"Haaah!!"
Along with the spirited shout of a boy who still carried a hint of childhood in his voice, a sharp KA-CHING! rang through the air. The sound echoed off the wooden fence posts surrounding the village square, crisp and final as a judge's gavel.
A man lay on the ground, having fallen on his rear, while a rough wooden practice sword was pointed at him. Dust motes danced in the afternoon sunlight, disturbed by the impact of his fall. The scent of churned earth and sweat hung thick in the warm air.
A boy stood before him, facing off against a man with a far larger and sturdier build.
And the one holding the advantage… was the boy.
Shadowed though he was, his handsome features and overwhelming presence made him seem more intimidating than most grown adults. The wooden blade in his grip didn't waver—not even a tremor. His breathing came steady and controlled, while his opponent wheezed like a bellows.
And just who was he—?
"Match over! Winner: Liam!!"
…Yeah. That's me.
The moment the announcement was made, I slid my wooden sword back into its sheath. The familiar weight settled against my hip, and I felt the tension drain from my shoulders. My palms were slick with sweat beneath the leather wrapping of the grip.
"Hah! I'm beat, I'm beat! You're good, kid!"
"He's amazing! Liam beat every adult in the village!"
"Liam is crazy strong!"
The plaza erupted into cheers. The cacophony washed over me—voices blending with the distant bleating of sheep and the creak of a water wheel somewhere beyond the square. Apparently, people were pretty excited that the champion of the strength contest was a seven-year-old boy.
(Well, it's because no adults here are actually trained in swordsmanship. If I couldn't win, I'd be a laughingstock.)
I didn't spend the last few years swinging a sword for nothing. My knuckles bore the calluses to prove it, rough patches that caught on fabric when I wasn't careful. Every morning before dawn, every evening after chores—the routine had carved itself into my muscle memory deeper than any conscious thought.
Against untrained adults, I had no excuse to lose, even with the difference in physique.
Still, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered doubts. In my previous life, I never finished anything I started.
"Congratulations, Liam. I suppose you'll become a fine knight someday?"
"Thank you, Director."
The one applauding as he approached was the head of the orphanage where I lived—and the organizer of today's strength contest. His weathered face crinkled with genuine warmth, and the smell of pipe tobacco clung to his brown robes. I noticed, not for the first time, how the afternoon light caught the silver in his beard, making it gleam like threads of starlight.
"But becoming a knight is tough for someone like me. I'm just a commoner, without even a title."
The words tasted bitter on my tongue, though I kept my expression neutral. Around us, the crowd had begun to disperse, their excited chatter fading into the ambient sounds of village life.
"No, no. With your strength and your mind, I believe you can achieve it."
Being praised so openly was… embarrassing, to be honest. Heat crept up the back of my neck, and I had to resist the urge to look away. The rough cotton of my tunic suddenly felt too tight against my collar.
And I couldn't help but feel he was giving me too much credit.
Sure, thanks to carrying over my previous-life consciousness, I looked like a gifted child now. But— "A prodigy at ten, a talent at fifteen, an ordinary person at twenty." I'd be overtaken by truly talented people sooner or later.
"Your humility is also one of your virtues."
The director placed his wrinkled hand gently on my head. His palm was warm, callused from years of work, and carried the faint scent of the medicinal herbs he grew in the orphanage garden. The gesture was familiar, paternal—something I'd never quite experienced in my first life.
He closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again, and I noticed the slight tension in his jaw, the way his hand trembled almost imperceptibly.
"And… there is something I would like to ask of you."
"A… request?"
His unusually serious tone made me falter a bit. The jovial atmosphere from moments before evaporated like morning dew. A crow cawed somewhere overhead, its harsh cry cutting through the sudden quiet between us.
Apparently, he had something he wanted me to do.
What could it be?
He had taken me in and raised me—of course I wanted to repay that kindness. The orphanage wasn't much, but it had given me something my previous life never had: purpose. Belonging. A reason to wake up each morning.
"If it's something I can do, I'll do anything."
"Heh… you're a reliable boy indeed."
He smiled, though his expression carried a touch of guilt. The corners of his eyes tightened, and he glanced away for just a moment—a tell I'd learned to recognize over the years.
"Then, please follow me."
A little wary, I nodded and walked after him. My wooden sword tapped against my thigh with each step, a steady rhythm that matched my heartbeat. The packed earth of the village square gave way to cobblestones as we headed toward the road, and I caught the smell of fresh bread from the bakery we passed—yeast and honey and warmth.
＊＊＊
"…Huh!? It's huge!?"
The moment I saw the building, I couldn't help shouting. My voice cracked embarrassingly on the last syllable, and I felt my face flush hot.
We had left right after he said "Come with me," and after riding in a carriage for tens of minutes, we arrived here. The carriage ride itself had been an experience—cushioned seats that didn't jostle, the rhythmic clop of hooves on stone, the scent of polished leather and brass. Even that had seemed impossibly luxurious compared to the hay-filled cart that served as the village's only transport.
