Natural Order

Six months have passed since I first convinced Lina to bring me books. In that time, my days have been filled with study—not just about magic and history, but also about something far more frustrating.

Language.

If I had to rank the worst things about being reincarnated, relearning how to read would definitely be in the top three. This world’s written language is full of runes and archaic symbols, far more intricate than the alphabets of my old life. Each character carries layers of meaning, and the sentence structure twists in ways that make my head hurt.

Lina has been tutoring me patiently—well, mostly patiently. I suspect she finds my eagerness amusing, considering most children my age struggle with even the basics. But after months of practice, I can now read and write at a decent level. Enough to start reading real books, anyway.

Unfortunately, most of the books suitable for children are fairy tales.

Not exactly the vast academic knowledge I was hoping for, but I suppose even legendary scholars had to start somewhere.

One book in particular caught my attention: “The Trial of the Swordsman.”

At first glance, it’s just another hero’s tale—the kind that noble families read to their children to fill their heads with ideals of justice and righteousness. But the more I read, the more it reminded me of something eerily familiar.

The story follows a young prince who discovers a sword named Cocytus, a blade imbued with the power of ice. According to legend, Cocytus had the ability to freeze the wicked—anyone with an impure heart who dared touch it would be encased in eternal frost. With this blade in hand, the prince guided his kingdom to victory in the Great War, becoming a hero for generations to come.

It doesn’t take a genius to see the similarities to the King Arthur myth from my old world. The legendary sword with a special ability, the destined ruler who wields it—it’s practically Excalibur with an ice affinity.

I set the book down, staring at the golden embroidery of its cover.

A weapon that judges the hearts of men…

Something about it lingers in my mind. Maybe it’s just the familiarity of the story, or maybe… something else.

I shake off the thought. It’s just a children’s tale, after all.

For now, my focus is on reality. And in reality, there’s still so much about this world I don’t understand.

That’s why I need to learn more.

And what better way to do that than by studying the creatures that roam this land?

I picked up another book from my bedside table, a special one I ordered. It's called Compendium of Monsters

I flip the page, expecting more of the same—wolves, boars, the usual bestiary filler—but then my eyes catch something that makes me pause.

Unique Monsters.

Huh. That’s interesting.

Apparently, these creatures are like the final boss versions of their respective species. Each monster race has exactly one unique counterpart, a pinnacle of evolution that surpasses all the rest. If a unique monster is killed, another eventually emerges, almost like nature refuses to leave the throne vacant.

It’s like some divine force said, “Yeah, you thought you wiped out all the Dire Wolves? Joke’s on you, here’s Direfang the Abyssal Howler. Have fun.”

Honestly? Kind of terrifying.

I scan through the list of unique monsters recorded in history—some ridiculously powerful wolves, a giant boar that could level a forest, and even a talking crow that was worshiped as a god before some hero offed it. But before I can get too deep into how screwed the average adventurer must be, something else catches my attention.

Slimes.

Now, that’s unexpected.

I frown, flipping back a page just to make sure I’m reading this right. Yeah, slimes. The weakest of the weak. The tutorial enemies of every RPG ever.

According to this book, they’re everywhere, bouncing around open fields and plains—just like the ones surrounding the Lachius estate. That means I might be able to see one in person soon.

Unlike wolves and boars, slimes don’t rely on speed or strength. Instead, they have gelatinous bodies that make them highly resistant to physical attacks. A sword slash? They’ll wobble. A blunt strike? They’ll jiggle. But actually killing them? That’s where things get tricky.

But what really gets my attention is their diet.

Unlike normal creatures that eat meat or plants, slimes feed on Fluxicles—the microscopic energy cells that allow magic to exist. Most of the time, they survive by absorbing magic from the air or simply basking in sunlight like weird, squishy plants.

But when food gets scarce?

That’s when things get ugly.

The book notes that some slimes have been known to attack livestock, draining them dry of their magical energy. And in rare cases? They’ve even attacked humans.

So… basically, slimes are adorable little mana vampires.

I glance out the nearby window, my mind already wandering. If they’re as common as this book says, there must be dozens of them out there, bouncing around in the fields beyond the estate.

The thought of seeing one up close makes me a little excited.

But what about unique slimes?

I scan the pages, looking for any records, but there’s nothing. Not a single mention of a unique slime.

Now that’s odd. Every other monster species has at least one recorded case, but slimes? Nothing.

