I turned three years old.
Only recently had I finally learned my parents' names.
My father was Paul Greyrat.
My mother was Zenith Greyrat.
And my name was Rudeus Greyrat.
The firstborn son of the Greyrat family.
I'd been named Rudeus, but neither my father nor my mother ever called each other by their full names, and they shortened mine to Rudy—so it had taken me a while to commit the formal names to memory.
---
"Oh my, Rudy likes books, doesn't he?"
Zenith laughed when she saw me always carrying one around.
They never scolded me for having books.
I set them aside during meals, and I made sure not to read any magic textbooks in front of the family.
It wasn't exactly "the hawk hides its claws," but I didn't know where magic stood in this world.
In my previous world, there had been witch hunts in the Middle Ages.
Those who used magic were heretics burned at the stake—the whole deal.
Still, in a world where textbooks on magic existed as practical reference material, magic equalling heresy was probably out of the question. But people might not look too kindly on it.
There might be a common understanding that magic was something you learned once you grew up.
After all, it was dangerous enough to make you pass out if you used too much.
They might think it stunted growth or something.
So I kept my magic hidden from the family.
That said, I had once fired off a spell out the window, so they might have already caught on.
Can't be helped—I wanted to test how far the projection speed could go.
The maid (apparently named Lilia) occasionally looked at me with a stern expression, but my parents were as laid-back as ever, so I wanted to believe it was fine.
If they stopped me, that'd be fine too, but if there really was a growth period, I didn't want to miss it.
Talent had to be nurtured when it was still growing, or it would rust shut.
I needed to use everything I could while I still could.
---
And so, my secret magic training (ha ha) came to an abrupt end one afternoon.
My mana had been increasing lately, so I'd decided to try an intermediate spell on a whim—a Water Ball.
Size one, speed zero.
I figured it would just fill up the bucket as usual.
Maybe a little overflow at most.
An enormous volume of water blasted out and punched a massive hole in the wall.
I stared blankly at the water droplets dripping from the edges of the hole onto the floor.
Even as I stared, it didn't occur to me to do anything about it.
The wall had a hole in it, and there was no denying I'd used magic.
That was just how it was.
I gave up easily. That was the kind of person I was.
"What's going on—whoa!"
Paul burst in first.
Then he gaped at the gaping hole in the wall.
"Wh-hey, what the—Rudy, are you okay...?"
Paul was a good guy.
It clearly looked like I'd done it, and yet he was worried about me.
Even now he was muttering "A monster...? No, there shouldn't be any around here..." and cautiously scanning the surroundings.
"Oh my..."
Zenith came into the room next.
She was calmer than her husband.
She looked at the broken wall, the puddles on the floor, and then—
"Oh...?"
Her sharp eyes caught the open page of my magic textbook.
Comparing the book to me, she crouched down in front of me and matched her gaze to mine, wearing a gentle expression.
Scary.
Her eyes weren't smiling behind that gentle look.
I desperately directed my gaze back toward Zenith, half-afraid I might start swimming.
I'd learned this during my NEET years: when you'd done something wrong, acting defiant or sulky only made things worse.
So you absolutely must not look away.
What's needed in moments like these is a sincere attitude.
Making eye contact and not breaking it—just that alone makes you look sincere.
Regardless of what you're really thinking inside, at least on the surface.
"Rudy, did you happen to read this book out loud, the way it was written?"
"I'm sorry."
I nodded with a small bow and apologized.
When you'd done something wrong, it was better to apologize cleanly.
No one else could pull that off.
Lies that were immediately exposed only destroyed trust.
In my previous life, I'd buried myself under exactly those kinds of petty lies and watched my credibility crumble.
I wouldn't make the same mistake.
"But—the thing is, this is intermediate-level..."
"You heard! I knew it—our child really is a genius!"
Zenith cut Paul off with a squeal.
She clasped both hands together and bounced up and down with delight.
Quite the energy.
So my apology was just going to be ignored, was it?
"But, look, we haven't even started teaching him letters yet—"
"Let's hire a tutor right away! He's bound to become an incredible magician someday!"
Paul was bewildered; Zenith was overjoyed.
