The mansion felt… different.
Without Lina bouncing around, laughing, or tossing pillows at me mid-training, the rooms felt emptier. Even the toys seemed quieter. Somehow, chaos had lost its heartbeat.
Clara, as usual, was insistent. "Zackie, today you will focus entirely on precision and control. No distractions. You must master lifting four objects at once without accidents."
I blinked. Four objects… again? My tiny arms trembled.
Elena crouched beside me, notebook in hand, her sharp eyes analyzing every twitch of my fingers. "…Promising," she murmured softly. That single word felt heavier than any applause or toy flying across the room.
I sighed. The mansion suddenly seemed huge, empty, and very serious.
---
The day began with levitation drills.
I lifted a soft block, then a rattle, then a small pillow. My tiny legs wobbled as I crawled toward Clara's marked line on the floor.
"Concentrate!" she ordered.
I nodded, puffing out my cheeks. A fourth object hovered near my lap—a tiny toy horse. I tried to lift it.
Whoosh!
The toy horse flew across the room, knocking a floating pillow into the bookshelf. A few books wobbled dangerously before Clara and I lunged to catch them.
"ZACKIEEE!!" Clara yelled dramatically, narrowly avoiding the falling books.
I squeaked, tiny hands trembling. Magic was supposed to help me, not terrify my sisters.
The maids peeked in nervously. "Please… survive…" one whispered, ducking behind a table.
The butler pinched his nose. "I cannot… survive this day," he muttered.
Even in the chaos, I felt that spark again. The faint smile of my past-life sister appeared in my mind, only when I pushed myself too far, reminding me why I had to grow stronger.
---
After lunch (spilled milk everywhere, of course), I decided to explore the mansion.
Alone.
Clara had allowed it as "mental focus training," though I suspected she just wanted to see if I could survive without chaos supervision.
The mansion was massive. Rooms I hadn't explored before opened into libraries with floating candles, secret cabinets, and velvet curtains. Rich tapestries hung on the walls, glinting in the sunlight.
I waddled into a hallway lined with portraits of stern-looking ancestors. Their eyes seemed to follow me. I waved at one. It didn't wave back. Rude.
I stumbled upon a small study. Books piled in teetering towers, glowing slightly with faint magical runes. A floating quill scribbled by itself in an open notebook.
"Whoa…" I whispered, tiny hands reaching for the glowing pages.
The quill darted away as I tried to touch it. Magic in this mansion wasn't just fun toys—it had purpose, history, and… secrets.
I crawled to a chest tucked beneath the window. Inside were tiny, ornate wands, crystals, and scrolls I couldn't read yet. A single note in flowing handwriting caught my eye:
"Mastery begins with focus, even in the smallest hands."
I blinked. Could this be a clue left by one of my ancestors… or perhaps by someone teaching my family's secrets?
---
By evening, Clara found me sitting amidst the scattered scrolls, softly trying to levitate a small crystal.
"Zackie… you've done well today," she said, crouching beside me. "Even without Lina here, you've managed. Your focus has improved."
I squeaked, proud despite the mess. "I… I did it?"
Clara nodded, smiling. "Yes. And one day, you might even surpass Lina."
I blinked. Surpass Lina? Impossible… but maybe…
Elena appeared quietly in the doorway. "…Promising," she said again, her voice calm, precise. I realized she had been observing me all day, noting my tiny failures, my determination, my chaos.
That quiet acknowledgment filled me with pride. Approval from Elena meant more than toys, floating objects, or even a successful spell.
---
That night, I lay in my crib, staring at the ceiling. Floating toys hovered gently around me.
Magic, chaos, laughter, love… and ambition.
Without Lina, the house felt quieter, but I realized I had grown stronger.
The mansion wasn't just a home—it was a training ground. A magical fortress. A place where I could master my skills, uncover its secrets, and prepare for the world beyond its walls.
And someday, I would meet Lina again.
Stronger. Smarter. Ready.
One floating toy, one spilled bottle, one wobbly step at a time.
Because even as a toddler, I knew: my journey had only just begun.