Does that mean they don’t exist? Or has no one ever survived meeting one?

I shut the book, tapping my fingers against the cover.

The world keeps getting more interesting. And if slimes are really as harmless as people think… Maybe I should test that theory myself.

I close the book with a soft thud, my mind racing. Slimes, huh? They’re common in the plains… and the plains are just outside the mansion.

An idea takes root in my brain. A stupid, reckless, brilliant idea.

I need to see one.

But there’s a problem. I can’t exactly waltz outside on my own. I need an accomplice. Someone gullible enough to fall for my natural-born charm.

Which means… I need to find Lina.

I hop off my bed and waddle into the hallway, my little legs carrying me forward with determination. The mansion’s corridors are long and elegant, lined with polished wooden floors and tall windows that flood the space with golden sunlight.

And there—jackpot.

Lina stands in the middle of the corridor, mop in hand, humming softly as she cleans. Her blonde, drill-shaped pigtails bounce slightly as she sways with the rhythm of her work. Unlike Mara, who always carries herself with refined grace, Lina has a bubbly, almost clumsy charm.

I take a deep breath. Time to activate maximum cuteness.

I dash toward her, throwing myself dramatically against her leg. "Linaaa!"

She jumps, nearly dropping the mop. "Young master?! Where did you come from?"

I look up at her, eyes wide, voice laced with innocence. "I wanna go outside."

Lina frowns immediately. "Outside? Why?"

I clutch the book tighter against my chest. "Slimes."

She blinks. "Slimes?"

I nod, dead serious. "I read about them. They live in the plains. I wanna see one."

Lina sighs, rubbing her forehead. "Young master, the outside is dangerous. Your father—"

I grip her sleeve, tugging lightly. "Pleeease, Lina?" My voice is soft, pleading. "You’re the best maid ever… and my favorite…"

Lina stares at me, visibly conflicted. Her lips press into a thin line. I can see the gears in her head turning, battling between responsibility and the fact that she’s weak to my puppy-eyed attacks.

She groans. "You’re going to be the death of me, young master."

I grin. "So that’s a yes?"

She sighs in defeat. "Fine. But only for a little while. And if we see anything dangerous, we’re coming back immediately."

I pump my tiny fist in victory. Success!

The moment we step outside, the scent of fresh grass and wildflowers fills my nose. The plains stretch endlessly, golden waves of tall grass swaying under the afternoon sun. A soft breeze rustles my hair, and for a second, I just take it all in.

It feels… different.

Unlike the suffocating walls of the mansion, this feels open, free.

But I don’t have time to get lost in the scenery. We have a mission.

And then—I spot them.

Three slimes bounce lazily near a patch of wildflowers, their gelatinous bodies wobbling with each movement. One is light green, the second is blue, and the third is semi-transparent, almost like liquid glass.

I gasp dramatically. "Lina! Look! Slimes!"

Lina chuckles, watching my excitement. "Yes, young master, I see them."

I waste no time approaching, crouching down in front of the green one. It wiggles slightly, as if noticing me.

I must poke it.

Slowly, I extend a finger and press into its squishy surface.

Squish.

It jiggles.

Oh, this is amazing.

I poke it again. Squish. Jiggle.

Then a thought crosses my mind.

What if… they’re reincarnated like me?

I stare at the slime, narrowing my eyes. I mean, it’s possible, right? A reincarnated person could totally end up as a slime. And if that’s the case, I should probably make friends with them now before they awaken some godlike power and become my enemy.

I shudder at the thought. I’d hate to fight a super-powerful slime.

Lina giggles. "Young master, what are you thinking?"

I look up at her, completely serious. "Nothing."

She doesn’t buy it. "You were making a weird face."

I ignore her and turn back to the slime, watching it wobble. Then, curiosity gets the best of me.

I lean in close and whisper, "Hey… Can you talk?"

The slime jigs.

I gasp.

"Lina. It responded."

Lina bursts into laughter, clutching her stomach. "It’s not responding! Slimes just move like that!"

That’s exactly what a reincarnated slime would want you to think.

She shakes her head, still giggling. "Oh, young master…"

Despite her amusement, I continue poking the slimes, fascinated by their bouncy, jelly-like nature. They’re so simple yet mesmerizing.

For the first time in a long while, I feel like a kid. A real kid.

And honestly?

I don’t hate it.