The man—presumably his father—carried Alden as if it were routine, without hesitation.
The cradle of his arms felt indistinguishable from his mother's. Or perhaps it was Alden who couldn't tell the difference. His senses were numb, it wasn't the time to care about small details like that.
Currently, Alden has only complaints to give.
Firstly, he was cursed. Presumably a gift from Asta's roster of enemies, judging by their eager disapproval. Alden assumed this was what had dragged him into that horrible drowsiness, that comatose state. Or perhaps it was just the weight of his own memories?
Regardless, he had missed the entire first year of his existence. And it wasn't the sort of skip that left no consequences. Just look at his parents' reactions. Look at him. The soft cheeks and plump limbs expected of a child his age were sunken, waxen, ghost-pale. According to the notification from his newly acquired resistance skill, he had not merely slept.
He had survived death.
Second, Fortuna's blessing. Alden vaguely remembered Asta mentioning the goddess of luck as a potential enemy. Yet what exactly was this gift?
[Luck's Blessed - SSS]
It was the first skill the system had ever rated as SSS. A number so absurdly high, that he hadn't even known it existed. Nice, sure. Alden suspected it played no small part in his continued survival.
But then came the blank boxes.
Alden was sick of blank boxes.
What was Fortuna's intention? What was the description behind that blank box? He had no answers.
Which led him to the third, and most aggravating, frustration. His only possible source of answers, Asta, had gone silent.
It was an oversight on his part.
Asta had freely examined how the god could communicate with Alden and even how it would manifest. But Alden had only now realized that the reverse didn't apply.
Asta, can you hear me?
No response.
Pray?
Was this not praying?
God of Adventure, please respond.
Also no response.
It was pissing Alden off.
He imagines the blond kid sitting idly in mid-air, just staring into whatever, while his one and only apostle battled death.
Even the luck goddess intervened, yet his god, his lord, gave no answer whatsoever.
The fury built, slow and choking, in Alden's chest.
Too many questions. No answers. Only a mounting ache of frustration scraped raw against his fraying nerves.
What made everything even worse was the disconnect between his body and his mind. His thoughts were in overdrive, churning with turmoil, but he had no control over the infantile instincts hardwired into him.
Sitting comfortably in his dad's arm, Alden's tiny head lazily tilted. His wide eyes wandered, taking in the surrounding world with undisguised wonder.
He was curious.
Like a child.
The giant tree they had rested beneath previously stood solitary in the wide grass field like a lonely giant, a considerable distance away from its kin clustered in the visible forest behind.
Alden's gaze lingered on it as they steadily walked away, then drifted lazily downward toward his mother, who matched their pace a few steps behind.
Now that he could properly study her, she really looked tired in her simple white gown.
Beautiful, certainly—but shadows pooled beneath her eyes, and her ink-black hair fell slightly disheveled. Even so, her hands moved swiftly.
With small pieces of paper and a pencil, she scribbled short notes, folded them sharply, and passed them to a nearby fairy that darted off without a sound. Twice, thrice, she repeated the motion.
Her absent gaze lifted and briefly met Alden's, who quickly shrank away his presence by instinct.
Alden flinched inwardly at his action.
It was something he used to do when snooping on his father working.
His small hand clenched at the thought.
"What's wrong, Al."
The man noticed his shift immediately. His voice was clear, measured—steady as his stride. Not booming nor gravelly, yet carrying weight like an unspoken command.
"Are you hurt?" He asked as Alden met his gaze.
Again, he saw tiredness.
The couple wore eye bags and disheveled hair as a matching pair. Despite his gentle eyes and light smile, his piercing green eyes shone at Alden unnaturally, making him feel as if his entire existence was being studied in detail.
Still, it was not frightening as Alden met his gaze.
"You are not hurt?" The man gave a nod of understanding as if Alden's quiet was confirmation. His smile widened to a grin, brushing a hand through Alden's thin hair with surprising gentleness.
"What is wrong, Al?"
His mother's voice cut in, brisk and edged with concern. She had closed the distance swiftly, her hand already reaching out to examine his small frame.
