The Boy in the Straw Bed
Kevin's head tilted slightly, a smirk playing on the corner of his mouth as candlelight danced across his face, accentuating the sharp edges of his grin. "Either you're lying to us," he said, his low voice laced with a teasing confidence, "or you're the dumbest teen I've ever met."
His tone was easy, humorous, and disarming, but beneath it, a razor's edge gleamed. His steady, assessing eyes never softened; they dissected, scrutinizing every detail. They were the kind of eyes that didn't just see you - they analyzed you, turning you inside out.
Rick blinked once, then twice, his expression unshaken. His face was a strange mix of innocence and something deeper - measured, observant, and unnervingly calm for a boy his age. Or maybe it wasn't innocence at all. Maybe it was a mask, an old habit worn by someone who'd learned, far too young, how to hide the truth behind a polite smile.
"So, Rick," Christie said suddenly, her voice gentle but unnervingly formal. "Could you excuse us for a moment?"
"Yes, granny," Rick replied instantly, his tone a perfect imitation - polite, even melodic.
Christie's lips twitched before she caught herself, and the faint smile vanished behind a composed façade. "And one more thing," she added evenly. "It's Miss Christie. That will do for now."
"Ok, Miss Christie," Rick echoed, his mimicry flawless, the cadence of her tone eerily precise.
The couple exchanged a long look, a mix of amusement and unease. Then, without a word, they stepped away, their boots creaking against the wooden floorboards, each step soft yet distinct in the hush that filled the farmhouse. When they spoke again, their voices dropped to murmurs - low, urgent, and private.
Christie folded her arms, her brow knitting as she stared into the shadows. "So," she asked under her breath, "what do you think?"
Kevin's smirk faltered, replaced by a thoughtful expression. "I think," he said slowly, "he's the son of some overprotective father from a family of hunters - probably raised far from civilization, sheltered and hidden away from the rest of the world."
Christie's eyes narrowed slightly, considering. "Hmm. That would explain his hands - smooth palms, no calluses, no scars. He's never done real labor. But…" Her gaze softened, her voice lowering. "How do you explain that hair? That silky, silver sheen? Or that flawless body? And that face…" Her tone grew almost wistful. "He's beautiful, Kevin. Unnervingly so."
Kevin's eyebrow arched, amusement flickering across his face. "Should I be worried that you're daydreaming about a boy who looks half my age?"
Christie flushed, looking away as she cleared her throat. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm making observations. Important ones." She straightened her posture, reclaiming her composure. "Have you contacted Bruno yet?"
The teasing vanished from Kevin's expression. His voice shifted, calm and grounded. "Yeah. He said he'd be here in five minutes if he's early, two hours if he's late."
"Good," Christie murmured, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "The last thing we need is more trouble knocking on our door. And… I don't sense any magic from him. Isn't he supposed to be an apprentice?"
Kevin's gaze hardened, the humor draining from his tone. "No. That's the strange part." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "He has a mana core. But it's… empty. Blank. No resonance, no elemental pulse - nothing. And trust me, Christie, there's no spell that could hide something like that from me."
Christie froze. Her lips parted, her voice breaking into a whisper. "Wait. Then… did he just form it? That could explain—"
"No." Kevin's interruption was calm but absolute. His eyes locked onto hers. "The size of his mana core is at least five times larger than mine."
For a moment, Christie just stared at him. Then her face went white. "What?!" Her voice cracked, almost a scream. She caught herself instantly, pressing a trembling hand to her mouth to muffle the sound. "Five times? Kevin, that's—That's impossible! He's not even twenty! A core that size would take decades - centuries! That kind of density, that purity… it's not human!"
Kevin raised a hand, signaling her to steady herself. "I knew you'd react like that," he said quietly. "That's why I set a barrier the moment we got here. And I won't lower it - not even for a second."
Christie exhaled shakily, forcing herself to breathe. Slowly, the panic drained from her face, replaced by the calm calculation of a woman used to dealing with the extraordinary. "Right… right. Sorry. I lost myself for a moment."
Her eyes flicked toward the straw bed. The boy lay still - his silver hair spilling over the rough fabric, his breathing slow but steady, his expression strangely peaceful. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, Christie's eyes sharpened.
"Kevin," she said softly. "I think I know who he is."
Kevin's gaze flicked up. "Oh really? And who might that be?"
"I think he's from one of the honored families. One of the old bloodlines," she murmured. "Maybe he got tangled in some ancient feud. Maybe his memory was tampered with - wiped clean of everything that mattered."
Kevin considered that, his jaw tightening. "Maybe. It's possible." His voice softened, faintly resigned. "But what I do know… is that you're not letting this go. You're already attached."
Her lips curved into a reluctant smile. "You know me too well."
"Better than you think." He leaned closer, his tone warm, steady. "So I'll be here - with you. For as long as it takes."
Christie's hand brushed his arm lightly, gratitude flickering through her eyes. "Thank you, Kevin. I don't know what I'd do without you."
For a fleeting moment, the tension eased. The silence between them grew soft. Outside, the storm began to fade to a gentle drizzle.
Meanwhile, Rick lay motionless on the straw bed. The faint glow of the lantern painted his pale face in gold and shadow. His body ached with every breath, yet his mind refused him rest.
"Wow…" He thought bitterly. "Either Miss Evane set this up as some cruel new training, or I really did die and end up here."
He stared up at the ceiling, where cracks spiderwebbed across the wood. But then again… I don't feel any sudden rush of memories. No divine pain or blinding light like in those old novels. It just feels like… I'm sixteen again. Sixteen - and trapped in this body.
He shifted, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his ribs. And if this is reincarnation, then what kind of speedrun did I just pull off? No childhood? No growth? Just - bam - instant teenager. Perfect.
His lips twisted into a dry chuckle, which came out more like a rasp. Not that I'd last long alone anyway. I've never lived alone. Not once.
He paused. Sixteen years in my old world, and what did I get? A bullet for my trouble. Two, actually.
A grim smile flickered across his face. The thief's lucky I never got to him. I would've smashed his face until it looked like spoiled meat.
The smile faded as quickly as it came. His expression darkened.
And what kind of reincarnation is this? No system. No blessing. No convenient power-up. Just… emptiness.
His hand rose weakly to his chest. And my core… it's quiet. For the first time ever, it's quiet.
The realization hit harder than expected. Relief and unease twined together in his gut. That overwhelming pressure… that boiling mana that could've destroyed me - it's gone.
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. And yet, somehow, it feels like something's missing.
His thoughts drifted. So now I'm stuck here. No family. No power. No wealth. Just pain and a leaky roof. Great.
He sighed. Well… at least Miss Christie and Mr. Kevin seem decent. Hopefully.
He let the thought linger, then muttered quietly, "Guess all I can do now is get stronger."
A pause. Then his eyes opened again.
Wait. Isn't that what every protagonist says before their life turns into a misery festival? Strength, revenge, destiny… they all sound good until you're bleeding in a ditch somewhere.
Despite himself, he chuckled weakly.
"No. I'll take it slow this time. No heroics. No grand prophecies. Just enough power to protect myself."
His gaze softened, drifting to the flickering light of the lantern.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
As his eyes finally closed, the silence in the room deepened. Outside, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance - like a god laughing quietly to himself.