Standing by the window, Shirone watched the late autumn leaves whirl chaotically between the mountains.
Three years had passed—he was now fifteen.
Though traces of boyishness remained, his face had grown strikingly beautiful, enough to turn heads.
"I’m heading out, Mom."
"Don’t overdo it. We have enough firewood."
"Winter’s coming. Better prepare early."
The cold air stole his breath as he stepped outside.
Seasons arrived faster in the mountains, and snow already crowned the peaks.
"If I want to be back by sunset, I’d better hurry."
But Shirone wasn’t one to fear the cold.
Three years of Spirit Zone training had forged ntal endurance beyond most adults’.
Though he’d grown less shy and mingled with the mountain children, he had no close friends.
They were different from him.
The mountain kids were rough—even the girls thought the sa way.
A year ago, a woman nad Hauran from a nearby settlent had tried to seduce him.
When the six-years-older woman made physical advances, Shirone panicked and refused.
Enraged, she threatened to ruin his family if he spoke of the incident.
Rembering it now, he scoffed.
Nothing had co of it, but he’d spent days sick with worry.
I hope she’s doing well.
Arriving at the logging area, Shirone lightly struck a tree with his axe, then examined the notch.
...
If "seeing" ant using his eyes, then he wasn’t seeing anything at all.
It’s not sothing eyes can find.
Repeating an action or thought endlessly sotis reveals its underlying principles.
After three years of experinting, Shirone was finally grasping it.
I feel it with my mind.
A thod so might call mind’s eye.
His gaze sharpened—then, unlike before, he struck the notch with full force.
BOOM!
Thunder echoed as the tree fell.
Two strikes.
Luck played a part, but by now, Shirone succeeded once every ten attempts.
"Hah."
Finishing his work, Shirone sat on the fallen tree and entered the Spirit Zone.
His Spirit Zone now spanned a 40-ter sphere—a level that would place him among the elite even at the magic academy.
He felt the world beneath the earth.
As if rging with nature, he sensed the swaying trees, the squirming worms, even the sound of roots drinking water.
Nature never rested.
Lost in its rhythm, five hours passed in an instant.
"Huh? It’s dark already."
After ditation, he chopped the wood and loaded it onto his back.
At ho, he spotted an unfamiliar carriage in the yard and peered into the stable—two white horses he’d never seen before were eating hay.
"I’m back."
No cheerful greeting ca.
The atmosphere was tense.
His mother’s face was grim, and a strange old man sat in the living room, speaking with his father.
"Huh? Dad? You’re back already?"
It was unusually early for soone who’d left at dawn to sell goods.
And where was the usual shower of kisses? He just stayed seated.
"Shirone, greet our guest. This is Head Butler Temuran of the Ozent family."
The old man approached.
"Pleasure. I’m Temuran."
"Nice to et you. I’m Shirone."
Shirone bowed politely.
Even a mountain boy like him knew the Ozent na—a second-tier noble family based in Creas, renowned for producing warriors.
"I ca here to et you."
Though a commoner, Temuran’s speech carried noble refinent.
Tormia’s class system divided people into nobles and commoners, but reality was more complex.
Those closely tied to nobility held higher status, while outsiders like the Vincents were often scorned as lowborn.
But still...
Why would soone of his standing co here?
"Let take a look at you."
Temuran examined Shirone’s physique, bone structure, even his gaze—like livestock.
Just as indignation rose, the butler asked:
"You can read?"
"Yes. I’ve studied since childhood."
"Hmm."
Shirone’s patience neared its limit.
"Could you explain why you’re here?"
Temuran’s eyes turned sharp.
"You’ve quite the reputation. A woodsman’s son who reads books, and devoted to his parents?"
His tone was almost mocking.
What’s his problem?
As Shirone prepared to retort, Temuran dropped a bombshell.
"How would you like to work for House Ozent?"
"...What?"
Shirone felt like he’d been struck by lightning.
Doing what*?*
No—that wasn’t the real question.
This was a second-tier noble house offering employnt.
"The main family is relocating its grand library. We can’t trust just anyone with this—10,000 volus, so of which must never leave our walls. Laborers will handle the heavy lifting, but the sorting will be done by just you and . It’ll take about two years."
A library!
Shirone’s heart nearly burst.
His sharp intuition sensed poison hidden in the offer—but it was a cup he’d gladly drink.
Temuran nad the price outright, prideful enough not to deceive a commoner.
"Only you and your family will know of this. If any books go missing—or even if rumors spread—you and your family will die."
Now Shirone understood his parents’ grim faces.
Even if he stayed silent, two years was long enough for anything to go wrong.
Yet he couldn’t refuse.
"For risking your life, you’ll be paid generously—far more than your father earns hunting. A chance to lift your family from poverty."
Vincent’s face flushed red.
"I didn’t agree for the money! I just—I just wanted Shirone to—!"
Tears welled.
A worthless father’s "gift" to his son was a death gamble.
"...I only wanted him to chase his dreams."
Temuran snorted.
"What, hoping he’ll climb the ranks with flattery? Wake up. This is employnt. You begged to take him—for money."
"He can read!"
"Yes, and that’s why he’ll guard the books, not study them. If even one goes missing, his head rolls. That’s the deal."
Vincent gritted his teeth.
When he’d heard a noble needed literate commoners in town, he’d rushed to Temuran, begging him to take Shirone.
But this?
Worst of all, he feared what Shirone would think. Does he believe I sold him for coin?
"Get out. We don’t need your money. If I’d known, I’d never have asked. LEAVE!"
"Dad. I’ll do it."
"Shirone!"
Temuran looked surprised.
Betting his life—
For a fifteen-year-old, let alone a lowborn, this was terrifying.
"Are you certain? I’m not trying to scare you. If even a whisper of this leaks, you’ll be executed."
"Yes. I’ll do it. I won’t let anything slip—and even if rumors spread, I won’t resent you. Let go."
Such resolve was hard to ignore.
Temuran nodded slowly.
Everything was perfectly aligned.
He was a lowborn who could be killed at any mont—yet deeply filial and remarkably sharp.
Temuran turned away, satisfied with his efforts.
Temuran: "I’ll return for you in a week. If you change your mind by then, you’re free to refuse. But rember: once you enter the mansion, you cannot leave until the work is done."
Without another word, Temuran opened the door and left, clearly uninterested in even glancing at Shirone’s family.
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