Life like that continued.

  Secretly, I opened my brown notebook. This time I wasn't arranging theories or big strategies about this world. I just wanted to write something simple.

  Just small things.

  About Mom.

  About Dad.

  About ordinary days that somehow felt important.

  I wrote slowly and carefully. I don't know why that urge appeared. Maybe because time felt like it was running faster lately. Maybe because I realized memories aren't something I can keep forever.

  Or maybe because I'm starting to realize. Small things are actually what's easiest to lose.

  Like today. Dad bought me ice cream after coming home from outside. I hadn't even opened the wrapper when Mom confiscated it with the classic reason, I haven't had lunch.

  I was annoyed and ate quickly.

  Until a few minutes later I saw them in the kitchen, secretly sharing that ice cream while whispering. They're really mean! That ice cream wasn't bought for me from the start!

  But when I saw the way Mom laughed quietly and Dad pretended to be innocent, my anger somehow subsided. They looked sweeter than the ice cream itself. Making me, who was once a miserable dog without a girlfriend, want to cry silently.

  Moments like that.

  Small. Trivial. Easy to forget.

  But I don't want to lose them. Because someday, maybe I'll grow up. And I don't know if I'll still be able to remember the feeling of days like this.

  Besides writing, there's one other thing I tried again.

  In free time, when not with Mom or Dad, I returned to training my ability.

  Immersion.

  It's been a long time since I really touched it after returning from the festival. I even forgot about it because I was too absorbed in piles of books and new routines. However, now the situation is different. My body has recovered and my schedule is regular again.

  There's no more reason to delay it.

  So I started again. At first I tried on small objects around me, like a rock in the corner of the yard. Why did I try a rock? No special reason. It's just the first object within my hand's reach. I stared at that rock, then started trying.

  Nothing happened.

  I frowned. At the festival, this ability appeared by itself without me asking. But now, when I actually wanted to activate it, the world still felt normal. As if this ability had its own pride not to appear when called.

  "Could Immersion just be my imagination? Pure coincidence?" I mumbled.

  Feeling stuck, I decided I should rest first. Twenty minutes later, I started the second attempt. I tried to remember again. At the festival, I wasn't forcing anything. I was just focused. Focused on the straw dummy, on the toy sword, until everything else around me felt blurry.

  Maybe that's the key. Stop forcing myself and start really focusing.

  I looked at that rock again. This time I didn't try to activate anything. I just... looked. Really looked. Its uneven gray color, small cracks on its surface, to one side that's slightly darker from residual moisture.

  One minute passed. I didn't move, kept staring at that rock. If Mom saw me, she might think I'm having an internal battle with an inanimate object. Two minutes, then five minutes passed. Right when I almost fell asleep, something finally reacted.

  One thin line appeared. Very faint.

  Dim red, almost resembling shadow rather than light. That line curved on the rock surface following existing cracks, then gathered at one point, before finally disappearing. Though just for a moment, I caught sight of it.

  My heart beat faster. It's still there!

  "Enough for today," I thought.

  We'll continue again tomorrow.

  Strangely, somehow I didn't feel happy. Is it because my body now is different, my hormones have changed, my thoughts more feminine, so I'm even lazy to think about fighting? Who cares. I still have plenty of time. I can do it again when my mood improves.

  One week passed, and I returned to the yard with the same rock. I almost forgot about Immersion again because honestly, I didn't have motivation. This time I didn't stare at it right away. I sat relaxed first, letting my shoulders relax, and regulated my breathing so my mood was calm.

  I stared at the rock in front of me. Still an ordinary rock. Gray and still. Because I felt there was no change, I almost gave up and left it. More fun to read books and chat with my mom.

  The following days also felt like futile repetitions. The next day I returned, no change. The day after, I returned while eating. The day after that, I moved that rock to get a different view. And so on, until finally I accidentally stared at something living.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  A small bird perched on the yard fence.

  I just looked at it briefly out of curiosity, and suddenly, Immersion lit up. The world seemed to become clearer.

  At the base of its left wing, there was a small red dot pulsing slowly. Then instantly other dots appeared on its neck and chest. This view was different from the slashing lines I saw on the straw dummy at the festival before.

  Seems like if on inanimate objects I see attack paths, on living creatures Immersion shows more precise points.

  So if the object is a living creature, the dots are much more numerous and clear, huh? Everything looked like weak points or nerve centers that are very important.

  I observed that bird full of curiosity. I wanted to touch that bird. Too bad the bird was also too far to touch.

  Immersion cut off instantly when that bird flew away.

  I stroked my chin, feeling puzzled yet amazed.

  Why does this ability feel far more responsive to living creatures compared to inanimate objects? My heart beat faster. Something felt off, but I don't know what.

  I stared at my own plain hand. Then a silly thought crossed my mind.

  "Wait a minute... why is the atmosphere getting ominous like this?" I mumbled while shaking my head. "Is this ability trying to change my life's genre? From a relaxed Slice of Life before, suddenly wanting to be Psychological Thriller?"

  I let out a long sigh, trying to dispel the remaining cold aura on my back. "Nah, thanks. I prefer romance genre if I can choose... hehe."

  Even so, my curiosity toward Immersion hasn't disappeared. It should be fine to train it, because anyway, this seems to be my cheat. Besides, who knows when I'll need this cheat just to cut fruit with high precision, right?

  I repeated it again, many times, until that understanding was really etched in my head. Hmm, let's try again tomorrow.

