When Noah woke up, he was wrapped in sheets. With a sleepy smile, he mumbled:
"Mom's the best!"
Then he thought it might've been his dad or grandpa who tucked him in, and praised them silently too. He didn't want to be unfair.
Hopping out of bed, he slipped on his sandals and headed to the bathroom.
"Shiny teeth, shiny teeth, let's brush away," he sang cheerfully.
After brushing and washing up, Noah sat on the window ledge, gazing at the garden below.
A long stretch of colorful flowers unfolded before his eyes. At the center stood a large stone fountain, carved into the figure of a woman holding a wand. Every now and then, the statue seemed to come alive—spinning gracefully, wand in hand, making the water rise and dance with her movements.
Anyone with a keen eye would notice the resemblance: the statue looked exactly like his mother. Laura had designed the entire mansion's décor after they moved in—not just the garden, but the furniture and interior as well.
Noah smiled warmly, his heart swelling with admiration.
"Mom's so talented… I can't fall behind," he whispered.
It struck him how unusually light he felt this morning. Hours ago his mind had been in chaos, yet now it was as if everything had reset.
Maybe my mind grew stronger after both lives merged? The thought was reasonable, and with no better answer, he decided to accept it.
There was no doubt in his heart that he was in another world. No doubt he was a wizard. The fact that he couldn't use magic before… perhaps it was just the strange state of his mind. Or maybe it had to do with the very process of arriving here, crossing from another world. He couldn't be sure, but he'd accept that excuse for now.
Maybe my soul was nearly erased on that path between worlds… or maybe it just took longer to fuse with this body. Whatever the case, things feel right now. Let's begin.
He still hadn't truly connected to magic, but the despair was gone. Now there was only certainty—if he put in the effort, it would come.
His stomach growled, breaking his train of thought. Noah chuckled. "Guess it's better to try magic on a full stomach."
He swapped his pajamas for a white shirt and black shorts, then headed downstairs. The corridor stretched endlessly, lined with portraits of wizards and flamboyant decorations.
The kitchen was empty. So was the main hall.
"Did everyone leave already?" he muttered.
Then a sensation crawled up his spine. He turned sharply.
"G-good morning, young master," a house-elf squeaked, startled. She had popped into existence just as Noah turned.
What was that? Noah's eyes narrowed. It almost felt like he had sensed Grinny before she arrived.
No… impossible. Or was it?
What he didn't know was that the elf was just as shocked. To her, it looked like the boy had predicted her Apparition—something even masters struggled with.
"Morning, Grinny. Where is everyone?" Noah asked casually.
"The Master is in his study. Young Master Adam is in the library, and Lady Laura is in the laboratory. Shall I fetch them for you?"
"No, that's fine."
He sat at the table. Grinny quickly served tea—she knew he disliked coffee.
"Thanks," Noah said with a bright smile. The elf's ears turned pink; she always melted at his rare words of praise.
But her eyes widened again. The young master was eating with the hunger of ten men. She hurried to cook more bacon, toast, and scrambled eggs, refilling his plate five times.
"It was delicious, as always," Noah sighed, patting his stomach, slumped in the chair.
But they both knew it wasn't just the taste.
Noah understood well. The events of that morning had drained him. First his mind, now his body—it was like every part of him was starved.
After breakfast, he returned to his room. It was time. Time for the reason he had come to this world in the first place—becoming a wizard in truth.
"How should I begin?" he asked himself.
Sitting cross-legged on a cushion, he decided to start simple: test the spells he already knew.
His eyes fell on a French book lying on the dresser. He thought of levitation—the incantation forming in his mind with clarity. He focused, willing the book to rise.
Nothing happened.
Noah sighed. He had known it would fail the moment he tried. The words carried no weight, no spark.
I'll need the magic of this world, the way it's written here… but Father never let me touch those books. Maybe they thought I'd be disappointed if magic never manifested.
"Guess I'll have to take the harder road."
He swapped the book for a sock—a smaller, lighter target.
Discarding incantations, he tried different approaches: commands, gestures, sheer will.
"Rise. Sock, rise. Sock, float. Up. Light as wind… Shazam!"
It was a comical sight—waving his hands, muttering nonsense, trying everything he could imagine.
But an hour later, nothing had changed. His patience frayed.
"Damn it, float already, you stupid sock!" he shouted, slamming his palm to the floor.
Pain jolted up his arm. He cursed—then froze.
The sock had lifted. Just a few inches, then dropped.
Noah's grin stretched from ear to ear. "I did it. I made magic happen!"
He almost bolted to tell his parents, but stopped himself.
"No… I can barely make a sock float. I'll master this first. Then I'll show them."
So he sat again, analyzing what had triggered the spell.
The answer was clear.
"Feelings."
Specifically—anger. His outburst had carried weight. The words weren't just empty; they were a command backed by raw emotion.
But relying on anger won't do… it's exhausting. Dangerous.
He needed something else. A feeling always with him. Something that defined him.
Not joy. Not sadness. Not even rage.
Ambition. Desire. Will.
The yearning to control magic. To recreate everything he had seen his family do, to surpass even them. To shape magic itself in ways no one else could. To become the greatest wizard of all time.
That would be his foundation. His drive. His path.
So he tried again. This time, channeling his ambition. Stronger than anger—but harder to grasp. Minutes turned to nearly an hour, but Noah never lost his grin. Every failure felt like a step closer.
It was as if his ambition itself was becoming tangible, coiling within him, molding into something real.
And why should he rush? He was already a wizard. He was already in a world of magic. The road was laid out before him—his only task was to walk it… and then carve further.
Noah's eyes fixed on the sock, his focus absolute.
What must it do? It must obey my will. What do I want? I WANT it to float!
The sock lifted. Ten centimeters. Twenty. Thirty. Higher.
His heartbeat thundered. He didn't blink, didn't breathe. His will alone carried the sock upward. A meter. Two. Until it brushed the ceiling, straining against the wood.
A sudden dizziness hit him. The sock dropped.
"Damn it…" he cursed, rubbing his temples.
The moment it pressed against the ceiling, it was as if the weight of the entire house bore down with it. A mountain disguised as a sock.
Still, Noah laughed. His headache couldn't wipe away the joy in his eyes.
"That was a good start."