"He is fine, love." The man assured her with a quiet chuckle. "Look at him, he is so healthy he could probably start walking right now."
Well, that was a lie.
Alden would probably at best be able to fall down straight.
"Al, are you feeling sleepy?" Ignoring the lie completely, she continued questioning. Her hands now reached in to dig him out of the man's cradle.
"No? Can you shake your head if you don't, Alden? Like this."
She demonstrated slowly—a deliberate, exaggerated head shake.
It was strangely funny to watch.
Alden found himself mimicking her motion.
"He is just copying you, Sylvia." The man, now empty-handed, chuckled at the scene.
His mom, Sylvia, only smiled warmly. Her eyes crinkled as she caught Alden's mirroring.
"That is good, then." She whispered.
As their stride continued, the family crossed the clearing and approached the building ahead.
A manor.
It sat quietly in the middle of the field—old and heavy, like it had always been part of the land and had simply decided never to leave.
A deep, muted plum coated its tall wooden frame, bordered with dark oak beams that cut sharply into the sky. Ivy and flowers had slowly climbed their way up over the years. The roof rose gently, chimneys puffing faint smoke, while the wide wings stretched outward, partly hidden by trees and rock fences. Windows peeked out from under the eaves, glowing with golden light.
A simple path curved through a garden of wildflowers toward a partially opened wooden double door. Even from a distance, Alden could almost hear the hinges creak and catch a sweet scent wafting from within.
It wasn't grand like a castle but wide and comfortably slouched—the kind of home where stepping inside would make the world feel smaller, quieter, and warmer.
Again, Alden felt that strange sense of familiarity. He sensed it even before his mother spoke.
"We are home, Al," Sylvia whispered warmly as she continued in.
Two figures emerged as they approached, their gazes landing on him.
"Welcome home," one of them said with a shallow bow. A young woman, barely into her twenties, with short brown hair and sharp brown eyes. Despite appearing younger than Alden had been in his former life, something about her unsettled him deeply.
Her greeting was ordinary. Her eyes were not.
Wide and bloodshot, they burned with a fierce, unrelenting fire that looked ready to consume anything in its path.
It was unnerving. But seemingly only to Alden.
Sylvia and Liam continued their measured strides without pause. Sylvia only offered the girl a small nod before turning her attention to the other woman nearby.
"Jenny, please prepare the bath. He's cold."
The middle-aged woman nodded silently and quickly disappeared inside.
Sylvia gave her next order without pause. "Charles, I called Maren. Be ready to receive him."
"I understand," the fierce girl replied. She slipped past the couple toward the garden entrance, stealing a glance at Alden before refocusing on her task.
Sylvia adjusted her hold on Alden slightly to ensure his stability and carried him inside.
The manor's interior was as cozy as its exterior suggested.
Rich woods and deep velvets softened the space, while dust-laced light cut through thick air. The rooms were vast but intimate, never cold. Every surface—the dark tables, sagging bookshelves, faded portraits—seemed to carry a memory.
The place felt alive with history, expectant and patient as if it were watching and waiting.
Sylvia walked a few more steps to the hearth of the house—a rock fireplace where a fire still crackled. She sat on a nearby couch and settled Alden into her lap.
"Are you sleepy, Alden?" she whispered.
Alden, mid-thought as he scanned the manor, glanced up and gave a small shake of his head before returning his attention to the room.
"Oh?" Sylvia's voice lifted behind him. "Do you see that, Liam? Al is a quick learner."
Her smooth, warm voice blended with the crackle of fire, a gentle melody. She brushed her hand endearingly through Alden's hair.
"Yes, I saw it, love," his father chuckled beside them. "It seems he takes after me."
Two piercing gazes burned into the back of Alden's neck as he tried to ignore both.
He had something more pressing to check.
'System,' he prompted, seizing the moment. 'Give me more information on this curse.'
His understanding of the system was still shallow. From what he'd gathered so far, it specialized in collecting and analyzing information. Unfortunately, the only time he'd managed to use it in Limbo, it had nearly gouged his eyes out.
Still, this should be within its capabilities.
He was right.
