《Humanizing this creature to be a Soyereign》


 Prologue: Where Crocodiles Cry

    It was around March 26th when I attended my mother''s funeral¡ªa young actress on the rise who, unfortunately, met a tragic end by her own hands.


    The old, distant relatives at the funeral just mumbled, their breath reeking of rotting carcasses and cigarettes.They spouted nonsense about how a woman without a husband could never manage to live alone, raising a child.


    Honestly, I never even came close to having a normal mother-daughter relationship with her. After all, after being abandoned during her pregnancy, my mother focused on getting her body back into shape to remain the most beautiful model in the country.


    The price for her lack of time and the scarcity of love I received was having everything money could buy: games, sweets, clothes, toys... anything that could fill the void in my heart.


    I say this without exaggeration, but the woman inside that coffin was someone I couldn''t recognize. Her face and features had changed so much since the last time I had seen her alive. That didn''t look like my mother.


    Dressed in black beside the coffin, lifting the veil that covered my face, it was now my turn to say my final words as they lowered the large wooden box into the grave, seven spans of earth below me.


    -Mom, my best friend and the most beautiful flower in the whole world, I hope you take your golden trophies with you and can rest in peace for all you''ve achieved.- It was a lie. That serene face, covered in makeup, would never rest in peace, and it''s possible that even in heaven, she''d try to compete with God for His brilliance.


    My tears didn''t fall like those of the crocodiles surrounding the place, and I feel bad about that. My bitter smile over the coffin was sincere, but what I felt was anguish. If she had stayed alive and truly reached the top where she wanted to be, appearing in all the movies and TV shows, would she have ever come home happy and celebrated with me? But, like a black hole "the most beautiful one I''ve ever seen" she tried to swallow everything she could: people''s attention, my attention on her, but only on a glowing TV screen, the one I always wanted to be the biggest, so that her brilliance, with pearls around her neck, would never seem like it could one day be replaced by a simple, frayed rope.


    I could see out of the corner of my eye an older man with graying hair and a well-groomed beard slipping behind me, his black suit and polished shoes gleaming. Placing his left hand on my shoulder, this man, as handsome as my mother, spoke with the gentle words of the grandfather I had always loved:


    ¡ª Lucia, we should talk later about the estate and who you''ll live with, shouldn''t we?


    I placed my hand over the old man''s, squeezing it firmly¡ªa sensation I had experienced as a child when I was sick; The feeling of a warm hand on my back, taking care of me.


    ¡ª Grandpa, you don''t need to worry. I''m already 20, and I''ll probably manage just fine with my mother''s inheritance. I don''t intend to disturb your peace or Grandma''s, because I''m sure she wouldn''t like the idea of me moving in with you.


    Yes, my grandmother is exactly like my mother¡ªa cunning woman, sharp as a fox, who grows richer every day. She was the one who told my mother that beauty was more valuable than her own life, that money was more valuable than time, and that fame follows you even in death. Following these ideas, my mother would occasionally appear in our luxurious home, her breasts growing larger each time and her lips swollen as if a wasp had stung them.


    I walked my grandfather to the shiny black car right after the funeral. Sitting in the passenger seat, I took one last look through the window: a somber black funeral with reporters waiting outside, trying to get in, and the vulture-like relatives I had never seen in my life pretending to cry.


    My grandfather had always been a simple man, and even though he was rich and could afford a driver, he never allowed anyone else to drive his car. Even with his hands trembling from Parkinson''s, he would always repeat to me:


    ¡ª My arm won''t fall off from holding the steering wheel.


    ¡ª I understand, Grandpa, but one day you''re going to crash if you''re not careful. You''re not a young man anymore¡ªyou''re already in your 80s. One of these days, I''ll get my driver''s license, and I''ll start driving you around myself. When you need to go somewhere, I''ll already have my hands on your beloved old car.


    ¡ª Don''t even think about it. You might be my favorite granddaughter (and the only one), but you''re never touching my 1967 Impala. I want to be buried in it if possible¡­ Oh, sorry, dear, I think I''ve said too much¡­


    My face certainly soured hearing that, thinking about the not-so-distant future. I didn''t want to let that kind of expression show in front of my beloved grandfather. I know his health isn''t the best, and we just came from his own daughter''s funeral, but I don''t want to imagine losing the only person I have left.


