By Zephyria 
The taste of the fish I caught was excellent.
I was very interested in the method of catching and consuming wild things. I asked the servants to let me into the kitchen and watched and learned how to prepare the fish.
Splitting it in half to remove the innards or taking out large bones was ordinary, but the use of a sharp, thin knife was interesting.
When I asked if I could do something similar with the dagger I had, they said I could if I used it well, but a single-edged blade would be more convenient than a double-edged one.
They mentioned a knife specifically for preparing game, so I resolved to buy one someday.
They sliced off a piece of raw fish for me, and I accepted it.
The flesh was astonishingly sweet. The chef at Servelle Villa presented me with half a plate of raw fish and told me that when sailing for long periods, people eat raw fish to prevent certain illnesses.
Whether it was true or false, I would find out later by reading a book. I simply enjoyed listening to the curious story.
A little later, the dinner table was laden with various fish dishes.
There were steamed dishes, grilled dishes, and even dumplings made from mashed fish. In any case, it was hard to count the varieties with one hand.
Worried that so much food might go to waste, I voiced my concern, but was reassured when told that the portions were generous enough for the other household members as well.
After all, making people suffer over food at any time is the worst kind of deed.
As Mother spooned some fish dumplings onto my plate and drizzled a sweet sauce over them, she glanced at me and smiled.
My father’s lingering displeasure was still on my mind, so I straightened my posture, ready to accept any reprimand.
However, instead of scolding me, Mother’s eyes sparkled as she asked, her voice like a song, “When exactly did you go fishing, Mika?”
“…This is my first time. Father taught me well, so I was able to watch and learn.”
“Count Ernhardt seems to have a great talent for teaching fishing. I should learn a thing or two from him myself.”
“That’s not because I’m so skilled. It seems Mikael has a knack for fishing.”
I knew my answer was clumsy. Count Servelle eased the atmosphere by praising Father. Father, no longer able to sit sulking, replied with a smile.
My parents knew better than anyone that I hadn’t played by the water since being born in Shierun, so I couldn’t claim to have done it before.
How fortunate it was that I could dismiss the idea of being a Sword Master who had slain fiends in my past life as a joke.
Lately, I had been recalling my past life less often.
It wasn’t because I didn’t miss it.
Whenever I saw something beautiful or lovely, or whenever I faced hardship or distress, I would recall a moment from the past and bring forth relatives or friends.
I didn’t think the people of Shierun would disbelieve me. If I spoke with a serious tone, they would respond earnestly and share my concerns.
Thinking about it carefully, this too was my own greed. An old self, desperately trying to belong entirely to this world, sat within my heart, unmoving.
I spent a long time among people, talking about fishing, horseback riding, and swimming.
Amidst these not-so-important conversations, the young voices of children occasionally chimed in.
Evan Servelle, the youngest of House Servelle, repeatedly and endearingly said how fun it was to lie on the water without doing anything, and how he really wanted me to join him. His words were so sweet that my heart was filled with contentment.
❖ ❖ ❖
I followed the child and lay down flat on the water.
Evan Servelle, who taught me this game, was a boy who had just turned eight, one year older than Michael.
He had learned to play by himself since his older brother and sister went to the academy, so he had learned many quiet games.
Evan knew very well how to lie on the water, how to dive deep and count to ten before surfacing, and how to find unusual leaves among clusters of flowers.
I had often dived or swum, but this was the first time I learned that lying idly and resting on such wide, clear water was also a form of play.
When I pushed my head deep into the water, as if resting it on a soft cushion, water would fill my ears with a muffled sound, then recede.
Keeping my nose and mouth above the surface and breathing comfortably, my body naturally floated on the water.
The gentle lapping of the shallow water brushed against my cheek.
It was a part of the vast lake where round pebbles were gathered in abundance. Even if I thrashed about, no mud was stirred up, so the visibility was excellent, which was nice.
Several knights, having shed their light armor and dressed casually, stood at a distance, watching the children play. The laughter of adults enjoying a boat ride drifted from far away.
It felt as though the turbid Qi in my entire body was being washed away by the clear water.
Small sounds were heard loudly, and large sounds were heard softly.
While the sound of rowing and splashing echoed in my ears, the voices of servants chattering among themselves or the laughter of children from afar seemed distant.
I began to doubt if it was indeed water supporting my floating body, questioning the obvious.
Many people commonly used the phrase that being comfortably submerged in calm water brought back memories of being in their mother’s womb.
However, I recalled the day I was reborn in this world, in Shierun.
I was so startled that the pattern of the ceiling from that day still flickered whenever I closed my eyes.
