"Doms, I know you want to help, but don't you think this is all a bit sudden?" Arthur asks.

"What do you mean?"

Arthur looks uneasy as he glances back toward the restaurant where Clark waits.

"I mean, taking Clark under your wing just like that. It's a big commitment, and we barely know him. Plus, dealing with his school and the bullying could get complicated."

I pause, considering Arthur's points. He's right; the situation could become complex. But seeing Clark, who reminds me so much of my younger self from my previous life, stirs a deep desire in me to help him. The universe has handed me a second chance to address my past regrets.

If my parents from my previous life were here, they might tell me to move on, to enjoy my new life. But how can I move on? Back in my old world, when I had made it to General Manager—a position that could have lifted my family out of poverty—my life was cut short. The unresolved feelings from those days still weigh on me, and I clench my fist without realizing it.

"Arthur, I get it; it's sudden. But Clark isn't just any kid. He's like a piece of my past, a chance to do something I never could before."

Arthur raises an eyebrow, puzzled. "What do you mean, Doms? Is it because he's also Manaless?"

"It's more than that—I-uh.”

I stumble over my words, struggling to articulate feelings rooted in a reality Arthur can't possibly understand. How can I explain that Clark feels like a link to my previous life, a life unknown to anyone here? Revealing that I am essentially a transmigrator from another universe—how can I expect Arthur or anyone to grasp such a concept without sounding like... a fantasy?

"Doms?" Arthur prompts.

I sigh, searching for the right words that won't disclose too much yet will convey my deep connection to Clark's situation.

"Look, Arthur, it's hard to explain, but let's just say I see much of my younger self in him. Helping Clark feels right—it feels necessary. And I'd appreciate your support with this."

Arthur studies me for a moment, his expression softening. "Alright, Doms. If it means that much to you, I'm with you. But let's ensure we do this correctly for Clark."

Relief washes over me. "Thank you, Arthur. That means a lot."

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

We return to the restaurant, and I notice Clark shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His face lights up with a relieved smile when he sees us approaching.

"Hey, Clark."

"Hello, Monsieur Dominic and Monsieur Arthur!"

"Just Dominic is fine."

"And Arthur is fine, too."

"O-Oh, okay."

We settle into our seats, and a palpable silence envelops our table. None of us know how to start a conversation at the moment.

"So, Clark, where do you live?" Arthur breaks the quiet with a question.

"I-I live in my house," Clark responds, his answer innocent and straightforward.

I can't suppress a chuckle at his literal interpretation.

"What Arthur meant was, what's your exact address, Clark?" I clarify.

"O-Oh!" Clark's cheeks turn a shade of red from embarrassment. "It's 45 Kiyomizu, Kyoto."

I freeze. That's the exact address of the leaky apartment I lived in during my previous life. Could Clark have been transported here from Earth? But that seems impossible. How does he know terms like 'Monsieur' and 'Manaless'? 'Manaless' is a term only used in Sylvestria, and 'Monsieur' seems out of place for a boy who, if he were from Earth, would presumably be Japanese.

"Where in Sylvestria is that?" Arthur's question brings me back to the present moment.

"Sylves—"

I quickly covered Clark's mouth with my hand, preventing him from further revealing anything that might complicate his situation.

"That's in Celestria!"

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

I blurt out, improvising a location. Of all the five nations in Sylvestria, Celestria is the closest in cultural representation to Japan, even though it is primarily based in China.

Arthur's eyes widen in surprise. "What? That far? And how come 'Clark' doesn't sound like a name from Celestria?"

Clark pulls my hand away. "Papa is from America, and Mama is from Japan."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "From America and Japan?"

Clark nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, my pap—"

I cover his mouth again, quickly improvising. "America and Japan are names of villages in Celestria, hahaha."

"Oh? I want to visit there someday," Arthur muses.

NEW QUEST! Quest: Bring Clark back to his universe.

Reward: 200 Stat Points

The appearance of this quest confirms my suspicions. Clark is indeed from another universe. Now, not only do I need to help him adjust here, but I also have to find a way to send him back home. This goes from zero to one hundred really quick.

"This is going to be... quite eventful," I murmur.

"What are you talking about, Doms?" Arthur asks.

"Nothing."

I remove my hand from Clark's mouth, thankful that Arthur doesn't question my strange behavior too profoundly.

"D-Dominic, why did you cover my mouth?" Clark asks, confused.

"Ah, it's nothing, just a silly moment."

How can I arrange temporary shelter for Clark while figuring out how to return him to Earth? Will Andre and Celine be open to providing temporary refuge? Also, the web novel never mentioned a portal capable of bridging universes, leaving me without a clear path forward.

