Later....
I sat at the garden table, cup of tea in front of me,contemplating my success. Ie me using magic ,in my first try.
Speaking of magic,the tea that was used for the spell was warm now—perfectly drinkable. I picked up the cup and took a sip.
Milk tea was the tea that I'm currently drinking,which is probably common for British people to add milk to their tea. Not bad, but not my full on favorite especially since it's black tea,i usually always preferred jasmine tea back in my old life but black tea is second.
For explanation the taste of the teas are very much different, jasmine tea taste is more light, floral, refreshing,and smell nice, it's light when use to make milk tea,but milk tea using black tea is more heavier, creamier,and left an aftertaste though i like that especially when black tea is the tea used for bubble tea, but i currently dislike this milk tea for one thing.
It's warm.....Ok i might be picky but usually i very much love and prefer cold tea all the time when I'm eating something, with warm tea i usually drink it for eating biscuits where i would dunk it or after eating greasy food.
And i like my milk tea specifically cold heck probably freezing to some extent.
But... The thought soon struck me immediately, followed by a question that any scientist—or five-year-old with a scientist's brain—would ask:
If I can heat it... can I cool it?
Reverse the process?
Grandma had gone inside for a moment doing something about checking on lunch preparations,and something else.
And I was alone in the garden,unsupervised, with a cup of tea and a dangerous amount of curiosity.
This is a terrible idea.... Yeah definitely bad idea. I should absolutely not try this without supervision,but I'm going to try this without supervision anyway.
Since when life gives you lemons as they say,you make lemonade.... Ok i might trying to get a justification but it's true.
I set the cup down and placed my hand over it, just like before.
Okay. Physics time as we know heating something meant increasing it's molecular motion aka making the particles vibrate faster, making them collide more, and generate kinetic energy.
Cooling something was the opposite. Decreasing molecular motion meaning slowing the particles down, reducing the kinetic energy.
Thermodynamically speaking, cooling actually requires MORE energy than heating.
Because you're not just adding energy—you're removing it. Transferring it elsewhere.
Refrigerators work by using that concept moving heat from inside to outside,same for air conditioners they pump thermal energy out of a room.
So to cool this tea, I'd need to... what? Pull the heat out? Transfer it somewhere else?
I frowned, thinking through the mechanics.
Or maybe magic doesn't care about thermodynamic efficiency.
Maybe I just... tell the molecules to slow down. And they do,probably Worth a shot.
I closed my eyes and reached for my magical core again. It responded more easily this time—familiar now, like a muscle I'd just learned to flex.
The warmth flowed down my arm, into my palm,I soon begin visualizing the tea,and it's water molecules.
But this time, I want them to slow down,move less,make them stop vibrating so much,and Get colder.
I held the image clearly in my mind: billions of H₂O molecules gradually losing kinetic energy, their movement becoming sluggish, the temperature dropping.
Cold.
Like ice.
Wait, no—not ice. Just cold. Like arctic or freezing-cold.
Cool and refreshing.
My magic circle appeared above my palm—still crude, still wobbly, but there.
I felt the energy flow.
And I felt something else.
Some other energy moving as well,but not from me into the tea, but from the tea outward,like the heat was being drawn away, and siphoned off.
Steam stopped rising from the cup.
The surface of the liquid stilled.
It's working.
I kept going, maintaining the visualization. Slow molecules,low temperature,cold drink.
The pull intensified.
My palm felt weird—not warm anymore, but cold. Like I was holding ice.
Okay, that's probably enough—
The tea wasn't steaming anymore.
It wasn't moving anymore.
It was—
Frozen.
Completely, totally, solid.
A perfect cylinder of brown ice sitting in a teacup.
"...Fuck."
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
FUCK.
I froze it SOLID.
I yanked my hand back,and the magic circle vanished. The cold sensation in my palm faded,But the tea remained frozen solid.
A testament to my complete failure to understand the phrase "just a little colder"
Also why the hell did i think on the Arctic..
----
Okay. Okay, don't panic.
Maybe I can fix this.
Maybe I can just... heat it back up a little? Melt it to the right temperature?
I reached out again—
"Michael?"
ABORT.
I jerked my hand back and spun around.
Grandma stood in the doorway, holding a small plate of biscuits, looking at me with mild curiosity.
"Everything alright, dear?"
"Um." I glanced at the frozen tea. "Yes?"
She walked over, set down the biscuits, and looked at the cup. Her eyebrows rose.