It seemed Zenith was so thrilled about my being able to use magic that she could barely contain herself.
My worry that children weren't supposed to use magic had apparently been for nothing.
Lilia, meanwhile, calmly began tidying up without a word.
This maid had probably known—or at least suspected—that I could use magic.
It wasn't a bad thing, so she simply hadn't given it much thought.
Or maybe she'd wanted to see my parents' reaction.
"Dear, let's put up an opening in Roa tomorrow! You have to nurture talent!"
Zenith was working herself into a frenzy all on her own, carrying on about geniuses and talent.
Since when did firing off one random spell make you a genius?
Were my parents just doting, or was intermediate magic genuinely impressive at this age? I couldn't tell.
No—they were definitely just doting.
I'd never shown any sign of using magic in front of Zenith.
Yet the fact that she used the word "knew" meant she'd already been thinking I might be a genius.
Without any basis...
Oh wait.
I did have an explanation.
I talked to myself a lot.
Even while reading, I had a habit of muttering words and phrases I liked under my breath.
Since coming to this world, I'd kept reading and mumbling to myself.
At first in Japanese, but once I'd picked up the language, I unconsciously started using the words of this world.
And whenever Zenith overheard my muttering—
"Rudy, that word means—"
She would explain the meaning of the word to me.
Thanks to that, I'd memorized quite a few proper nouns from this world. But let's put that aside.
Nobody said anything about it, but I had taught myself to read the characters of this world.
No one had taught me the language either.
From my parents' perspective, their child could read letters they'd never taught him and speak the content of books aloud.
Naturally, they'd conclude he was a genius.
If my own kid had done that, I'd have thought he was a genius too.
In my previous life, it had been the same when my little brother was born.
My brother grew fast. Everything he did was quicker than what my older brother or I managed.
Talking. Walking on two legs.
Parents were just that carefree—every time a child did something, they'd declare, "I think our child might be a genius!"
Even when it was nothing remarkable.
Well, I'd been a dropout scumbag NEET, but my mental age was thirty-plus.
It would've been depressing if they didn't think that much of me.
Ten times their age. Ten times!
"Dear, a tutor! There must be a good magic teacher in Roa!"
And it seemed that whenever parents sensed even a hint of talent, they jumped straight into pushy education—everywhere in the world.
My parents in my previous life had been the same, parading my little brother around as a genius and enrolling him in every extracurricular under the sun.
So Zenith proposed hiring a magic tutor.
Paul opposed it.
"Wait, we agreed—if it was a boy, we'd raise him as a swordsman."
If a boy, he'd learn the sword. If a girl, magic.
Apparently they'd made that pact before I was born.
"But he can cast intermediate magic at his age! If you train him, he'll become an incredible mage!"
"A deal's a deal!"
"What do you mean, a deal? You're always breaking your promises!"
"This isn't about me right now!"
The two of them started arguing on the spot.
Lilia cleaned up, unperturbed.
"Couldn't he study magic in the morning and swordsmanship in the afternoon?"
The argument dragged on for a while, but once Lilia made that suggestion—with a sigh—the quarrel ended.
And so the doting parents imposed extracurriculars on their child without so much as asking how he felt.
Well, I'd decided to take this life seriously, so I didn't mind.
---
And so, our family ended up hiring a tutor.
Apparently, tutoring the children of nobles paid quite well.
Paul was one of the few knights in the area and technically held a minor noble title, so he could afford to offer a salary around the going rate.
However, this was the sticks—clear out at the edge of the country.
A frontier region where talented people were scarce, and magicians were practically nonexistent.
They'd sent inquiries to the Magicians' Guild and the Adventurers' Guild, but whether anyone would actually respond—that was the concern.
But apparently it was settled without much fuss, and the tutor would start coming the next day.
There was no inn in the village, so the tutor would be living with us.
According to my parents' prediction, the person coming would most likely be a retired adventurer.
A young person wouldn't come all the way out to the countryside, and a court mage would have plenty of work in the royal capital.
In this world, only an advanced-rank magician or above could teach magic.
Which meant an adventurer of upper-middle rank at the very least.