    ¡ª Grandpa, can we stop somewhere before we go home?


    ¡ª Of course, Lucia. Just tell me where you want to go, and I''ll take you.


    ¡ª You know that old museum that''s about to be demolished? Bianca took me there once, when I was little, but I don''t remember where it was.


    ¡ª Bianca, you mean¡­ your mother? I think I know which museum you''re talking about. Your grandma and I used to go there too. You know, your grandma loves works of art, because the most beautiful works of art are worth¡ª


    ¡ª Worth millions. ¡ª I continued.


    I know, it was something my mother always used to say to me too, and it ended up sticking in my mind like drops of wine on white fabric¡­


    [...]


    A few hours after we left the city, a museum could be seen in the distance, falling apart with the passage of time. It was entirely made of wood, with a glass roof, and had no sign or plaque indicating the name of the institution.


    ¡ª It''s almost exactly as I remember it, just missing a few walls ¡ª said my grandfather, getting out of the car and placing his hands on his hips.


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    ¡ª I think this is the place. Grandpa, do you mind if I go in alone? I want to breathe in the air of old things inside.


    ¡ª I think it''s dangerous. What if there''s a homeless person living inside? Or some fugitive?


    ¡ª Hm¡­ If you''re worried about that, I don''t think there''s anything to fear as long as that old guard is still out front ¡ª I said, discreetly pointing to a man who apparently my grandfather knew. His eyes lit up as if he had reunited with an old friend.


    ¡ª Ah, of course! How did I not think of that? That grumpy Thomas still hasn''t left this place. Even though his back isn''t what it used to be, he still hasn''t retired.


    ¡ª Unlike you, you old rich man, I still have my ears and eyes sharp! With just a flick of my fingers, I could shoot a bullet right into your backside! ¡ª The man''s voice echoed from a distance, coming from the guard booth. He really did seem to have a strong, grumpy personality. My grandfather let out a loud laugh, and the two began talking like old friends.


    ¡ª Well, dear, I''ll stay here with Thomas while you look around. If anything happens, just yell for this old man here ¡ª he said, pointing to his friend beside him.


    I entered the museum, while in the distance I could still hear the two men laughing. My grandfather was talking about me to Thomas, who said I looked just like my grandmother when she was younger: beautiful, with a slender face, ashy brown hair, and dark eyes that turned violet in the sunlight, along with a small mole on my iris.


    [...]


    I walked through the museum''s corridors, my steps echoing on the marble floor. Most of the artworks had already been removed before the demolition, to be sent to another museum or sold. But among the statues, vases, and paintings, I was looking for only one thing: "The Beautiful Woman."


    In the museum''s old guestbook, which served as a guide for tourists, it was written that "The Beautiful Woman" was painted by one of Leonardo da Vinci''s pupils. The story went that he was divinely inspired upon seeing the most beautiful woman of his life crying crystalline tears by a lake. To avoid startling her, he hid behind some bushes and made countless sketches. To keep the memory of that vision alive, he began painting the portrait with urgency. However, by the time the work was finished and varnished, the woman had disappeared before she could even see it.


    Of course, this story could just be a legend. When I was between eight and ten years old, I did extensive research on the painting and even spoke to art professors, but no one could confirm the authenticity of the work or identify its true owner.


    [...]


    I walked for almost half an hour, trying to remember where I had seen the painting as a child. My mother had taken me through the entire museum that day, and despite the exhaustion, I was happy to be able to hold her hand.


    It was nighttime, and the white lights attached to the glass ceiling illuminated the space. I remember my mother holding my wrist and guiding me to the last artwork in the museum.


    ¡ª Do you see, Lucia? This painting depicts a beautiful woman. Her long hair, her garments, and her face¡­ that''s what made her admired. But what good is something beautiful if there''s no one to appreciate it?


    As a child, I didn''t understand what my mother meant. To me, the woman with the sad expression in the painting didn''t seem beautiful. But now, years later, staring at the painting again, I think Bianca was trying to tell me that the beauty of that work secured its place here. However, I think that if it weren''t for the genuine love in the artist''s eyes as he painted it, perhaps it wouldn''t be so beautiful.


