Siris had always known that his job, as Elyandra's private servant, would be unlike any other. Caring for such a peculiar, yet noble, child brought with it challenges she had never imagined. But at the same time, there was something captivating about the little riddle that was Elyandra.
The eight-year-old girl was like a sponge, absorbing the world around her with a curiosity that often left Siris awestruck. He didn't look like other children his age. Elyandra was meticulous, studious, and focused. His interest in magic and knowledge transcended that of any other noble child. If only the girl's family knew how dedicated she was to her studies, they might even be surprised.
"She's so focused... And so smart... A true prodigy - thought Siris, as he watched his young lady. "And with that cute little way, it would be impossible not to enjoy taking care of her."
Despite the serious temperament and ambitions that were already beginning to sprout in that sharp mind, there was something genuine about the girl. Something that made Siris feel more than just a servant. Taking care of Elyandra was a pleasurable task. There was a hidden goodness in the girl, a softness that came out from time to time, breaking the façade of determination and control.
But at that moment, Siris found the girl in a somewhat ... unusual.
Upon entering the room, she saw Elyandra leaning against a corner, with her arms crossed and a look of panic on her face. The girl's expression was that of someone who was trying to avoid something — or someone.
" Elyandra?"
Siris's voice was soft, but there was an amused smile hidden behind her seriousness. She watched the girl with an expression that denoted understanding and, at the same time, fun.
The girl, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed, raised her hands almost defensively. The look of terror remained on his face.
"I... I can do it myself, Siris!
The expression of dread does not dissipate, but the girl tries to make it seem that she is in total control of the situation. Siris can't contain his mischievous smile.
"Oh no... You know you won't escape it, do you?
She approached, her steps soft, as she watched Elyandra with a look that knew exactly how it would end.
Elyandra had her expression of resistance and was clearly stiff, but there was something funny about her posture.
"I don't need help!" I can shower by myself!
Siris moved even closer, his smile now wider. She knew that the girl was very proud, but the situation could not be avoided.
"I see you have your reservations, but, believe me, it's better this way.
Elyandra, her eyes shining with defiance, moved back a little further, trying to maintain a firm posture.
"I can do it myself!"
She repeated, in an almost comical way, as she tried to move further away, but without being able to escape the presence of her servant. Siris couldn't help but laugh softly, delighted with the girl's determination. That child so stubborn and, at the same time, adorable. Certainly, Elyandra still had a lot to learn about the little things in life, but until then, Siris was more than willing to continue her task.
Elyandra looked at Siris as the maid approached. The locked expression of resistance faded briefly amid the discomfort.
"Since Siris arrived, she's been sticking to me like a stray cat after being fed and petted."
It was a comparison that Elyandra, with her strategic mind, had found to describe Siris's attitude. She followed Elyandra throughout the house, as if it was impossible to get out of her sight. Whether to study, eat or even for her most intimate activities, Siris was there, always ready to offer help or simply stay there, watching, like a faithful shadow.
"And no matter the situation, it always comes up."
Sometimes, Elyandra wondered if Siris knew what privacy was or if she even cared about the concept. Even when she tried to hide or flee to some corner of the house, there was Siris, with her silent and constant presence. Not that Elyandra really wanted to hide. She enjoyed the servant's company—or, at least, the idea that Siris was there when she needed her. She didn't like to admit it, but there was something reassuring about the fact that, no matter how lonely, there would always be someone around. Even if that "someone" was as persistent as a hungry animal.
"But she's useful," Elyandra acknowledged internally, "even if I don't need her... every time."
Siris didn't question her actions, no matter what Elyandra asked or how she acted. It was as if she knew, intuitively, when the young lady needed something—even without asking. And that was... convenient, to say the least.
But at the same time, Elyandra couldn't help but gasp mentally. "Still, it would be nice if she understood that I'm capable of doing things on my own, like any normal person..."
As Siris approached to insist once more on the bath, Elyandra couldn't help but think that Siris had become more than just a servant. She was, in a way, becoming... a constant presence in your life. And despite the irritation she felt at times, she didn't know if she was ready to push her away. After all, no one else was there to take care of her like Siris did.
Elyandra kept her posture upright and serious, assuming her position of nobility. She knew that, even with her childish appearance, her title and authority could not be forgotten—or, at least, she made an effort to have it respected, even in situations like that.