They'd been picturing a middle-aged or elderly man who'd spent years honing his craft—someone with a proper beard and the whole "magician" look.
That was the story.
"Roxy. Pleased to meet you."
But what actually arrived, contrary to all expectations, was a young girl.
Middle school age, maybe.
She wore a magician-like brown robe.
Her light blue hair was braided into a single plaid, and her small frame was the right word for her build.
All she carried was a single bag and a staff that looked exactly like something a magician would have.
The three of us went out to greet her.
My parents looked so stunned they couldn't even speak.
Well, yeah.
The reality was nothing like what they'd imagined.
They'd been expecting someone older, given they were hiring a tutor.
Instead, they got someone this tiny.
Well, for someone like me who'd played through more than a few games, the existence of a loli magic girl wasn't particularly remarkable.
Loli. Dead-fish eyes. Curt manner.
All three made her a perfect package.
I absolutely wanted her to be my bride.
"Ah, um, you're... the tutor?"
"Um—well, you're rather, um..."
My parents were struggling to word it, so I cut straight to the chase.
"You're really small."
"I don't want to hear that from you."
She shot back instantly.
Was it a sore spot?
I wasn't talking about her chest, though.
Roxy let out a sigh.
"Haa. So, which one is my student?"
She looked around as she asked.
"Oh, it's this child right here."
I was introduced while still in Zenith's arms.
I gave a little wink.
Roxy's eyes went wide for a moment before she sighed again.
"Haa... they pop up every now and then, don't they?
Parents who see their kid develop a little faster than normal and convince themselves their child is a genius..."
She muttered under her breath.
I can hear you, Roxy!
Well, I agreed with her wholeheartedly.
"What was that?"
"Oh, nothing. But I don't think this child will be able to understand the theory of magic?"
"He'll be fine! Our little Rudy is very smart!"
Zenith's doting-parent declaration.
Roxy sighed yet again.
"Haa. Fine. I'll do what I can."
She'd apparently decided it was pointless to argue.
And so, mornings became Roxy's lessons, and afternoons were for swordsmanship training with Paul.
---
"Now then, let's use this magic textbook as a—well, before that, let's test how much magic Rudy can actually cast."
On the first day of lessons, Roxy took me out to the garden.
Magic lessons were apparently held mostly outdoors.
She knew perfectly well what happened when you cast spells inside the house.
Unlike me, she wouldn't go around blowing holes in walls.
"First, I'll give a demonstration.
'Flow of great water, descend upon the place I seek; bring forth the cool, clear stream—here and now. Water Ball!'"
As Roxy finished her incantation, a basketball-sized water orb materialized in her palm.
It shot toward one of the garden trees at high speed and—
Crack.
It snapped the tree trunk with ease and sent water spraying all over the fence.
Size three, speed four, maybe?
"How was that?"
"Very good. That tree was one my mother carefully raised, so she'll be quite upset."
"Eh? Really!?"
"You can count on it."
There had been one occasion when Paul had swung his sword and snapped off a branch, and the fury Zenith had unleashed was no joke.
"Oh no, I need to fix this—!"
Roxy rushed over to the tree, hefted the fallen trunk upright with a grunt, and held it in place with her bright-red face.
"Ooogh...
'Oh, divine power, be nourishment to the weary; grant the strength to rise anew to those who have faltered. Healing!'"
The incantation.
The tree trunk gradually re-fused to its former state.
Whoa. Awesome.
I should compliment her first.
"There."
"The teacher can use healing magic too!"
"Eh? Oh, yes. Anything up to intermediate level, no problem."
"That's amazing! Truly amazing!"
"No, anyone can do this much with proper training."
Her tone was a little gruff, but Roxy looked pleased.
All it took was a bit of straightforward praise? Easy mark.
"Then, Rudy. Give it a try."
"Okay."
I got my hands ready...
Crap—I hadn't practiced the Water Ball incantation in almost a year, and I couldn't remember it.
Roxy had literally just said it. Come on, think...
"Um, how did the incantation go again?"
"'Flow of great water, descend upon the place I seek; bring forth the cool, clear stream—here and now.'"
Roxy recited it flatly. Apparently, this was well within expected behavior.
