The corridor of the manor remained unnaturally quiet after the unsettling scene. The servants had already scattered at Ryouma's command, yet their whispers lingered like faint echoes against the stone walls. Faces once bright with idle chatter were now drained of color, their steps hurried as though fleeing a presence they could not name.
No one could reconcile the image before them - their young master, barely seven summers old, speaking with a voice that did not belong to a child. His words had been heavy, sharp enough to cut through pride and obedience alike. Even now, the weight of that tone hung in the air, pressing on their chests long after he had turned his gaze away.
It wasn't anger they had seen. Anger would have been easier to endure. What unsettled them was the calmness - the deliberate, unshaken poise of someone who understood both authority and the consequences of disobedience. In that moment, Ryouma had seemed older than the manor itself, and that realization left a tremor in the hearts of all who had heard him.
The guardian soldier who witnessed everything - first the strange aura that had briefly leaked from Ryouma's body, then the subtle command that silenced even Lady Akane's insult, and finally that chillingly mature voice that echoed like an adult's through the lips of a child - was left utterly shaken.
This…...this is not ordinary, the soldier thought, his heart pounding beneath his armor. No seven-year-old could possibly carry themselves like that. And that core…... that was unmistakably a mana core.
His shock only deepened, for he knew better than anyone what it meant. Mana cores were not something one simply awakened by chance. They required training, discipline, and guidance from masters of the mystical arts. Yet this boy - this mere child - had forged one without a shred of training.
Before he could dwell further, a faint whisper brushed against his mind. The soldier froze, his hand instinctively darting to the hilt of his blade. But the corridor was silent, save for the boy standing with his back turned. No lips had moved.
"Do Not Speak."
The voice wasn't heard. It was inside his skull - icy, deliberate, and dripping with authority that belonged to someone far older, far darker.
The soldier's throat tightened. Telepathy. An ability wielded only by seasoned masters of mana. Yet this child - who should still be running in gardens and scribbling letters on parchment - was already commanding the air like a sovereign.
Ryouma did not turn. He didn't need to. His small frame emanated an invisible pressure - the crushing weight of someone who had stared death in the eye and survived countless times.
"Listen well," the voice slithered into his mind, colder than steel and twice as sharp. "If so much as a whisper of this leaves your tongue, your heart will stop before the words reach another's ear. Do not test me. I do not care for duty, for oaths, or for the loyalty you pretend to serve. What you saw here dies with you. If not…..."
The soldier felt a crushing weight press against his chest, as though unseen chains had wrapped around his ribs. His breath faltered.
"…...then so shall you."
A shiver unlike any battlefield wound coursed through him. For the first time in years, he was not afraid of death, but of the thing standing before him disguised as a child.
His body moved before his mind could resist. The soldier dropped to one knee, head lowered, sweat beading his temples.
".....As you command, young master."
The soldier's breath hitched as the invisible pressure around his chest slowly loosened, like unseen chains melting back into the air. His knees trembled, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer weight of the boy's presence.
Ryouma finally turned his head,black and red eyes flickering in the dim torchlight. For an instant, those eyes were no longer a child's - they were the eyes of a predator, sharp and unrelenting, as if gazing into the soldier's very soul. It was the look of something ancient, something that could devour him whole without leaving a trace.
Then, as though a curtain had been drawn, the suffocating aura vanished. Ryouma blinked, his features softening back into the harmless face of a child. A faint smile curved on his lips - yet it held no warmth, only a chilling emptiness.
His words slithered through the soldier's mind, calm yet dripping with menace:
"Good… Remember this - loose tongues invite death. If you value your life, keep what you saw buried in silence."
The telepathic link shattered like glass, and the soldier gasped, his body drenched in cold sweat.
He stumbled back, clutching his chest, heart pounding as if it might burst. Even after Ryouma's gaze left him, the phantom sensation of chains coiling around his body refused to fade.
Retreating into the shadows of the corridor, he understood one truth with terrifying clarity: the boy he was sworn to guard did not require protection.
If anything… it was the manor itself that needed protection from him.
The soldier Ryouma had warned remained silent, his tongue bound tighter than iron by fear. Not a word had passed his lips since, and every glance toward the young master sent his heart hammering against his chest.
Ryouma's gaze swept slowly across the garden, taking in the dew-specked blooms and the morning light slanting over the leaves. To any observer, it seemed a boy admiring flowers- but his thoughts were sharper than the thorns of the roses brushing his fingers. He remembered the whispers of the servants, the tremor in their voices, the way their fear had already taken root after only a brief taste of his presence. A quiet smile tugged at his lips. Useful. Fear was a seed. And fear, nurtured carefully, would grow into obedience.
He knelt briefly by a bed of lilies, brushing a petal lightly with the tips of his fingers. The gesture seemed delicate, innocent- yet the weight it carried was unmistakable. Anyone watching could feel it: elegance masking a predator's patience, serenity concealing a lethal will.
