đłâĄ: Breakfast Revolution at the Dunham Estate
The scent of fresh bread and sizzling butter wafted through the Dunham manor â an unusual luxury, considering the entire kitchen had nearly exploded twelve hours earlier.
Now, it gleamed.
Clean counters. Gleaming rune plates. Strange new equipment humming with quiet energy.
The centerpiece? A polished metal stove, glowing faintly blue beneath its surface.
Lixia, sleeves rolled up, stood proudly beside it with a "trust me, it won't explode this time" smile.
Lixia: "Ladies, gentlemen â and young inventor prodigy â welcome to the official unveiling of the ManaCook 1000âą!"
Lena, bouncing with excitement: "It's beautiful!"
James Dunham, cautiously holding a fire extinguisher rune: "It's suspicious."
From the doorway, two new figures entered â Louise, elegant and composed at fourteen, and Thomas, confident at twelve with a mischievous smirk.
Louise raised a brow. "Father said the kitchen was glowing again. Should I be concerned?"
Thomas grinned. "If it explodes, I call first dibs on Lena's workshop."
Lena: "In your dreams, Thomas!"
Amelia, ever the calm one, sipped her tea as she watched. "Children, let's at least taste breakfast before we assign inheritance rights."
Lixia chuckled softly, clapping her hands. "Perfect timing! Everyone, please stand back as I demonstrate the future of domestic magic!"
She turned dramatically to the stove, placing a skillet on top.
The runes along its edge pulsed softly â blue, then orange. The air shimmered faintly.
Lixia: "Observe â instant heat without flame."
The pan warmed in seconds, butter melting into a golden pool.
Louise's eyes widened slightly. "No fire crystal? No magic chant?"
Lixia beamed. "None at all! Self-regulating elemental circuits! Even a child could use it safely."
Thomas crossed his arms. "So... Lena-proof?"
Lena: "Hey!"
Lixia, grinning: "Exactly."
She cracked an egg onto the skillet. It sizzled instantly â a perfect sunny-side-up forming with the crispest edges and molten center.
Lena gasped. "That's magic!"
Lixia: "Actually, science!"
Thomas: "It smells like victory."
Even James leaned forward, cautiously impressed. "...It's not smoking."
Amelia smiled. "And the kitchen hasn't caught fire."
Louise leaned in closer, intrigued. "So... it channels ambient mana instead of elemental flame?"
Lixia's grin turned proud. "Exactly. It converts passive energy into controlled heat through runic resonance. Efficient. Elegant. Clean."
Thomas whispered to Lena, "Translation: it's witchcraft that makes breakfast."
Lena elbowed him. "It's innovation, dummy."
Lixia flipped the egg effortlessly and plated it, sliding it toward James. "Your turn, my lord. Taste the future."
James eyed it warily... then took a cautious bite.
A pause.
Then his brows lifted. "This... tastes better than usual."
Lixia smirked. "Uniform heating. No burnt edges. No raw centers. The perfect cook."
Louise clapped her hands softly. "I have to admit, this is impressive, Miss Lixia."
Thomas leaned over the stove, fascinated. "Can I try it?"
James: "No."
Lixia and Lena (together): "Yes!"
Amelia laughed quietly behind her cup.
Lixia guided Thomas's hands to another skillet, explaining: "This rune regulates temperature â orange for high, yellow for medium. Gentle, steady heat. No open flame, no burns."
Thomas followed her instructions â and to everyone's surprise, managed to fry a perfect egg.
He blinked. "...It actually worked."
Lena grinned. "See? You're a natural chef!"
Thomas: "Don't push it."
Meanwhile, Louise was examining the other device on the counter â a tall, humming box with a small handle.
Louise: "And this one?"
Lixia turned proudly. "That's the ManaCool 2000âą â the successor to the Frostbite prototype. It maintains food freshness through cryo-mana compression!"
Louise opened it carefully. Cold air poured out like mist. Inside: fresh milk, butter, and fruit gleaming with frost.
Louise's eyes sparkled. "...This could change how nobles store their food entirely."