We were now in Raphenhalt, the central town of the region that included my village. The streets here were wider, cleaner, lined with buildings of whitewashed stone instead of weathered timber. Merchants hawked their wares from shop fronts, and the air carried a mixture of exotic spices, perfumes, and the ever-present smell of horse and humanity.
I had a bad feeling ever since we entered the town, and sure enough— the director brought me to this ridiculously huge mansion.
The building loomed before us like something from a fantasy illustration, all soaring towers and gothic arches. Ivy climbed the walls in carefully manicured patterns, and the iron gates bore a crest I didn't recognize—two serpents intertwined around a sword. The afternoon sun glinted off windows that seemed to number in the hundreds.
"Th-this really is… our destination!?"
"Yes."
He gave a brief reply, then began speaking with the gatekeeper. I watched the exchange with growing unease, noting how the armed guard's expression shifted from suspicion to deference the moment the director produced a sealed letter. The parchment crackled as it changed hands, and I caught a glimpse of deep red wax stamped with that same serpent crest.
Before long, the gigantic gate opened with a groan of metal on metal.
…Since when did the director have connections like this?
"Please follow me."
"…Yes, sir."
At this point, refusing wasn't an option. My mouth had gone dry, and I swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in my throat.
I walked behind him as instructed, my footsteps seeming too loud on the pristine gravel pathway. Manicured gardens stretched on either side, bursting with flowers whose names I didn't know—brilliant crimsons and deep purples and shocking whites. The air smelled of roses and something else, something almost intoxicating in its sweetness.
We were led to a drawing room inside the mansion by a stern-faced butler whose shoes clicked with military precision on marble floors.
Just as I suspected upon entering—yeah, the inside was just as stupidly large. And incredibly luxurious. Crystal chandeliers hung from ceilings painted with elaborate frescoes depicting battles and banquets. Plush carpets in deep burgundy muffled our footsteps. Every surface seemed to gleam—polished wood, gleaming brass, mirrors that reflected light in dizzying patterns.
When I saw a statue that looked like it was made of pure gold—a rearing horse with a warrior astride it—I nearly fainted. The metal caught the light from the windows, and I had to squint against the glare. My heart hammered against my ribs.
I forced myself to breathe slowly, to count the inhales and exhales like I'd learned to do during anxiety attacks in my previous life.
"Pardon the delay."
Why in the world was I summoned to a place like this?
"Pardon the delay."
After a short wait—during which my forehead grew slightly sweaty—a figure exuding authority entered the room.
Though middle-aged, his physique was firm, and the sharpness in his eyes was enough to kill a small insect with a glance.
"No, not at all, my lord."
The director stood and bowed.So he really was an important person. I hurried to mimic him.
"Hmm. Well-mannered indeed. So this is the boy."
"Yes, my lord. He still has much to learn, but…"
What? They were clearly having some conversation without me, and I had no idea what was going on.
"Ah, my apologies. We haven't explained the situation to you yet. Let us talk. Sit."
I obeyed and sank into an unbelievably soft sofa.
A maid—looking like the very definition of "maid" with her crisp black dress and white apron—approached and placed a cup of wonderfully fragrant tea before me on a side table. Steam rose in delicate spirals, carrying notes of bergamot and something floral I couldn't identify. The porcelain was so thin I could see the shadow of my fingers through it.
I'd never had anything close to this kind of treatment in my previous life.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Adelbater Ansheinus, the earl who governs this region."
An earl!?
That's… very much a noble!?I mean, yeah, I suspected as much from the size of the building, but still—!
"Ah, um, I'm Liam…"
"Yes, I know. Liam, meaning protector. A fortuitous and auspicious name."
"Haha… I see…"That was the first time I'd heard that.
"Now, to the matter at hand. I will be direct—would you become my daughter's friend?"
"…Friend?"
I braced myself for some heavy responsibility, but the request I received was far more unexpected.
Still, judging from how formal this all was, there must be a reason it wasn't as simple as it sounded.
"The truth is, my daughter possesses power far beyond human understanding. Because of that, it is difficult for her to form bonds with children her age—or with ordinary humans at all."
"I… see?"
So, a genius's loneliness?No… it felt a little different.
Maybe her power put others at risk.
"I suppose I won't know until I meet her…"
"Indeed. That is only natural."
Ah, so she was here after all.
Still, for a parent to ask a stranger to befriend his child… just what kind of girl was she?
…Wait a minute.Didn't he say his name was Ansheinus?
Could it be—
"Um, what's your daughter's na—""Eri.. , you may come in."
He answered before I could finish.
The door opened with a soft creak.
Standing there was a girl with jewel-like yet lightless obsidian eyes,and long, silky hair that flowed like woven night.
"It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Erica Ansheinus."
Erica Ansheinus.
She was far younger than the version in my memories—but that name was unmistakable.
Because within the game Pumitra Celest Story, it was the name heard more than any other—
The name of the villainess who served as the final boss in every route.