"...Michael."
"Yes, Grandma?"
"Why is your tea frozen solid?"
Because I'm an idiot who doesn't know when to stop.
"I... um..." I fidgeted with my hands. "I wanted to try making it cold?"
She stared at the tea-ice-cylinder for a long moment.
Then she started laughing.
Not a polite chuckle. A full, genuine laugh that made her shoulders shake.
"Oh, Michael," she said, wiping her eyes. "I told you to rest, not experiment on your own."
"I'm sorry," I said quickly, because I was genuinely worried I'd just broken some kind of magical safety rule.
"Don't apologize." She picked up the cup, examining the frozen contents with obvious amusement. "This is... actually quite impressive. Cooling magic is harder than heating magic. The energy transfer is more complex. Most beginners can't manage it at all."
Oh.
Oh, so I didn't mess up THAT badly.
"But I made it too cold," I pointed out.
"You did." She set the cup down. "Because you didn't know when to stop. That's the danger of learning magic without supervision, Michael. You can lose control. Overshoot. Hurt yourself—or others."
I nodded seriously. "I understand. I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted." She ruffled my hair. "But I am curious—how did you even think to try this? I didn't teach you cooling magic."
Uh oh.
Careful, Michael.
You're five.
You're not supposed to know about thermodynamics.
"Um... well..." I tried to look sheepish and innocent. "You said heating makes things move faster. So I thought... maybe visualising them becoming cold and other cold thing would make it cold?"
It wasn't a lie. Just... a drastically simplified version of the truth.
Grandma's expression softened. "That's very clever reasoning for a five-year-old. You're right—that's essentially how it works. Though the actual mechanism is a bit more complicated in some way"
You have no idea.
"Can you teach me how to do it properly?" I asked, deflecting before she could ask more questions.
"Eventually, yes. But not today." She picked up the frozen tea cup again. "First, let's fix this. Watch."
Her magic circle appeared—elegant, precise, spinning smoothly. She held it over the cup for just a few seconds.
The ice began to melt. Not all at once—gradually, controlled, until it was liquid again.
She dipped a finger in, testing the temperature, then nodded with satisfaction.
"There,properly chilled, and not frozen." She handed me the cup. "Try it."
I took a sip.
Perfect.
Cold, refreshing, exactly the right temperature.
That's what I was going for.
"Thank you, Grandma."
"You're welcome." She sat down across from me, her expression turning more serious. "But Michael—promise me something."
"What?"
"No more experimenting without me present. Not for a while. Magic is wonderful, but it's also dangerous. Especially when you don't know your limits yet."
I nodded quickly. "I promise."
"Good boy." She smiled again. "Now drink your tea before you freeze it again by accident."
I took another sip, savoring the cold.
And trying very, very hard not to think about all the OTHER experiments I wanted to try later, and With supervision.... Probably.
----
Meanwhile, inside the house...
The front door of Edgar and Vivienne was open with
Edward finally stumbled through the front door, arms still loaded with bags, looking like he'd just survived a war.
"I'm back," he called out weakly, with him looking like having walk from hell.
His father, Edgar, looked up from his newspaper. "Still breathing, I see."
"Barely." Edward set down the bags with a heavy thud. "Do you have any idea how much Limoges porcelain costs?"
"I do, actually." Edgar turned a page. "Your mother dragged me to the same shop twenty years ago."
"And you survived?"
"Barely."
Edward groaned and collapsed into a chair. "Where's Michael?"
" At the Garden with your mother,learning magic."
"Already?" Edward perked up slightly. "How's he doing?"
"According to Vivienne, he sensed his core on the first try."
Edward blinked. "...First try?"
"First try."
"That's..." Edward leaned back, a complicated expression crossing his face. Pride, definitely. Maybe a little bit of shock. "That's really good."
"Takes after you," Edgar said gruffly.
"Takes after Mom, you mean."
"Takes after both of you. Your talent, her discipline." Edgar folded his newspaper.
"That boy's going to be something, Edward."
Edward was quiet for a moment, staring at nothing in particular.
Then he smiled.
"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I think he will be."
-----
Later, during lunch
"My baby is so amazing!"
Mom's arms wrapped around me in a crushing hug, squeezing the air from my lungs with the force of maternal pride and approximately zero concern for my respiratory system.
"Mom—can't—breathe—" I wheezed.
She didn't loosen her grip. If anything, she squeezed harder.