Amelia nodded in agreement. "No more spoiled cream or wasted meat..."
James, still chewing his egg, muttered under his breath: "...And no more excuses for late dinners."
Lena smirked. "You love it already, Father."
James groaned. "I tolerate it. Barely."
Then â a small buzz echoed. Everyone froze.
The stove flickered â once. Twice. Then... powered down.
Lixia blinked. "Ah. Minor mana drop." She crouched, flicking a tiny switch beneath the stove. "Needs a manual recharge every twelve hours. Perfectly safe."
A faint zap ran up her arm. She didn't even flinch.
James: "You call that safe?"
Lena: "She's fine! See?"
Lixia, smiling serenely, hair slightly frizzed: "All part of the process." âĄđ„
Louise sighed, amused. "She's either a genius or a hazard."
Lena, with a grin: "Why not both?"
---
As breakfast wrapped up, the Dunham kitchen buzzed with rare laughter and light.
Amelia was already scribbling recipe ideas.
Thomas declared himself "chief taste tester."
Louise offered to help Lixia design more elegant models for noble homes.
And even James, though grumbling, looked quietly proud watching his children argue and laugh together.
Lixia leaned on the counter beside Lena, her crimson eyes softening.
Lixia: "You know... I think I like this family."
Lena smiled warmly. "Told you they'd come around."
Lixia chuckled. "I suppose they would â once their breakfast tasted divine."
The two exchanged a glance â the kind only creators share when their dream works.
Outside, the morning sunlight shone through the windows, glinting off the hum of invention and the laughter of a noble family slowly stepping into a new age. âïžâïžâš
đłđ: The Forest Walk of Two Quiet Souls
The morning mist still clung to the trees when Paul stepped into the forest path, a woven basket hooked over one arm and a notebook tucked beneath the other. The air smelled of dew, moss, and faint sweetness â the scent of the rare herbs he'd come searching for.
Following a few steps behind him was Lisse, her mintâcolored hair fluttering softly with each movement. She hummed as she walked, light as a breeze, carefully avoiding stepping on any sleeping flowers.
Lisse: "Young master Paul, the air feels lively today. It must be a good sign."
Paul nodded, scanning the underbrush with sharp, practiced eyes.
Paul: "The Silverdew Ferns should bloom this week... If we can find at least three, My medicine experiments will go much smoother."
Lisse brightened.
Lisse: "Then let's find five!"
Paul laughed softly under his breath â a rare, quiet sound.
They walked deeper into the forest, sunlight dripping through the canopy like thin ribbons. Birds chattered overhead, and water trickled somewhere nearby, steady and calm.
Soon enough, Lisse crouched beside a patch of shimmering leaves.
Lisse: "Young master! Look!"
Paul hurried to her side. The leaves glowed faintly, dew droplets catching the light like silver beads.
Paul: "Silverdew Ferns. Perfect size... three days since blooming."
He carefully snipped the stems with his herbal knife.
Paul: "We'll take only four. The rest should grow back healthy."
Lisse nodded respectfully â elves were taught to never overharvest.
As they continued, Lisse's ears twitched.
Lisse: "There are Whisperpetal flowers nearby. I can hear them."
Paul paused.
Paul: "...Hear them?"
Lisse blinked.
Lisse: "Yes. Can't you?"
Paul stared, baffled. Whisperpetals had no sound. But he humored her, following her lead as she skipped over mossy stones.
Sure enough â a small clearing opened, revealing a patch of pale pink flowers swaying as though they were breathing.
Paul: "Incredible... they only grow this far north. This will be thrilling."
They kneeled together, carefully harvesting the petals. For a moment, everything was peaceful.
Untilâ
crunch.
A branch snapped deeper in the forest.
Paul stiffened instantly, hand drifting near his dagger.
Lisse's ears perked sharply, her expression dropping its usual softness.
Lisse: "Something's moving... big."
Paul slowly rose to his feet, torn between curiosity and caution.
Paul: "Stay behind me."
Lisse obeyed without argument â she trusted him completely.
Rustling grew louder.
