By Zephyria 
Gentle sunlight poured over the expansive garden.
The flower garden, said to have been personally tended by my mother, showed a particular abundance of pink and white blossoms. I heard the names of each flower, but they went in one ear and out the other. This was because I considered naming flowers to be the work of poets.
A week before my fifth birthday.
During this time, I had learned much of the new land’s language.
Just as the direct descendants of the families who established the Noble Families in the Central Plains inherit and lead them, here, nobles pass down titles from generation to generation.
I had not yet finished learning the proper hierarchy, so it was difficult to fully gauge the levels of rank, but it was fortunate that I was the eldest grandson of a Count’s direct lineage.
Taking out tables and chairs on such a vast estate to enjoy tea with luxurious tea sets was a task that made many servants labor, but it was a daily occurrence for the direct descendants of the family. It wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, as the Namgung Family also often set up tea tables in pavilions by the pond.
“Our Michael has arrived.”
“Yes, Mother, Father.”
I bowed respectfully and climbed onto the chair.
As my body had not yet fully grown, I needed the help of a servant every time I climbed onto a chair. However, finding the sudden lifting displeasing, as soon as I could walk and run properly, I requested a low platform be placed beneath the chair, which I now used like stairs.
Thanks to the chair made to fit my young body, the table was at a suitable height, just below my chest.
Although the strength in my hands had not yet fully developed, I knew which items were appropriate for the tea ceremony. Following my mother, I held the teacup in one hand, took a sip of the appropriately cooled tea to moisten my throat, and then set the cup down. I felt a sense of accomplishment after placing the teacup silently on its saucer.
My father and mother, who had not been particularly close, often created such gatherings together from the time I could speak properly. Since I gained the ability to speak in full sentences, I had advised my father a few times that it was not the duty of a head of household to neglect his legal wife, and seeing that he now listened well, my father was undeniably a surprisingly soft-hearted and gentle person. After that, my mother’s health also improved slightly, giving me hope that we might have two or three more siblings.
I felt a strange tickle of embarrassment at my parents’ actions, watching my every move with such tenderness.
It would be easy to say that I am now over forty years old, but I had decided five years ago not to speak it aloud, as it would sound like madness even to my own ears. I consistently acted as their mature, yet young, son. It wasn’t difficult, as there was so much I didn’t know about this world. By honestly asking what I didn’t know and requesting help, I was sufficiently a child in their eyes.
“You asked to use the Martial arts training ground again, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I am now five years old, so if I don’t start with the sword, it will be too late. I must begin training before my limbs grow any further.”
“Did you hear that from Sir Lawrence?”
“No. I thought of it myself.”
Sir Lawrence, my personal guard, was a Martial artist who had just passed his early twenties, considered to be at the threshold of Sword Expert by their standards. To reach the realm of a Second-rate Martial artist at barely twenty years of age was not a bad pace. Watching them train, I saw they were practicing sword arts for war, not for self-cultivation or martial prowess. What I desired was similar, yet slightly different.
In my past life, I had reached the Transcendent Peak realm, but not the Hwagyeong. I could use Sword energy (the state where a Sword Master enhances cutting power and attack by overlaying aura onto the sword), but I could not create Sword energy (the state where a Grand Sword Master doubles attack power by condensing Sword energy).
Since I had been granted a new life, it was natural to have ambitions as a Martial artist. I wanted to see the end of the Changcheon Muae Sword and even imitate the form of the Monarch Sword Style, which had not been permitted to me.
“What do you intend to do after learning the sword?”
“I intend to become a Sword Master.”
“Sword, cough. Yes… you wish to become a Sword Master, my son.”
“It may seem like a distant path now, but once my body grows and the timing is right, I believe I will be able to manifest Sword energy. Please grant me permission.”
“Timing… can you explain what that means, son?”
“It means the interval at which my sword can intercept an opponent widens as my limbs grow longer.”
“I see… so my son will be able to easily manifest Sword energy once he grows a little bigger…”
“Yes.”
Of course, it was only natural that my parents wouldn’t believe my words. It was common in this world to start wielding a sword only after turning eight years old. The reason children here were raised more delicately than those in the Central Plains was the widespread trend of valuing culture and commerce over martial arts.
