Cuteness is All That Matters (1)
That was how my new life began. Stuck in a child's body forever, what the hell did that even mean?
I gradually came to understand as my doubts grew. Around eight years later, I finally noticed something off. My growth had stopped. A year passed, then two, then three, but this elementary school kid's body didn't change at all. Not just my height or physical development, puberty never hit either.
The villagers, even my own parents, started shunning me over this freakish change. "Cursed! That kid's cursed!!" Someone shouted it first, and the rumor spread like wildfire.
The world I was born into had magic, sure, but it was medieval-level civilization. No mandatory education, just a rural village. Of course that nonsense took hold.
My parents must've figured they'd get chased out too if this kept up. In the end, even they abandoned me.
A child's body in a medieval fantasy world—normally, I'd be dead in no time.
"If I were normal, anyway."
Luckily, instead of just surviving in this body, I'd gotten a power in exchange.
Ultra-Precise Mana Control.
I could overlook the transcendent mana reserves, but what the hell was ultra-precise control? I had no clue at first. The "micro" part sounded promising, though, so I vaguely hoped for the best.
Then I figured out what it meant.
My mana pool was insane—even without training, I could feel the tingling energy flowing through my body. So that's mana.
Curious, I focused harder, and suddenly I saw blue energy coursing through me. Since it flowed everywhere, maybe I could pull some out?
"O-oh?!"
Sparks flew as mana leaked from my hands. That's when I got it—Ultra-Precise Mana Control meant I had god-tier talent for handling this stuff. Thread-through-a-needle's-eye precision.
But it wasn't great for learning magic. It just let me control mana with pinpoint accuracy—no spells included.
Sure, precision helps with spells, but mana was just fuel. If magic's the engine, mana's the gas. My skill was like pouring fuel without spilling a drop; magic was understanding the engine's guts.
Put simply: my ability was killer mental math for basic arithmetic; learning magic was cramming equations and bullshit formulas into your brain.
It wouldn't poof me into an archmage. Kinda meh for the price I paid.
But considering the cost—a permanently stunted kid's body—maybe it fit. Flip side: I wouldn't age. And this cute look? Easy to dismiss, but it disarms hostility too. Not all downside, so fair trade.
Anyway, abandoned by my parents, I decided to head to the Imperial Capital. Old saying: send horses to Jeju, people to Seoul. Same here—empire's heart for opportunities.
On the journey, I realized something huge.
"Something felt off... turns out I'm in that novel I read."
Everyone Loves My Mask
Yeah, that romance fantasy. Not metaphorically—a princess literally wears a mask. Picked it up 'cause the cover looked horror-weird. Decent writing, but hit the yaoi-fangirl wall and dropped early.
Stuck in a backwater village, I'd had no clue about the world. Now I knew, time to tweak the plan.
"Might as well sneak into the Imperial Palace while heading to the capital?"
Dropped early, but I remembered the opener. Exploit it right, score palace perks.
Short debate. "To live easy, need status."
With that scheme, I hustled toward the capital.
"Hey, mister. Heard the Second Princess is out sightseeing—which road's she on?"
"Second Princess? Yeah, about time she heads back. Lemme think—probably the Arbelro Highway."
"Thanks."
Got the info from a guard, bowed, and turned. First, confirmed the timeline. If before or after the novel's start, no dice on events. Hustled intel on arrival—nailed it.
"Crown Prince's birthday's in three days—why ask?" From a vendor. The big early event: Second Princess kidnapping eve of the prince's birthday.
Plan: save her, become her retainer, palace entry. Got all intel—stake out the highway.
Left the capital quick, hit the road.
"This spot's good."
Hid in bushes, camped two nights. Started today 'cause no exact time/place. Better early.
Day three, patrolled the road. Event today—spot the procession first for smooth execution.
Soon: fancy carriage, escort knights. Shadowed from cover. No suspicious vibes yet. My "net" trap pinged nothing—safe.
Tailed carefully. Finally, they showed.
"Who the hell are you?!"
Black-hooded thugs, swords out, ambushed the guards. Clang of steel, armored bodies hitting dirt.
"What's happening?!"
"A-ambush! Stay inside the carriage, Your Highness!"
A clear voice from the carriage; a guard replied, fought on. Guards dropped fast—thugs had insane sword skills.
All escorts down, thug leader yelled: "Drag out the princess!"
Others rushed the carriage. But bang—door flew open. A beauty emerged, kicking it wide. Long red hair in a rolled bun, classic noble lady vibe.
She scanned the fallen guards coolly. "Pathetic. You think you'll get away with this?"
"......"
"I am the second daughter of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor of the Ternien Empire! Olivier von Groenevelt! Kneel now! Beg forgiveness, and I might spare your lives!"
Arms crossed, one extended dramatically. Like an old-school hero.
"Grew up in a greenhouse, huh? Slow on the uptake. If we feared that, we wouldn't be here. Seize the foolish bitch!"
Thugs charged unfazed; Olivier finally looked rattled. "W-wait?! D-don't! You'll regret this?!"
"Y-Your Highness!"
A maid peeked out, tried blocking. Futile—thugs pressed.
My cue? Burst from bushes: "That's far enough!"
All eyes—thugs, princess, maid—on me.
"A kid...?"
"Back off the princess! Unless you wanna die!"
Tried deepening my voice—came out squeaky kid-pitch. Plus, tiny stature to their chests. No intimidation.
"Hey, squirt. Play soldier elsewhere."
"Who the hell's this?"
"Squire maybe?"
Thugs scoffed; Olivier stared blankly since I appeared.
"Ignore him—grab the princess!"
Couldn't let that slide. Time for force. Hands out—unleashed mana "threads."
"W-what? M-my body won't move?!"
Invisible threads bound them tight. They gawked, clueless.
"B-boss! Can't move!"
"Stay calm! Body's heavy, but not that bad!"
True—they strained, loosening my grip. Tch. Kid strength's limit? No choice.
"Stop! Move again, lose a limb!"
"What? You did this, brat?!"
"Ignore! We can still move!"
Still fixated on her. Fine—one job: thin threads to wire-strength, max tension.
Sliced clean—limbs flew.
"Gah?! Aaaagh!!!"
"M-my arm!"
"L-leg!"
They collapsed screaming.
"W-what?! Y-you brat—your doing?!"
"Told you."
"Insolent shit!"
Leader ignored warning, lunged—head rolled.
Thugs wiped out.
Ignored groans, approached princess, knelt. "Your Highness! Are you alright?!"
Rescue complete. Now prove I'm no kid, ask for service—done.
Looked up—she gazed down in rapture. Stepped daintily, knelt eye-level.
"You're too cute!!!"
Hugged me tight. Sweet apple perfume and body scent tickled my nose; soft, ample chest pressed in—paradise haze.
"Kiddo! Where'd you come from? What was that? No, your name first?!"
Like finding a stray cat, questions poured. Overwhelmed by Olivier, I couldn't speak.