But hearing it once in that detached tone wasn't enough to memorize it.
"'Descend upon the place I seek... Water Ball.'"
I fudged it because I couldn't remember.
The water orb was a touch smaller and slightly slower than the one Roxy had made.
If I'd made one bigger than hers, she might have sulked.
I was generous toward younger girls.
The basketball-sized orb was launched with impressive force.
Crack-crack—!
The tree went down.
Roxy watched with a complicated expression.
"You cut the incantation short, didn't you?"
"Yes."
Had I done something bad?
Come to think of it, silent incantation wasn't covered in the magic textbook either.
I'd been using it casually, but was I actually breaking some kind of taboo?
Or would she yell at me, saying I was ten years too early to be skipping incantations?
In which case, should I push back with "Who cares, I'm not about to chant that lame stuff"?
"Do you always shorten the incantation?"
"I usually... don't use one."
I hesitated over how to answer but decided to be honest.
I was going to be learning from her, and she'd find out eventually.
"No incantation at all!? ...I see. You don't use one. Do you feel fatigued?"
Roxy's expression was practically one of "you've got to be kidding me," but she pulled herself together.
"No, I'm fine."
"Good. The size and power of the Water Ball are both impeccable."
"Thank you."
Roxy finally smiled.
A grin.
And then she murmured:
"...This is going to be worth training."
I can hear you!
"Now then, let's move on to the next spell right aw—"
"Aaah!"
Just as Roxy opened the magic textbook, looking excited—
A scream rang out.
It was Zenith, who'd come to check on things.
She'd dropped a tray of drinks, and was covering her mouth with both hands, staring at the snapped tree.
A sorrowful expression.
The next instant, anger crept across her face.
Oh no.
Zenith marched over and confronted Roxy head-on.
"Roxy! How could you!
Don't use our tree as a test subject!"
"But Rudy was the one who—"
"Even if Rudy did it, you were the one who let him!"
Roxy looked as though lightning bolts had struck the background behind her, so devastated you could practically hear a "gaaan" sound effect.
Well, you couldn't really pin it on a three-year-old.
"Yes... you're quite right."
"Make sure this never happens again!"
"Yes, I'm terribly sorry, ma'am..."
After that, Zenith used healing magic to beautifully restore the garden tree, then went back inside.
"I've failed on the very first day..."
"Teacher..."
"Haha, I suppose I'll be dismissed by tomorrow..."
Roxy sat on the ground, looking ready to trace circles in the dirt.
She was sure fragile.
I tapped her shoulder.
"..."
"...Rudy?"
I tried, but after nearly twenty years of not talking to anyone, I couldn't find the words to comfort her.
Sorry. I don't know what to say at times like this...
No, calm down.
Think—what would the protagonist of an eroge do in a situation like this?
Right, something like—
"You didn't fail just now."
"R-Rudy...?"
"You gained experience."
Roxy looked up at me, surprised.
"Y-yes. Thank you."
"Yes. Now, let's continue with the lesson."
And just like that, Roxy and I got off to a friendly start from day one.
---
Afternoons were for training with Paul.
Since there was no wooden sword suited to my small frame, the focus was mainly on physical conditioning.
Running. Push-ups. Sit-ups. And so on.
Paul's plan was to start with getting the body moving.
Even on days when Paul couldn't train me because of work, he insisted I never skip basic physical training.
That was the same in any world, apparently.
I'd do my best.
Given a child's stamina, I couldn't spend all afternoon on training, so swordsmanship practice wrapped up before midday.
That left me free to burn through my remaining mana with magic until dinner.
Magic had a principle: the 'size' of the spell affected how much mana it consumed.
If you counted the baseline—when you cast without any mental adjustment—as one, then the larger the spell, the mana consumption increased exponentially.
Conservation of mass, basically.
But for some reason, making things smaller also increased consumption.
The theory behind that eluded me.
Creating a fist-sized water orb consumed far less mana than producing a single droplet.
It made no sense.
I'd been wondering about this for a while, so I asked Roxy.
"That's just how it works," she said.
Apparently it was still unexplained.
The mechanism was a mystery.
But for training purposes, that property wasn't bad at all.
