The excitement from earlier — the rush to greet his father, the laughter in the grand hall — had long since faded, leaving behind the soft hum of his ever-present companion: the systems.

It hovered faintly before his eyes, translucent gold lines pulsing in the darkness.

[Mission Complete.]

[Reward Calculated.]

[Processing Outcome: 100%]

[Reward Ready to Claim.]

Raiden blinked. Then grinned.

"Finally," he whispered, sitting up in one swift motion. His hair stuck out in every direction, and his eyes gleamed like a cat spotting something shiny.

He rubbed his palms together, the grin widening. "Alright," he murmured, voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, "let's see what I've earned this time."

He reached toward the screen, ready to tap Claim, already imagining something dramatic — maybe a new spell, or a cool title like Mischief Adept.

Then the glow blinked. Once. Twice.

A new notification forced its way to the front, flashing insistently.

[New Mission Available!]

Raiden froze mid-gesture. "…Wait. What? Already?"

He frowned, shoulders slumping. "You've got to be kidding me."

He tapped the icon, muttering under his breath, "Please don't be another 'clean the library' quest. I already did that once, and the books attacked me."

The mission text unfolded before his eyes.

[Mission: Sharpen the Blade]

[Objective: Train under Sir Leonard, Head Guard of the Goldheart Estate.]

[Duration: Until Evaluation.]

[Reward: Pending...]

Raiden's jaw dropped.

"…Sword training? Seriously?"

He flopped backward onto the bed, pillow muffling his groan. "I just got home! I was going to nap! Maybe eat cake! This is cruelty."

The glowing text hung above him like a smug overseer.

He peeked up at it with one eye open. "Why couldn't it be something fun? Like… 'find a hidden treasure' or 'prank your brother and get away with it'?"

No response, of course. Just the soft pulse of golden letters.

Raiden sighed dramatically and rolled over onto his stomach, face pressed into the sheets. His muffled voice came out half-whine, half-mockery. "Sword training with Sir Leonard… The man's scarier than Miss Hilda before breakfast. He's got the looks of a serial killer's killer."

He groaned again for good measure, but deep down, a spark of something else began to stir beneath the complaint — curiosity.

Everyone in the estate knew who Sir Leonard was. The man wasn't just a guard captain; he was a living legend.

Stories claimed he'd once fought off three powerful squads alone to protect Lord Goldheart's caravan. His technique was flawless, his patience terrifying. Even the rowdiest soldiers stood straighter when his shadow passed.

Raiden sat up slowly, his earlier annoyance softening into reluctant fascination.

"Leonard…" he murmured, eyes narrowing with interest. "The only swordsman said to rival Father even with father's monstrous capabilities."

Of course he knew about it. He could feel the weight of his father's mana heart and the pressure the man exuded. Even though he tried to mask it all the time, they weren't ordinary.

He drummed his fingers on the bed frame, thinking.

Swordsmanship wasn't really his thing — he preferred clever tricks, quick spells, little bursts of chaos that required brains more than brawn, skills from the systems, and most of all, skill points to get more skills. But still… the challenge of training under someone like that was tempting.

A smirk curved his lips. "Hmm. Maybe this won't be so bad after all."

He leaned back on his hands, gazing at the system window now fading to a soft, steady glow. "Alright, Leonard," he said quietly. "Let's see what you've got."

The room grew still again. Moonlight traced a pale path across the floor, glinting on the silver threads of the bedspread. Raiden stretched with a satisfied sigh and let his head fall back against the pillow.

For the first time in a while, the mischievous boy didn't feel like plotting anything. He was… curious. Restless, yes, but curious. His reward — whatever it was — would come in due time. And maybe this new mission, annoying as it seemed, would lead him to something bigger.

He chuckled softly. "Guess things are gonna be interesting soon enough."

Raiden sat upright on his bed, chin resting in his palm, eyes distant. The usual spark of mischief that danced in his expression was dim tonight — replaced by quiet thought.

His stomach grumbled softly, but he ignored it at first. He had skipped dinner again — not in protest, not out of spite, but because his mind had been elsewhere.

He sighed, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. "Training with Leonard… that'll take time," he mused silently. "I should start next week. A bit of peace before the storm."