[ Name: God's Ire ]
[ Classification: Status Ailment – Curse ]
[ Effect: Decrease growth rate by 25%. Grants special status effect 'Mana Dysfunction'. ]
[ Duration: Null ]
His stomach dropped. More questions.
'What is mana dysfunction?'
[ Name: Mana Dysfunction ]
[ Classification: Special Status ]
[ Effect: The body rejects mana. ]
[ Duration: Null ]
That explained the new sealed stat.
'What is mana, then?'
[ Special energy in awakened worlds. ]
The system always classified terms in ways Alden could understand. So "mana" was either a general term chosen for familiarity or an exact equivalent.
Either way, it should be something related to 'magic'.
An extraordinary concept, sure, but not entirely shocking after seeing mythical fairies.
Regardless, Earth was an unawakened world. Having his mana sealed practically changed nothing for him, Alden remained exactly as he was before.
For now, he couldn't decide if that was good or bad, but the restricted growth rate alone seemed severe.
'Can this curse be cured?'
[ Yes ]
'…So? What's the cure?'
[ Unable to access information. ]
What?
Was the system revolting?
What bullshit was this?
Before he could press further, Jenny returned from the upper floor along with slight creaking from the wooden stairs.
"The bath is ready, Sylvia," she announced gently.
Her voice was calm, unhurried, tinged with the quiet patience of long years. Her simple gown and apron swayed as she approached.
"Thank you, Jenny," Liam hummed, resting a finger thoughtfully against his lips. "We're waiting for Maren first, then I'll bathe him."
Jenny nodded as she continued stepping closer to Alden.
"…Is the little one really fine?" she asked steadily, crouching to meet his gaze. Her eyes scanned him quickly, veiled warmth in her expression as she gently poked his nose.
Looking at Jenny gave Alden a weird sense of relief despite her uptight air. She was the closest existence to normalcy Alden has seen today.
Dark brown hair that was messily tied back to a practical bun. Complexion fair but slightly worn, showing gentle wrinkles around her eyes and mouth from long days.
She looked exactly like a normal tired citizen of earth. No ethereal beauty, no shining or bloodshot eyes.
Her touch was rough in a different way from Sylvia's, but not unkind.
Everyone he met today seemed to want to touch him for some reason.
"He said so himself," Liam answered. "No need to worry."
Notice something amiss, it was only now did Alden tilted his head back to notice why Sylvia was silent.
She had drifted asleep while still holding him close. Her head rested comfortably, supported by Liam's hand.
It was a sweet scene.
"He spoke?" Jenny blinked in surprise.
"No, but he shook his head."
"When did he learn that?"
"He copied Sylvia."
At his words, Jenny's lips curled into a warm smile, the fine lines on her face deepening with it.
Without another word, she rose and quietly slipped toward the kitchen wing.
As soon as she left, Charles reappeared, this time accompanied by another figure.
Maren, Alden guessed.
Slender, almost willowy, yet his presence felt heavy. A dark robe cinched neatly at the waist, fabric whispering in tight, economical folds.
The skeleton and the killer girl were a scary duo to be seen together.
Maren's movements were precise.
With only a nod as the greeting, he rested his coat and briefcase against a nearby chair then walked forward. His pale eyes, set beneath smooth brows, settled directly on Alden.
"May I?" Maren's voice was low, even, already crouching down.
Liam gave a single nod and Sylvia who was now awake shifted slightly, angling Alden a touch more to the edge of her lap. Without any other hesitation, Maren reached out.
His hands lifted—not to touch, but to hover.
One leveled near Alden's temples, the other poised over his sternum. His fingertips barely trembled, an invisible thread plucking between them.
Alden found his breath steadied automatically.
He couldn't see it, couldn't sense anything out of the ordinary.
But he felt it.
The air around him felt compressed and stretched in turns, like the soft push-pull of a deep tide.
His skin prickled faintly, as though a fine mist passed through him from the inside out. Not painful. Not even uncomfortable.
Just… foreign.
Like standing too close to an electrical current, just shy of a static snap.
Magic.
This was Alden's first real interaction with it.
He couldn't perceive the flow itself, but he felt the effect.
It only took longer than a second before the doctor was done.