My mana pool had been growing quite a bit lately, so unless I used big spells, I couldn't burn through it all.
If it was just a matter of spending mana, I could simply go full power until exhaustion.
But I was ready to start building practical skill too.
So I decided to practice the finest, most detailed work I could manage.
Using magic to make small, intricate, delicate movements.
For example, sculpting a statue out of ice.
Or lighting a flame on my fingertip and writing characters on a board.
Bringing soil from the garden and separating it by composition...
Trying to lock and unlock padlocks.
Earth magic could apparently affect metals and minerals to some degree.
However, the harder the metal, the greater the mana cost.
Changing hard substances really was difficult.
The smaller the target, the more precise and complex the manipulation—
The more rapid and accurate the movement I attempted, the more astronomical the mana consumption became.
Throwing a baseball at full speed and threading a needle by hand consumed roughly the same amount of mana.
I also tried casting spells from different magic systems simultaneously.
Compared to using multiple spells from the same system, it consumed more than three times the mana.
In other words, activating two different systems of magic at once while making small, intricate, fast, and precise movements—that was an easy way to drain my mana completely.
When I kept up that routine every day,
even after half a day of continuous casting, the bottom was nowhere in sight.
A thought began to sprout: maybe this was enough.
My inner lazybones started whispering that it was about time to take it easy.
Each time, I scolded myself.
If you slacked off on strength training, your body deteriorated.
Mana might be the same. Just because it had temporarily increased didn't mean I could afford to stop training.
---
One night, while I was practicing magic, a grating, creaking sound drifted over from somewhere.
Well, not from "somewhere"—obviously from Paul and Zenith's bedroom.
Getting busy.
In the not-too-distant future, I'd probably have a little brother or sister.
I'd prefer a sister.
Yeah. No little brother, thanks.
My mind was still haunted by the image of a little brother taking a full swing at my precious—
PC.
With a bat.
No brothers needed.
A cute little sister would be nice.
"What a world..."
In my previous life, the moment I'd heard that kind of noise, I would have immediately slam-kicked the wall or floor to shut them up.
As a result, my sister had stopped bringing guys home.
Nostalgic.
Back then, people who did stuff like that had seemed like the great evil that colored my world black.
The guys who bullied me, grinning down at me from a domain I could never reach—I'd been consumed with helpless rage.
The very people who'd cast me into a dark, unpleasant place were the ones looking down asking, "You're still in there?"
Nothing stung worse than that.
But lately, things were different.
Maybe it was because I was in a child's body now.
Maybe it was because my parents were the ones doing it.
Or maybe it was because I was actually putting in effort toward my own future.
I was listening to their lovemaking with a genuinely heartwarming feeling.
Heh, I really had grown up...
From just the sounds, I could tell what was going on.
Paul apparently had some serious skills.
Zenith was already gasping and on the verge of collapse, yet Paul was still going strong with things like "I'm not done yet!"
The guy was like the protagonist of a forced-love eroge.
Boundless stamina...
Wait—could it be that I, Paul's son, harbored that same power within me?!
Awaken!
Heroines, come to me!
I wanted my own pink-colored developments too!
At first I'd been excited by all this, but recently the novelty had worn off.
I'd walk through the creaking hallway to the bathroom with a completely straight face.
Incidentally, every time I passed in front of their room, the creaking would stop dead—kind of entertaining.
That day, too, I set out for the bathroom to let them know their son was now mobile.
Let's see—maybe I'd call out to them.
"Mom, Dad, what are you doing naked?" Something like that.
I looked forward to their excuses. Heh heh heh...
Thinking these thoughts, I slipped out of my room in silence.
And there, a visitor had arrived.
A blue-haired girl sat in the dark hallway, peering through the gap in the bedroom door.
Her cheeks were flushed, and she was trying to quiet her ragged breathing, but her gaze was locked on the room's interior.
Her hand had slipped beneath her robe and was moving in small, rapid motions.
I quietly returned to my room.
Roxy was, after all, a girl of age.
The part of me that wanted to turn a blind eye to such things—that sentiment existed too.
...Just kidding.
Well, that was quite the sight.
---
About four months passed.
I could now cast magic up to intermediate level in all systems.
