The sun shone high above the town, blazing bright with no clouds to soften its glare. Down below, the marketplace of Kikka buzzed with life — a sea of color, voices, and laughter. Vendors shouted from every corner, their calls overlapping in a musical chaos.
"Come! Come! Best quality leather shoes for only 2,000 Yul! Perfect for future Magic Knights—or even Wizard Kings!"
The shopkeeper's cry drew a crowd of eager teenagers, all boasting dreams too big for their pockets.
Kikka was the pride of the Common Realm—a castle town resting near the borders of the Noble Territory. Because of its closeness to the capital and its famous trade routes, Kikka stood as one of the most prosperous places between the Common and Forsaken Realms. Merchants, mages, and adventurers of every sort flooded its streets daily.
And today, chaos thrived for another reason entirely—
The Grimoire Acceptance Ceremony was about to begin.
---
Not far from the crowded market stood a two-story house. Inside, sunlight slipped through a cracked window and fell upon a boy sprawled across his bed, arms folded behind his head. His black hair was a mess—wild strands pointing in every direction, streaked with a few white patches on the left side. His eyes were shut, and his legs hung lazily off the edge. He wore a plain black shirt and matching pants, his posture an exact picture of someone not ready to face the day.
"…isy…" he muttered, half-dreaming. His eyelids twitched open, revealing golden eyes that glowed faintly even in daylight. "It's… noisy," he mumbled irritably.
With a groan, the boy sat up, stretching his arms and cracking his back. He yawned, long and tired, before dragging himself toward the window. When he opened it, the warm air of Kikka brushed his face. Below, the market roared alive — people shouting, laughing, moving like waves. He leaned out slightly, scanning the street.
Kids his age were scattered around, chatting and laughing, dressed in bright, new clothes. Then, his gaze caught on one familiar figure — a large, chubby boy with red hair, wearing a shirt that shimmered like polished metal.
"Boris…? What's he doing here?" Lucius muttered, narrowing his golden eyes. But suddenly, his face froze. His eyes widened in horror.
"Wait…"
He slammed the window shut and bolted for the stairs, nearly tripping as he rushed down.
"MOM! IS IT TODAY!?"
In the kitchen stood a silver-haired woman, her back turned, humming softly as she cooked breakfast. She looked over her shoulder with calm amusement.
"What's wrong, Lucius?" she asked sweetly.
Lucius stopped, breathing hard. "Mom… is the Grimoire Acceptance Ceremony today?"
For a moment, she just blinked. Then her expression shifted from blank to lightly scolding.
"You forgot?"
Lucius's face went pale. "Ah—uh—no! Of course not!" he stammered, grabbing a long white coat hanging on a chair. He threw it over his shoulders in one messy motion.
"I—I'll be going now! Bye, Mom!"
He dashed out the door. His mother called after him, "At least eat breakfast, Luci!"
From outside came his quick, flustered voice, "I'll eat something out there! And stop calling me Luci!"
His mother sighed, shaking her head as she stirred the pot. "This boy…"
---
Outside, Lucius stopped at the edge of the street, catching his breath. He tilted his head up toward the bright blue sky. His golden eyes shimmered, reflecting sunlight like two polished coins.
"So beautiful…" he murmured softly. Stretching his arms above his head, he smiled faintly. "Alright then. Let's go."
My name is Lucius Rhyais, he thought as he walked through the lively streets. I'm fifteen years old. The woman just now was my mother—Eiceo Rhyais. Pretty tacky name, huh? He smiled to himself. My father's a traveling merchant—he moves from town to town, sometimes even to other kingdoms. I'm their only child, and honestly, I couldn't ask for better parents.
Today's a wonderful day. The streets are alive, colorful, full of excitement. And today… is the day I finally get my grimoire.
He exhaled deeply, filled with a quiet excitement. Everyone my age must be thrilled, but maybe I'm a little more than most…well, it is because I can't—
He tried to complete his thought but, suddenly—
"Ahh, it's the Disloyal!"
Lucius froze mid-step. Slowly, he turned his head toward the voice. A kid his age stood pointing at him, grinning smugly.
"Disloyal! The no-magic bastard!"
Lucius blinked once, then sighed. Inside his head, his thoughts screamed:
Dekri Amqui! Why the hell would you interrupt my internal monologue!?
He shook his head, muttering under his breath, and tried to walk past without reacting.
"Where're you going, scaredy-cat!?" another voice shouted.
Lucius turned. From behind the crowd, a large, red-haired boy stepped forward — the same Boris he'd spotted earlier. His shiny shirt glimmered obnoxiously under the sun, and that wide smirk on his face said everything.
"Boris Johnson…" Lucius whispered.
Boris stopped in front of him, tilting his head down, shadowing Lucius with his broad frame. "You are are going there right? Why're you even bothering to go to the Grimoire Tower, huh?" he said, his voice dripping arrogance.
Lucius stayed silent, staring up at Boris his expression remained constant.
Boris chuckled and leaned closer, lowering his voice but not his tone. "You bastard… you can't even use magic."
He finished the sentence with a grin sharp enough to cut. His lackeys behind him burst out laughing. Boris threw his head back, joining them with a loud, snorting laugh.
Lucius didn't flinch. His golden eyes stayed locked on Boris's face. This eyes were sharp, but they were not filled with anger.
In his mind, his voice echoed quietly, like a truth too heavy to say aloud:
Yes… that's right. I can't use....magic.
---
Tried something, Hoped you liked it.