Allen froze.
But just then, the smoke before him began to whirl like a vortex! Flashes of light and shadow spun rapidly past his eyes.
Mountains. Rivers. Lakes and oceans.
Silhouettes of people. Herds of beasts.
Scene after scene streaked by like a torrent of memory, and Allen felt his head about to spin clean off. He quickly shut his eyes and opened his mouth to shout—
"Bro! Stop flashing! I'm going blind over here!"
Perhaps sensing the sincerity in his plea, the system did the exact opposite—the stream of images only sped up.
Allen opened his mouth to complain again—
But then, everything stopped.
A blurry shimmer of light lingered in his vision. He furrowed his brow and instinctively opened his eyes, trying to see more clearly.
His pupils adjusted to the flow of information. The images stabilized and coalesced.
And then—he saw it.
A deep, still pool of cerulean blue.
Right before his eyes.
Allen stared, expression unchanged, gaze calm and unwavering.
He wasn't surprised.
Because he'd seen this scene many times before—in his dreams.
The dream-deep pool.
That haunting shade of blue.
Roxy's eyes.
Her face lay submerged just below the surface, waves gently rippling between them as she gazed back at him.
The royal palace of Shirone was vast. Steam drifted all around her. Her body was half-shrouded in mist.
Her long blue hair floated in the water like seaweed, rising and falling around her petite frame. The curve of her neck was slender and graceful, and the water caressed her skin as it flowed past.
And at that moment—
Allen's gaze had crossed from the northwestern reaches of the Central Continent, beyond the snow-covered Red Dragon Mountains, over the chaotic battlefield of the Conflict Zone. He had spanned the entire continent, disregarding space entirely—
Just for this one look.
Across the sea of life.
Over every mountain and river.
All of it—for this one look.
Ten seconds is long.
Ten seconds is short.
The mist swirled and thickened, an almost dreamlike haze, yet Allen's eyes didn't waver for an instant.
He let himself drown in that pool of blue. He forgot to even blink.
When he finally surfaced from it—
Only wisps of dispersing smoke remained.
Roxy's eyes were gone.
He stood there dumbly, staring at the two blackened pits in his desk, a stark reminder of the gap between dream and reality. He couldn't help but murmur:
Huh?
[Yeah.]
That's it?
[That's it.]
Instantly, Allen erupted.
"No! That was supposed to be ten seconds! Did you scam me, you shady bastard?! That was only one second! I call BS!"
[…]
[…That was ten seconds.]
That was ONE second!
[It really was ten seconds.]
Even if God himself says so, it was still just one second!!!
The smoke twisted and twirled before him. Every time it tried to form words, they collapsed again, as if utterly speechless.
Allen grew frantic. With days of no sleep, the emotional crash after releasing his burdens, and a dopamine high still buzzing in his brain—he now acted like a total brat.
I haven't seen her in over a year!!
Aghhh!! I can't see Roxy, I'm gonna die! I'm DYING!!
Add time! Give me more time! Let me LIVE!!!
The system text suddenly solidified.
[Idiot.]
Then dissolved.
Allen froze, face twitching. He instinctively howled—
"COME BACK! GET BACK HERE!"
"I SAID ADD TIME!!! ADD—"
From the master bedroom, a loud thump rang out—like a man with partial paralysis suddenly sitting upright on his deathbed.
Next second, Paul's groggy voice drifted through the wall.
"Huh? Why'd I fall asleep? Allen… was he talking just now…?"
"Add… add a round?"
"Zenith! Help me up! I can still drink! I'm good for another round!"
Allen went stiff, staring at the wall in disbelief.
Zenith's voice came through the wall like she was grinding her teeth.
"Dear, it's bedtime. Don't wake the children…"
"I can still—!"
THUD.
Silence.
Zenith must've found the whole thing way too embarrassing. After a couple of mumbled "Ei—ei—", she gave up and fell silent.
Allen exhaled deeply, then caught sight of the Roxy figure on his desk again. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
Once a week is way too little! That's not enough to even look properly!
Wait a sec… something was off about Roxy's surroundings. I was too focused on her eyes, but there was a lot of mist...
Mist? That can't be right. She's supposed to be in the Shirone Palace. Where would mist come from in the middle of the night? And her body was... submerged?
In water...
Allen felt his nose heat up. He instinctively reached up and wiped it.
No blood.
He stared blankly for a few seconds, then walked over to his bed and flopped down.
Thankfully.
Just once a week.
If I'd really gotten an extension…
I might've actually had a nosebleed.
Better not check at night again.
Allen drifted into sleep.
And in his dreams—
Perhaps he returned to that same blue.
...
The Next Day.
The matter of the two scorched holes in the desk was met with... some very interesting reactions from the Greyrat family.
Paul, who had blacked out the night before, had absolutely no memory of his shameful behavior. Hungover and still groggy, he tried to recover the image of a dignified family patriarch. He clapped Allen heartily on the shoulder and said in his usual boisterous tone:
"Eh, it's just a desk. Don't worry about it."
Allen blinked, thinking he was about to say something like, "We'll buy a new one—money's not an issue," or whatever.
Then Paul raised a hand, summoned his remaining battle aura—
And just casually sliced the charred part of the desk into a clean pit.
Yeah. He just... gouged a chunk out of it.
And then—under Allen's horrified gaze—he planted the Roxy figure into the hole.
It fit perfectly.
"…We'll make do. See? Fits just fine. Gotta stay flexible. Back in our adventuring days—"
"Wait, why is this Roxy figure's outfit… removable?"
He didn't get to finish that sentence.
Zenith and Lilia knocked him out cold with a synchronized punch to the face.
Rudeus, looking horrified, quickly rescued the figure from the crime scene and stuffed it into his pocket.
With a quick Earth Magic spell, he filled the desk hole with clay. Before Allen's stunned eyes, the clay molded itself upward into a tray—one with a groove that snapped the Roxy figure perfectly into place.
Still a perfect fit.
You two really are father and son, huh?!
Rudeus then turned to the morning sun, clapped his hands solemnly, and offered incense to the mini-Roxy with a reverent expression—like he was performing a sacred rite.
Muttering as he did:
"Father's fix was too crude. Clearly, you're supposed to use clay magic to create a recessed stand like this. Embedded-style is way more appropriate—"
He, too, was immediately flattened by one of Zenith's punches.
Afterward, Zenith and Lilia got into a half-hour-long discussion about how best to replace the desk: what type of wood to choose, what style would best suit Allen, whether they should try a more novel design for the patterns…
But halfway through, the conversation veered off course.
"Madam, those curtains are looking a bit old. Should we get something fresher?"
"Curtains? No no, Allen's a boy. He needs something more mature."
"You're right. His clothes are getting worn out, too."
"Weren't some clothing merchants coming from Roa soon? We should get him a new outfit. The one he wore yesterday is practically ruined from all that blood."
"True, I heard some fashionable new boots are trending, too."
"Boots? Speaking of, I don't think we bought any last year. What kind do you like?"
"Hmm… maybe tall lace-ups…"
Allen watched the two of them, corner of his mouth twitching.
Some things never change—even in another world.
Outside, Norn and Aisha's cries rang through the yard.
And so, the days passed in these slow, trivial domestic rhythms.
Before anyone realized it—
March of the following year arrived.
In the storm stirred by butterfly wings...
What will the tutoring phase bring?