Leaves trembled.
A shadow moved between the trees.
Paul took one step forward. His fingers tingled â gravity energy swirling unconsciously at his fingertips, ready to push or pull at a moment's notice.
But thenâ
A small creature burst from the bushes.
A fat, round squirrel.
Carrying a mushroom bigger than its head.
Lisse gasped.
Lisse: "Oh! A Cloudcap Squirrel!"
She crouched down, delighted. "Hello there, did we scare you?"
Paul let out the breath he'd been holding.
Paul: "...I thought it was a beast."
The squirrel squeaked indignantly and scurried away with its prize.
Paul rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.
Lisse giggled softly â a bright, bell-like sound.
Lisse: "Even squirrels fear you, young master. You must seem very strong to them."
Paul: "Or very intimidating."
She tilted her head.
Lisse: "Those are the same thing, aren't they?"
Paul muttered under his breath, cheeks slightly pink.
They continued their harvest for the next hour, filling the basket with herbs that shimmered with faint mana. Lisse plucked berries with delicate fingers; Paul documented each specimen with careful notes.
After a while, Lisse looked up at him, soft and thoughtful.
Lisse: "Young master Paul... You seem different lately."
Paul paused mid-writing.
Paul: "Different how?"
Lisse clasped her hands behind her back, smiling timidly.
Lisse: "Quieter. More thoughtful. Like your heart is heavier... or maybe full of something new."
He froze.
She wasn't wrong.
Ever since regaining his past-life memories...
since realizing why the world felt familiar...
since understanding the danger of the main story...
Yes, something inside him had changed.
But he forced the corners of his mouth up.
Paul: "I'm fine, Lisse. I'm just... thinking."
Lisse didn't question it further â but she walked a little closer to him afterward, as though quietly promising to stay by his side.
When their basket was full, Paul closed his notebook with a soft snap.
Paul: "Let's head back. I will need these for the new batch of healing solutions."
Lisse nodded, lifting the basket effortlessly â elf strength hidden behind her small frame.
Lisse: "Lead the way, young master."
As they walked back through the forest path, sunlight warmed their shoulders, and the wind carried the scent of herbs behind them.
Paul felt the tension in his chest ease just a little.
Here, in the quiet forest...
with Lisse's soft humming beside him...
he could almost forget the chaos the game's storyline was supposed to drag him into.
Almost.
đ§Șđđ: Paul's Secret Laboratory Night
The Gonzalez manor was quiet when Paul slipped into the small alchemy room he'd secretly converted for his use. It used to be a dusty storage closet. Now, shelves lined the walls, each filled with labeled jars, notes, and instruments that didn't belong to this world's era.
The herbs Lisse and he collected earlier that day lay neatly arranged on the wooden table.
Silverdew Ferns. Whisperpetals. Moonthorn Moss. And the rare Softglow Root he found by accident.
Paul set down his notebook, opened it to a fresh page, and exhaled slowly.
Paul:
"...It's been years since I've worked like this."
Not since his past lifeâ
as a quiet pharmacist who packed medicines until late at night, dreaming of a promotion he never received.
Now he was mixing herbs in a fantasy world.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
He picked up a Silverdew Fern stem, rolling it gently between his fingers.
Paul:
"The dew content is stable... If mixed with Moss extract, it might work as a nerve-soothing tonic."
His hands moved automatically, muscle memory guiding him.
Grinding the moss. Heating water at precisely the right temperature.
Pouring the Silverdew essence without touching the sides of the vial.
Lisse peeked from the doorway, her face illuminated by the soft light.
Lisse:
"Young master, you're still awake...?"
Paul blinked.
Paul: "Ah... Sorry. I didn't mean to keep you up."
She smiled softly, walking over to watch.
Lisse:
"It's strange. You look almost... happy when you're doing this."
Paul paused.
Happy?
Maybe.
Or maybe he just felt useful again.
He stirred the mixture carefully, observing the color shift from clear... to pale lavender.
Paul:
"Perfect. If it stays this shade for more than ten seconds, it will stabilize."