The memory of that day, when my limbs were limp and I couldn’t muster strength, making it as difficult as lifting a thousand-pound boulder to wiggle my fingertips and toes, and when I forced a rice-grain-sized spark of energy to circulate through all the acupoints in my body, was still vivid.
Thinking back now, I suppose it was because I had the body of a newborn, barely a span long, that I could perform the Microcosmic Orbit so recklessly.
If the distance between each acupoint hadn’t been short, and if I hadn’t been able to circulate energy quickly, I might have been discovered by the servants and my Qi and blood could have been twisted.
It was fortunate that my consciousness awoke at the right time.
If I had regained consciousness in my mother’s womb, I would have had to endure the pain of childbirth along with her. If I had awakened my consciousness a few years later, I would have had to endure the pain of piercing the Ren and Du Meridians once more.
Because I regained consciousness immediately after birth, I managed to reach this point by rubbing my blurry eyes.
I only learned later that instead of crying out loudly, the newborn me had coughed, taken my first breath, and then fallen asleep, seemingly exhausted.
At the time, I thought my consciousness was perfectly intact. I felt tired and drained, but I didn’t realize I had been waking and sleeping intermittently.
If I hadn’t had many conversations with Mother to reminisce about my childhood, I would never have known.
The story that a newborn baby would take a breath, sleep for half a day, wake up to wiggle its limbs and whimper, then sleep again, and repeat this process, was astonishing no matter how many times I heard it.
Did I laugh or was I surprised when my mother said, “It was a chore to give him a bottle every time he was awake because he wouldn’t cry at all. He was a very docile child”?
Or was I saddened?
Plop, plop. The sounds of small hands and feet of those splashing in the water reached my muffled ears and faded away.
I thought that perhaps the reason I slept so much was because my physical age, as a newborn infant, couldn’t keep up with my consciousness.
In a corner of my heart, I felt pity for myself, thinking, “My past self must have been quite troubled.”
One only knows how to enjoy precious and good things if one has tasted them before. I, who had never rested in my previous life, didn’t know how to rest.
Now I understood that getting used to a new world, learning to speak, and mastering the use of my limbs were all urgent matters that had rushed me.
My weakened body swayed gently with the current.
Self-contemplation was something I was accustomed to.
My forty years of life, spent raising my internal energy to control my mind as one reaches out to grasp an object, had shaped me.
The water that wet my relaxed fingertips seemed to seep deep into my body.
“Hyung.”
When I circulated my internal energy, I primarily used my Lower Dantian. That was how I learned when practicing the Great expansive divine skill of azure sky.
It wasn’t just Namgung’s Mind method. Most martial artists honed their minds and bodies to learn how to properly use their Dantian.
Therefore, the energy I generated mostly rose from around my navel.
However, the energy flowing in now, from far outside my body, resembled Shierun’s Mana.
The energy, gentle and soft in nature, was neither too cold nor too hot. Like Shierun’s cloud-like chair in the study, or the thick bedding that enveloped my body, the gentle Mana steadily extended its roots into my Middle Dantian.
“Hyung!”
Suddenly, a small hand wrapped around my wrist.
Startled, I sat up. I swallowed the few mouthfuls of water that entered my mouth instead of coughing them out.
Michael, with a crestfallen face, was gripping my wrist.
Evan, looking frightened, was splashing in the water beside him, peering up at my face.
The sun was beginning to set.
I realized how long I had been floating on the water in silence.
It was natural for the young children to be scared. I smiled and reached out, pulling Michael into a hug. The sound of his small heart pounding in surprise was clearly transmitted to my wet body.
It surprised me that being interrupted from a moment of enlightenment no longer felt annoying.
This had happened several times at Shierun Academy. I was glad I didn’t get angry at the child. I felt grateful to Maelo Sanson at that moment and pressed my lips firmly against the child’s temple.
“You shouldn’t sleep on the water. It’s dangerous.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. It was so comfortable and nice that I forgot about playing with you. Can you swim here by yourself now?”
“Evan hyung taught me. I kept calling you, but you were just sleeping here, snoring.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Okay? Tomorrow, I’ll play with you all day long, I promise.”
“Really? What will we do?”
“Anything.”
Only when I held the warm child in my arms did I realize my limbs had grown cold.
As I swam out of the water with one arm, my eyes met those of the knights who, like the children, had been watching Ikyun intently.
Sir Ventus, who had read the steadiness of my breathing and the movement of my aura, smiled with an ambiguous expression.
He had clearly noticed that my enlightenment had been interrupted. I shook my head and smiled.
It was okay.
Truly, astonishingly, it was perfectly okay.
Even after getting out of the water, I didn’t let Michael go. The bond with this new kin, gained in a new land, had solidified my roots.
They were roots so strong that they would not be harmed by any realm I might inevitably attain someday.