The Count’s territory, which I had toured after persuading my father, was abundant with fruits and grains, the roads were surprisingly well-maintained, and even ordinary buildings, not just brothels, were neatly constructed up to two or three stories high. My father, after a moment of silence, glanced at my mother’s expression, pondered again, and then asked with an effortful look, “Alright, then, shall I find you a teacher among the family’s Knights?”
“For now, using the Martial arts training ground is sufficient. If a time comes when I need a teacher, I will ask, but for now, I wish for a wooden sword that fits my body.”
“…Very well, then… I will prepare a wooden sword for you as your birthday gift.”
“I am always grateful for Father’s grace.”
My father, as always, responded with a suppressed groan, while my mother, with a smile, placed a cookie in my hand. I knew that because my arms were short and couldn’t reach the center of the table, I often needed my parents’ help to eat snacks without getting up from my chair. The luxurious sweetness, which I hadn’t tasted often in my previous life, was intoxicating, and I was also pleased that my father had so easily accepted my request, so a smile bloomed on my lips.
“Which do you prefer, our son, cranberry cookies or chocolate cookies?”
“It is difficult to choose between the two. The tart ones stick sweetly in my mouth, and the sweet ones melt lusciously. It’s hard to tell beyond them being very delicious.”
“Mmm, it’s good that our son isn’t picky about food.”
“Isn’t this all thanks to your grace, Mother and Father?”
My father soon laughed along with my mother, a silly laugh. When a child speaks, whether right or wrong, it often elicits laughter, so there was no need to feel embarrassed. Besides, I was their eldest grandson. Even in the Central Plains, the eldest grandson who would inherit a family was cherished as a golden calf or a jade toad. It was natural for my mother and father, who commanded dozens of servants in such a vast estate, to dote on a child who resembled them. Nodding, I once again recited the proper words, “Your grace is as vast as the heavens.”
We discussed various topics, such as the guest list for my birthday party, the dishes to be prepared, currently popular goods in the commercial district, the status of the wheat harvest, and the political situations of neighboring countries and the Empire where I lived. As my parents chuckled several times during our conversation, I observed them and cautiously opened my mouth.
“I have one more birthday present I wish for.”
“Yes, you’ve been set on something. What else do you wish for?”
“It has been said since ancient times that nothing is thicker than blood. I truly wish for a sibling. I heard that House Cervelle already has a third child on the way.”
“Cough! Cough, that is not something we can decide on our own, so please wait a little longer.”
“I am already five years old! If the age gap is too large, it’s not ideal for us to rely on each other, Father. Are you making an effort?”
As my mother rose from her seat, the maids who had stepped back to avoid overhearing the family conversation approached with curiosity. As this was a topic that might be embarrassing for a woman, instead of holding my mother back, I glared fiercely at my father. Even though I was not yet accustomed to this land, what is right is right, and what is wrong is wrong. A family connected by blood needs not only successors but also strong allies to support them. Families with many descendants always prosper more than those without. Both my father and mother are still young, and I was born healthy and strong, so surely a sibling, and another sibling after that, would also be healthy, but the lack of news must be due to the infrequent conjugal visits between my father and mother.
Perhaps unable to leave their son alone after my mother had left the table, my father covered his face with both hands, then ran them down his face, flustered. He hadn’t yet reached thirty, had he? Seeing him like this, my father still seemed young.
“I wish for two more siblings, as both Father and Mother are young and healthy.”
“…Where on earth did you hear such things…”
My father looked up and scanned the servants, who shook their heads as if it were absurd. Since they were in no way at fault, I confidently waved my hand to catch my father’s attention and asked for another cookie. My father complied.
“One doesn’t hear and learn such things; they are gained through experience. Living life, I’ve found that the more blood relatives one has, the better.”
“…I see… Alright.”
My father muttered under his breath, reciting the names of Count and Countess Servel, who had visited the mansion recently. It seemed they had a particularly fertile constitution in this land. In my previous life, it was common for children from respectable families to have betrothal contracts made before birth. This place seemed not much different, so I mentioned that if I were to form a connection later, a daughter from the fertile House Cervelle wouldn’t be a bad choice, and my father let out a sob-like laugh.