Nine years later.
A maid opened the door and entered the room. Seeing the boy still asleep, she walked over and pulled the curtains open. Sunlight spilled into the room, and the boy shrank back, pulling the blanket over his head.
"Young master, you should wake up now."
He groaned, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Lily, close the curtains. I want to sleep a little longer."
Lily sighed and shook her head, thinking to herself what a handful he was. She had worked in this house for twelve years, and not once had that boy woken up without a fight. Every morning was the same battle.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, young master."
She walked to the foot of his bed, hands on her hips.
"It's your birthday, and Madam is waiting for you. You're both going to the church."
The words hung in the air for a moment.
Then his eyes shot open.
"Ah, shit-I totally forgot about this!"
He threw the blanket off and bolted upright, his feet hitting the floor before his brain fully caught up. In seconds, he was across the room and through the bathroom door, the slam echoing behind him.
Lily watched him go and sighed again. Every single morning.
After getting ready, he emerged from the bathroom, his hair still slightly damp but otherwise presentable. He adjusted his sleeves, tugged at his collar, and turned to Lily.
"Let's go."
Lily gave him a strange, confused look. Noticing this, he frowned slightly.
"What? Is something wrong with my clothes?"
She shook her head and stepped closer, reaching up to straighten his slightly crumpled collar. Her fingers worked carefully, smoothing the fabric, while her eyes stayed fixed on his face with an expression he couldn't quite read.
"I've never seen a child you je forget their own birthday," she said quietly. "Kids your age can barelysleep the night before, thinking about it-including my own. My daughter was up at dawn on her birthday, bouncing off the walls." She paused, still studying him.
"And here you are, forgetting yours."
Her hands dropped from his collar.
"It's... a bit strange."
He didn't know how to respond.
For a moment, he just stood there, feeling the weight of her gaze. She wasn't accusing him of anything. Just... observing.
Noticing the way maids do when they've spent years watching a child grow.
He simply scratched the back of his neck and gave a wary smile. What was he supposed to say? Sorry, Lily, I'm actually a nineteen-year-old in a ten-year-old's body.
Then, suddenly, a voice came from behind the door.
"Noel, are you ready?"
His mother.
He turned toward the door, grateful for the interruption.
"Coming, Mother!"
He glanced back at Lily. Her expression had smoothed back into its usual warm professionalism, but something lingered in her eyes-a question, unasked for now.
He walked past her and opened the door. She followed closely behind him, her footsteps soft against the corridor floor.
They walked through the hallway, past portraits of ancestors Noel didn't care to remember, until they reached the main hall. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, casting a warm glow across the marble floor.
And there she stood.
A beautiful and graceful woman. She had brunette hair, pinned back elegantly, and dark blue eyes so striking that meeting her gaze felt like being pierced through-as if she could see straight past your skin and into your soul. Noel had always found those eyes unsettling. Not because they were cold, but because they saw too much.
She wore an elegant, simple Renaissance dress inburgundy. It was modest, yet carried a unique charm-motherly and youthful at the same time. A strange combination, but it suited her.
Amelia Hendrix. Baroness of the Hendrix family.
And Noel's mother.
Nearby, two younger boys were being carried by a maid.
Noah, six years old, squirmed slightly in her arms-already too big to be held, yet too impatient to walk properly. Marvin, the youngest at four, rested his head against the maid's shoulder, still half-asleep.
Noel, as of today, was ten years old.
He stepped forward and greeted his mother with a slight bow. "Good morning, Mother."
She smiled at him, that warm, familiar smile, and reached out to touch his cheek.
"You look handsome as always," she said.
And for once, Noel knew she wasn't just saying it because she was his mother. He had learned that much over nine years. When Amelia Hendrix gave a compliment, it was meant it. because She had no patience for empty flattery, even for her own children.
objectively, he supposed, she wasn't wrong.
He had black hair, neatly brushed back for the occasion, and light blue eyes just like his father-the kind of features people in this world seemed to notice. He had caught servants whispering about it more than once.
Takes after the Baron, doesn't he?
His father-Baron Rowan Hendrix, patriarch of the Hendrix clan.
Currently, Rowan was at the northern border of the Quelorin Kingdom, the first line of defense against the monsters and beasts that dwelled in the mountains. It was a post of both honor and danger. His father, his uncle, and the clan elders were always there, keeping watch, holding the line.
As a result, Noel had only seen his father a handful of times in nine years.
The family affairs fell entirely to his mother. She handled administration, managed the barony, and raised the children. She carried it all with that same piercing gaze and quiet competence that never seemed to waver.
Ten years, Noel thought, watching her adjust Marvin's collar while Noah demanded attention. Ten years since I woke up in that room-in this body.
It still felt strange sometimes.
But he had learned. Over the years, he had pieced together the shape of this world. The continent was called Vespara, and it was nothing like Earth.
Vespara was vast, ancient, and filled with races he had once thought belonged only in fairy tales. Elves with sharp ears and long lives. Giants who roamed the northern valleys. Dwarves who carved cities into mountains. Dragons that ruled the skies. Phoenixes that burned and rose again. Beastmen bearing the traits of wolves, cats, and birds. Sea dwellers who called the oceans home.
And humans-scattered across the continent, carving out kingdoms and territories, always watching their borders, always wary of what lay beyond.
The Quelorin Kingdom was one of those human nations -smaller than some, but stubborn. And the Hendrix family had held its northern border for generations.
Ten years, Noel thought again.
And today, he turned ten.
His mother extended her hand toward him. "Come. We shouldn't keep the church waiting."
Noel took her hand. It was warm. Steady.
He looked at her and smiled as they made their way toward the carriage.