"Bonsoir, here's your food!"

The waiter's timely arrival pulls me from my thoughts. He sets our dishes on the table, unveiling them to reveal steaming plates that fill the air with delicious aromas.

"Uwah!" Clark gasps in amazement.

His reaction brings a smile to my face. This young version of me is experiencing luxuries that have never been within my reach at his age.

"Itadakimasu!" Clark exclaims, then pauses, looking puzzled. "Uhm, where are the chopsticks?"

"Oh, here we use a fork and knife," I explain, picking up the utensils and demonstrating their use. "Here, let me show you."

I hand him a fork and a knife, guiding his hands gently. "You hold the fork in your left hand and the knife in your right."

Clark holds them awkwardly at first, his fingers fumbling slightly as he tries to mimic my grip.

"Like this," I continue, adjusting his hands. "Use the fork to hold the food down, then cut with the knife." I demonstrate by cutting a small piece of the ratatouille on my plate, showing him how to apply gentle pressure and use a sawing motion.

Clark watches intently, his brow furrowed in concentration. He then attempts to cut a piece of his ratatouille. After a few clumsy tries, he successfully cuts a small chunk.

"Yeah, you got it!" I encourage him. "Now, you can try eating it. Just use your fork."

He smiles a bit shyly and follows my instructions, spearing the piece he has cut and bringing it to his mouth. His face lights up with delight as he tastes the food.

"This is good!"

Clark exclaims, his initial hesitation forgotten as he continues to practice using the fork and knife. With each bite, he grows more confident in handling the utensils.

Arthur watches the exchange with a mixture of amusement and surprise. "Looks like you're a quick learner, Clark."

Clark beams at the praise and then turns his attention back to his plate, determined to master his new skills.

As he continues to eat, I can't help but feel a sense of pride in helping him navigate this small but significant cultural challenge. It reminds me again of the broader responsibility I have taken on by promising to help him adjust to life here in Sylvestria—and perhaps, eventually, find a way to send him back to his universe.

"Doms," Arthur says, breaking into my thoughts, "you're good with him. I can see why you felt compelled to help."

I nod, grateful for Arthur's understanding. "Thanks, Arthur. It means a lot. He reminds me a lot of myself when I was young. I guess that's why I feel so driven to help him."

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

As we step outside the restaurant, the cool evening air is refreshing after our hearty meal.

"I have never been so full!" Clark exclaims, gently rubbing his stomach with a satisfied grin.

I can't help but smile back, touched by his happiness. In my previous life, a meal like tonight's was something I could have only dreamed of.

"I'm glad you liked it, Clark," I say, ruffling his hair playfully.

"Doms, I can take him to our house," Arthur offers spontaneously, his tone sincere.

It's a generous offer, but I hesitate. Arthur has already done so much by paying for dinner, and based on what he said previously about his father, he is pretty strict. Imposing further wouldn't be ideal, especially with someone like Clark.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Arthur. I can take him to our house."

"Really? Will Auntie Celine and Uncle André be okay with that?" Arthur asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

I nod confidently. "Yeah, I'm sure of it. They're very understanding."

"I'm going to your house, Mons—Dominic?" Clark looks up at me with wide, questioning eyes.

"Yep!" I affirm with a smile.

Vrr!

Just then, the purr of an engine announces the arrival of Arthur's limo.

"Wow! What's that!?" Clark points excitedly at the sleek, long car.

"That's a limo, Clark. It's a very fancy car," I explain, amused by his awe.

"Uwah!" Clark's eyes sparkle with fascination.

Max, Arthur's driver or butler, opens the door for us with his usual professionalism.

"Bonsoir, Young Master, Monsieur Dominic, and...?" Max pauses, noticing Clark.

I introduce him quickly. "His name is Clark Williams."

"Bonsoir, Monsieur Clark," Max greets him formally.

Clark jumps slightly, a bit overwhelmed by the novelty of it all. "Oh-uhm, hello!"

We all climb into the limo, the soft leather seats embracing us as we settle in.

"Woah!" Clark's gaze darts around as he takes in the luxurious interior. His eyes widen in amazement.

Arthur grins, pleased to show off his limo. "Welcome to my limo, Clark." He points to a mini fridge. "That's a mini fridge where I keep drinks."

"Wow! Can I see it?" Clark asks eagerly.

"Sure!" Arthur replies.

As Arthur shows Clark the mini fridge, I lean against the plush seat and stare out the window. The streetlights blur past, casting flickering shadows inside the limo. This whole situation, while unexpected, feels strangely fitting. Here I am, given a chance to make a difference in a young boy's life—a boy who mirrors the struggles of my past.

"This is going to be eventful."