The night was quiet, moonlight casting soft silver over the town.
A spy crouched on a rooftop, watching the small house where Pramit stayed.
"So this is the lazy boy everyone's worried about? Doesn't look dangerous…"
He took a careful step — and the roof tile under his foot snapped.
"What?!"
He stumbled, trying to steady himself. Then the ground below him shifted slightly, throwing him off balance.
"A trap?! Who set this?!"
He rolled to the side, trying to hide in the shadows — but a stack of crates toppled over, and a gust of wind sent leaves swirling around him.
"Impossible… this must be some kind of curse!"
He scrambled through the alley, narrowly avoiding a falling branch, and every time he tried to advance, random disturbances — a loose stone, a small flame, the earth buckling — seemed to appear from nowhere.
Inside the house, Pramit slept on, mumbling softly:
"...Too noisy… sleep…"
Unbeknownst to everyone, the small disturbances came from his unconscious movements activating his magic.
The spy finally gave up, panting, bruised, and drenched in sweat.
"This is insane… some invisible attacker… or a cursed house!"
He limped away into the night, convinced the boy was somehow guarding the place with unseen power.
Meanwhile, Pramit rolled over, clutching his blanket tighter:
"Mmm… five more minutes…"
Lyria stirred, hearing faint noises outside, and muttered:
"Probably just cats again…"
No one realized what had really happened. Not Pramit, not Lyria, not even the spy And so the night passed quietly — except for one very confused, battered spy.
Morning sunlight spilled over the town, birds chirping cheerfully, as if nothing had happened the night before.
Inside the small rented house, Pramit was still sleeping on the couch, one leg dangling, a blanket half covering him. A faint snore escaped his lips.
Lyria sat at the table, sipping water and watching him quietly. She had seen a few bruises and scratches on the rooftops outside while walking past earlier, and a small pile of toppled crates caught her attention.
"What in the world happened last night?" she muttered.
She frowned, thinking it was probably some mischievous townsfolk or a clumsy cat. Whatever it was, it seemed to have disappeared as quickly as it appeared.
Pramit rolled over, mumbling in his dream:
"Mmm… five more minutes… leave me alone…"
Lyria groaned. "This boy… he really doesn't move a muscle unless he wants to. Lazy as ever."
Still, she couldn't ignore the faint warmth lingering in the air — small scorch marks on the ground, a few odd disturbances. She raised an eyebrow, but shrugged.
"Maybe it's nothing… or maybe I'm just overthinking," she said, sipping her water.
Meanwhile, outside the town, the spy from last night limped back to the Guild, bruised, exhausted, and absolutely convinced:
"That house… that boy… someone is defending him! Invisible magic… traps… I don't know what hit me!"
The Guild officers glanced at him skeptically.
"Are you sure you weren't just clumsy?" one asked.
"Clumsy? No!" he shouted. "I was attacked by some unknown force — and the boy was asleep!"
The officers exchanged doubtful looks. The spy's story was so unbelievable that it only made the Guild Master more curious.
Back inside, Pramit yawned, stretched, and finally opened his eyes.
"Ah… morning… I need more sleep," he murmured lazily.
Lyria pinched the bridge of her nose.
"I swear… if he doesn't start moving soon, I'll drag him to the Guild myself."
Pramit blinked, smiled faintly in his half-asleep haze, and muttered:
"Mmm… maybe later…"
And just like that, the town returned to its quiet rhythm — except that a mysterious watcher had now reported back to the Guild, making sure Pramit's name was whispered in cautious, confused tones.
No one yet knew that the boy could unconsciously unleash magical chaos while sleeping, and that the night had been entirely his doing.