfast. "The usual, please!"

"Coming right up!" He started preparing her favorite – eggs and bacon with freshly baked bread. His cooking skills were one area where he didn't have to pretend to be mediocre. In his previous life, cooking had been his only escape from endless overtime, and he'd gotten quite good at it.

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As he worked the kitchen, he heard the tavern door swing open again. The conversation in the room died suddenly, making him peek out from behind the kitchen doorway. Three men in gleaming armor stood in the entrance, their posture screaming 'authority.' Knights from the capital, by the look of their insignias.

Ryo's heart sank. This was exactly the kind of attention he'd been trying to avoid.

"We seek the proprietor of this establishment," announced the lead knight, his voice carrying across the now-silent room.

Ryo considered slipping out the back door. He could be halfway across the continent before they even noticed he was gone. But that would mean abandoning the life he'd built here, the peaceful existence he'd craved.

"That'd be me," he said instead, stepping out with his best impression of a nervous tavern keeper. It wasn't entirely an act – he was nervous, just for different reasons than they might assume. "How can I help you, sirs?"

The lead knight's eyes scanned him from head to toe, and Ryo felt a familiar sensation – the knight was trying to sense his mana levels. He'd gotten very good at suppressing his power, keeping it tucked away behind layers of careful control, but these knights were clearly well-trained.

"We've received reports of unusual occurrences in this area," the knight said carefully. "Monsters avoiding the town entirely, bandits suddenly deciding to skip this region, and most interestingly, several witnesses claim to have seen powerful magic barriers appearing during the recent storm."

Ryo kept his face carefully blank, though internally he cursed. He'd thought no one had noticed the barriers he'd put up to protect the town from last month's devastating storm. He'd done it in the middle of the night, when everyone should have been asleep.

"Magic barriers?" he repeated, adding a slight tremor to his voice. "That sounds rather amazing, but I'm afraid I don't know anything about that. We were all just grateful the storm passed us by."

The second knight, a woman with sharp eyes, stepped forward. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about combat magic, would you, tavern keeper?"

"Me?" Ryo forced a laugh that he hoped sounded nervous rather than fake. "I can barely light the cooking fire without singing my eyebrows." He gestured to his slightly uneven eyebrows – a deliberate imperfection he maintained for exactly this type of situation.

Old Man Turner, bless his soul, chose that moment to interject. "Ryo here couldn't hurt a fly even if he wanted to. Boy nearly faints at the sight of blood. Had to help him bandage a cut finger last week."

Several regulars nodded in agreement, and Ryo felt a wave of gratitude toward his customers. They'd all bought into his carefully crafted image of harmlessness.

The knights exchanged glances, but something in their posture told Ryo they weren't entirely convinced. The lead knight pulled out a sealed document.

"Nevertheless, by order of the Royal Magic Academy, we're conducting a mandatory mana evaluation of all residents in the region. Your turn will be next week. Failure to comply will result in... consequences."

Ryo accepted the document with trembling hands – this time, the trembling was real. A mandatory mana evaluation? This could ruin everything. His mind raced through possibilities: he could run, fake an illness, maybe find a way to temporarily suppress his powers completely...

"Of course," he said aloud, bowing slightly. "Though I doubt you'll find anything interesting about me."

The knights left shortly after, leaving behind a tavern full of curious whispers and one very worried tavern keeper. Ryo returned to the kitchen, mind churning with plans and backup plans.

"You alright there, boy?" Turner asked, following him into the kitchen. "You're looking a bit pale."

"I'm fine," Ryo replied automatically, then caught himself. Right, he was supposed to be worried about the evaluation, but for different reasons. "Just nervous about the test. I've never been good with any kind of magic."

Turner patted his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. We all know you're just a simple tavern keeper. Nothing wrong with that."

Ryo nodded, managing a weak smile. If they only knew. He'd never wanted power or glory – his previous life had taught him the value of peace and simplicity. But as he watched his customers return to their meals, he couldn't help but wonder how long he could keep up this act.

The morning sun now streamed fully through the windows, catching dust motes in its beams. Another day of pretending to be ordinary had begun, but for how much longer?

Beth's voice called from the main room: "Ryo! My eggs are burning!"

"Coming!" he called back, grateful for the distraction. One problem at a time, he told himself. First the eggs, then the world-threatening level of magical power he was hiding.

Just another day in the life of a reincarnated person trying his best to live quietly.