----Rudeus Greyrat POV----
My body swayed left and right, unsteady from the alcohol still coursing through me. I could cast detoxification magic with ease, but when sober, I remember the faces of my loved ones.
I push the door of my room. Inside, the kid's lying in bed, staring out the window like he's auditioning for a sad indie film. The creak of the hinges pulls his attention, and boom, eye contact. Great. Now comes the part where I, his personal doctor, tell him he's got terminal cancer.
But let's be real. A doctor? Me? Please. I look more like Doc f from a certain time traveling movie: white hair, unshaven face, robes that scream "I lost a fight with a laundry basket." My next lines should be "I'm sending you back to the future!" except, plot twist, we're actually sending him to the past.
I dragged a chair across the stone floor and sat beside him, he kept staring at me, with full of judgment, ignoring him I checked his magical status. Huh. It's… normal. Like, suspiciously normal. Before I left this room to go grab drinks with Geese, his mana levels were off the charts, borderline radioactive. Now? It's like someone hit the reset button, as if an admin patched a bug while I was gone?
"Boy," I said, keeping it simple. "How are you feeling?"
"…"
What's with that blank stare? I asked a simple question. He understood Human God Tongue just fine when we first met so don't play dumb now.
Wait… No, no no... My stomach dropped like a stone. Don't tell me… He became an invalid like Zenith?
I shot up, panic flaring into anger.
"ANSWER ME!"
His eyes snapped wide open, the boy was startled, terrified.
"…My body aches," he whispered. "My arms… my legs… they hurt the most."
Okay, so the kid feels pain. That's a good start. He's got a sense of self, which means we're still in 'conscious human' territory.
I leaned in, keeping my voice calm but firm.
"Tell me your name… and the family you came from."
The boy's eyes narrowed like he was trying to hold back a flood of emotions.
"…My name is Sebastian," he said quietly. "I was born in Fontemora Village. My father worked as a blacksmith. My mother was a nurse. I also had a pet growing up."
Okay, so the kid knows who he is, understands social roles, and emotional context. No signs of dissociation, no creepy monotone, or shouting that that he is some kind demon empress.
Now comes the real test: making sure this boy isn't suicidal or psychopathic. The trauma alone could've radicalize anyone. And the last thing I need is for a plot twist where I send a senseless killing machine back to the past.
"Sebastian… do you ever feel like your thoughts are working against you? Like they're not really yours?"
He blinks. No twitch. No shift in tone.
"Do you ever feel like hurting yourself? Or someone else?"
His eyes flickered, just for a moment. A shift in his breathing.
So he does want to harm someone.
After what he's been through, this is not surprising. If he did answer with a blank stare and perfect composure, that's when you start checking for sociopathy behaviors.
But this?
This was human. The painful part we all try to bury, and the part that teaches us.
So no, he's not fine.
And that's exactly why I can work with him.
"Sebastian, what is it you want to do in the future?"
Sebastian looked down at his hands, trembling. The kind of hands that had held too much pain for someone his age.
"I…"
After a long pause. I patiently waited.
But the answer didn't come.
He just sat there, staring at his hands like they were foreign objects. Did his brain short-circuited mid-thought? Maybe he was still in shock.
And maybe, just maybe, he had nothing left to desire.
...
That's a real problem. If the kid doesn't have something to dream for, then healing takes forever. And I only have months, maybe less. I can't look after this kid's emotional state while building the magic travel circle.
I sighed. Turned my back to him. Thought for myself.
A waste of time.
Then I heard it. Barely a whisper.
"I want to see my parents."
I stopped mid-step, then turned slightly, just enough to glance back.
This boy… I bought him through the BluewhaleHouse. A noble name on paper, but everyone in the underground world knows their true business: pilgrimage, and child trafficking. If Sebastian came through them, then his parents were already gone. Killed and burned. No exceptions.
Still, he did have a dream, childish, yes, but appropriate for someone barely ten. That kind of innocence doesn't survive long in this world. And yet… here it was.
I looked into his eyes. They weren't focused on me. They were staring past the room, past the walls, reaching for something distant. Something lost.
...
Good. I could work with that.
What I was about to say… well, it wouldn't earn me forgiveness. But I've done enough to secure my own private suite in hell. One more lie won't change the reservation.
I turned fully, knelt down on one knee, and met his gaze.
"You can see them again."
---- Sebastian POV ----
"You can see them again."
I looked into the old man's eyes.
And I knew. I knew the truth behind those words.
I will never get to see my parents again.
Yet somehow… his voice carried something. Not certainty, not honesty...
But hope.
Fragile, misplaced, and cruel. But it was there. And I liked the thought of it. I clung to it.