They both leaned in.
One second.
Two.
Three...
And thenâ
FWOOSH!
The mixture fizzed violently, shooting a burst of lavender foam upward like a miniature volcano.
Lisse shrieked, stumbling back.
Jacob the cat, who had been sleeping on the shelf, bolted out of the room in terror.
Paul stared at the mess.
Lavender bubbles dripped down his bangs.
Lisse:
"Y-young master! Are you hurt?!"
Paul wiped his face with a towel, sighing with absolute calmness.
Paul:
"No... but I think the temperature was off by two degrees."
Lisse blinked at him, astonished.
Lisse:
"You say that like you didn't just get attacked by a potion."
He pretended not to hear.
⊠⊠âŠ
Cleanup took only a few minutes.
Determined, Paul returned to the table and started again.
Lisse watched with admiration â and a bit of fear.
Lisse:
"You're amazing, young master... You do this like you've done it all your life."
Paul's hands paused.
He had done this all his life.
Just... not this life.
But he simply smiled faintly and set another vial on the stand.
Paul:
"Let's try a different ratio."
The second attempt went smoother.
The third even better.
By the fifth, Paul held up a crystalline vial of pale blue liquid that shimmered softly.
Lisse gasped.
Lisse: "It's beautiful...!"
Paul swirled it gently.
The mixture remained stable.
Paul:
"A mild healing tonic. It should help with fatigue, and maybe minor wounds."
It wasn't much.
And yetâ
a warm feeling unfurled in his chest.
It was the first time since reincarnating that he felt like he had purpose.
Lisse smiled brightly.
Lisse:
"You should show this to professional. They'll be thrilled!"
Paul shook his head.
Paul:
"Not yet. I need to test it more before letting anyone use it."
He placed the vial on the shelf, careful and precise.
Tomorrow, he'd refine it further.
Someday, he might produce something truly groundbreaking.
For now, the small vial glimmered quietly â
a secret accomplishment known only to him and Lisse.
Lisse stretched, yawning.
Lisse:
"Young master... can we sleep now...? Before you try to make something that explodes again?"
Paul glanced at the stains on the ceiling.
Paul:
"...Maybe that's a good idea."
They left the small laboratory, soft footsteps echoing through the quiet hall.
Behind them, the faint blue glow of the tonic reflected in the window â
a soft promise that Paul's presence in this world was only beginning to grow.
đ§Șđ§«đ§Ź: The Tonic Test That Went... Slightly Sideways
Morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains of Paul's room as he sat on the edge of his bed, turning the little vial of blue tonic between his fingers.
Last night's creation.
His first successful mixture in this world.
Paul:
"...Time to test it."
Lisse stood beside him, holding a notebook with both hands like an anxious assistant.
Lisse:
"Should... should I prepare towels? Or ice? Or maybe rope, just in case?"
Paul blinked.
Paul:
"...Why rope?"
Lisse:
"Just a feeling."
He chose not to question that.
Instead, he uncorked the vial and gave it a cautious sniff.
Soft. Herbal. Sweet.
Exactly as he intended.
Paul:
"Alright. Here goes."
He drank it in one smooth motion.
The taste was pleasantly cool, like mint with a hint of citrus.
Not bad at all.
He waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Thirty.
Nothing.
Paul exhaled.
Paul:
"Good. That means it's stable."
Lisse lowered her shoulders in relief.
Lisse:
"Then it really is a healing tonic! That's wonderfulâ"
WHOOSH.
A sudden burst of shimmering blue mist exploded around Paul.
Lisse:
"KYAâ WHAT IS THAT?!"
Paul looked down...
...and froze.
His hairânormally soft pinkâwas now standing straight up like a startled porcupine.
Floating.
Defying gravity.
Paul:
"...Ah."
Lisse:
"Y-YOUNG MASTER YOU'RE LEVITATING."
And indeedâ
Paul's feet were a few inches off the ground.
He hovered.
Gracefully.
Slowly spinning in place.
Paul:
"...I see. So the tonic's energy output exceeded tolerance levels."