For Ryouma, the garden was not merely a place of beauty. It was a stage. Here, beneath the open sky, he could remind anyone who dared gossip of the silent danger they brushed past every day. No shouting. No raised hands. Just a glance, a word, or a faint smile edged with warning. That alone was enough.
Straightening, his eyes flicked toward the servants lingering nearby, their movements hesitant, recalling the sting of his words from yesterday. His lips curved into a faint, almost pleasant smile. Yet in the quiet morning light, the garden seemed darker, as if shadows had gathered where none should be.
The boy they had once thought soft, harmless, and small was gone. In his place stood something deliberate, something colder, and sharper than any blade they had ever seen. He spoke no words this time - but the silence he commanded rang louder than any threat.
The soldier's gaze lingered on the young master, now standing tall among the early morning light filtering through the garden. Every detail had been witnessed- Ryouma's cold precision, the aura of danger in his words, the invisible weight of his aura, the subtle menace beneath a boyish smile. There was nothing left to question.
This was no ordinary child. Not a prodigy. Something far beyond that. Something lethal in ways most could not yet comprehend.
The soldier's mind finally settled, reluctant but resolute. This young master…... he is not a man to challenge. No effort, no cunning, no brute force could hope to sway him. Any opposition within this manor…... would only be crushed. Better to observe, to serve, and to respect what cannot be changed.
The soft rustle of leaves in the garden was interrupted by hurried footsteps echoing faintly along the corridor. Ryouma, still crouched near a bed of lilies, lifted his gaze slightly, noting the distant figures moving nervously.
"Young Master...… Young Master!"
The voices were frantic, overlapping in urgency. Yui and Hana, his personal maids, called out repeatedly, peeking around corners and glancing into every shadow. "young master...… where are you?" Their steps quickened, voices trembling - not out of fear for themselves, but concern. It was early morning, and Ryouma had left his room earlier than usual. They were unaccustomed to his absence, and worry had crept into their hearts
His eyes caught the movement of the two young women, and he tilted his head with the faintest trace of a smile - soft, almost inviting, yet carrying the authority of someone far older than his years.
"Yui-san.… Hana-san," he called, his voice smooth and steady, carrying clearly across the garden. "I am here, in the garden. Come over."
The maids froze mid-step, startled to hear his voice so near, so calm, yet somehow..… commanding. Their tension eased slightly, but their steps remained cautious as they approached. Ryouma's presence was simultaneously gentle and suffocating, a perfect balance of innocence and quiet menace.
As they reached him, the morning light illuminated the dew on the petals, glinting like tiny stars, and the garden's serenity contrasted sharply with the subtle pressure of the young master's aura. Even in such calm surroundings, the weight of his presence reminded them that this child- so small in form- carried a power and resolve beyond their comprehension.
"Here I am," he said again, softer this time, yet every word seemed to carry a silent warning. "Do not worry. Nothing untoward has occurred. But pay attention. Your vigilance is always required."
Yui and Hana exchanged a glance, a mixture of relief and awe in their eyes
But their relief quickly twisted into worry, and they instinctively clung to Ryouma, wrapping him gently in a protective embrace.
"Please…. please don't leave your room like that again, Young Master," Yui murmured, her voice trembling slightly. Hana nodded, her own grip tightening. "Do you know....do you know how scared we were when you weren't there?"
Their innocent faces, wet with unshed worry, contrasted sharply with the calm, deliberate aura Ryouma exuded. Their arms around him were warm, human, fragile- but he did not recoil. Instead, he allowed the small comfort, his eyes softening for a brief moment, yet still holding that subtle, almost imperceptible edge that reminded them who they were speaking to.
"I understand," Ryouma said softly, voice calm yet precise, each word measured. "I will be mindful. You need not fear for me. But..… remember your own caution as well. Being careless has consequences you cannot yet predict."
After listening what Ryouma said the girls flinched slightly at the cold undertone threading through his calm words, yet they did not let go. They had felt it before - the invisible weight of his presence, the strange maturity in his gaze. And yet…. they could not stop themselves. Their worry, their affection, overrode fear for just a moment.
"Just.… stay safe, Young Master," Hana whispered, burying her face against his shoulder. "We can't bear…. if something happens to you."
Ryouma's gaze softened again, and for a fraction of a heartbeat, the boy they remembered shone through- the same boy who had once laughed freely in the corridors of the manor. Then, as quickly as it came, it receded, leaving behind a poised young master, still aware, still menacing in his calm, deliberate way.
He patted their heads lightly,"I understand your worry," he said, his voice gentle yet carrying weight. "But you must trust me.… just as I trust you to remain vigilant."
Yui and Hana nodded, slowly releasing him, hearts still pounding. They knew now, more than ever, that Young Master Ryouma was no ordinary child - and that every interaction, every glance, every word from him carried more force than any command they had ever obeyed.