When the crystal orb revealed my Element Affinity's result, the room fell into a heavy silence. I understood their reaction—my talent level was barely distinguishable from that of an ordinary human. Still, I couldn't help but wonder what they called themselves in this world. After all, we looked remarkably similar.
The room was silent—until my stepmother's laughter shattered it. "Hah! Does that child even carry the Destenebres blood, or did you sleep with another man?" she jeered, her laughter sharp and cruel. "I… I didn't… it's… impossible…" my mother whispered, her voice trembling. It was as though reality itself had crushed her hopes and expectations that I might possess a talent—yet it seemed I did not.
My father moved toward my mother—no, toward me—his steps steady, his gaze locked on the child she carried. His eyes were a deep, striking gold as they met mine. We shared the same colour, but mine was lighter and less vivid — more of a faint gold than the rich shade he carried.
"He seems to bear the blood of the Destenebres… Cesline, may I speak with you for a moment? Everyone else, please leave us." His voice was calm, almost indifferent, yet the subtle tension in his facial muscles told me he had a purpose. I suspected it was to erase my existence — and that was fine. I had no desire to remain in this world; I still needed to return to my original body.
At his command, the room emptied in silence. The servants lowered their heads and moved quickly, careful not to make a sound that might draw his attention. No one dared to provoke or anger the lord of the house — except my stepmother. She lingered for a heartbeat longer than the rest, her lips curling into the faintest smile before she turned and left, clearly pleased with whatever she imagined would happen next.
As the door closed behind the departing servants and my stepmother, silence settled over the room. Only my mother and father remained — or three people, if you counted me in her arms.
"Cesline, dispose of him." My father's words were simple, almost casual — yet they struck my mother like a blade. She froze, her eyes wide with disbelief, unable to fathom such cruelty. I was only a toddler, untouched by the world's wonders, unaware that my life—so new, so fragile—could be spoken of as something to be discarded.
Wow… he actually said it. Though I cannot fully understand the word itself, I can somehow grasp its meaning through the way he spoke and the way my mother reacted. So merciless… don't you all agree?
...…
I hear nothing but silence. Did those bastards who always ridicule, insult, or pressure me just ignore me when I asked for their opinion for the first time? They always interrupt whenever I'm thinking, but when I want to speak to them, they ignore me. Well, whatever. It's not like I want their honest opinion or anything.
"I am sorry, my lord, but I cannot accept this. He… is… just a child. To die because his talent is lacking — I ca…n't accept such—" My mother's voice was weak. At her second phrase, tears began to form in her eyes; by the third, she was sobbing, unable to agree with my father's way of thinking. But before she could finish, my father interrupted her.
"Of course, I would not order you to dispose of him for nothing. I know the reason you want to keep him — it is because he has the Destenebres' blood, correct? So your family could establish a connection with us. If so, how about this: once you dispose of him, I will offer my genetics to your new child, one whose talent may be better than what was shown earlier. How about it? It is a fair trade, is it not? After all, a child like him existing would tarnish not only my house's reputation but yours as well. Knowing such a fate, wouldn't it be better to remove it by eliminating his existence as quickly as possible, before the whole world knows about him? No worries — I will ensure all the maids in this mansion do not spread the information, and regarding Thalindra, I will make sure she does not mention it in gossip or spread it as a rumour at all. How about it? Isn't it a good deal? It benefits you more than me." My father spoke with indifference and coldness, as if I had no value, while offering something he considered valuable.
Listening to him, my mother wore a stunned expression as she heard an offer that benefited her the most. It was an offer too good to be true. It was true that having a connection to the Destenebres could benefit her and her house, and with the matter of any information or rumours about me being contained, she would have nothing to worry about. It was the kind of offer anyone would take. If I had understood the words my father spoke, I would have agreed proudly, greed shining in my eyes if I were in her position.
After my father had said what he wanted, silence enveloped the room for a while, until it was broken by my mother, who had finally finished processing his words.
"How… how could you decide the fate of a child, just because his talent is below average? How… could you dismiss a child of your own blood as nothing? I… I refuse!" my mother said weakly in response to his offer. Yet, when it came to declaring whether she would accept it or not, her voice rose, fuelled by an unknown resolve in her heart.
My father and I looked at her in disbelief. Lady, you need not worry about me, I thought. If he is merely disposing of my existence, I will side with him without hesitation. After all, my goal is to return to my original body. You should be more concerned about your own situation instead.
"Why did you refuse? I believe the offer I suggested is good for both of us—it even gives you many benefits. So why refuse? I simply do not understand. Is it because my offer is not enough? I can offer more if you wa—" my father said, his tone indifferent and cold. But before he could finish, my mother interrupted him.
"IT IS NOT THAT!" my mother shouted, as though offended. What is wrong with this woman? I thought.
After she shouted, she looked at my face warmly. With her free hand—her left—she patted my head and playfully tapped my nose, smiling as though adoring her own son. Oblivious to her, I thought, 'Oi, why are you patting my head and touching my nose all of a sudden?' I tried to voice my complaint, but it emerged only as a baby's cry—one that, I suspect, stirred the maternal instinct within her.