Lisse flailed her arms.
Lisse:
"THAT IS NOT THE ISSUE RIGHT NOWâ!"
She grabbed his ankle, trying to pull him down.
He gently rotated out of her grip like a drifting balloon.
Paul sighed.
Paul:
"At least the effects aren't harmful."
Lisse:
"YOU'RE FLOATING LIKE A LOST SPIRITâ HOW IS THIS NOT HARMFUL?!"
Paul tapped his chin thoughtfullyâwell, attempted to.
His hand kept drifting away from his face.
Paul:
"...Interesting. The tonic seems to have enhanced my gravitational field instead of healing magic. A miscalculation, but a useful discovery."
Lisse stared at him with the expression of someone whose sanity was slipping.
Lisse:
"Young master Paul... please come down..."
Paul:
"It should wear off soon."
It did â after ten more minutes of gliding gently around the room like a lazy feather.
Eventually, gravity returned to normal and he landed safely on the floor.
Lisse collapsed dramatically in relief.
Paul dusted off his robe.
Paul:
"Next time, I'll adjust the moss ratio. That should stabilize the effect."
Lisse shot him a horrified look.
Lisse:
"You're going to drink it AGAIN?!"
Paul:
"...Yes. For research."
Lisse:
"NO! At least let me secure you to the chair first!"
Paul blinked slowly.
Paul:
"...That's unnecessary."
Lisse:
"It absolutely is necessary! I'm getting rope!"
Paul opened his notebook, ignoring her sprinting out of the room.
He wrote calmly:
"Test #1: Mild healing tonic
Result: Harmless gravitational displacement. Side effects manageable."
He paused.
Then wrote one more line:
"Progress acceptable."
A subtle smile touched his lips.
Explosions, floating, unpredictable effects...
It was messy.
It was exhausting.
It was familiar.
And in this unfamiliar world, familiar was comforting.
Perfect â here are both chapters, in sequence, flowing smoothly from one to the next.
đŹđąđȘ: The Second Experiment (and the Chair Situation)
Paul set out his ingredients with calm precision.
Dried silverleaf.
Blue moss (reduced to half this time).
Crushed starflower root.
And a pinch of firefly dust for stabilization.
Lisse, meanwhile, stood behind him with the determination of a soldier preparing for war.
And in her hands...
A rope.
A very long rope.
Paul finally noticed.
Paul:
"...Why do you have that?"
Lisse:
"Young Master, you floated. Floated. Like a lantern in a festival. I'm not letting physics betray you again."
Paul:
"...Magic. Not physics."
Lisse:
"WHATEVER IT WAS, THE CHAIR IS HAPPENING."
She pointed to a sturdy wooden chair in the center of the room.
Paul gave it a long, unimpressed stare.
Paul:
"That seems unnecessary."
Lisse:
"Nonsense. It is absolutely necessary."
And before he could protest, she ushered him into the chair andâ
shk! shk! shk!
âtied him down like he was about to be sacrificed to a forest deity.
Paul:
"...Lisse."
Lisse:
"Yes, Young Master?"
Paul:
"You tied my sleeves too. I can't move my arms."
Lisse:
"That is correct."
Paul:
"...How am I supposed to drink the tonic?"
Lisse blinked.
Then gasped.
Lisse:
"Oh! Right! I'll feed it to you!"
Paul:
"...That is somehow worse."
She didn't care.
She carefully poured the newly adjusted tonic into a small glass, holding it like it might explode.
Lisse:
"Here we go... Open your mouthâ"
Paul:
"...I can drink by myself."
Lisse:
"No. You cannot."
She pressed the glass to his lips. Reluctantly, Paul drank.
He waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Thirty.
Paul:
"...Nothing."
Lisse:
"...Nothing?! Really?!"
He blinked.
Paul:
"Yes. It seemsâ"
BOOMF.
A harmless puff of white smoke burst around him like a magician's trick.
Lisse shrieked.
Lisse:
"OH NOâ WHAT DID IT DO?!"
The smoke cleared.