And so I began doing evening study sessions with Roxy.
Now, just because I said "evening" didn't mean anything lewd was going on.
What we studied was mostly general knowledge.
Roxy was an excellent teacher.
She never rigidly stuck to a fixed curriculum.
She adjusted the lesson content to match my level of understanding, escalating as needed.
Her adaptability with students was superb.
She'd pose questions from the textbooks she'd prepared; if I got them right, we moved on.
If I didn't understand, she'd explain it patiently.
It was just that, but it made the world feel like it was expanding.
Back in my previous life, when my older brother had been preparing for entrance exams, our family had hired a tutor for a while.
Once, on a whim, I'd listened in on a lesson.
But the content hadn't been all that different from regular school classes.
Compared to that, Roxy's lessons were clear, engaging, and fun.
Hit a note and it resonated.
Besides, having a barely pubescent middle-school-looking teacher give me lessons...
That scenario was the best.
If I'd been my old self, that fantasy alone would've been enough for three rounds.
---
"Teacher, why does magic only have combat applications?"
"It's not exactly that combat is the only—"
Even when I hit her with a sudden question, Roxy gave me a proper answer.
"Well, let me think where to start...
Magic is said to have been created by the ancient long-eared race."
Oh, elves!
So they did exist!
The ones with golden hair, wearing greenish clothes, carrying bows, and getting entangled in tentacles!
Whoa, hold on.
My image might be off.
Going by the description, they did have long ears, though...
"The long-eared race...?"
"Yes. The long-eared race currently lives in the northern part of the Millis Continent.
In ancient times, before the Great Human-Demon War, back when the world was still shrouded in chaos and conflict never ceased, the ancient long-eared race spoke with the spirits of the forest and learned to command wind and earth in order to fight external enemies.
That is said to be the oldest magic in history."
"Huh, so it has a proper history."
"Naturally."
Roxy nodded, giving me a look that said "don't make fun of it."
"Modern magic was developed when the human race mimicked long-eared magic during wartime and systematized it.
Humans are good at that sort of thing."
"Humans are good at that?"
"Yes. Humans are always the ones creating something new."
Humans apparently loved invention.
"The reason it's primarily combat-oriented is partly because it was mainly used during warfare...
But another reason is that you can achieve similar things using everyday tools without relying on magic."
"Everyday tools... such as?"
"If you need light, for instance, you could just use a candle or a lantern."
I see—the standard fantasy setup.
Using tools was easier than casting spells.
Made sense.
Although, with silent incantation, spells were actually easier than tools.
"Also, not all magic is combat-only.
With summoning magic, you can summon magical beasts or spirits with the power you need."
"Summoning magic! Will you teach me that eventually?"
"No, I can't use it myself.
And speaking of tools, there are also what's called magical implements."
Magical implements.
Well, the name made them easy to imagine.
"What are magical implements?"
"Tools made from materials imbued with mana.
Since they have magic circles engraved inside, even non-mages can use them.
Though you do have to replenish their mana periodically."
"Makes sense."
Pretty much what I'd imagined.
Still, it was a shame Roxy couldn't use summoning magic.
I had a rough idea how attack and healing magic worked, but summoning was a complete mystery.
That had dumped a lot of new vocabulary on me at once.
Great Human-Demon War. Magical beasts. Spirits...
I had a general idea, but I might as well ask.
"Teacher, what's the difference between magical beasts and monsters?"
"There isn't a huge difference, actually.
Monsters are generally born from ordinary animals through sudden mutation.
If those creatures are lucky enough to multiply, establish themselves as a species, and gain intelligence over generations, they become magical beasts.
Of course, even after gaining intelligence, those that attack people are often still called monsters.
Conversely, magical beasts that grow violent over generations can revert to monsters.
There's no hard line."
Monsters—attack people.
Magical beasts—don't attack people.
Was that the right way to think about it?
"Then are demons a species that evolved from magical beasts?"
"Not at all.
The word 'demon' is a label that dates back to when humans and demons were at war."
"You mean the Great Human-Demon War from earlier?"
"That's right. The war took place eight thousand years ago."
"That's... dizzyingly far back."