The idea of sparring with the estate's head guard didn't frighten him, but it wasn't something he wanted to rush into either. Leonard wasn't just a swordsman — he was the swordsman, a legend whispered about by guards who still bore bruises from his training.

Still… Raiden smiled faintly. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

He reached for the small silver bell beside his nightstand and gave it a gentle ring. The clear chime echoed softly through the quiet hall outside.

Moments later, a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," Raiden called.

A maid entered — one of the younger attendants, eyes polite but tired from the day's bustle. "Young Master Raiden? You called?"

He nodded, smiling a little sheepishly. "Yes. I, uh… seem to have missed dinner. Could you bring me something light? I don't want to bother the kitchen too much."

The maid hesitated — surprised, perhaps, by the polite tone. Then she curtsied. "At once, young master."

Raiden inclined his head in thanks. "And please don't tell Mother I skipped dinner again."

That earned a tiny smile before she left.

Minutes later, she returned with a covered tray — steam rising from beneath the lid. She set it on the bedside table and stepped back.

"Bread, vegetable soup, and fruit slices. Would you like anything else?"

Raiden shook his head. "No, this is perfect. Thank you."

She curtsied again and quietly withdrew.

When the door closed, Raiden exhaled — a long, thoughtful breath. He pulled the tray closer, dipped his spoon into the soup, and began to eat slowly. No experiments, no explosions, no pranks. Just quiet.

By the time he finished, the candle had burned halfway down. He pushed the tray aside, stretched lazily, and let himself sink into the softness of his bed.

For the first time in days, his thoughts whispered, no trouble, no noise… just sleep.

And so he did.

Meanwhile, Kent walked softly down the long hallway, a book tucked under his arm. He had meant to share it with his brother — a history of mana cultivation, something he thought Raiden might actually enjoy this time.

But when he reached the familiar door, he paused. It was slightly ajar, a thin line of candlelight spilling across the floor.

He pushed it open gently.

Inside, Raiden was asleep.

Blanket neatly pulled up.

One arm draped lazily across his chest.

Hair a messy halo against the pillow, but his face was… peaceful.

Kent blinked, startled. He wasn't sure what surprised him more — that Raiden was in bed at all, or that he looked so calm.

He stepped closer, just enough to hear the faint rhythm of his brother's breathing. No twitching. No muttering. No half-formed schemes slipping out in his sleep.

Kent's lips curved faintly. 'He's actually resting.'

He looked down at the book in his hand, then quietly backed away, closing the door with care.

"Maybe he's changing after all," he murmured as he turned down the corridor.

The silence that followed felt like a blessing.

But deep inside, Kent couldn't shake the feeling that this calm was just… temporary.

«»«»«»«»

Morning sunlight cut through the curtains, splashing gold across the books piled near Kent's bedside. He stirred, reaching to rub the sleep from his eyes — only for someone to grab his shoulder and shake him vigorously.

"Rise and shine, big brother!"

Kent groaned. "Raiden?"

He opened his eyes to see his younger brother grinning down at him — hair brushed, eyes bright, and dressed neatly for once.

Kent blinked. "…You're up early?"

Raiden folded his arms proudly. "Of course! It's a new day! We have breakfast to attend!"

"Breakfast?" Kent sat up, still blinking sleepily. "You never—"

"—miss breakfast? I know!" Raiden interrupted, smirking. "I'm turning over a new leaf. Now get up!"

Kent tried to wave him off, but Raiden refused to budge. When Kent stood to get ready, Raiden followed him to the washroom and perched on the counter, humming a tuneless melody as Kent bathed.

"Raiden," Kent muttered through the sound of running water, "you don't have to wait here."

"Yes, I do," Raiden said matter-of-factly. "If I leave, you'll probably hide in the library again. And Mother said family breakfast means everyone."

Kent sighed, half amused, half exasperated. "You're insufferable this early."

"That's the goal," Raiden replied, beaming.

By the time Kent emerged dressed and combed, Raiden was practically vibrating with energy. He clasped his brother's wrist.

"Finally! You take forever. Let's go!"

And before Kent could protest, Raiden was dragging him out the door, their footsteps echoing down the sunlit hall.

For a brief moment, the Goldheart estate was alive with laughter — and though Kent grumbled, even he couldn't help smiling as his little brother pulled him toward the dining hall.

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