"I'm a noblewoman," she thought firmly, " I'm not just any child to be treated as such."
She looked directly at Siris, who was approaching with that mischievous smile she already knew well, and made the best effort to keep her expression implacable.
"Siris, don't worry. Even though I'm a kid, there are things I can and should do on my own.
The phrase was said with the authority of someone who knew exactly what he was saying, even if his youthful and childish tone was not the most appropriate for such a statement. Elyandra felt a growing pride in herself as she spoke these words, as if she had finally made a valid point.
"I can dress myself, take my own shower, choose my books... There are several things I already know how to do without help.
As she spoke, Siris continued to approach, with that mischievous smile on her face, as if the girl wasn't saying anything much. It was clear that she didn't care much about Elyandra's nobility or her attempts to display a control she thought was important to maintain. But Elyandra, in her mind, was succeeding in her arguments.
However, before she could continue her list of things she "could do on her own," Siris picked her up with an ease that made her let out a slight cry of surprise.
" Siris!" No... Don't do it! I can do everything myself!
Panic gripped Elyandra, and the seriousness she was trying to convey instantly dissipated, replaced by a look of pure despair. She knew that with Siris, her words didn't mean much when the servant decided it was time to act.
Siris, with a soft smile, looked her in the eyes and affectionately shook his head.
"Oh, Elyandra, you're so cute... But, honey, girls don't throw tantrums to take a shower. And it's about time you learned that even the noblest people need a little help from time to time.
Elyandra opened her mouth, ready to protest, but her expression of indignation mixed with embarrassment. What could she do when Siris was so strong-willed? She simply gave herself away, though her pride was still on fire.
With a faint defeated sigh, Elyandra turned her head to the side, trying to look less vulnerable. But deep down, she knew that Siris was just looking out for her, as she always did. And that, in a way, bothered her, but also reassured her.
Later, after all the commotion, Elyandra was sitting in the armchair by the fireplace in her room, already dressed in a clean robe and her damp hair carefully combed by Siris, who was now drying her with a fluffy towel and exaggeratedly devoted attention.
"I've never felt so uncomfortable in my life."
The thought crossed his mind with bitter sincerity.
"Thirty-two years of existence. Thirty-two. And not once have I come close to holding a woman's hand romantically... and now I was bathed, soaped, and rinsed like a madam's dog."
Indignation pulsed in his chest. The masculine pride that had once been a solid part of her reincarnated soul was crumbling under the fragrance of lavender and the gentle care of a devoted servant.
"This is outrageous... pathetic... and somehow more comforting than it should be."
She crossed her arms, still trying to maintain the posture of someone dignified and inviolable, but the blush on her face gave away the embarrassment she was trying to contain.
"Frustrating. Absolutely frustrating."
It was at that moment, when the silence of the night filled the room and only the crackling of the fire danced on the stone walls, that Elyandra let out a faint smile. A mischievous, almost imperceptible smile that took over his face like a spark of suppressed malice.
Soon after, she shook her head, trying to shake away that moment of weakness.
"Hmph... She murmured softly to herself.
"No. I am Elyandra Valemortis."
"Heir to the most powerful bloodline of the Divine Light Empire."
"The future Saint... and the true ruler of this world."
His eyes shone for an instant, reflecting the flame of the fireplace as an omen of ambition. No matter how many baths she still had to endure, or how many times that servant would insist on treating her like a fragile little doll— Elyandra knew exactly who she was. And no one, absolutely no one, would take that away from her.
As Elyandra still savored her triumphant return to composure—shrouded in ambitious thoughts and mental declarations of world domination—she suddenly felt the warmth of two soft hands sliding behind her back.
Before she could even react, she was enveloped by a warm embrace, squeezed just right between sincere affection and the complete collapse of her dignity.
"N-no!"
His eyes widened and his body froze as if it had been struck by a paralysis spell. The blush instantly invaded her face, tinging her cheeks with an intensity that would make even a fairytale maiden blush.
"Aaaah...!" She let out a muffled sound, almost inaudible, but filled with quiet despair.
Siris, leaning his face on the little noblewoman's shoulder, sighed contentedly.
"It's so nice to take care of someone so cute...
He murmured with a sweet smile, as if he had just won a rare prize of fate.
"You're like a precious candy that fell into my lap... I promise I'll take care of you forever, Elyandra.
"This is the end... I don't survive another one of those."
