Morning came far too soon.
When Melody entered my room, sunlight already filled the space, and I was still lying on my stomach, half tangled in the sheets. My head throbbed faintly — not painfully, just heavy, like my thoughts had refused to sleep even when I did.
"Good morning, young master Baker," she said. Her voice held the usual warmth… but this time, there was an edge beneath it. "You're still in bed?"
I groaned and sat up, blinking at the light. "Just… five more minutes?"
Her expression tightened. "You look awful."
She stepped closer, folding her arms. "How late were you awake?"
My mind scrambled for an excuse. "I was just reviewing lessons—"
"Reviewing?" Her tone cooled instantly. "Your eyes are bloodshot, and you're swaying. That's not reviewing, young master. That's reckless."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words came out as a yawn instead. Melody's frown deepened. "Get dressed slowly. I'll bring you something light to eat. And don't even think about opening a book today."
---
At breakfast, I bumped into the table leg and nearly spilled the tea.
Teacher Louis, already seated, gave me a concerned look over his glasses. "Are you feeling well, Baker? You seem… disoriented."
"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just didn't sleep well."
Before he could press further, Mother entered.
Ventis' eyes immediately softened, then narrowed in motherly fury. "Baker. Look at you."
She touched my cheek, her hand cool and soft. "You've been up late again, haven't you? Studying until your eyes hurt?"
"I—"
"Don't even try to deny it," she said, her tone a mix of worry and disappointment. "Your health is more important than any lesson. You're not a grown scholar yet, my dear."
I lowered my head. "I just wanted to learn faster…"
Her sigh was gentle, but heavy. "And I love that about you. But learning means nothing if you drive yourself into exhaustion."
She turned to Melody. "Make sure he rests today. No studying, no sneaking off to the library."
"Yes, madam," Melody said, shooting me a sharp glance that brooked no argument.
---
Even the head chef, old Garron, got involved. When I passed through the kitchen for a drink, he caught sight of me and frowned.
"Lad, you look like a wilted cabbage," he muttered. "Hold still."
Before I could react, he handed me a cup of steaming broth rich with vegetables and herbs. "Drink that. You need nutrients, not numbers in your head."
I couldn't help but smile a little. "Thank you, Chef."
"Don't thank me," he said, gruffly but kindly. "Thank your stomach when it stops growling."
---
Back in my room, I finally surrendered. Melody brought in a small tray — a cup of calming tea, a few biscuits, and a folded blanket.
"Rest," she said firmly. "If I find you reading, I'll take your lamp for a week."
Her tone left no room for argument, but when she left, I caught a trace of worry lingering in her eyes.
I lay down, staring up at the ceiling, the soft scent of tea rising beside me. My mind, though restless, replayed everything I'd learned over the last two days — mana flow, elemental resonance, crafting theory, awakening rituals. The knowledge danced like sparks behind my eyelids, impossible to silence but strangely comforting.
After a while, I heard gentle footsteps.
Mother entered quietly and sat beside me, stroking my hair with slow, careful fingers.
"My little scholar," she whispered, her voice trembling with affection. "You don't have to carry the world so early. Let it wait for you."
Her words melted the tension in my chest. I didn't answer, just closed my eyes and leaned into her touch. For the first time since the blessing awakened, I let myself rest — truly rest — surrounded by warmth and worry and love.
And as sleep pulled me under again, my last thought was simple and calm:
I'll grow… but I'll do it without making them worry so much.