Maren's brows furrowed ever so slightly as his hands retreated.
His lips parted, then sealed again as if recalculating. His fingers stilled after several long moments, then dropped back to his sides.
"He is stable," Maren finally reported. His gaze didn't lift from Alden. "But… It is the same as usual, I couldn't see clearly."
"... I know," Liam commented on the side, his emotion unreadable. "He still resisted mana."
Alden felt Sylvia's touch tighten as the adults diagnosed his curse.
"It might be a constitution unrelated to the main disease." Maren glanced between the two parents but did not press further. "His condition is stable for now since he can maintain consciousness."
Liam's stiffness instantly dropped by a notch. He was relieved.
Alden, meanwhile, already understood the source of the man's confusion.
It was his mana dysfunction.
His body's rejection of mana seemed to double as a block against external forces.
He filed that away. Another factor to account for. Another edge to manage.
For now, he was ok.
He reached down to squeeze Sylvia's hand lightly.
The growth was still blocked, but at least his mind was steady.
"The bath is ready," Jenny's soft voice returned, her calm cadence anchoring the room once more.
Without further word, Alden was gathered again—Liam scooping him up fluidly, his arms steady. Behind him, Sylvia's eyes lingered on Alden as she stood up to talk with Maren. Charles lingered silently for a while, before disappearing down another hall.
The members of the manor moved seamlessly. A unit, practiced and wordless. It hadn't escaped Alden's notice that no one had formally introduced themselves to him.
Although this was Alden's first meeting with them, that was only the case for him.
For the members themselves, they had long been a family. They behaved as though he had always been here, like an old routine simply resuming after a pause.
It was… comforting, though Alden's instincts refused to fully relax.
On the second floor, the bath sat tucked in a tiled alcove, steam curling gently against wood-paneled walls. The water shimmered faintly golden under soft lamplight, perfumed lightly with herbs that tinged the air warm and clean.
It looked like a sauna on Earth.
As he said, Liam entered with him. Luckily, though, Alden didn't have to see the man naked just yet.
Through the soft mist, Liam sat nearby after he sat Alden down a miniature bathtub in the room. The man perched comfortably on a small wooden stool just out of splash range, sleeves rolled high over forearms corded with lean muscle.
His posture was easy, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees, as though he had all the time in the world.
His gaze flicked toward Alden, a smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.
"Well, look at you," Liam drawled, dipping a hand into the bath to swirl the water gently. "Barely half a day in and already roped into spa treatment. Don't say I don't spoil you, kid."
His voice was smooth and warm, laced with humor that didn't demand laughter.
He leaned forward, wrung out a warm cloth, and swept it across Alden's back in long, steady strokes. His hands were confident and sure—practical in motion, but never rough.
"You're smaller than I remembered. Did you shrink?" Liam mused aloud, as though they were in the middle of an old conversation.
A question hinted lightly at something more, but he didn't press. Instead, he dipped the cloth back into the water, squeezing it out with practiced ease before running it over Alden's arms.
"No complaints from me." Liam continued, flashing a quick grin down at him. "Easier to scrub a smaller frame. Less soap wasted."
Alden only met his gaze quietly.
It was weird having his body washed by another man.
Liam didn't seem bothered by the lack of response. If anything, it seemed to amuse him.
"Strong, silent type, huh?" he remarked, voice lowering in playful mock-conspiracy. "I like that. Keeps people guessing. You took after me."
His cloth skimmed down to Alden's wrists, the pressure light but thorough. His presence didn't press or suffocate—it filled the room in a looser, more natural way, like sunlight sliding lazily through half-open curtains.
No tension, no false airs.
"Don't worry, Al," Liam added after a beat, voice softening just slightly under the humor. "Don't need to look over your shoulder every second. At least not in this bath." His smile returned, wry and crooked. "Outside of it? Well. We'll see."
He rinsed the cloth again, steam curling up around his forearms, then ran it briskly along Alden's shoulders once more. The water was lukewarm. The space thick with quiet, wood-scented calm.
Alden allowed his eyelids to lower for a moment.
Today was truly a long day. He was tired and sleepy now.
Maybe, for just a moment, he could rest.