This world seemed to have a surprisingly long history.
"It wasn't that long ago, actually.
Just four hundred years ago, there was another war between humans and demons.
Humans and demons have been fighting on and off ever since the first one started eight thousand years ago."
Four hundred years was still pretty ancient, but they'd been at it for over seven thousand years total.
Bad blood.
"Haa, I see. So in the end, what exactly is a demon?"
"Demon is a rather tricky definition, but the simplest way to put it might be: 'the species that sided with the demons in the most recent war.'
There are exceptions, of course...
Oh, by the way, I'm a demon myself."
"Oh, really?"
A demon was working as a tutor here.
Which probably meant there wasn't a war going on right now?
Peace was best.
"Yes. Formally, I'm of the Migurd tribe from the Begoria region of the Demon Continent.
Rudy's parents looked surprised when they saw me, didn't they?"
"I thought that was because you're so small."
"I'm not small.
They were surprised by my hair."
"Hair?"
I thought it was a lovely blue.
"Generally, demons with hair closer to green are considered more violent and dangerous.
My hair can look green depending on the lighting, so..."
Green.
Was that the warning color of this world?
Roxy's hair was a refreshing light blue.
Roxy twirled a lock of her bangs as she explained.
Cute gesture.
In pre-reincarnation Japan, blue hair meant either a punk or an old lady—no exceptions.
Seeing people like that only made me feel unnaturalness and distaste.
But Roxy's blue hair didn't feel unnatural at all, and I felt no revulsion.
If anything, it suited her slightly sleepy eyes perfectly.
If she'd been a heroine in an eroge, she'd be the first one I'd go after.
"Your hair is beautiful, Teacher."
"...Thank you.
But save those words for when you've met someone you like in the future."
"I like you, Teacher."
I said it without hesitation.
I never hesitated.
I sprinkled powder on every cute girl I met.
"Is that so? Come back and tell me again in about fifteen years, if you still feel the same."
"Yes, Teacher."
She brushed me off casually, but I didn't miss the faintly pleased look on her face.
I didn't know how well the nice-guy skills I'd honed in eroge would translate to another world.
But they weren't completely useless.
Lines that sounded hopelessly cheesy in Japan became passionate and unique catalysts for romance in this world.
Yeah, I didn't really know what I was saying either.
Roxy was cute and sexy, so I wanted to plant some flags.
But the age gap was pretty significant.
What would the future hold...
"Now then, to get back to the topic—
The idea that more vibrant colors are more dangerous is entirely a superstition."
"Oh, it's a superstition?"
I'd seriously considered the whole warning-color thing for nothing.
"Yes. There was a tribe called the Spurd, whose hair was green, in the Babinos region.
When they ran wild during the war four hundred years ago, that reputation took hold.
So hair color has nothing to do with it."
"They ran wild?"
"Yes. In just about a dozen years of warfare, they terrorized allies and enemies alike to the point of being feared and despised by every species.
After the war ended, they were persecuted so badly they were driven out of the Demon Continent. That's how dangerous they were."
After the war ended, they were expelled by their own side?
Impressive.
"Are they really that hated?"
"That hated."
"What did they do?"
"Well, even I don't—
But I heard stories as a child: they'd attack allied demon villages and massacre women and children, or after annihilating the enemy on the battlefield, they'd turn around and annihilate their own side too.
Things like, 'If you stay up late, the Spurd will come and eat you.'"
That was basically a boogeyman.
"The Migurd tribe is closely related to the Spurd, so we used to face a lot of prejudice as well.
I imagine your parents will warn you about this eventually, but—"
Roxy prefaced it with "listen carefully."
"If you see someone with emerald-green hair and a red gem on their forehead, never approach them.
Even if you must speak with them, never let them become angry."
Emerald-green hair, red gem on the forehead.
Those were the Spurd's distinguishing features.
"What happens if you make them angry?"
"They might massacre your entire family."
"Emerald-green hair and a red gem on the forehead, right?"
"Yes. They use the gem on their forehead to perceive the flow of mana—their third eye."
"Do Spurd only have women or something?"
"What? No, there are men too."
"Does the gem on their forehead change color or glow or anything?"