Elyandra's body remained static, like that of a surrendered warrior on the battlefield — only in this case, the battle was against a servant who was absolutely dedicated and too affectionate.
"Why is she so clingy?! It's like a stray cat that decided to move into my soul!"
And even with all the silent resistance, little Valemortis was still there, tight in the warm embrace, her heart racing like a drum on a war field.
She wanted to scream. He wanted to escape. He wanted to invoke all his divine magic and cleanse the world of this humiliating situation.
But all she could do was whisper to herself:
"I'm Elyandra Valemortis... the future ruler of this world... That's it... that's just a setback."
The night light filtered through the window in silver beams, gently touching the contours of young Elyandra's room. The curtains swayed lazily in the warm breeze, and the air carried the faint smell of flowers in the outdoor garden.
Siris was by the bedside, carefully adjusting the little noblewoman's pillow with a care that bordered on the ceremonial. She bent down, adjusted the blanket over Elyandra's body and ran her hand gently over the girl's hair.
"Good evening, my lady." May dreams take you in peace..." he said in a sweet, almost whispered tone.
Elyandra, with her arms crossed and a slight beak on her lips, stared at the young servant with a slightly sullen look, as if she were trying to keep her composure until the last moment. But when she felt the soft touch in her hair, she couldn't contain a small sigh.
She pulled the blanket until it covered her nose and mouth, leaving only her eyes exposed, before muttering under her breath:
"Good evening, Siris...
Siris smiled with satisfaction and stepped out of the room with silent steps, turning off the magic light next to the door.
The room plunged into a quiet gloom. And, for exactly three seconds, silence reigned.
Then Elyandra burst into a fit of suppressed frustration, rolling back and forth on the bed like a devilish eel.
"GAAAH!" I'm pathetic! Ridiculous! A complete... HIGH-CLASS FRAUD!
She punched the pillow with her small hands and a completely red face.
"How come I... a thirty-two-year-old man! A master battle strategist! A conqueror of virtual kingdoms! HOW did I get DOMINATED by a... for a... for a marshmallow with silky hair and a smile as beautiful as it is mischievous?!
She rolled on her back, staring at the ceiling as if waiting for her dignity to fall back from above. But, of course... nothing fell.
Sighing loudly, she crawled under the covers like a cornered and embarrassed animal.
"Right... focus. Siris is dangerous. An affectionate danger. But dangerous nonetheless."
Deep down, still warmed by the blankets and the recent affection, Elyandra went back to assuming her mental pose as a manipulative archvillain:
"I need to stay focused. The tutor told me that the exam to enter the Royal Academy of Magic will be in a year... That means I have twelve months to master the basics, prepare my presentation, and ensure my glorious entrance."
"I can't waste time with hugs and embarrassing baths... This world will not bow to cuteness — it will bend to POWER."
But before he could continue his mental list of lofty goals and megalomaniacal plans...
She yawned.
Then he yawned again.
And on the third, she was completely blacked out, sleeping on her side like any other child, with her hair scattered on the pillow and her lips slightly parted, dreaming perhaps of achievements, perhaps of blankets... or maybe with Siris offering you another surprise bath.
...
The morning light spread across the training ground like a golden veil. Dewdrops still glistened on the leaves as a gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers from the property's side garden. A group of birds sang discreetly in the distance, as if even they knew that this was a moment of concentration.
In the center of the smooth, polished stone grounds, Elyandra Valemortis, her hair tied back and wearing her owner's training uniform—a fitted dark gray tunic, simple-cut, and functional—knelt with her eyes closed, her hands resting gently on her thighs.
He breathed calmly.
He took a deep breath.
Expirava devagar.
"Feel... the sister... like an underground river. An invisible but present flow."
The voice of the tutor Dalia Vernhardt echoed not in spoken words, but in instructions previously repeated so many times that they had already fixed themselves in the young woman's thinking.
"Your focus is scattered. Focus on the lower abdomen region. Mana is born from the core, not from the fingertips," said Dalia, with the usual serene tone, but loaded with the authority of someone who did not accept laziness or deviation.
She stood in front of the small pupil, arms crossed. His countenance was firm, violet eyes analyzing every little tremor in the girl's body. Her short hair tied in a loose braid swayed slightly in the wind, her gray military-cut cape molding to her imposing bearing.
Elyandra narrowed her eyes tighter, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Come on, sis from hell... Why are you so slippery?"
