"Nice to meet you, Duke and Duchess Lawrence. My name is Beatrice, a student of the Southern Imperial Academy of Education," she introduced herself, standing before her new employers.

  Ethan examined her—not her clothes, not her appearance, not her body. The Duke scrutinized Beatrice's gaze with meticulous care—to him, a misinterpreted expression meant the opposite of everything someone intended to say. And he was not exaggerating; he was entrusting his son's education to her.

  Under the shared silence and his keen observation, Beatrice grew nervous before the local Lord.

  'Did I introduce myself too quickly?' she wondered, trying not to let her anxiety show. 'Was I too informal? Was I insolent?'

  With each passing second, the first sparks of her nervousness began to surface.

  Tilting his head slightly and staring at her, Ethan finally smiled and took action. Rising to his feet—startling the mentor, as the Duke stood nearly two meters tall—he invited his wife to accompany him.

  "Very well, Beatrice… Shall we get to work?" Ethan said, walking hand in hand with Camille.

  "He quite likes my art studio, up here on the top floor. I usually spend some time here in the late afternoon, and he stays with me, scribbling on a few panels," Camille commented as she walked down the corridor with Beatrice.

  While listening to the Duchess, the teacher admired the residence. Coming from humble origins, Beatrice had never imagined she would breathe within a place so "sophisticated" and historic. She observed the care given to the walls, the paintings—many produced by Camille herself.

  Following them cautiously with his hands clasped behind his back, Ethan watched Beatrice's admiration as she conversed with his wife.

  After a while, the Duke himself grew distant and pensive. Studying Camille's impeccable artworks, he drifted into his own memories.

  The Pride of Aplu, the lion of the plains of Zarat whose mane was made of blades and whose mere breath could incinerate forests. The creature that had sown disorder for ages had been defeated by Duke Ethan a decade ago—it had been his first great feat…

  'It was also when we met…' he thought, watching his wife laugh alongside the mentor.

  Seeing her blonde hair veil her perfect face, her golden pupils like twin jewels, his vision fractured easily. Camille's silhouette, in a single instant, became that of a young man bearing the same features.

  But there was no smile. Only a distant, depressive expression.

  'Father…' The voice echoed through his mind, making him flinch.

  Ethan squeezed his eyes shut as if struck by a sharp headache, piercing through his brain and blurring his sight.

  'He's not even two years old… Why am I thinking of him like that?' he pondered, intrigued, massaging his temple and looking aside to avoid questions.

  'Because you know what awaits on this path,' a voice retorted within his mind.

  Ethan closed his eyes, and a spark of fire appeared. Gradually igniting, the spark became a flame that illuminated the darkness.

  'I know… But he's just a child. I shouldn't be imposing that perspective onto reality…'

  As they passed beside a glass window, sunlight streamed into the house and touched the Duke's face.

  'Children have the most malleable destinies. You are aging; your fate has been drawn. You no longer have as many choices as when you were a teenager seeking your own worth… But your son still has a life to live.'

  They turned left down a corridor that would lead them to the room where Theo was.

  'Your fear is rational. A child's consciousness should only awaken at fourteen, but because of us, it happened earlier.'

  "Don't take the blame upon yourself. I was careless… But simply preparing him won't be enough, will it?"

  "You made a deal. There is no preparing him… You know very well what must be done."

  Sighing and glancing out the open window toward the fields, Ethan relaxed his shoulders and stopped midway down the corridor.

  "Ethan, is everything alright?" Camille asked, standing before the door to the art studio.

  Looking at the two women, he regained his posture and joined them.

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  "Beatrice… Theo is a Deviant. Do you think that will influence his development?" he asked as he approached.

  "Well…" she replied, nearly shrinking back. "Probably yes. Deviants have a greater capacity for development and learning than ordinary humans. The problem is that sometimes children begin to act like teenagers far too early…"

  "Can you handle that?"

  She froze, thought, and swallowed hard. Beatrice had just graduated as a mentor and child development assistant; even during her internship, she had only cared for human children.

  To say no would mean losing the job. To say maybe would lead to the same outcome. But to say yes… would be a lie.

  "I will do my utmost, sir. I promise the Young Master will not suffer any developmental delay!"

  "Excellent…" he replied, tossing her a key.

  The young teacher startled and barely managed to catch it.

  "Your annual salary will be fourteen thousand meridi. Is that acceptable?"

  "G–Good?" she stammered, almost choking on her own saliva. "It's excellent!"

  "Fourteen thousand meridi a year is one thousand per month… That's more than excellent… It's perfect!" Beatrice thought, nearly jumping with joy.

  Then he stepped before the door.

  "Depending on your performance over the next few months, Theo may enter the county's kindergarten… And depending on your performance, perhaps I could arrange a position for you there as well…"

  Beatrice's eyes widened, and she hesitated.

  "Do you think you can manage it?"

  "I am certain, sir!"