"Huh? No, it doesn't. At least not that I know of."
Roxy tilted her head, looking puzzled.
I'd gotten my questions answered and was satisfied.
"But if they're that distinctive, they should be easy to identify."
"Yes. If you spot one, casually pretend you have somewhere to be and leave.
Running away suddenly might provoke them."
Like how, if you saw a delinquent and immediately bolted, they'd probably chase you and mess with you.
I had experience with that.
"But if you do end up talking, it should be fine as long as you're respectful, right?"
"I think it would be fine as long as you don't openly insult them.
But humans and demons have very different common sense in many areas, so you never know what might set them off.
I'd avoid roundabout sarcasm too."
Hmm.
Were they insanely short-tempered?
But the way it was described, it sounded less like they were hated and more like they were feared.
"Those guys are dangerous—don't go near them" kind of vibe.
Scary.
I didn't think I'd be resurrected a second or third time just to start life over.
Best to stay as far away as possible.
Spurd. Dangerous.
I engraved that on my heart.
---
About a year passed.
Magic lessons were going well.
Recently, I'd become able to handle magic up to advanced level in every system.
Of course, using silent incantation.
Compared to the practice I did daily, advanced magic was about as difficult as picking your nose.
In fact, advanced magic was mostly wide-area attacks and felt clunky to use.
What was the point of summoning rain over a huge area?
Well, turns out, on a day when the drought had gone on too long, Roxy had cast rain over the wheat fields and won the adoration of the entire village.
I'd been home at the time, but Paul told me about it.
Roxy had apparently taken on other requests from villagers and used magic to solve their problems.
"They were digging up soil and found a huge boulder buried underneath—help me, Roxy!"
"Leave it to me, Do-ral-co!"
"What kind of magic is that?"
"It's a combined spell: I moisten the earth around the boulder with water magic, then turn it to mud with earth magic!"
"Whoa, amazing—the boulder is sinking into the ground!"
"Hoo hoo hoo!"
Something like that! (Probably)
"As expected, Teacher. You're tireless when it comes to helping people."
"Helping people? No, this is a side income."
"You charge money?"
"Of course."
What a miser.
I thought—but apparently the villagers were fine with it.
The village just didn't have anyone who could do those things, so Roxy was highly appreciated.
The old give-and-take.
My sense of things was off.
Helping people in trouble without expecting payment was only natural.
That was the Japanese in me.
Normal was charging money.
That was normal. Common sense.
Well, in my previous life I'd been a shut-in, so far from helping anyone, the entire family had treated me as a burden.
Ha ha ha.
---
One day, I happened to ask:
"Wouldn't it be better to call you 'Master' instead of 'Teacher'?"
Roxy made no attempt to hide her displeasure.
"No, I'd advise against it. You'll probably surpass me easily, so it's best not to."
Apparently I was prodigious enough to outgrow Roxy.
Getting praised like that was embarrassing.
"You wouldn't want to call someone weaker than yourself your master, right?"
"It's not that I mind."
"*I* mind. Being called 'Master' by someone more capable than me—how humiliating would that be?"
Was that how it worked?
"Are you saying that because your own master ended up weaker than you?"
"Listen, Rudy.
A 'master' is the kind of troublesome person who claims they have nothing left to teach you, yet sticks their nose into everything at every opportunity."
"But Roxy, you wouldn't do that, would you?"
"I might."
"Even so, I'd still respect you."
Roxy lectured me with a know-it-all expression.
She'd probably be grinning to herself.
"No, I don't know what I might say if I got jealous of my own student's talent."
"Like what?"
"'A filthy demon like you has no right—' or 'Just a country bumpkin—'"
I'd already been told that.
Poor me.
Discrimination wasn't cool.
But hey, hierarchy was just like that.
"What's wrong with it, as long as you act tough?"
"You can't act superior just because you're older! A master-student relationship without matching ability is nothing but uncomfortable!"
She stated it flatly.
She must have had a truly awful relationship with her own master.
And so, I decided not to call Roxy "Master."
However, I resolved to continue calling her that in my heart.
After all, this still-youthful girl was teaching me things that simply reading books could never convey.