novelraw Chapter 15 : Little Wanderer
Chapter 15 : Little Wanderer
Life in the Valemont estate wasn’t all whispers and tears. Sometimes, it was just me toddling around, poking at everything.
One morning, I waddled down the hall, my little hands brushing the walls. I frowned. Wood. Thin wood. A bit of glass. Then I saw the faint shimmer—runes etched into the frame, pulsing faintly with mana.
“…This would fall over in one storm if not for the magic,” I muttered in my head.
It was everywhere. Houses that looked sturdy but weren’t. Bridges thinner than they should be. Even the floorboards creaked in ways that screamed fragile.
Back in my old life, we used concrete, steel, machines. Here? They had magic. Why build a wall three feet thick when you could paint a rune and call it a day?
And then there was the tech.
At first glance, the world was as advanced as Earth. But every device, every tool, hummed with mana.
I’d once seen a noble hall lit with a single crystal bulb. Just one. And it was so bright it lit the whole ballroom like noon in summer. No wonder Mama used candles in my room.
If she put one of those lights near my crib, I’d probably go blind.
Note to self: don’t complain about candlelight again.
As I wandered, I realized I wasn’t alone.
Everywhere I went, footsteps followed. I glanced back, and sure enough—two maids trailed me at a respectful distance, wringing their hands every time I tripped or bumped into something.
By the time I reached the courtyard, there were four.
I sat down on the grass, frowning. Why did they always look so nervous?
Then it hit me.
Mama.
If I so much as scraped my knee, if a single hair on my head was out of place, Selene would probably annihilate whoever was responsible.
To me, they were overreacting.
To them, I was a walking execution notice.
I tried to crawl under a bench to play with a bug. Six hands instantly reached to stop me.
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I picked up a stick. Three maids gasped like I was holding a sword.
I sneezed. One of them screamed.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. My little toddler giggles filled the courtyard, and the maids stared like I’d just cast a miracle spell.
For the first time in a long while, things felt… light.
The courtyard was warm that afternoon, sunlight spilling across the grass.
Elara was off at the academy, Father was still resting, and Mama was napping in her chair.
That left me, a stick, a few rocks… and four maids shadowing me like hawks.
I sighed. Alright, Rooga. You’re three years old. What can you invent with sticks and rocks?
My eyes landed on a wheelbarrow nearby. The thing creaked just sitting there, its single wheel lopsided. The servants hated it, always muttering about how heavy loads still toppled no matter the magic reinforcement.
And that’s when I remembered.
Leverage.
In my old world, I’d seen construction workers solve this exact problem with planks and pivots.
I grabbed the stick and one of the flat rocks. The maids tensed like I was preparing a ritual sacrifice.
“Just watch,” I muttered, toddler voice turning it into “Jus’ wah!”
I wedged the stick under the rock, set another stone beneath it as a pivot, then pressed down. The heavy rock lifted slightly, rolling aside.
The maids gasped. One of them nearly dropped the laundry she was carrying.
“It’s… moving! With just that stick?!”
“Is he… blessed?!”
I grinned, puffing out my tiny chest. “Lever!”
They blinked. “Liver?”
“No! Le-ver!” I repeated, stamping my foot.
They nodded nervously like they understood, whispering to each other.
Within minutes, a small crowd of servants had gathered, pointing at the toddler who’d just reinvented basic mechanics.
One bold maid whispered, “If he can do this at three years old… what kind of monster will he be at ten?”
I rolled my eyes, flopping back on the grass. It’s just physics. Don’t make it weird.
But I couldn’t help the little smile on my face. For the first time since I got here, I felt like I wasn’t just training—I was… building something.
Even if all I’d built today was a playground lesson in leverage.
The maids clapped politely, like I’d performed a royal magic trick.
And for once, it felt nice being the center of attention without smoke, fire, or tears.
The servants didn’t stop talking about my “lever trick” for days.
To me, it was simple. Child’s play. A rock, a stick, and a pivot. Easy. But to them, it was like I’d discovered fire.
At first, I thought… are they dumb?
But no. They weren’t.
This world just worked differently.
When someone needed to lift a stone block, they didn’t wedge planks under it. They just called a mage to chant [Lighten] and floated it into place.
When workers moved timber, they didn’t roll it on logs like in my old world—they simply bound it with a rune and had four men carry it weightless.
Why bother inventing a lever… when everyone already had invisible hands?
That’s when it clicked.
This wasn’t stupidity. It was convenience. Too much convenience.
Generations had lived with magic for every problem. The concept of “mechanical advantage” never became part of their culture.
Even nobles reinforced their homes with spells instead of sturdier designs.
And that’s why, when a three-year-old with soot on his face yelled “LEVER!” and lifted a rock, people gasped like I’d rewritten the laws of the world.
I sighed, flopping onto the grass. If only they knew what kind of machines we built without magic… cranes, bulldozers, skyscrapers.
But then again, maybe it was better this way. If I really started showing off… it wouldn’t be long before someone tried to drag me into politics.
And all I wanted right now was to play with sticks and rocks in peace.