My mother is speaking to my father, her voice warm and full of feeling, while I, still just a baby, rest in her arms.
"Do you remember," she says softly to him, "that during the early months of my pregnancy, the doctor told me the baby might not survive after birth? At first, I didn't believe him. But then I began to feel pain in my womb. I thought it was just a coincidence, yet as the pain lingered, I couldn't help but think he might be right.
"Remembering his words, I felt hopeless. I thought perhaps I would never be able to bring our child into the world. With nothing else I could do, I prayed — every night — to the gods and goddesses, begging them to save our baby. I prayed and prayed, but the pain did not go away.
"Then, after a few days, the pain disappeared. At first, I was frightened, thinking perhaps the baby had died. But then I felt it — a gentle, calm kick inside my womb. In that moment, I believed the gods and goddesses had answered my prayers. And I vowed that, no matter what, I would raise this child and protect him.
"When I finally gave birth, he looked healthy on the outside. But when I held him, I could feel how weak he was. I didn't care. Whether or not he had any talent, I would raise him — because I am his mother."
As she speaks, her eyes drift towards him with a tenderness that seems to search for something unspoken in return. Every so often, she reaches down to tease me — brushing my nose with her fingertip or gently patting my head — a soft smile playing on her lips as she tells her story. I can understand most of the words she says, but there are some I don't understand.
My father listened in silence, but his cold, indifferent expression remained fixed — as unmoved as carved stone.
"So… if I were to threaten that, unless you disposed of him, you would no longer be allowed to stay here — if I were to forbid you from leaving the Destenebres' Territory or enjoying its riches — would your answer still be the same?" my father said in a cold, indifferent tone.
I listened from my mother's arms. Damn… he's really willing to go this far just to erase my existence. I looked at my mother, wishing I could tell her not to worry about me, but about herself — after all, I was already planning to die soon. But the face of a baby could never show the expression I wanted.
My mother, hearing his words, froze for a moment. There was clear hesitation in her eyes, but when she glanced at my face — my silent attempt to tell her not to worry — she misunderstood it as a baby looking at his mother with sadness. After staring at me for a moment, the hesitation in her gaze faded, replaced by the determination of the choice she was about to make.
"My answer would still be the same," my mother said without hesitation, her voice steady and resolute, having already decided what she would say only moments before.
"Then so be it. I want you to relocate to the building in this part of the forest," my father said coldly and indifferently as he pulled out a map and pointed to a spot with his finger.
I looked at it as well — or rather, I studied the entire map. As I suspected, this world truly was Evanslyna. After analysing the continents and regions, my gaze returned to the place my father had indicated. On the map, it appeared as a small patch of open land, surrounded by dense forest.
I searched for the location of the Destenebres' Mansion. Once I found it, I compared the two points. The site he had chosen was approximately two and a half kilometres from the mansion. Of course, the Destenebres Mansion stood high in the mountains, while the location my father had pinpointed lay far below in elevation, deep within the forest.
My mother, hearing his response to her earlier answer, seemed disheartened. Yet she looked at the location he had indicated without resistance, offering no complaint.
"Alright," my mother said with quiet calm, a sign that she had accepted her fate.
"You may leave. I have nothing further to discuss," my father said, his tone cold and indifferent, as he settled into the chair behind his study desk.
Upon hearing that, my mother, still carrying me, turned and slowly made her way towards the exit. When she reached the door and began to open it slightly, my father spoke again.
"My offer will still stand, even if you reject it now. If that child dies, you may return to the Destenebres' Mansion," he said coldly and indifferently.
My mother didn't reply to his words; she simply closed the door behind her as she left the room. Outside, she was met by the two guards stationed at the entrance, each raising their right arm across to the left side of their chest in salute. But they weren't the only ones waiting there.
Thalindra, my stepmother, stood nearby with her maids gathered around her. She cradled my little half-sister, Lyraena, in her arms, while the maids carried my older half-brother, Lysander.
Upon seeing them, my mother's first instinct was to walk away as quickly as possible. But my stepmother, noticing her emergence from the room, couldn't resist adding a few comments of her own.
"How disappointing. To think you would give birth to someone talentless — or worse, with a talent so poor he might as well be considered an ordinary human. Hahahaha." My stepmother's voice dripped with mockery before she broke into a teasing laugh.
Listening to her, I found my knowledge expanding slightly. I had learnt that they still used the same species name from the game. So, they considered their race to be human as well. I had expected it to be a different name, as I had seen many worlds where people looked human, but their species name was different. I suspected it might be the goddesses — or perhaps the gods — of this world who had spread the idea that the name "human" should be used instead.
My mother did not retaliate or fight back. She simply listened, as if she had no choice, her head bowed while carrying me, her heart clearly breaking. I could tell exactly what she was feeling — after all, her hands were trembling as they held me. I saw tears slowly beginning to form in her eyes.
After hearing my stepmother's words, my mother seemed as though she wanted to speak, but my stepmother was not finished.
