Dreaming Again (1)
No matter how desperately he pleaded, no matter how fiercely he yearned, it had always remained beyond his grasp.
He had believed the gods themselves had simply refused to allow it.
A limit sealed the instant a person was born, as fixed as fate — mana capacity, a boundary that effort alone could never overcome.
People called it talent.
What a laughable thing to say.
"R-Roy! Please, calm yourself!"
A way to surpass that limit.
And that method… actually existed?
Impossible.
Money, time, technique — he had poured every resource he possessed into the search, and still he had failed.
And yet.
And yet this man spoke of it as if its existence were the most ordinary fact in the world.
Roy pressed his trembling hands together, squeezing hard to hide the shaking, and forced the words out. Even so, he could not keep the quaver from his voice or the unsteadiness from his gaze.
"Th-that thing… tell me a little more about—"
Mana flared through his entire body, losing all sense of direction, twisting and tangling in on itself.
Sparks leapt.
What had been pure white began to blacken and burn; some of it coiled together into a small, vicious vortex.
"Tell me…"
"R-Roy?!"
"More. I need to know more. Everything you know… say it!"
Watching the boy’s strange, unnerving state, Geren found something rising from memory.
Surely not…
He had never seen it himself — only heard the stories.
Though it doesn’t quite match what I was told…
He had heard of a condition called a dissociative mana seizure. It appeared only rarely among those of anomalous constitution, triggered by extreme emotional upheaval. Mana that slipped free of control would rampage through the body of its own accord, burning without pause until every last drop of the sufferer’s power was spent.
The end of that path needed no explanation.
Death.
"Young master. This is an emergency, so forgive the liberty."
Geren drew up his mana and wrapped it around his whole body. Then he moved like lightning, slipping behind Roy, who still had not come to his senses.
I have to end this in one clean strike…
Thud—!
The hardened edge of Geren’s hand struck the boy cleanly at the base of the skull. Roy collapsed where he stood.
"Hah…"
Thank the heavens. The rampage had stopped.
"What a way to startle a man from the very first lesson, young master."
To think he would have to use mana against a five-year-old child. A fraction too much force and the boy would have died on the spot. Too little, and the seizure might never have stopped at all.
"Still… this situation has gotten rather awkward."
Geren let out a long breath and called for the household at once. Word reached the Baron’s ears without delay.
Having spent an entire day confined to his bedchamber, Roy wanted nothing more than to run straight to Geren, seize him by the collar, and wring every scrap of information from him.
But by the Baron’s command, he was forbidden to leave his room. At his age, a parent’s word was absolute — his own wishes meant nothing.
"Hmm… there doesn’t seem to be any real problem."
The physician, who had been examining Roy from head to toe, spoke to the Baron.
"He still looks like that, and you say he’s truly all right?"
"I’ve only ever heard of dissociative mana seizures by rumor myself, so I can’t claim deep knowledge. But the fit has already stopped, and there’s nothing wrong with his body, so I don’t believe you need to worry overmuch. That said… looking at how the agitation still hasn’t settled, he should remain like this for a few more days for the sake of his nerves and spirit."
Even now Roy’s heart was hammering. How could it not? A lifelong wish he had hunted for a full fifty years in his previous life — and only now had he finally learned the way. Being told to calm down was the unreasonable demand.
"Father. I’m fine. Please call Master Geren. Today’s lesson still—"
"Enough. Lessons are forbidden for the time being. Remember this above all: your health comes first."
He said as much, but in the Baron’s heart Geren was already gone. No dismissal had been issued yet, yet the thought of putting the two of them in the same room again sat poorly with him. And little wonder — a son who had never once fallen ill in his life had collapsed on only his second meeting with the man.
Geren’s reputation among the neighboring nobles was not a bad one, but from his looks to his origins he was an outsider through and through. Keeping a wary distance was only natural.
"So. Why were you so worked up? Tell me that much, at least."
Once the physician and servants had all withdrawn, only the Baron and Roy remained in the room.
Roy hesitated over where to begin.
Can I just ask him straight out?