And Paulâ
âhad grown exactly four inches taller.
Just temporarily, by the looks of it. His legs didn't even reach the floor now; they dangled awkwardly from the chair.
Lisse clapped a hand over her mouth.
Lisse:
"...Young Master... you're tall."
Paul looked down at himself.
Paul:
"...Hn."
Lisse:
"...Is that a good sound or a bad soundâ?"
Paul:
"This is acceptable progress."
Lisse:
"HOW IS THIS ACCEPTABLEâ?!"
Paul:
"The tonic increased body cell regeneration, likely stimulating growth temporarily. Fascinating."
Lisse buried her face in both hands.
Lisse:
"WHY ARE YOU CALM?! NORMAL PEOPLE DO NOT GROW FOUR INCHES FROM A DRINK!"
Paul tilted his head.
Paul:
"Normal people don't test tonics on themselves."
Lisse:
"...I'm going to cry."
Paul remained tied to the chair, now looking like an older, stretched version of himself while dangling helplessly.
Paul:
"...Lisse."
Lisse sniffed.
Lisse:
"Yes?"
Paul:
"...Untie me."
She finally rushed to undo the ropes.
A few minutes later, the tonic wore off and Paul returned to his usual height.
Lisse slumped against the bed frame, exhausted.
Paul scribbled notes calmly:
"Test #2: Moderate healing tonic
Result: Temporary height increase. Extremely stable. Extremely interesting."
Paul:
"Tomorrow, we test a variant with diluted moss."
Lisse:
"NO WE DO NOTâ"
Paul:
"Yes we do."
Lisse:
"I'M TYING YOU TO THE FLOOR NEXT TIME."
đ„đ„đ§ : Lisse's POV â "My Young Master Is Going to Kill Himself and I Am the Only Brain Cell Left"
I, Lisse Sylvanleaf, humble elf maid of House Gonzalez...
...am tired.
Not physically.
Not magically.
Emotionally.
My Young Master, Paul Gonzalez...
He is kind.
Quiet.
Soft-spoken.
And absolutely, unquestionably, a danger to himself.
Yesterday, he floated.
Today, he grew.
Tomorrowâ
...he might explode.
And he says all of this is "acceptable progress."
This is not acceptable!
This is not progress!
This is chaos wearing a lab coat!
When I tied him to that chair...
Do you know what he said?
Paul:
"Lisse, this is excessive."
EXCESSIVE?!
Young Master, you nearly ascended to a higher place last time!
You became air!
And when he grew four inches, what did he do?
Did he panic?
Did he question life?
No.
He calmly stared at his legs like he was observing a new species.
Paul:
"...Hn. Interesting."
INTERESTING?!
Young Master, please! Just once! React like someone who values their mortality!
Sometimes I wonder if the goddess reincarnated him with the wrong checkboxes ticked:
[x] Smart
[x] Calm
[x] Unbothered by floating
[x] Accepting of accidental growth spurts
[ ] Survival instincts
And I, his maid, must worry for the both of us.
But...
As I watched him scribble in his notebookâeyes bright for once, expression alive and curiousâ
I remembered something:
Before he started these experiments, Young Master Paul...
...looked empty.
Like he was just drifting through the days.
No joy.
No interest.
No spark.
But now?
He glows.
A soft glow, like moonlight through fog...
...but a glow nonetheless.
He cares about this.
He's alive because of it.
So I will keep him alive.
I will hold the rope.
I will panic.
I will shout.
I will tie him to chairs.
I will take notes.
I will worry until my hair falls out.
Because someone has to.
Because his new family doesn't care.
But I do.
Because he deserves to live.
And laugh.
And be excited about something.
Even if that something makes him temporarily hover above the bed like a confused balloon.
I exhaled deeply.
Lisse:
"...Young Master?"
Paul:
"Yes?"
Lisse:
"...If you must experiment tomorrow... please let me help."
He blinked at me, startled.
Thenâ
A small smile.
Soft.
Warm.
Paul:
"...Alright."
And in that moment...
I decided I would follow him anywhere.
Even if he floats again.