  ? ? ?

  Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months.

  Rain turned to heat, heat turned to rain.

  On this island? Yeah... there are only two seasons: rain and heat. No other seasons to talk about.

  I went through routines that to others might be boring, but to me were an invaluable luxury. Mornings in the kitchen with Mom, afternoons listening to Dad's stories or just sitting quietly beside him while watching. Nights writing in my notebook or carefully practicing Immersion.

  At first, I thought this power was some kind of mental manifestation. However, I was very wrong.

  Every time I used Immersion, I could feel nerve networks in my brain heating up and being forced to remap themselves.

  My brain was adapting.

  Back then, the first time I plunged into that gray world, I could only last one second before fatigue hit. But slowly, that one second crept to two. Two seconds became three. The limit kept shifting as my head got more used to the extraordinarily dense information load.

  Now, I'm able to last a full minute.

  Sixty seconds.

  And every second feels like squeezing my entire head dry.

  Strangely, that's where the growth stopped.

  During the past few weeks, the duration no longer increased.

  One minute is the limit.

  After that, my vision blurs, my ears ring, and my body refuses to cooperate.

  As if there's a wall I can't break through yet.

  Maybe because this body is still four years old.

  Maybe my brain indeed isn't fully developed yet.

  Or maybe one minute is indeed the maximum price that can be paid by a body this small.

  The problem is, I realized one fatal flaw.

  It doesn't work based on commands. It works based on focus.

  Once triggered, it's a fast train without brakes. It won't stop until my brain reaches saturation point and cuts it off automatically.

  In other words, Immersion isn't a switch I can turn off at will.

  And that's where the change began.

  I used it too often.

  I trained myself to go too deep. Without realizing it, my brain started considering that condition as a normal state.

  Now, I don't need to work hard to call it anymore.

  Just one intention to understand something thoroughly.

  And Immersion will open by itself.

  ? ? ?

  Besides Immersion, there's something else that grew during these months. My understanding of this world.

  Small questions I asked Dad during casual conversations. Notes I wrote at night. News pieces that occasionally appeared on TV.

  From all that, I learned I'm in The Fourth Generation: The Era of Awakening and Preparation.

  A name that sounds grand yet suspicious. Preparation for what? Are humans waiting for something? I don't know, and honestly, right now it's not my business.

  What's more interesting is the fact that only humans are under the Empire. Elves, Dwarves, and even Land Devils... turns out they have their own kings.

  I learned this from Dad, one afternoon when we sat on the porch waiting for Mom to finish cooking.

  "Dad..." my voice small, pretending to ask while playing with my fingers on the floor.

  "Dad... Who does Tarin Island belong to? Viscount, right? Like on TV."

  He didn't ask why I posed that question... because I always ask weird things like this and he's already used to it.

  "Our island... isn't like other places, Sera."

  I furrowed my brow, pretending to be confused when actually I am confused. "Different how, Dad?"

  Dad held my tiny hand. With his big index finger, he drew something on my palm.

  It tickles... But I have to hold it in.

  "This place isn't under a Duke or Viscount. A king leads it directly."

  "King? Like in Dad's book? The one with the long red robe?"

  I tilted my head until it almost fell to Dad's shoulder. "Special... Why special? Is it because there's lots of ice cream here?"

  Dad looked at me for a long time. His gaze suddenly became... strange. But because I'm still small, I could only return his gaze innocently, while pouting slightly from curiosity.

  Heh... Are you shocked by what I said, Dad? Or do you feel like laughing?

  I waited patiently for my dad to answer.

  Finally, Dad answered in a quieter voice, "Because... This island has a secret mission, Sera. A mission different from other places."

  "Secret mission?" I whispered back, playing along seriously. "Are we guarding treasure, Dad?"

  Somehow I remembered the sea fruit...

  Dad's eyes gleamed, his finger touched my forehead gently. That flick was small, but enough to startle me.

  I hurriedly rubbed my forehead with both hands and stared at my dad with a pout.

  ? ? ?

  Saturday is a break from all my heavy thoughts.

  Since Dad invited me to join community service, I've never been absent. I'm bored just staying at home, and this activity gives me a chance to see other people.

  There's Mr. Renald, a middle-aged man whose booming laughter can chase away birds in trees. He's very big, his height exceeds my dad's.

  There's Mrs. Smith, our neighbor who always brings warm sponge cake. She says it's for encouragement, though everyone knows it's a show-off of her baking skills.

  And there's Anne, Mr. Renald's daughter who runs around more than helping pull weeds. But no one has the heart to scold her.

  "Sera! Help with this first!" Mr. Renald waved, holding out a small shovel to me.

  "Ready, Sir!" I answered loudly, running over to him.

  Strange.

  Back then, even talking to people besides Mom and Dad made me awkward. I always stood slightly behind, letting them answer. Now I'm actually standing in the middle of crowds, accepting the shovel with enthusiasm and enjoying how they call my name sincerely.

  Dad often watches me from afar. When I laugh because Mr. Renald jokes, or when I accept a piece of sponge cake from Mrs. Smith, I see Dad smile.

  He doesn't hide his proud expression. He's happy seeing his daughter grow "normally".

  Every night, before closing my eyes, I write one last sentence in my brown book.

  Today Mrs. Smith praised how I gather leaves. The pile is always neat. Not messy.

  Today Dad fell asleep while reading a book for me. Mom came bringing a blanket and kissed his forehead. They both don't know I was just pretending to sleep.