    Up close, the painting seemed smaller than I remembered. Maybe I''ve grown a lot since then. I leaned in to observe the delicate details: the floral lace on the woman''s dress, her ashy brown hair, her violet eyes...


    Being so close to it, I feel, in a way, closer to my mother. But even so, the time I lost judging her can''t be recovered just because I now try to understand her.


    The cold air inside the museum doesn''t bother me. On the contrary, I feel warm, because there''s a warmth inside me.


    My years of studying alone were fun. Money, instead of making me a spoiled young woman, gave me the opportunity to learn everything I wanted: art, math, physics, electronics, crochet, and various other crafts. I even thought that if a tiger appeared now, I''d have enough skills to escape.


    ¡ª Haha... ¡ª I let out a weak laugh. The thought was so absurd that I almost took it seriously.


    I have all the time in the world to come back here. But even with Thomas guarding the museum outside, maybe my grandfather was right: instead of a tiger, someone dangerous could really be around.


    As I walked away from the painting, I heard a metallic clinking sound on the floor. Maybe one of the broken windows let the wind in and knocked over a sculpture; or perhaps someone had dropped a set of keys. But after the noise, I didn''t hear footsteps or feel any wind.


    A shiver ran down my spine when the metallic sound¡ªor was it the sound of crystals falling?¡ªreturned behind me.


    I need to move slowly toward the exit. Maybe if I ignore the sound, it won''t hurt or disturb me.


    I took a step. The marble floor echoed loudly.


    ¡ª Damn heels! ¡ª I muttered under my breath.


    I should run, but the strange feeling and now the sounds of crying and crystals falling made me hesitate. Maybe¡­


    ¡ª The painting...


    An insane idea crossed my mind. What if there really were magnificent things like magic or ghosts?


    I turned quickly, but in a way that if something went wrong, I could easily run.


    ¡ª Bingo! ¡ª The distorted face of the woman in the painting smiled at me. Before I could react, her hand was already gripping my arm, pulling me into the painting.


    It happened so fast that I couldn''t see anything during the transition, but with my eyes closed in fear, I felt like I was falling from a great height. In my head, mixed emotions raced through me: surprise that supernatural things existed, fear of leaving this world for the next, anger and guilt for being too curious, and longing for my grandfather.


    I''ve watched many anime and read several manga about similar situations, so I can calmly think of a few possibilities for what''s to come.


    The first possibility can be ruled out¡ªI won''t die from the fall (Come on, Lucia, I''ve been falling for over 40 minutes). Ruled out for obvious reasons, since I practically experienced a supernatural event of being pulled into a painting or whatever it was. There''s no way or reason I''d die right after¡ªthat''s against the plot of a story like this.


    The second possibility is that this is some kind of isekai, reincarnation, or passage to the afterlife. The chances of me having died without realizing it are pretty high, considering my life as a rich girl wasn''t exactly healthy (I didn''t get sunlight, drank little water, and only had soda).


    The third possibility is more logical and common to think about: what if I''m just asleep? I fell asleep or passed out, and I''ll only know when I wake up. But before anything, I should open my eyes and maybe see what''s in store for me.


    Gradually, I lost my fear, and more than fear, I was cold. Soon, I forgot everything I had thought, because the sky I saw while falling was vast and beautiful, its clouds and blue color dissipating over the horizon. Unfortunately, I was falling headfirst, and it wasn''t very comfortable not knowing how far this would go. I''d only find out when I hit the ground¡­ and when I least expected it, I fell into a deep lake.


    ¡ª Glub, glub ¡ª That was the sound of me drowning, since I didn''t know how to swim and was about to lose consciousness.


    A sudden voice echoed in my mind as I gave up struggling in the dark, dense waters of the lake. Strangely, the voice didn''t sound deep or high, male or female¡ªit was just instructions for something I didn''t understand:


    ¡ª The Lord has brought you here to care for this creature. The world is no longer the same as the one you were born into, and because of this being''s prayers, you are his blessing. The book in your pocket will never leave you, and you must follow the instructions it gives if you wish to guide your future toward a brighter path, alongside the creature. ¡ª Suddenly, like birds ceasing their songs, all sound went silent. I felt my body being pulled and dragged, and the strangest thing was that even though I tried to open my eyes, the only thing I could see was a small hand holding a book in its palm. I could vividly feel the texture of its cover with my fingers¡­


    Strangely, my body felt light all of a sudden. I believe someone pulled me out of the lake, so I should thank them properly when I wake up. But is it infamous of me to say I''d be scared if the person who pulled me out was the owner of those glowing red eyes watching me from behind the trees?