  Camille smiled. The nervousness Beatrice had tried so hard to conceal slipped out inadvertently.

  Opening the door gently, Ethan revealed the art studio: a room filled with unfinished panels and canvases, buckets of stored paint, a few puddles of color on the floor. And there he was, accompanied by Ellen.

  Theo had just bathed, yet he was already covered in paint. He painted a panel on the floor, though he understood nothing of technique. His tongue stuck out in concentration; even his yellow hair was streaked with color.

  "Hello, Young Master," Beatrice said in a sweet, gentle voice, lifting her skirt slightly as she walked toward the small boy. "What are you doing?"

  She watched him paint a dark blue canvas with red blotches, staining himself in the process.

  She studied it.

  "My, how lovely! What are you making?"

  "Moon," he said, his voice still developing and muddled.

  "Moon?" she questioned. "Isn't it a sun?"

  "No! Moon…"

  Studying the painting, Beatrice tried to interpret the moon. After all, Theo was painting it red.

  "The Young Master was born on the day of the eclipse… Lady Camille always tells him about that moon," Ellen explained, pointing to a painting ahead.

  It was a starry sky with few clouds, but a red moon shone above. An unfinished artwork the Duchess had begun on the day her son was born, continuing it only through scattered memories.

  "Oh… How beautiful, little one!"

  "Moon, yes," Theo affirmed.

  Still by the doorway, watching their youngest son's behavior, Ethan and Camille drifted into thought. They observed in silence for nearly a minute until the Duchess spoke.

  "Theo is a Deviant. Why does that sound like a certainty rather than a possibility?" Camille asked, arms crossed.

  "What?" Ethan murmured, distant.

  "Theo might be a Deviant… But today? Now? I thought you only began deviating much later."

  Ethan leaned his head against the door.

  "Deviants are born. We only begin to mutate between twelve and fifteen, when our consciousness is refined and about to awaken. But if a Deviant comes into contact with another's consciousness, the deviation can begin earlier…"

  "My language, dear. Speak my language…"

  He sighed and turned to her.

  "Basically, if a child comes into contact with magic… that child will deviate."

  Turning his gaze to Theo, Ethan's eyes filled with rational concern.

  "Theo had his first contact today, when the Phoenix was protecting me. That interaction is enough for a Deviant's consciousness to begin the mutation process…"

  Camille searched her husband's eyes, worried about the future. It did not take long for despair to claim her as well.

  "My little one… Has he already awakened as one of you?"

  He merely nodded, heart heavy. His throat burned and tightened, worsening the feeling.

  "That's why you're so nervous…"

  Camille placed her hands on Ethan's face. He pressed his lips together and ran a hand through his white hair. Trying to meet his wife's eyes, he grew emotional.

  "Yes… But relax. I'll take care of it."

  "No… We will. I know you fought and built our lives so they wouldn't have to endure that suffering…"

  "Yes. But it is our fate," Ethan affirmed. "To possess power, one must surrender their future to death. There is no escape—only delay…"

  "Stop," she interrupted, stepping closer. "I am also the daughter of Deviants, remember? So stop. Think of this child, not the man he might become."

  "Camille…"

  "Promise me. Promise you'll let him choose… Don't rush ahead and… lose yourself over a future that may never come."

  "I can't…"

  "Ethan."

  Her eyes widened, nearly drawing the instructor's attention.

  "He's not even two years old. What are you thinking? Let's stop thinking, alright? Let's calm this down." She pointed to his racing heart.

  "If only I could…"

  "If only? 'If' and 'maybe' are excuses for the weak."

  Ethan laughed, frowning slightly.

  "Using my own words against me? Are you trying to calm me down or throw something in my face?"

  "I want you to protect our son. Our family… as you always have," she said, embracing him while shifting her gaze to Theo.

  The boy stretched toward a shelf, bracing himself against a can of red paint. Beatrice and Ellen followed closely, guarding against a possible accident.

  Yet though he sensed the can was too heavy, his stubbornness prevailed. Theo leaned against the lid and lifted his feet off the ground, hanging without them noticing.

  In a single instant, Theo toppled a paint can over himself. He fell onto a piece of cardboard as Ellen rushed to grab him. The can missed him by mere centimeters.

  "Theo!" Camille cried in panic.

  Before Ethan could restrain his wife, Beatrice did.

  "Easy! It's alright… It's alright, isn't it?" she said, taking the child's hands.

  Theo crawled toward the teacher, who supported him and helped him stand. The worst that happened was that his white clothes were stained blue, along with a few golden strands and his fair skin.

  Enchanted by Beatrice's beauty, he stared at her for a few moments. Then he couldn't resist—a soft, calming smile escaped him, reassuring everyone that he was fine.

  The Duchess, moments ago frantic over her son's fall, now smiled brightly.

  'Yes… The future doesn't matter all that much,' Ethan thought, leaning against the doorframe. 'You will learn, my son… You will learn…'