Memories

I was five years old when I regained my memories of my previous life.

It happened quite suddenly, while I was having dinner with my mother and sister. Having decided that I didn’t want the flavorless loaf of meat I’d been served (I wanted something sweet, darn it), I threw out my arms and tried to push the table away with all my might.

But five-year-olds are as weak as they are stupid, and naturally, I failed. However, I did manage to push myself away from the table, and before I knew it, I’d lost my balance. I tumbled off the bench, landing on my back with a brain-jostling thud.

And that’s what did it, I guess. The pain from landing on my back—specifically the return of back pain, I’m pretty sure—was apparently so profound to my soul that it brought my memories crashing back to me in a single, torrential wave.

I’d forgotten absolutely everything.

My old name; the languages I spoke; the orphanage; the love of my life. Three decades of white-collar work, and the pain of losing a child, not once, but twice. Escaping from the city to a quiet countryside home, and the smell of morning dew on wild, uncut grass.

Everything.

And now I was remembering everything, all within the span of a single second. Where could I even begin to process all of that?

What made things worse was how I’d always been a slow thinker, thinking about as fast as I could read. And now I had a brain half the size of my old one. That’s what I was working with.

As a result, I was bedridden for an entire week. During that time, my head was so overloaded that I lost nearly all of my main senses.

I knew my mother was constantly by my side, even though I couldn’t see or hear her. She exuded worry that slowly turned to desperation as the days wore on. Occasionally, I could feel the presence of my sister too, though I’m sure she was there more for my mother, and not me.

When I finally regained my senses and opened my eyes again, my mother cried out in joy. When she called my name, her voice broke with more relief than I thought humanly possible.

“C-Caelon! Oh, Caelon... Maius be praised! You’ve... come back to me...”

When Mother finally released me from her hug, she turned to my sister, who’d been watching silently from the corner of the room.

“Aren’t you happy too, Effi? Come, give your brother a hug!”

My sister’s hug lasted less than 1% as long as Mother’s did. And judging by the sour look on her face when she pulled away from me—or pushed me away, really—she was clearly less than pleased.

I couldn’t blame her. Before having 80-some years of old memories crammed into my skull, I’d been something of a brat.

As the fourth child of a middle-aged duke, and also the only son, I was treated tantamount to the duke himself. And that meant I was spoiled absolutely rotten. There were only two limits to what I could have or do. I wasn’t allowed to travel outside the castle walls, and I wasn’t allowed to have sweets whenever I wanted.

And even the latter, I quickly found out, was only because it was logistically impossible.

I was still in bed recovering, and Mother was singing me a nonsensical song about swimming through clouds, when we were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. One of the servants peeked her head in.

“My Lady. The Priestess sent a reply. She says she’s turned back, and she’s glad her services are no longer needed. She also wishes the Young Master well.”

“Ah. Thank you, Rowena. That is relieving to hear. I was afraid she’d be upset, no longer being needed after traveling more than half the way... Though she could still be upset, actually...”

“My Lady, our sugar stores are also running very low. Should we use less in tonight’s batter?”

Mother thought for a moment.

“No, that’s alright. His Grace will be flying home soon. I shall send him a bird and ask him to obtain sugar on his way home. Thank you for asking, Rowena.”

Flying?

My interest, already piqued by the mention of sugar, was piqued further. From searching the memories of my “pre-enlightenment” five-year-old self, my “new” memories, it was clear that this world contained virtually nothing that resembled advanced technology. They used wood-fired stoves. Rooms were lit using candles and what appeared to be gas lamps. And the stones in the floors and walls were roughly cut—clearly not machined in any way.

My new memories also told me that flying was a common mode of travel here. Whenever Father or Mother had to go somewhere far, they would “fly” there.

It couldn’t be planes, given how low-tech everything was. Balloons, maybe? Or perhaps—magic? The fact that my five-year-old self didn’t have an answer was deeply upsetting.

I must’ve subconsciously verbalized my displeasure, because Mother quickly turned to look at me, lines of worry etched into her face.

“Caelon? Is everything alright?”

Would it be weird if I suddenly asked her about it? Probably, I figured—and I made a mental note to learn what exactly “flying” entailed in this world, as soon as I could.