I could feel... a tenuous pressure. A tenuous heat, as if something pulsed very lightly inside him, below his navel. A raw energy. Raw. Almost wild. That was it. She knew. It was the sister. But touching it, shaping it... It was like trying to hold smoke with your fingers.
"You're in too much of a hurry," Dalia said, taking a step forward, the sound of boots touching the ground resounding dry. "Mastering mana isn't like controlling a sword. It's more like dialoguing with an ancestral spirit. She responds best to those who listen before she commands.
Elyandra opened her eyes with a small frustrated sigh, discreetly wiping a drop of sweat from her temple. I had been training for almost an hour. The still infant body showed no signs of visible exhaustion, but internally, the mind boiled.
"I'm listening," he murmured, firmly.
"You're trying to hear yelling at her," replied the tutor, crouching down to be at the girl's height. "Your determination is admirable, but remember: mana is nature, and nature does not bow to screams. It flows. You must learn to flow with it.
Dalia's gaze softened, even without losing the weight of discipline.
"Start over." Breathe. Feel the core. Only then think about shaping.
Elyandra nodded silently, returning to the starting position. He closed his eyes again, but now with a slower, deeper breath. There was no hurry. There shouldn't be.
"If I want to enter that Academy, I need to start here. To become the best. To become... the most dangerous."
The wind blew harder in that instant, lifting a dry leaf that landed softly before her.
She smiled slightly.
And then she dove into herself again.
The training ground was silent in reverence.
Elyandra remained motionless, but inside, she waged a war against her own anxiety and against the impalpable fluidity of the mana that escaped through her thoughts. His fists clenched involuntarily, until he relaxed them with effort. He inspired once again.
In the background, leaning against the shade of one of the marble columns of the courtyard, Siris watched in silence.
Her eyes followed her every little gesture, like an attentive sentinel. Despite her always gentle and relaxed posture, there was something about her expression at that moment — a delicate seriousness, as if she understood the importance of that moment. Her fingers rested intertwined in front of her skirt, without her even blinking.
The wind danced among the trees.
That's when Dalia Vernhardt approached.
With firm steps, he positioned himself behind Elyandra. The girl heard the boots echo against the stone floor, but she did not divert her concentration. And then he felt it.
Dalia's palm rested gently between her back. This wasn't just a gesture of guidance—it was a seal of trust, a silent reminder that someone believed in her.
"You're searching with the eyes of reason," Dalia began, her voice like controlled thunder. "But sis is not logical. It's not physical. It is the reflection of your spirit. And the spirit is not tamed... He is recognized.
Elyandra took a deeper breath. The warmth of that hand on her back seemed to guide something inside her.
"The power you seek is here, now. It always has been. You don't have to find it. You need to accept that it is yours.
The wind intensified all around.
The tutor's words did not have a mystical tone, but a strategic one. It was like listening to a general instructing a soldier before the final battle. And it touched Elyandra deeply, awakening something in her chest.
"Control doesn't come from strength, Elyandra," Dalia continued, firmly. "Control is born of respect. Clarity. Discipline. A true Magic Knight does not subdue mana. He walks with her.
And then... Something clicked.
Inside her, Elyandra felt a faint vibration, as if the strings of a long-forgotten instrument began to echo. A subtle warmth. A shiver running through every fiber of your body. The gentle pulse of an inner presence. Warm, alive... yours.
She panted discreetly. His eyes were still closed, but an invisible light seemed to shine behind his eyelids. The world slowed down for a moment. There was no more wind, or sound, or voice. Only she... and that.
"I... I did it."
His eyes opened, and for an instant—even without emitting a single spark—a different glow emanated from his pupils. A look of someone who finally understood something fundamental. A look of victory.
She slowly stood up.
The small hands clenched at his sides, trembling slightly. A wide and true smile was born on her lips. For the first time since her reincarnation, Elyandra Valemortis felt her mana.
"I... I did it! She said, almost in a laughing, surprised and euphoric tone.
The explosion of emotion was so genuine that Siris, who had kept his composure until then, let out an emotional giggle, his eyes watering without her noticing. Dalia, in turn, slightly arched one of the corners of her lips. A rare gesture of silent approval.
"Welcome to the first step of your path, Elyandra," he said firmly.
Elyandra looked back, her eyes shining with pride, gratitude, ambition.