Chapter 8 – How a Shadow Affinity Shocked the Dukes
Margicules.
A magical energy, smaller than dust, but brighter than stars. That's what I call them.
I don't remember the face of my parents, or even their voices, but I remember the first time I opened my eyes in the orphanage. The air was thick, heavy with rot and dust—but in between all that filth, I saw them. Tiny specks of light, drifting slowly like lazy fireflies.
At first, I thought they were part of a dream. But no. They were real.
Margicules.
Back then, there were only a few. So few that I would spend hours staring at the air, counting them, chasing them with my eyes as they shimmered and vanished. The nuns thought I was strange. They scolded me for daydreaming. But I wasn't daydreaming—I was watching the very building blocks of magic.
Because that's what margicules are: the smallest pieces of mana. The air is full of them, but only the gifted can sense them, let alone see them. For me, they've always been as visible as dirt on the floor or cracks in the wall.
And I learned something else. Their colors.
Red for anger. Blue for hunger. Green for envy. They don't just carry magic—they carry emotions, too. They swirl around people, painting them in truths they can't hide.
Even now, sitting in this noble house, I can see them everywhere. The air is full of them here—thousands, no, tens of thousands. Flowing like a river through every room, pulsing with light.
The slums had barely any. But this place… it's drowning in them.
"Exactly 62,400 margicules in this dining hall," Noctis hums in my mind, calm and precise. "More than your entire orphanage ever had at once."
I lower my gaze, hiding the faint smile tugging at my lips.
They don't know that I see all of this. To the duke's family, I'm just a child. A curiosity they bought.
But to me… margicules are the threads that stitch the world together. And I've been watching those threads since before I could even walk.
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The duke's voice broke the silence.
"We will test the boy's affinity."
The words sank into me like stones. Around the table, the duchess's expression remained calm, but I could see the faint shimmer of interest around her shoulders. The eldest son leaned forward, eyes narrowed, his aura sharp with suspicion. The daughter tilted her head, bright yellow curiosity swirling around her. And the youngest son—he stared at me again, his expression unreadable, his aura quiet, steady.
A servant stepped forward, carrying a crystal sphere the size of my head. It glowed faintly, pulsing with the mana infused within it.
"Place your hand on the crystal," the duke commanded.
I swallowed. Noctis's voice whispered inside me.
"Be careful. Healing must remain hidden. If they see the truth, you will not be a child to them—you will be a treasure. And treasures are not free."
I nodded faintly, so small they wouldn't notice. My hand trembled as I reached for the crystal. It was cool beneath my palm, humming faintly, waiting.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the margicules stirred. I felt them rushing toward me, pulling into the crystal, spinning faster and faster.
Light burst within the sphere—inky black, shadows writhing like smoke trapped in glass. The glow spread through the crystal, tendrils of darkness curling and twisting, alive.
Gasps filled the room.
The daughter's eyes widened. "Shadow…!"
The eldest son's jaw tightened, suspicion turning into wariness. The duchess's calm broke for a split second, her brows rising.
And the duke—his silver eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a hard line.
"Impossible," one of the servants whispered. "Shadow…? At his age?"
The shadows inside the crystal grew thicker, curling like a storm. For a heartbeat, the air grew colder, the candlelight flickered, and the shadows on the walls stretched long, bending toward me.
I quickly pulled my hand away. The crystal dimmed, though faint traces of black lingered inside, refusing to fade completely.
The silence that followed was heavy.
I stared at the table, trying not to breathe too loudly. My heart hammered in my chest.
The duke's voice cut through the tension, low and sharp. "Shadow affinity."
The servants shifted nervously. The duchess studied me, her expression unreadable again, though the faint violet haze of calculation drifted around her.
I forced my voice to stay steady. "Is… that bad?"
The girl leaned forward, shaking her head. "No—it's rare. Very rare. I've never seen it before."
The eldest scoffed. "Rare or not, it's dangerous."
The youngest spoke for the first time since the test began. His small voice was quiet but steady. "Dangerous doesn't mean bad."
The duke raised his hand. Silence fell again. His gaze pinned me where I sat.
"Shadow… and at six years old." His words were heavy, as though he was speaking to himself as much as to anyone else. "This changes things."
I lowered my head, letting my white hair fall into my eyes.
They didn't know. They couldn't know. The shadows were only half of me. If they saw the green light of my healing, brighter than any priest, rarer than any shadow, they would never let me go.
Noctis's voice came softly, like a whisper only I could hear. "You chose well. Let them see only the dark. The light is yours alone—for now."
I clenched my fists under the table. For now.
End of Chapter 9