“Yes, Mama.”

That evening, while still in bed, I was treated to a feast of biscuits so sugary I questioned Mother’s sanity. Not only had she allowed it to happen, but she’d requested it herself! There was absolutely no way I’d get any sleep that night.

***

It quickly became apparent that my recovery came at a cost. Less than a day after I was healthy enough to leave bed, it was my Mother’s turn to become bedridden. Though the servants were initially hesitant to tell me why, one of them eventually revealed that I was the cause.

“You see, Young Master... The Duchess tried to feed you soup at first. But your body... it didn’t like anything but water. Your body would react... violently...”

She paused, and began whispering to herself.

“Ack, does he know what violently means? But I can’t think of an alternative... ehhh...”

She cleared her throat.

“You would spit out the soup every time. The Duchess was scared that you would get hungry, so she channeled... er, used her mana to feed you. She, mm... used her mana to make food right inside your belly. And she used too much mana, so now she’s sick. Does that make sense?”

The servant spoke slowly, taking care to use the simplest words she could. From the hesitation in her voice, it was apparent she still didn’t expect me to understand. It seemed Young Master Caelon was originally on track to being a bit of a late bloomer?

Regardless, I wasn’t able to give much thought to my response. My mind, tired from the weight of my old memories, and already filled with worry for Mother, now also had to process the revelation that mana was a thing in this world. Mana, which implied magic.

“I see... Yes. Yes, that makes perfect sense. Thank you, Eletta.”

I needed to find somewhere quiet to gather my thoughts. With a brief bow, I began to turn away. As I did so, I noticed out of the corner of my vision that Eletta had frozen in place. Her golden-brown eyes were stunned, and her mouth was agape with disbelief.

Due to what, exactly, I wasn’t sure. The words I used? The fact I thanked her? The fact I addressed her by name?

“Y-Young Master?”

My eyes grew as wide as hers.

“I... uh...”

Unsure of how to respond, I turned tail and dashed for the stairs.

***

Apparently, the designers of the castle had been extremely keen on using horizontal space as efficiently as possible. The castle’s rooms were quite narrow, even by Japanese standards.

But what it lacked in width, the castle more than made up for in height. Not counting the attic, the main keep was exactly ten stories tall, while the towers that surrounded the keep were all at least a dozen.

This meant it was quite easy for me to find somewhere quiet and tucked away. Such little corners were plentiful on the higher, less busy floors.

“Mana...”

I mused quietly to myself as I arduously made my way up the stone steps. Consistent with the rest of the architecture, the steps were steep, and my small body was forced to climb with all fours.

"Mother... fed me... with mana... huh...?"

I certainly never recalled feeling hungry during my week in bed. And it was almost certainly safe to assume that IV drips were not a thing in this world. But there was still a part of me that didn’t want to—didn’t dare to—believe that magic was real here.

I’d enjoyed my fair share of fantasy in my old life. I remembered, most prominently, poring over The Lord of the Rings on the subway to and from work.

In a way, my new life was far from my first foray into a different world. The words on those pages, and the saga they described, would come to life so vividly that I’d completely forget my place in the real world.

Even when Tokyo's infamous rush hours forced everyone to pack in like sardines, and even when I had to hold my book mere inches from my face for lack of space, it didn’t matter. So long as I was reading, my mind was somewhere else entirely.

The prospect that magic might be real, then, was indescribably exciting. The only thing that could rival it in scale? If it turned out that “mana” was referring to something completely different from what I was hoping (though I couldn’t even begin to imagine what), and it was all just a misunderstanding?

Panting, I reached the top floor of the keep, stopping at the mouth of the hallway to catch my breath.

As I pondered how I’d deal with the possibility that magic wasn’t real (poorly, most likely), I became keenly aware that someone was glaring at me.

My sister, Effi, was camped in the corner of the hallway, and she seemed just as annoyed to see me as I was surprised to see her.

It was a well-chosen corner, as a nearby window allowed sunlight to come in at just the right angle to fully illuminate it. And she had made herself quite comfortable there. Her back was propped up against a large pillow. A large, leather-bound book lay open on her lap, and a stuffed toy rabbit was cradled snugly under her left arm.