Strange, I've always found them super annoying and loved leaving the house to play outside, but right now, I would anything to get back in it. Anything.
My mother's cooking.
My father's voice.
The way they made the world feel safe, even when it wasn't.
It still feels surreal. That I won't get to taste her food again. That I won't hear him call me anymore. That those moments are gone.
"Sebastian, can you walk?" the strange old man snapped me from my daze.
I gritted my teeth and pushed power into my hands, lifting the blanket that clung to my skin. My limbs ached. Then I looked at the stone floor.
I was scared to stand.
Months spent in that iron cage, cramped, cold, and soaked in darkness had left my body weak. I hadn't moved freely in so long. Every day was pain, the grinding ache that lived in my bones. As if water forced into my limbs, expanding from the inside, stretching me past the point of breaking.
But I placed one leg down. Then the other. The floor was cold. My legs trembled.
I pushed myself up, stumbling, catching the wall with one hand. My breath hitched. My heart pounded. And then—
"I… can stand," I whispered, lips trembling with disbelief.
"Mhm, seems like you've recovered quite unexpectedly. Seeing your health improve, we will be leaving this room in three days. In the meantime, I will be monitoring your condition."
His face didn't change. Monotone, like he was talking to a wall, or maybe to himself. Most adults I'd met spoke to someone. And somehow, that made my impression of the old man scarier.
"Now Sebastian, let's go over your contract" then his voice was low "Even though you are my property, the least I can do is treat you with human decency."
I tilted my head, contract?
He then cleared his throat, eyes flicking toward me for the briefest moment.
"Er… let's go over what you'll be doing from now on."
His gaze settling into focus, not on me, but on the space just past me. Like he was reading off a mental checklist.
"Your schedule will be measured throughout a 24-hour timeframe."
The old man pulled something from his pocket and handed it to me. I took it carefully, turning the cool metal over in my hands. Strange symbols were etched into its surface, and two black lines, one long, one short, pointed in different directions towards the symbols.
He began explaining how time worked. How this little object, a pocket watch, could tell you exactly what part of the day you were in. I had to learn how to read it and I enjoyed listening to him. Back in my village, we had a sense of time, but it was simple. We watched the sun. If it was bright, we worked. If it was dim, we rested. Nothing like this.
Master then laid out my daily schedule. Meals at fixed times. Health checkups. Sleep. And something he called "tea time." He emphasized it more than anything else and that I must never drink the tea outside its designated hour.
When I asked why, he waved a hand and said.
"I am a mad scientist!" with a strange grin.
I just looked at him confused?
"Eh... Now let's talk about your daily routine, since we're preparing you for a trip, there's much for your brain to learn and for your body to train."
"Am I going to be an adventurer?" I asked, eyes wide with excitement.
"Yes," he replied after a pause. "I'll be helping you become an S-tier adventurer, so once your contract is over, you will be able to travel alone."
I hesitated. The words sounded exciting, but something in them felt cold.
"So I am going to be adventuring... Alone…?"
He didn't answer right away.
And I didn't like that.
Despite the man and I being strangers, the thought of going back into the world alone... It scared me.
"You won't be alone," he said finally.
I looked up, my thoughts blank, searching his face for something real.
"I've been traveling alone for a long time," he continued, voice softer now. "And something I could never avoid in all that time… was meeting people."
He didn't smile, but there was something in his tone that was lived-in and true.
And for now, that was enough.
"Either way, how many languages do you know?"
I tilted my head.
"Languages?"
He sighed, his face stretching into a long, tired expression.
"…Urgh, never mind. Here, take this."
He handed me a thin white rectangle sheet with strange scribbles all over it, along with a small wooden stick, smooth, dark, and sharpened at one end.
"This exam covers basic world knowledge, arithmetic, reading and writing comprehension. I understand you're young, but we need to start somewhere. You can use the pencil to write your answers. I'll be heading out to restock our supplies. I'll be back in forty-five minutes."
He gestured toward the paper and stood up.
I stared at the sheet. The symbols twisted and curled. I didn't know what any of it meant. Just looking at it made my stomach turn. What the hell was I supposed to do?
"Eh… Sir?"
He stopped at the door, hand on the handle.
"If you're stuck on the first question, just skip it…"
"I don't know how to read... Nor write..."
Silence.
Then slowly turned to face me.
"..."
"..."
"Well, isn't it fortunate that you have 45 minutes to figure it out yourself?"
"???"
Before I could say anything, he spun on his heel, exited the room, and slammed the door behind him. A sharp click echoed from the other side.
I blinked at the door. Then at the paper. Then back at the door.
What the hell?