Midnight settled over the house like a heavy blanket—still, unmoving, thick with silence. Moonlight slipped through the thin curtains, stretching the furniture into long silhouettes and deepening every shadow it touched.
One of those shadows moved.
A figure glided down the hallway, each step measured, each breath controlled, until it stopped at the last door at the far end—the bedroom of Roy and Celene. The figure hesitated only for a heartbeat before nudging the door open. The latch clicked, soft as a sigh.
Inside, Roy and Celene slept close together, peaceful and unaware. Their breathing rose and fell in steady rhythm.
Then a faint silver-white glow unfolded in the darkness.
It came from the book hovering beside the intruder—a strange, uncovered grimoire: a silver rod at its center, three pages orbiting it, held together by seven thin rings.
The glow washed over the intruder's face.
Lance.
He stepped closer to the bed without hesitation, the grimoire drifting beside him as if tethered directly to his thoughts.
Three pages floated within its frame—three distinct attributes.
And now the perception magic page began to shift.
Letters shimmered, loosening from their shapes. Sentences unwove like threads pulled from a tapestry. Symbols crawled apart, then stitched themselves back into new configurations. The entire page pulsed once with a soft, unnatural brightness.
Lance whispered, barely a breath.
"Perception Magic—Lucid Dreams."
The page flared pink.
Mist rose from his fingertips—thin, rose-colored tendrils that drifted gently outward, unraveling into soft, floating clouds. The magic flowed across the bed and enveloped Roy and Celene, wrapping them in a warm, shimmering veil that sank into their dreams with silent precision.
Lance didn't move.
He simply watched as they breathed the magic in, the pink haze dimming with each inhalation until it thinned into nothing and vanished, leaving the room untouched—except for what now lived quietly in their minds.
Lance lowered his hand.
The grimoire dimmed, returning to its calm, neutral hover.
He slipped out of the room and pulled the door closed behind him without a sound.
---
BACK IN HIS ROOM
Lance exhaled the moment he entered, letting his shoulders finally drop. The grimoire floated beside him, still faintly tinted with residual magic. He sat on his bed and rubbed his forehead, the tension of the last two weeks draining at last.
He had done it.
Two weeks of failures, of pushing unfamiliar limits—and tonight, success.
He leaned back against the wall, feeling the cool wood against his spine as he replayed the spell.
Lucid Dreams:
A spell that allows him to overwrite what someone believes happened with what they experience in a dream—so long as the dream isn't absurd. Their memories remain intact, but their interpretation shifts: the dream becomes the "real" event, and reality is dismissed as a strange, fleeting dream.
Not true memory alteration—that was impossible for perception magic.
But dreams, senses, interpretation—those were all fair targets.
And tonight, he'd used them perfectly.
The dream he planted was simple:
He awakened a normal, three-leaf grimoire.
The ceremony happened normally.
His fainting stayed unchanged.
His parents following him when he collapsed stayed unchanged.
And with a gentle "nudge," he confirmed his attribute in their minds:
Script Magic—just like his father.
Tomorrow, they would genuinely believe it.
Meanwhile the real memory still existed beneath it, untouched and readable by anyone with memory magic—which meant he'd have to deal with that problem eventually.
But for now?
He allowed himself a small smirk.
"That should solve that problem."
Because he remembered exactly when this plan became necessary—
---
FLASHBACK — That Same Day, After He Fainted
The door had opened without a knock.
Roy entered with stiff shoulders and a controlled expression, though the worry beneath it was impossible to hide. He shut the door behind him.
"Lance," he said quietly, voice low but steady. "How are you feeling? Any headaches? Chest pain? Anything strange?"
"No. Nothing. I feel fine, Dad."
Roy released a measured breath.
"That's good. Do you know what happened? Why you fainted like that?"
Lance had rehearsed the lie.
"Oh—that. Some kids tried to jump me. I took care of them, but…"
A natural pause.
"One of them used a mist-type magic. I inhaled it."
Roy's eyes sharpened.
Lance continued calmly.
"I think it was perception-affecting. Everything around me felt warped. My vision kept twisting, the ground felt uneven. I wasn't physically tired—my senses were just… wrong. And the headache—felt like my brain was flipping. The spinning got too much. I panicked and fainted, I guess."
Roy nodded slowly, the tension easing.
"Perception magic… yes. You can faint from that."
Lance added, voice steady:
"Father… I fainted in town, right? But right before I collapsed, I remember hearing Mom's voice."
Roy froze.
Before Lance finished the sentence, Roy yanked the door open, stepped out, and closed it behind him almost too fast.
From the hallway:
"Go back to rest!"
Lance had stared at the door.
Then smiled.
Of course they followed him. He didn't need to be a genius to figure it out.
The real question came next:
Should he tell them the truth?
The answer had been immediate.
Absolutely not.
His grimoire was too unusual.
His attribute-copying too powerful.
And if either parent saw him using an attribute that wasn't inherited—
Doubt would eat their relationship alive.
No.
He needed a controlled truth.
A safe lie.
Copy his father's Script Magic.
Copy his mother's Cooking Magic.
Reveal his father's versatile attribute as his "official" one.
But how?
The answer came slowly—through trial, error, and discovery.
---
PRESENT — Lance's POV
Lance lifted his hand, and the grimoire rose again, pages rotating gently around the silver rod. Three pages—three attributes: perception, cooking, script.
He studied them.
Reading the descriptions, he still couldn't tell whether he was simply lucky… or if every attribute in this world held absurd potential. Perhaps they did—mana capacity seemed to be the major limiting factor.
Cooking Magic:
"Magic that manipulates transformation through controlled processes—heating, freezing, reduction, distillation, fermentation, extraction, simmering, curing, and countless subtle techniques that alter a material's nature. Anything subjected to these methods can be broken down, purified, combined, reshaped, or enhanced to create new effects."
Script Magic:
"Magic that manifests the power of written instruction. Words and symbols act as direct commands to reality, limited only by the caster's understanding of the written meaning. Language is irrelevant so long as the caster comprehends the script. Effects depend entirely on precision."
From a transmigrator's perspective—they were insane in potential.
His discoveries continued:
He didn't need to rip pages like Malfoy had.
Touching someone's grimoire while feeding mana into it was enough.
The time varied by person.
Each time, a transparent page manifested—one only he could see.
Whether others could sense the fluctuations… he still wasn't sure.
And finally, the Lucid Dream spell—born from experimenting with perception manipulation inside dreams.
There were three known ways to gain spells in this world:
1. Repetition:
Repeated magical actions eventually crystallize into spells within the grimoire.
2. Acquisition:
Obtaining compatible spells from dungeons or spirits.
3. Crisis Transformation:
Spells born in moments of emotional intensity or danger—the rarest type.
He exhaled and focused on the last task before sleeping—a trick he discovered only yesterday, the final step in making his grimoire appear perfectly ordinary.
He stared at the three floating pages.
The page representing Script Magic detached, fell from the grimoire, dissolved into golden particles—
—and reformed into a completely normal, perfectly ordinary grimoire identical to his father's.
Exactly as it was in their dreams.
___________________
AUTHORS NOTE:
What do you think of the magic discription I made.
Do you think I should make some worthless magic or all magic in this world have strong potential only in the right hands will it shine.
Comment please.