She gave me the same look she'd given me after her “hug,” only twice as disapproving as before.

"Go breathe somewhere else! I'm warning you!"

Her definition of a “warning” was apparently way more aggressive than mine. Because before she had even finished talking, her stuffed rabbit was already hurtling towards my face, its long, floppy ears billowing out behind it.

I raised my arms to block it, and with a fwump, it dropped harmlessly to the ground at my feet.

My memories told me that Effi had received the rabbit from Father as a birthday gift, and she treasured it dearly. Or at least, I thought she did...?

She realized what she’d done almost as quickly as I had. She began tearing up, with frankly impressive immediacy.

“W-Wait! Give... give her back!"

I picked up the rabbit, a devilish grin spreading to my lips. Half a dozen different possibilities raced through my head, each more dastardly than the last.

Maybe I could throw the rabbit back on the ground and stomp all over it.

Or maybe I could find an open window and throw the rabbit to its death!

Or maybe I could tear it limb from limb, right before Effi's eyes!

Or maybe I could...!

Wait.

I'm technically, what? 86 years old? What the hell am I doing?

My evil smirk vanished, just like that, and I replaced it with the most emotionless look I could muster.

I walked up to Effi and held out her rabbit.

"Here."

This way-too-sudden change clearly confused her greatly, as her brow furrowed up into a small walnut in the middle of her forehead.

Slowly, she reached out her hands. Then, as if afraid I might suddenly change my mind again, she snatched it from me. After hugging it close and shooting a few suspicious glances my way, she sniffled away the last of her tears and sat back down.

My decision to return the rabbit was apparently quite well-received, as she also shuffled over in a clear invitation for me to sit down next to her.

I happily obliged.

"What are you reading?"

She completely ignored me.

“Can I see?”

I craned my neck over to peer at the open pages, but before I could catch even a glimpse of the contents, she had already slammed it shut.

I jumped back in surprise.

“Hey! What’d you do that for?!”

She stared daggers at me and flapped her hand in front of her mouth. Unsure of what she was doing, I looked to my memories for an answer. She was shushing me, apparently.

After I nodded to show her that I’d understood, she cast a furtive glance down the hallway.

When it appeared she was satisfied that we were completely alone, she leaned in close and whispered into my ear.

“We’re not allowed to read this yet.”

Ah, we have a little rulebreaker here!

“What’s it about?”

She hesitated. From the look of concentration on her face, it seemed two opposing forces were duking it out in her mind. In the end, the “tell him” team won. Her voice seeped with pride as she sat up straight and somberly announced the name of the book.

“It’s ‘The Beginner’s Guide to Magic.’”

My eyes lit up. That more or less confirmed things, didn’t it? Unless the people of this world had an excessive affinity for lame card tricks and pulling rabbits out of hats, I could proceed with reasonable assuredness that some form of magic truly existed here.

Another question suddenly occurred to me.

"Effi, you're three years older than me. Why didn't you try to just take your rabbit back?"

To my surprise, she acted again as if she hadn't heard me at all. She also tensed up, and her breathing quickened, ever so slightly.

"Hey, why—"

She shot up.

"I'm... still mad at you for making Mama sick."

Without any further clarification, she quickly gathered up her things.

“Bye.”

With her pillow under one arm and her rabbit under the other, and without so much as a single glance back at me, she darted away.

I sat in silence for a few moments, not sure what to make of what had just happened. But it wasn’t long before I turned my attention back to a far more pressing matter—the book.

As I picked up the book, I began shaking in anticipation. It looked pretty much exactly as I expected a mysterious magical tome to look. Its gilded leather cover, cracked with age, didn’t have a single word on it. And the gildings themselves? They depicted what appeared to be a dragon, wrapping its body around the bough of a majestic tree.

I took a deep breath. Whatever I was about to read... surely, it would introduce me to a new kind of reality? One of infinite possibilities?

I subconsciously closed my eyes, and with trembling fingers, I gripped the massive cover and slowly swung it open.

When I opened my eyes... My excitement immediately evaporated away.

After flipping through at least a dozen pages of neatly arranged text, and staring at them for a few long seconds each, I sighed in disappointment.

I closed the book.

Caelon had no idea how to read.