Judging by the conversation with Geren, information about Dragon’s Breath did not seem buried under layers of absolute secrecy. In that case the Baron was unlikely to be wholly ignorant of it either. There was no absolute need to summon Geren again.
On the contrary, Geren had become difficult to meet precisely because of Roy’s collapse — and even if they did meet, there was no guarantee the man would answer his questions freely.
If I pass out again, that’ll be a problem.
What mattered most right now was not Geren, but information on Dragon’s Breath. He needed to learn as quickly as possible where it could be found and how it could be obtained.
The proper course would be to recover first and then search at a careful pace — but there was no telling how long that would take. And with this child’s body, there was no knowing how much he could even accomplish.
"Father."
The fastest route was still to ask the man who was both the lord of this land and his own father. The only question was how best to open the subject.
Roy turned the problem over carefully in his mind.
"I was taught that a person’s aptitude for mana is decided at birth."
"That’s right."
"I thought so too — until Master Geren told me something remarkable."
"Yes. I heard. You collapsed in the middle of a conversation about Dragon’s Breath."
The Baron’s sharp, heavy-lidded eyes raked over Roy from head to foot. He had already interrogated Geren the night before and knew every word that had passed between them. Roy would have to choose his next remarks with care. He must not look excited. He must give no impression that another seizure might be coming.
"What is Dragon’s Breath?"
Roy deliberately curled the corners of his mouth upward, playing the part of a perfectly innocent child. His small frame and young face would have sold the act even without effort — but the thick, hungry greed rising from deep in his chest needed covering, and so the performance was necessary.
"Hrm… you’re still far too young to be hearing about that."
"I want to know."
Deep creases formed between the Baron’s brows. He had his own dilemma: whether a tale like this ought to be told to a son who had only just turned five.
"If you won’t tell me now, Father, I might sneak out before dawn and go demand the answer from Master Geren myself. And if I have a seizure alone somewhere with no one around…"
"Haa…"
"If you tell me now, I’ll stay quiet until I’m fully recovered. I promise."
What kind of child is this?
The Baron’s expression as he looked at Roy said exactly that. He exhaled a long, heavy sigh, then opened his mouth with the air of a man who had given up.
"It’s a liquor. Even if you held it in your hands this very moment, you’d need at least another ten years before you could drink it."
"I’m not saying I want to drink it. I only want to know precisely what it is, and how one goes about obtaining it."
"It is not something for a boy who still can’t properly control the mana he was born with to be coveting."
The Baron’s voice was solid and weighty. He was not scolding, but the signal was unmistakable: stop asking.
"I’m told the seizure you had today happens when a frail body can’t endure the mana that has begun to accumulate inside it. It usually appears in Commoner children born with strong mana. Don’t you find that pathetic? A Commoner child might grow weak from missing meals, but you? You have no such excuse. Reading books in a corner is all well and good, but from now on you are not to neglect training your body."
"Of course, Father."
The Baron had expected the rebuke to leave Roy subdued. Instead the boy was staring up at him with bright, shining eyes, full of naked curiosity.
Roy understood perfectly well what his father feared. But he could not back down. These were frustrating days when his age kept him from doing as he pleased — yet that same age also let him throw the occasional tantrum like this. He intended to use every tool available to him.
"I’ll work hard at physical training from now on. I just want to know. I’m not saying I’ll drink Dragon’s Breath this instant. What it is, how it’s made, what process produces that effect… I’m only asking about something I’m curious about. Is that wrong too?"
This time he even let his voice thicken, as if he might cry.
"Heh…"
The Baron’s deliberation grew heavier.
This was a child who had pulled books from the study and read them before anyone had even taught him his letters. How much of the content he truly understood was another question, but while Anna, a year older, was still busy whining, little Roy had sat quietly with nothing but books. And now, for the first time, that same child was acting like a real child.
Watching him throw a tantrum almost felt like a relief — until one remembered that the object of his curiosity was Dragon’s Breath, of all things.
How much should he tell? From where to where? And was it even right to speak of such matters to a boy who was barely five?
His head began to ache.
The Baron closed his eyes for a long moment, thinking. Then, quietly, he began to speak.