A storm raged through the night.
The wind howled across the kingdom of Maro, dragging the rain like a thousand scattered needles. The streets flooded, the sound of thunder echoing like a curse that refused to fade.
In one of those soaked alleyways lay a young man—eighteen years old—drenched from head to toe. His dark-blue hair clung to his face, his sky-blue eyes staring blankly at the clouds above. A thin white shirt and black trousers clung to his body, the only things separating him from the cold world that had rejected him.
He stood up slowly, his shoes splashing in the muddy water.
"This rain… When will it end?" he murmured, his voice barely louder than the storm. "How did it come to this? I had a family… a home. It wasn't perfect, but it was mine. Now—nothing. Was I born to live... or just to die?"
He dragged his feet down the narrow street, his reflection broken in the puddles at his feet. Shops were shuttered, lights dimmed. The world had no place for him anymore. When the rain finally ceased, he tilted his face to the clear night sky.
"The storm ended... but for me, what's next? Maybe I'll just draw somewhere far away... somewhere no one can hurt me."
But memories he tried so hard to bury clawed their way back.
---
It began months ago, in the grand estate of House Hotveil.
Inside a lavish bedroom filled with moonlight, a young boy stood by the window, brush in hand, sketching the serene night sky in his notebook. His strokes were calm—almost too calm for someone about to lose everything.
A knock sounded on the door.
"Come in," the boy said, setting down his brush.
A butler in his seventies entered, bowing respectfully.
"Young Master Aaron Hotveil, your father—Lord Martin—has requested your presence in his office. He wishes to speak with you."
Aaron tilted his head, puzzled. "Did he say what it's about?"
The butler shook his head silently.
Aaron followed him down the long corridor until they reached a heavy oak door engraved with golden letters: Office of Lord Martin Hotveil. The butler knocked twice, and a stern voice answered from within, "Enter."
Aaron stepped inside. His father sat behind a massive desk, fingers clasped, eyes sharp as blades.
"You may leave us," Martin said to the butler. The old man bowed and exited quietly.
The silence stretched before Aaron finally spoke.
"So… what did you want to tell me, Father?"
Martin didn't flinch. "Leave this house. And never come back."
Aaron froze. "What? What do you mean?"
"You are not of this bloodline," Martin said coldly. "You possess no magic. Keeping you here will tarnish the Hotveil name. From this day onward, you are no longer one of us."
Aaron's heart pounded violently. "That's not fair! Where am I supposed to go? I have nowhere!"
Martin slammed his hand against the desk. "Our family's reputation is worth more than a powerless boy's tears! Pack your belongings and leave before dawn."
Aaron's lips trembled. He wanted to speak, to fight back—but the words never came.
He turned and left the office with the butler, heading back to his room in silence.
"Prepare his bag," Martin ordered the servant. "Only his essentials."
The butler obeyed, placing Aaron's sketchbook and paintbrush inside the small bag.
Aaron frowned. "What about my clothes?"
The butler lowered his gaze. "Those are no longer yours, young master."
A single tear fell, lost among countless others.
He took the bag, walked past the grand gate, and looked back one last time at the mansion that had been his cage and his home. No one waved. No one said goodbye.
---
Days passed. Aaron wandered through the streets of Takuba, starving and drenched. He begged, slept in alleys, and survived on scraps. One night, unable to bear the hunger, he tricked a baker—telling him someone called for him outside—then stole a loaf of bread and ran.
He devoured it while walking, guilt buried under desperation. "Guess I'm a thief now too," he whispered bitterly.
That night, he slept in another cold alley.
Three days later, weary and filthy, he stumbled across a torn flyer stuck to a wall.
> Wanted: A live-in servant at the residence of Sir Frankfurt Pierce.
"Payment comes not in gold, but in food and shelter."
Location: Gisanna District.
Aaron's hands shook.
"Work… food… a home?" He reread the note over and over as tears welled in his eyes. "This is it. My second chance."