She tilted her head slightly, a faint, condescending smile curling at her lips. "If I had a child like that, I wouldn't be able to live with myself," she said, her voice dripping with false pity. "It's so pitiful, I might as well abandon it to a church… or the slums." She let the pause linger, her eyes glinting with amusement. "After all, this world is ruled by your affinity — and your body's ability to store energies." Her tone was mocking, each word deliberately sharpened to wound.
My mother did not retaliate or argue. She simply listened, her head bowed as though she had no choice, carrying me in her arms with a heart that was clearly breaking. I could feel it in the way her trembling hands held me. Tears began to well in her eyes.
When my stepmother finally paused, my mother's voice emerged — calm, steady, yet edged with quiet fierceness. "I pity your children… they will never know the warmth of a mother's love. To you, they will only ever be worth the value you place upon them."
As she spoke, the maids assigned to escort us appeared at the T‑junction of the hallway. Without a word, they led my mother back to her room.
My stepmother was momentarily stunned — astonished that a mere mistress would dare to speak back to her, and even more so that it came from the mother of a child she deemed worthless.
After a while of walking, we finally reached my mother's room. The moment we stepped inside, she spoke calmly.
"I have been ordered to leave this mansion and stay in the building near the Destenebres Mansion, the one surrounded by the forest."
As soon as she finished, the maids looked at her in surprise, their expressions tinged with nervousness. Before they could say a word, my mother continued, her voice warm and gentle.
"You do not need to follow me if you do not wish to. I will not force you, nor will I resent your choice. I know how much you have helped and served me, so if you choose to remain here, that will be fine."
As soon as my mother finished speaking, one of the maids stepped forward — the very one I had always suspected to be her personal attendant, for she was invariably the first to act whenever concern for my mother arose.
"Madam Cesline, I wish to follow you," said Yukino, the maid with light blue hair and deep sapphire eyes. Her voice was calm, yet carried an unshakable loyalty.
"Yukino…" My mother was surprised by her words, but a warm smile spread across her face. She knew this maid had always worried for her whenever she was troubled, and even now, she still chose to follow her. My mother also knew that Yukino had been by her side since childhood — their ages so close that they had grown up almost like sisters.
"Also, I can't leave you alone in a building when we don't even know what condition it's in. After all, Madam Cesline, do you even know how to wash your own clothes? Do you know how to cook? Or even how to properly clean your room? Honestly, I'm worried that if I leave you there, the next morning I'll wake up to find the entire forest on fire," Yukino said with a calm, concerned expression — though there was a clear hint of playful teasing in her voice.
"I agree with Miss Yukino. I'm worried that Madam Cesline wouldn't be able to manage on her own and might make the child suffer, so I shall come along as well," one of the young maids said, her tone light and teasing.
"Me too."
"Same here."
"And I'd rather not see a forest fire the next day, either," another added with a playful grin.
All the maids spoke in the same cheerful, teasing manner. Hearing their replies, my mother was filled with overwhelming joy and a profound sense of connection to them — for they would follow her even in the most unfavourable circumstances. Yet, beneath that warmth, she could not help but feel a flicker of offence that they seemed to have so little faith in her ability to manage on her own.
Before my mother could say anything, Yukino addressed everyone. "Everyone, pack whatever you wish or need to bring. Once you're done, anyone who's free should help me pack Madam Cesline's luggage. Let's begin now."
"Yes!" the maids replied in unison, before quickly hurrying out of the room.
"Let me help too," my mother said, her expression showing a clear desire to be useful.
"It's all right, Lady Cesline. It's best if you don't do anything," Yukino replied teasingly.
"Am I really that undependable?" my mother asked, doubt in her voice.
"Yes," Yukino answered calmly.
I noticed that Yukino addressed my mother as "Lady" rather than "Madam". Could it be that they were quite close to one another?
"That's unfair. What am I supposed to do then?" my mother pouted.
"You should ensure the young master's personal well-being. I believe a mother should be able to care for her child well, so I consider it an important duty, Lady Cesline," Yukino said evenly as she moved away.
"All right," my mother replied, sounding calmer now that she had something to do — though I suspected Yukino had merely tricked her into thinking she was needed. And, for the record, I consider myself a rather well-mannered child.
"Doubt it," came the chorus of seven voices in my mind.
Those inconsiderate scoundrels — doubting me of all people? A well‑mannered child such as myself? Now I'm truly offended. You'd best mind your thoughts, I warned them silently.
After quite a while, we were at the main entrance of the Mansion and surrounding us were the maids following us and the large amount of luggage around us as we prepared to depart.
Before we departed, my mother and the maids turned to look at the mansion. My mother's expression was a mixture of a faint smile and quiet sadness. I, too, looked at the mansion and let my thoughts surface… yet there was nothing. It felt as though the memories of the past half‑year were nothing more than a fleeting moment. Wow… am I really that unsentimental about my own birthplace?
"Let's go," my mother said, her voice calm yet firm, as everyone followed behind her — some of them hauling the luggage. I had a feeling they might have to return later to collect whatever had been left behind. Well, it didn't matter. What did interest me, however, was the kind of building we were moving to.
These thoughts drifted through my mind as we departed from the mansion.