"My little Michael! Using magic already! You're so talented!"
I'm going to die
Not from magic
Not from supernatural threats
From affection
Dad, sitting across the table with his plate of food, watched with the expression of a man who'd experienced this exact scenario many times and had long since given up trying to intervene,and the fact he's trying to not get himself sleeping on the couch
Grandma, meanwhile, was explaining the morning's events to the rest of the family with obvious pride.
"He managed two spells today," she said, cutting into her roasted chicken. "First, the simple heating spell—which he executed beautifully on his first attempt. But then, when I left him alone for just a few minutes..." She paused dramatically. "He attempted a cooling spell. On his own,without any instruction."
Grandpa Edgar, who'd been focused entirely on his food up until this point, looked up with raised eyebrows. "Cooling magic? Thats good."
"It is," Grandma confirmed. "Most beginner and children struggle with it for sometime for hours. The energy transfer is harder than heating. But Michael figured out the basic principle himself and managed to chill his tea quickly."
Freeze it solid, she means.
But I appreciate her putting a positive spin on my thermodynamic overreach.
"Well actually he did freeze it completely," Grandma added with an amused smile. "Turned it into a solid block of ice. But the fact that he succeeded at all is remarkable."
Dad nearly choked on his wine.
"He froze it?" He stared at me, eyes wide. "Michael, you—on your first day?!"
I nodded weakly from within Mom's death grip,also can anyone helped me Grandma?, Grandpa?
Dad let out a laughsurprised and genuinely impressed. "That's incredible! See, he's just like his old man! Natural talent!"
Grandpa Edgar set down his fork with a pointed clink.
"Just like you?" he repeated, voice dry as bone. "You mean, talented but lack discipline? Prioritizing chasing skirts over actual swordsmanship training?"
Wait What???
Dad's smile froze. "Dad, come on—"
"Because if memory serves," Grandpa continued, cutting into his potatoes with surgical precision, "you spent more time flirting with French girls in cafés than practicing your forms."
"I practiced!" Dad protested.
"Twice a week. When you felt like it."
"That's not—"
"And usually only when a pretty girl was watching."
I had to bite my lip to keep from bursting into laughter, hearing that.
Grandma joined in, not even looking up from her plate. "And didn't you drop out of Grauzauberer after you decided to change priorities "
Dad opened his mouth trying to rebutt that but then closed it,and opened it again.
"...Good point," he finally admitted, shoulders slumping in defeat.
"But!" He straightened up, pointing his fork at both parents. "I don't regret it. Because if I hadn't dropped out, i wouldn't have met a beautiful brunette who would be my wife."
He turned to Mom with a genuine, soft smile.
Mom, still holding me in her iron grip, chuckled warmly. "Nice save, caro."
"I mean it." Dad's expression was sincere now. "I'd make the same choice every time."
Aww.
That's actually really sweet.
Still doesn't excuse traumatizing me with ghost pranks,and not helping me when I'm being hugged to death by mom but sweet nonetheless.
Mom finally released me—probably because she needed her hands free to reach across the table and squeeze Dad's hand affectionately.
I gasped for air, rubbing my ribs.
Worth it for the story, though.
And speaking of stories...
An idea occurred to me. A wonderful idea.
I looked up at my parents with the most innocent, curious expression I could muster.
"Mom? Dad?"
They both turned to me, still holding hands like a pair of newlyweds.
"How did you two meet? Since dad just mentioned dropping out that allowed him to meet you"
Edward's POV
Oh no.....
The question hung in the air like a grenade with the pin already pulled.
Giulia's eyes sparkled with amusementt, hearing what Michael said,mom looked far too interested. Same with dad who had the faintest hint of a smirk.
And Michael my sweet, innocent, five-year-old son was watching me with wide, curious eyes.
"Um," I said intelligently.
"Yes, Edward," my mother said, leaning forward with obvious delight. "Why don't you tell Michael how you met his mother?"
"I... we... it's not that interesting—"
"Oh, I think it's very interesting," Giulia cut in, her smile dangerously sweet.
Traitor.
"Well," I began carefully, "your mother and I met in Italy. I was... traveling in Italy after dropping out of Grauzbaurer as i mentioned before "
"Backpacking," Mom corrected.
"...Backpacking i meant.." I amended. "Through Florence."
Michael tilted his head. "Why were you in Florence?"
"Cultural enrichment," I said quickly,not going to mention the actual reason.
"Chasing a girl," my father said.
