Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: The Evil Dragon is Even More Confused
The book detailed the developmental stages of human children.
How long after birth,
they begin certain behaviors.
What reactions they show,
what movements they can perform,
and even what appears or disappears.
Things I didn't know.
Things absent from the humans I knew.
Every new change was meticulously documented.
Among them—
I opened a simple chart dividing development by months.
Items split by age in months.
Simply summarizing what the child could do.
I gently set the child down on the ground.
"Alright. Let's try them one by one."
"…!"
The child nodded her head.
A small but definite spark of enthusiasm shone in her eyes.
"Let's see. At 1 month, the head… she can move it. Smiling… not yet, so not 3 months either…."
"…."
"Hmm, want to try rolling over?"
"?"
"Not sure. It just says 'rolls over'."
The child tilted her head as if pondering something.
Then she carefully flipped the rabbit in her arms.
The rabbit flailed and made a racket.
Clutching the noisy rabbit tightly,
the child looked up at me with a blank stare.
"…Uh."
"?"
"…Yeah. She flipped something, so that counts."
"!"
"Good job. Hold the rabbit properly now. It's noisy."
The child gave a small smile.
Pleased by the praise, she hugged the readjusted rabbit even tighter.
"Next up… crawling at 10 months…."
"?"
"Nah, I've seen her crawl, so skip that."
It was just musing to myself,
but the child was already on her knees on the ground.
I chuckled and brushed the dirt off her knees.
"Now 12 months: stand and walk alone."
"…."
"Want to try walking?"
The hesitating child slowly rose to her feet.
But—
Kneeling was her limit.
Dragging one foot, her body plopped down.
Her lips pursed.
Her face looked ready to burst into tears.
I carefully lifted her up, patted her back, and held her close.
"It's okay. Take it slow."
"…."
"Failing doesn't mean you're wrong."
"…."
A small hand gripped my clothes tightly.
Panting, the child squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.
In her eyes,
a small but clear flame flickered.
Only then did I realize she wasn't sad.
'…She's frustrated.'
Having will was a good thing.
That tiny flame would light her path forward.
But—
I leisurely stroked her back.
"Take it slow. Rush it, and it'll fizzle out quick."
"…?"
"Embers need the right fuel to burn properly."
The child didn't seem to understand,
tilting her head repeatedly and blinking.
I smiled a little.
"Sorry. I'm not smart enough to explain it well."
"…."
"Well… one thing I can say for sure as time itself…."
"?"
"I won't ignore your efforts. Time leaves traces on effort. Always."
The child gazed up at me quietly.
After a long moment, she lifted the corners of her mouth and nodded.
I met her eyes and smiled.
"So take it slow. I'll wait right here."
"…."
"Or try something else. Plenty of items left. …Let's see."
Holding her in my arms, I checked the book again.
My hand stopped turning the pages.
The descriptions didn't match reality for some reason.
"…Huh?"
"…?"
My eyes slowly traced the lines.
Once.
Twice.
Even rereading—
"…What?"
It was weird.
Clearly, the child couldn't walk or talk.
So I'd thought she was under 12 months.
But later items listed things she could do.
Expressing wants,
handing things to others,
understanding simple instructions….
I alternated between the child and the book, muttering.
"…She can do all that?"
"?"
"…Oh."
No matter how I looked, the order felt reversed.
The child
reacted well to instructions despite not speaking,
and handled things adeptly even without walking.
But—
the book said
speaking before reacting to instructions,
walking before skilled hand use.
"…This is odd."
"???"
Was the book wrong,
or was this child special?
'…No clue.'
Maybe ask her directly.
"Hey."
"?"
"How many months old are you?"
"…?"
Her head tilted again.
Her face clearly read, 'What's that?'
"…Yeah. You don't know either."
"…."
"It's fine. That happens. I don't know my own age."
Her eyes widened a bit.
Then she smiled and nodded.
As if saying, 'Me too.'
I shifted my gaze from the child to the book.
Muttering leisurely as I found the part I'd noted earlier.
"…Hmm, rough estimate should do. Planning tomorrow's shopping, wondering what to feed you, so checking that."
"…?"
"I don't know much. Babies get formula or weaning food…. Ah, found it."
It listed age-appropriate foods.
Formula duration,
weaning start times.
When solids are okay,
what's allowed and what's not.
And more—
Unfamiliar terms,
vague explanations,
totally new info made my head ache.
"…Ugh."
"?"
"Nah. I'll read more. Reasons for weaning food…."
The book said it helps babies get used to meals.
Start with porridge,
then thin gruel.
Vary ingredients for tastes and textures,
gradually increase particle size for digestion….
"…What is this?"
"…?"
"Why go through all this hassle."
The child chewed hard wooden nuts fine.
Small mouth aside,
she chewed and swallowed without issue.
'No need to puree that.'
Book info clashed with reality again.
And—
with my human knowledge.
Past humans didn't grow this way.
All this felt overly complex and inefficient.
Rubbing my throbbing head, I muttered.
"Just absorb mana. Why force all that…."
"?"
"Nah. Nothing."
Her head tilted slightly, but she soon rested it against me meekly.
Stroking her,
I calmly read the book again.
It clashed with
reality
and
my knowledge,
but maybe necessary in this world.
So—
Even if unfamiliar,
inefficient.
I had to try understanding.
To live with this child.
"Ah, this might be useful."
"?"
"Weaning precautions. Hold on…."
But—
My head throbbed to a stop,
thoughts halting soon after.
I closed the book silently.
Slowly looked up at the sky.
And cursed my old friend up there.
"…Why make it so complicated."
"???"
"Carbs, proteins, what's all this."
"??????"
"Why make it this annoying…."
The child stared blankly at me.
Soon,
she furrowed her brow deeply and lifted her head.
Her scrunched chin twitched,
narrowed eyes twisting more.
She shook her head side to side and sighed softly.
"You don't get it either, huh?"
"…."
Her slow nod.
I chuckled unwittingly.
I smoothed her furrowed brow with a finger.
"Maybe ask my friend about changed humans."
"…?"
"He's busy, so not right away."
"…."
"For now, ask the bookstore owner. Users often know better than makers."
The child nodded,
but didn't fully grasp the meaning.
Doubt lingered in her eyes.
Still, expectant, her eyes sparkled faintly at me.
I gazed into her eyes.
Pale green irises bathed softly in red sunset glow.
"Sun's setting. Let's head back."
"…!"
"Cold?"
I quickened my pace.
Hugging her deeper, I sorted my thoughts.
Tasks flashed through my mind.
"Tomorrow's shopping list is long. Lots to ask too."
"…."
"Writing tools, rabbit book, clothes for you. Your age, and…."
"???"
The child stared up at me.
My inner thoughts had slipped out aloud somehow.
"Ah, don't mind. Since memory issues, I mutter more."
"…."
"Just means tomorrow'll be a bit… busy."
Her eyes curved narrowly.
Her small mouth corners lifted, gripping hand tightening.
Red-tinged forest,
sun vanishing beyond mountains,
child breathing in my arms.
Taking it all in, I slowly closed my eyes.
Time to set aside old knowledge,
old ways.
"And fill with new."
"…?"
"Necessary to be with you."
Not bad.
No, much better.
Unlike blindly obsessing over learning,
without meaning—
Now, at least, I had clear purpose.