Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Meeting Magic (1)
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“Waaah. Waaah.”
Vincent frowned as he woke from his sleep. The cry of a newborn baby echoed through the desolate mountains, where even the birds were asleep.
“Waaah. Waaah.”
The baby’s mournful cries continued as he shook his messy hair and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“Dear God, what have I done so wrong?”
Getting out of bed, Vincent glanced back at his wife, who was fast asleep. He hoped she was having a pleasant dream. If she heard this sound, it would be quite an ordeal.
Married for seven years, Vincent and his wife were childless. They had spent a small fortune visiting doctors, only to be told the cause was unknown.
“There’s such a thing as physical compatibility. It’s likely just one of those things. Neither Olina nor you seem to have any particular problems, so just try often and frequently. Ha ha ha!”
At first, Vincent had laughed heartily as well. It was also true that their marital harmony had improved thanks to the doctor’s advice.
But by their fifth year of marriage, he had no choice but to accept it.
He couldn’t have children.
His wife, Olina, never once showed her disappointment. But whenever he saw her watching other families’ children with a lonely expression, Vincent couldn't help but curse his own inadequacy.
“What son of a bitch is doing this? Are they trying to rub salt in my wounds?!”
Due to the nature of his profession as a hunter, he lived in a house deep in the mountains. He needed a base camp in the mountains to check his traps hourly and track game for days on end.
No one would visit a hunter's house at this hour. Unable to rule out the possibility of bandits, Vincent grabbed a single-bladed axe and went out the door.
“Who's there! Who's making all that noise in the middle of the night!”
Vincent shouted, his voice echoing thunderously through the mountains. No one answered; only the echo of his shout returned.
It could have been a merchant dealing in local specialties, but no matter where he looked, he couldn't see a single torch.
Growing more tense, Vincent tightened his grip on the axe handle. And he slowly made his way toward the sound of the baby's cry.
The sound was coming from the stable.
The likelihood of bandits was high. He'd heard stories in the slash-and-burn village about robbers preying on those who lived alone in the mountains.
“Damn you! I'll chop you to pieces!”
In the worst-case scenario, blood would have to be shed.
His resolve firm, Vincent threw open the stable door. At the same time, he surveyed the inside with a hunter's keen senses.
A soft whicker.
Hearing the peaceful snorting of the horse, he calmed down somewhat. Animals don't lie, after all.
The stable, where two horses slept, was small and cozy. As such, there was nowhere to hide. But surprisingly, there was no sign of anyone having entered.
“But then, where is the crying coming from?”
Vincent tiptoed over to a pile of straw and looked. A newborn baby, only a couple of months old, was crying there.
Overcome by an inexplicable sense of sacredness, he hid the axe behind his back. Then, feeling even that was irreverent, he tossed it into a corner and crawled slowly toward the baby.
“Waaah. Waaah.”
When he parted the swaddling clothes with his rough hands, he found a beautiful baby, its face as lovely as the moon. An innocent baby who knew nothing, who had only just begun to breathe the world's air.
Vincent's eyes quivered. Then, as if struck by lightning, his body shook, and unable to control his emotions, he bolted out of the stable.
“Who is it! Who's playing this sick joke! Abandoning a child, you rotten bastard! Show yourself!”
The echoes resounded as if many people were speaking at once.
“Come out! Are you really not coming out? How could you abandon a child! You're a truly terrible person! Do you hear me?”
He shouted again, but no one answered.
“So you've really abandoned him! This is your last chance! Just you try showing your face to me later! I'll beat you to a pulp!”
Vincent yelled with the loudest voice he had ever mustered in his life. He didn't want to have any regrets when he looked back on this day in the distant future.
Vincent went back into the stable. Exhausted from crying, the baby had fallen into a light sleep. With trembling hands, he hugged the baby and gently pressed his ear to its small chest.
Its heart was beating.
“Honey, what's wrong?”
His wife, Olina, came into the stable, panting. Vincent's shouts had been so loud that she was now wide awake.
Vincent, seemingly at a loss for words, stared blankly at his wife before showing her the sleeping baby in his arms.
“What… who is that child?”
“Well… I think he's our child.”
* * *
In the lush green of early summer.
Vincent hummed as he quickened his pace along a path by a cool stream. A large water deer was slung over his shoulder, but for a man of his large build, his movements were light.
As he neared home, his steps grew even faster. The faces of his precious family were already shimmering in his mind's eye.
“Shirone, Dad's home!”
“Dad!”
A twelve-year-old boy with a beaming smile ran to the doorway. Unlike Vincent, who was rough and rock-like, Shirone had grown into a beautiful boy, as if specially cherished by the gods.
His hair, which shimmered like golden threads, his blue eyes, and his sharp nose—despite not being fully grown—made him look like a doll. Whenever he looked at his son, Vincent would puff out his chest with pride.
Hugging Shirone, he buried his face in the nape of his son's neck and took a deep breath. His son's scent washed away all the fatigue from his arduous trek in the mountains.
“Yes, my son. My treasure. Have you been well?”
“Yes. I helped Mom with the cooking and read a lot of books.”
Cooking and books.
Vincent felt a sense of disharmony between the two words and was at a loss. But he didn't let it show, instead letting out a hearty laugh.
“Do you like books that much?”
“No, it's just... there's not much else to do.”
Seeing his son hide his feelings as if he'd done something wrong, Vincent felt a pang of pity and guilt.
