It's been three years, and life has been good. Being part of a rich family greatly accelerated my growth. I was fed the highest quality food and trained and conditioned from the young age of two and a half, which made my development almost exponential. I knew this wasn't normal. Something felt off, especially since they had me learning things far beyond what any child my age should know. None of it seemed threatening on the surface, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something deeply important was waiting just around the corner.
The only truly unusual part of my training was how I recovered afterward. Instead of rest or ice baths, recovery meant a massage with effects so miraculous that I felt as refreshed as if I had never trained at all.
A couple of weeks passed, and then my fourth birthday arrived, starting on a high note. We had a big breakfast, with all the maids joining us and filling the usually quiet house with vibrant chatter and laughter. The only oddity was that the butler, Albert, was unusually stern and imposing. He didn't eat. He simply stood behind me, as though he had something serious to discuss once we were alone.
When the meal ended, the maids gathered around and sang "Happy Birthday." They each said their goodbyes—some hugged me, and one even kissed my cheek, making my face flush bright red. Their laughter at my embarrassment filled the room. When they finally left, Albert spoke.
"Despite my reluctance to do this, young master, it was the last request of Master Frederick," he said solemnly.
He then moved toward the kitchen doors and motioned for me to follow. We walked through the kitchen, past maids who bowed before quickly returning to their duties. At the back of the kitchen, Albert opened the pantry door and descended a set of stairs. I followed behind, confused and wondering what was happening.
At the bottom, we entered a massive pantry room. Albert stopped, grabbed my arm, and pricked my finger with a small needle. A drop of blood formed at my fingertip. He guided my finger into an unassuming hole in the wall. At first, nothing happened—but then the wall began to melt away, reforming into an imposing iron door.
"Are you ready for the truth?" he asked, his tone making it clear that I didn't have a choice.
I nodded and opened the door. Inside stretched a hallway lined with murals depicting cliché medieval battles, with men carrying shields bearing our family crest.
"The Wreaths have been cemented in history as warriors, business moguls, and leaders," Albert began. "The founder himself was one of the greatest knights of his time."
He paused, clearly building up to the next part.
"But it wasn't just talent or coincidence. It was something more… ethereal. Unnatural strength. Superhuman. Every heir brought some unique element to their generation, and over centuries, the family grew from a simple noble house into something that transcended borders—a global phenomenon amassing wealth and industries."
As he spoke, the murals shifted, now depicting business deals and acquisitions instead of battles. Our family crest appeared in the background—on flags, documents, and banners.
"But at the start of the 19th century," Albert continued, "the family began to struggle. The heirs developed severe health problems. While the industries thrived, the core of the family was rotting. With no other choice, the Wreaths began searching for gifted outsiders, trying to repair what was lost."
He looked directly at me.
"You are the last true Wreath alive. The experiment worked—but it led to only one or two children being born per generation due to the extreme circumstances we imposed upon ourselves. Now, it's your turn. You must do your part for the greater good."
We reached the end of the hallway, which opened into a grand room. At its centre stood a single pedestal holding an opaque, glass-like orb. I approached it, examining its surface. It looked ordinary. I reached out to touch it, but Albert stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.
"In time, you will touch it," he said. "But not yet. First, we must prepare your body. We're here to open your nodes—for Nen."
The moment the last word left his mouth, my mind reeled. Neurons fired like lightning. I realized, with a jolt, where I was: the world of Hunters.
Seeing my blank expression, Albert continued.
"We will come here every day now. This room is specifically designed to help you develop the senses needed to proceed. Now sit down, cross-legged, and take off your shirt."
Snapping out of my stupor, I did as he instructed.
"Follow the rhythm of your heart," he said. "Feel how the blood is being pumped through your body. Once you're in the flow, look deeper. This won't be quick, but it must be done."
I tried to follow his instructions, but it was frustratingly vague. I knew what I was trying to sense, but it wasn't as simple as finding Waldo. At least Waldo was visible. All I could do was try—hoping for an epiphany sooner rather than later.
After a couple of hours meditating, Albert brushed my head with his hand. I opened my eyes. He gestured for me to stand.
"I didn't expect you to master it on the first day," he said with a warm smile. "I myself took almost a year just to feel it."
He led me back to the dining room.
"You may not yet understand the full situation," he said, "but I know you're smart enough to grasp the importance of what you're undertaking. I wouldn't have shown you this if I weren't bound by oath. All that matters is your health and happiness."
He excused himself, leaving me alone to think about what had just become the most important day of my second life.
Credits
"Proofreader & editor: ChatGPT"