The White Veil

The white eyepatch clung snugly to my face, and let me tell you—this was not part of the imaginary baby aesthetic I had envisioned. Sure, it was stabilizing my “excessive mana output” or whatever magical jargon Reine had explained, but it came at the cost of style. I had gone from being a mysterious newborn to looking like an extra in a low-budget pirate play.

Reine was still in the room, jotting down notes in her journal. Every so often, she glanced at me like I was some sort of magical specimen, the corners of her glasses glinting ominously in the firelight.

Another realization struck me—Saki once said that in fantasy worlds, every girl you meet will always be killer when it comes to looks. First was my mother, Roseline. Despite being cold, teasing, and nonchalant, even Celine had her charms. And now, her younger sister Reine had entered the picture. Since I wasn’t glued to a hospital bed anymore, maybe I had a chance in this world.

Celine moved about the room with an air of detachment, her blonde braids swaying as she adjusted her glasses and sorted through vials without sparing me a glance.

“Well?” Reine asked without looking up from her notes.

“Well, what?” Celine replied, her tone clipped and indifferent.

“You’re welcome,” Reine said dryly, adjusting her glasses with a flick of her finger.

Celine didn’t bother responding, her focus remaining on the herbs she was arranging.

I observed their exchange with mild curiosity. Celine’s cold demeanor was a stark contrast to Reine’s calm, childish-yet-professional character. I couldn’t help but wonder how two people so different could be sisters—but age was something to factor in as well.

Roseline entered the room with her usual grace, her silver hair shimmering as she moved. “How’s he adjusting?” she asked, her voice soft as she approached me.

“He’s stable,” Reine replied, her professional demeanor returning. “The eyepatch is working as intended. His mana levels are… manageable now.”

Fren leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as he surveyed the scene. “So, does that mean we don’t have to worry about him turning into a walking explosion?” he joked.

“Not unless someone actively tries to destabilize the enchantments,” Reine said, casting a pointed look at Celine, who didn’t even flinch.

“I’m not the one who gives babies magical eyepatches,” Celine said coolly, her tone devoid of emotion.

“It’s an enchanted stabilizer, not a toy,” Reine corrected patiently.

Roseline stepped in before the tension could escalate further. “Let’s all take a moment to breathe,” she said with a warm smile. “Raizen’s progress is what matters most right now.”

Reine nodded, her tone softening. “You’re right. The eyepatch is working well to stabilize his mana, but I’ll continue refining the enchantments to ensure there are no disruptions.”

Celine remained silent, her expression unreadable as she continued her work.

As the day wore on, the excitement began to fade, leaving a calm stillness in its wake. Roseline sat beside my cradle, her hand resting gently on my forehead as she hummed a soft melody. Fren was outside, no doubt sharpening his sword for the hundredth time that week, and Celine had finally retreated to her room without a word.

Reine, however, remained nearby, her journal open on the table as she continued her research.

“You’re an enigma, Raizen,” she said softly, her brown eyes thoughtful as she glanced at me. “But I think you’re going to surprise us all.” Her words lingered in the air, a quiet promise of the adventures yet to come.