In truth, he already knew. This miracle child sent from the heavens was unusually bright.
Olina knew a little about reading and writing, but she was a hunter's wife, after all. Despite that, Shirone had managed to stumble through letters with what little he'd been taught, and had now reached a level where he could read books on his own.
That's why it pained him even more.
A hunter's son cannot study.
The son of an herb gatherer becomes an herb gatherer, and the son of a hunter becomes a hunter; that was the only way to make a living.
No matter how humble the trade, there were always secrets and tricks that couldn't be taught with mere words. All that poor Vincent could pass on to his son were his hunting skills.
But Vincent couldn't bring himself to say it. Twelve was too young to learn about the unfairness of the world.
“No, you did well. No matter what you do, you have to learn to succeed. I'll buy you some books next time I go to the city.”
“It's okay. You've already bought me so many. And to be honest, there wasn't much in them anyway.”
Vincent couldn't help but smile at his son's bluff. Practical books that could make money were too expensive to even consider, so he bought discarded books from nobles at an antique shop for a pittance. He was sure they weren't the kind of books a child could digest.
His son's character, worrying about his parents' finances first, made Vincent's heart both swell with pride and ache with sorrow.
“Right! Anyway, how about it? Want to go chop some wood with Dad? Learning is important, but a man needs to have stamina. Today, I'll teach you how to chop wood.”
“Wow! Does that mean I get an axe too?”
“Haha! Of course! Let's go chop down every tree in the mountain today!”
As if he'd been waiting for this, Vincent gifted Shirone an axe. It was expensive for their household, but it was a much more useful item than a book. An axe, after all, could earn you money.
In his heart of hearts, he hoped his son would become a hunter. But Shirone was small for his age and didn't seem capable of doing rough work. That's why he wanted to start building up his son's stamina now.
‘He has such a noble air about him, and he's remarkably smart. Could he have been the child of a noble?’
Vincent quickly erased the question from his mind. Whenever he had such thoughts, his heart would swell as if he'd received a gift beyond his station, but he would soon be plagued by guilt.
‘Shirone is my son. Not a child I took from a stable, but my son, of my own blood.’
With that resolve, Vincent took Shirone's hand and left the house.
His logging area was a kilometer away from their cabin.
There were many hunters nearby, so working outside one's designated area could lead to fights. In severe cases, it could even lead to knife fights.
“Alright. I'll show you how it's done, so watch carefully and follow along.”
Vincent spat on his palms and then began to chop the tree with satisfying swings. Not long after the thudding sounds began, the straight tree came crashing down with a splintering crack.
The number of swings it took was a measure of a woodcutter's skill. Vincent wasn't a woodcutter, so it took him ten swings to fell it, but that alone was impressive.
“You see, you chop the same spot several times like this, and when the tree leans, it can't bear its own weight and falls. Think you can do it?”
“Yes, I'll try.”
Vincent picked out a tree that seemed manageable for Shirone. Standing before the tree, Shirone spat on his hands just as his father had done. He'd only watched once, but his stance, the way he positioned the axe, and even the habit of rubbing his palms together were a perfect copy.
Vincent smiled warmly, thinking how clever his son was.
But when he actually tried to swing the axe, his form was clumsy in some undefinable way.
It wasn't something you could do with your head alone. It required strength and stamina. The axe was quite heavy, and swinging it hard enough to slice through the air required considerable muscle.
The reason Vincent had brought him out to chop wood was because Shirone's build was small for his age.
If he was fated not to be a scholar, he had to at least build his strength. No woman would want to marry a man who couldn't earn a living, after all.
“Hnngh! Nngh!”
Shirone gritted his teeth and swung the axe. But with every swing, the point of impact was different.
Unable to watch any longer, Vincent gave him a tip.
“Don't use all your strength at once. Try reducing your power a little and focus on accuracy.”
Shirone quickly absorbed Vincent's advice. But this time, his swings were too weak, and the tree showed no sign of breaking.
Was my son really this weak?
Vincent felt a little disheartened.
“Phew, this is hard.”
“It's alright, Shirone. No, I'm sorry. To be honest, I know this kind of work doesn't suit you. But a hunter's son… has no choice…”
Overcome with emotion, Vincent trailed off. What must a parent feel, having to tell their child about the harsh realities of life?
“You're a really smart kid. Much smarter than Baron, the herb gatherer's son, and Stella, the fruit seller's daughter. There's no need to feel discouraged just because you're not strong. It's my own selfishness that's pushing you…”
Overwhelmed by sorrow, tears welled up in Vincent's eyes. But Shirone, paying no mind to that, tugged on his father's sleeve and asked.
“More importantly, Dad, how can I get better at chopping wood?”
Vincent felt a little embarrassed.
But the awkwardness was fleeting, and a sense of elation washed over him as Shirone showed interest in chopping.
“You, you really want to learn how to do this?”
“Yes, please teach me. It's fun.”
His son's words gave him a renewed sense of courage. Vincent composed himself and led Shirone over to examine the notch in the tree.
“Here, look at this notch. Strength will come naturally when you grow up. But really, this doesn't require immense strength. The important thing is technique. I told you to chop the same spot earlier, but if you twist the angle just a little, you can apply much more force.”
“Oh, I see.”
Vincent squinted and stared intently at the notch his son had made. It was quite surprising. He had struck the exact same spot with a precision that was hard to believe for a beginner.
Hitting it like this, it would actually be difficult to fell the tree unless you were incredibly strong.