"Dad." I replied
"What? You were."
I sighed, accepting my fate. "...Fine... Yes, I was chasing a girl,a French girl I'd met in Paris who said she was spending the summer in Italy. I thought..." I trailed off, realizing how ridiculous this was going to sound. "I thought it was romantic."
"And?" Michael prompted, leaning forward with interest.
Since when does my five-year-old ask follow-up questions like a journalist?
"And," I continued reluctantly, "when I got to Florence, I couldn't find her. Spent three days wandering around like an idiot, asking if anyone had seen a blonde girl with a red scarf."
Giulia laughed. "You looked so lost."
"I was lost."
"I saw you standing in front of the Duomo, holding a map, looking absolutely miserable while checking the map."
My father snorted into his drink.
"So your mother," I continued, shooting Giulia a look that was half-embarrassed, half-fond, "took pity on me. Walked up and asked if I needed help."
"In perfect French," Giulia added. "Because I could tell from fifty meters away that you were French."
"How?"
"The beret."
"I was not wearing a—"
"You were absolutely wearing a beret."
" I... may have been wearing a beret. Which yes may be out of style for French currently but was still somewhat relevant at that time."
I clarified since i have no interest in getting commented by them about my old fashion sense.
"Anyway," I pressed on, "your mother helped me find a decent hostel, recommended some restaurants, showed me around the city..."
"And three days later," Giulia finished, "he admitted the girl he was looking for didn't actually exist."
Michael blinked. "What?"
"She existed!" I protested. "She just... wasn't in Florence. I'd gotten the city wrong. She was in Venice."
"And by the time you figured that out," Giulia said, eyes twinkling, "you'd decided you liked Florence better."
"I decided I liked you better."
She squeezed my hand "Smooth."
Michael was staring at us like we'd just told him the plot of a romantic comedy.
Which, to be fair, we kind of had.
"So..." he said slowly, "you went to Italy to chase a girl, found the wrong city, met Mom by accident, and just... stayed?"
"Essentially, yes."
"And the French girl?"
"Never saw her again," I admitted. "Didn't matter. I'd already found someone better."
Giulia smiled.
My mother was beaming.
My father looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.
And Michael...
Michael had a look on his face I couldn't quite read, which him being amused but seem to be also having a dangerous thought. Like he was filing this information away for future use.
Michael's POV
Well that was interesting and sweet , and absolutely perfect for blackmail material.
Though it's pretty interesting on how dad met mom, though i didn't know dad was a skirt chaser i need to note that and use it for my advantage.
Grandma was watching me with an amused expression, like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
"Enjoying the story, Michael?" she asked sweetly.
"Yes, Grandma!" I replied with maximum innocent enthusiasm. "It's very romantic!"
Dad looked relieved seeing my reaction,and probably thinking ' thankfully Michael didn't asked more questions'
"Anyway," Mom said, steering the conversation back to safer waters,"we're very proud of you, tesoro. Two spells on your first day? That's wonderful."
"Though you're not to practice without supervision," Grandma added firmly. "Understood?"
"Yes, Grandma."
"Good." She returned to her meal. "After lunch, you should rest. Magic is exhausting for beginners. You'll need sleep."
Sleep?
I glanced at the window. The sun was still high, and it's literally the middle of the day.
I'm not a 2 year old anymore, I don't need—
A wave of exhaustion soon hit me like a truck.
Oh.
Oh no.
My eyelids suddenly felt like they weighed fifty pounds each. My head felt fuzzy. My whole body felt... heavy.
Magic fatigue.
Right.
That's a thing.
"Michael?" Mom's voice sounded distant. "You alright?"
"'m fine," I mumbled, though I was pretty sure I was swaying in my seat.
"He's crashing," Grandma observed. "That's normal. He used a lot of energy today."
The next thing I knew, I was being scooped up—chair and all—no, wait, just me.
Mom had picked me up and was carrying me toward the house.
"Naptime, piccolo," she said softly.
I wanted to protest.
I was five, not two anymore.
I didn't need no naps,
I was afterall a grown man trapped in a child's body and i don't ne—
I was asleep before we reached the stairs.
________________
With that I've posted four chapters so far in February, which is more productive than the last few months. Not to mention the length of the chapters are getting into 2000-3000 words at this point. It's really feel good being motivated again. Also there's a chance in march I'm likely to be able to post more chapters due to my schedule being good and my project aren't that heavy anymore.
...
...
Ok see ya