The journey from Takuba to Gisanna would take over three days on foot. But even so, he clenched his fists. "I'll make it… even if it kills me."
---
After three brutal days of walking, Aaron finally reached Gisanna at dusk. Exhausted, he collapsed between two shops and fell asleep on a pile of discarded papers.
When morning came, he asked nearly thirty people for directions to Sir Pierce's estate before one finally told him, "Turn right, then left. It's the giant house at the end—you can't miss it."
Following the directions, Aaron soon stood before a massive mansion.
"So this is it… Please, don't let someone else have taken the job already," he whispered, pressing the doorbell.
Moments later, a tall man in his thirties opened the door—gray hair, sharp eyes, dressed in a black suit.
"Are you here for the servant position, young man?" the man asked.
"Yes, sir. I saw the flyer."
"Good. May I see it?"
Aaron handed him the paper. The man examined it carefully, then smiled slightly.
"Very well. Come in."
Aaron followed, eyes wide in awe at the elegant interior.
"I'm Kain, assistant to Sir Frankfurt Pierce. And you are?"
"Uh… Aaron. Just Aaron."
Kain nodded. "Welcome, Aaron. But first—"
A loud growl interrupted him. Aaron's stomach betrayed him.
"S-sorry, I haven't eaten since I arrived," Aaron said, embarrassed.
Kain chuckled softly. "No worries. I'll prepare some food for you. In the meantime, you can use one of the guest rooms to change. I'll call you when dinner's ready."
Aaron bowed slightly. "Thank you. Truly."
As they walked through the mansion, Aaron couldn't stop staring.
"These designs… the walls, the light, everything's perfect! I'd rate this mansion ten out of ten!" he said with genuine excitement.
Kain smiled. "Glad you like it. Your room's this way."
Before entering, Kain asked, "Where are you from, Aaron? Any family waiting for you?"
Aaron froze. Should he tell the truth? No—he couldn't.
He lowered his head. "I… grew up on the streets of Takuba. I have no family."
Kain's expression softened. He placed a comforting hand on Aaron's shoulder.
"I see. I've known hardship too. But the Pierce family… they gave me a reason to live."
Aaron smiled faintly. "Then maybe this is where my life starts again."
---
After changing clothes, Aaron joined Kain for dinner. The aroma made his stomach twist in anticipation.
"This smells amazing," he said, grabbing his fork eagerly.
They ate together, and Kain asked, "So, Aaron… what's your magic level?"
Aaron froze. "Magic? I… don't have any."
Kain blinked. "None at all? What about your Naduka Mark? Show me your neck."
Aaron hesitated but obeyed. Kain inspected both sides and sighed.
"Nothing. So your powers haven't awakened yet."
Aaron frowned. "Yeah… that's what I thought."
"Don't worry," Kain said kindly. "Everyone starts somewhere."
After dinner, Kain offered to show him around the mansion.
They explored the gardens, filled with glowing flowers protected by a magical barrier at night. "Never touch them barehanded," Kain warned. "Some are poisonous."
Next, they entered a wide open courtyard. "This is where we train. Sorcerers use Taya—a spiritual energy—to grow stronger. Magic is ranked from Level 0 to 100, though rare elements can surpass that. Sir Pierce, for example, is a Light Sorcerer at Level 80. I'm a Wind Sorcerer, Level 69."
Aaron listened, eyes wide in wonder. "So that's how power works here…"
Night soon fell.
Kain smiled. "You've had a long day. Rest well, Aaron."
Aaron nodded and returned to his room. He unpacked his small bag, pulling out his sketchbook and brush. Sitting on the soft bed, he began to draw—the mansion, the lights, the warmth.
"A new beginning," he whispered. "Let's hope this one lasts."
He smiled faintly, then drifted into sleep.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Kain's voice echoed through the hall.
"Ah, not again—why do I keep slipping on this floor?!"
And just like that, Aaron's new life had quietly begun.