 Chapter 1: Devoid of Beauty

    The previous situation happened so quickly that I could swear I was reading a "rushed" book. Now, regaining my strength, I can move properly, seeing that I¡¯m still by the edge of the lake as if I were a discarded body. My vision adjusted to the darkness forming from the shadows of the trees surrounding this place.


    It was almost nightfall, and I didn¡¯t have the courage to move from the "dead" position since that little creature with red eyes pulled me out of the water, not knowing what it might do if it noticed I was awake.


    ¡ª Pipipi? ¡ª The humanoid creature approached me curiously, as if it had never seen a human being before. Should I risk getting up? I think if it wanted to devour me, it would have done so already.


    Slowly, I begin to crawl toward the trunk of one of the countless trees to lean against it, and the little creature, with its antennas, noticing my movement, didn¡¯t seem afraid to get more comfortable near me.


    Crawling closer in exactly the same way I had, I could now see up close what looked a lot like a little boy¡ªif it weren¡¯t for his pastel green hair, antennas, the color of his eyes, and his strange straw-like tongue. It was like a perfect mix of human and butterfly, maybe.


    ¡ª Pipipipi ¡ª It didn¡¯t seem able to speak properly, which made me doubt how human it could be, but at least it wasn¡¯t a carnivorous animal. Covered in rags that looked like old curtains, it reeked of rot. Its soft, white hands tried to reach my head in a failed attempt to give me a head scratch. Sitting in front of me, it seemed intently focused on every move I made, making me feel like some kind of exotic animal. I shouldn¡¯t have been able to look it straight in the eye, given how small it was, unless I had also shrunk in size.


    I stood up and walked closer to the lake, intending to check my reflection in the water. But instead of seeing an adult, I saw a little girl with long hair and a white dress¡­ The strangest part was that she seemed to be mimicking my movements. When I ran my hands over my face, I realized I had truly become a child again!


    The little weird creature beside me seemed interested in the book from before, shaking it and making a mess.


    ¡ª Wait! Don¡¯t do that, kid. This book might be the solution to my problems, or at least it should be¡­ ¡ª I quickly grabbed the book from its hands, the book that had come with me as I fell into this world.


    As the voice had said, I no longer seemed to be in the same world I belonged to. Even here, the stars in the sky were in different positions than the ones I knew.


    There was no smell of a nearby city and the only sounds I could hear were crickets and the boy¡¯s chirping. I never imagined myself in a situation like this, but in a way I feel prepared for whatever comes my way. Still, the best option right now is to see if I can find anything about this in the book.


    With the leather-bound book in my hands, I felt anxious to open it¡­ The first page had its title: The First Steps.


    What is this? A book on how to take care of a baby?


    "Prologue: Dear traveler, if you¡¯re looking for the solution to your problems in this book, know that you¡¯re a bit mistaken. Your duty in this world has not yet been fulfilled, and the first step is to understand why you were called here. The reason is simple: as you¡¯ve noticed, you¡¯ve also reverted to being a child, 8 years old, and this will allow you to accompany the growth of this creature alongside you. Your first task is to make him human again. Good luck!


    P.S.: You will gradually grow every time the boy grows as well.


    Signed: Daddy"


    But does this damn thing only have one page? I really hope this is just a very vivid dream.


    The creature mentioned in the book must be this pile of rags in front of me, with his innocent face, tilting his head like a puppy. I imagine he¡¯s lived in a way completely different from a human¡­ If only I could get rid of his rotten smell, I¡¯d already be a little closer to the goal of humanizing him. I need to get out of this forest and find shelter to protect us.


    ¡ª Hey, little thing, do you have a home?


    ¡ª Pi?


    ¡ª A home, you know, where people usually live, stay, whatever. How does a creature like you even live? ¡ª I realized it was pointless to ask about something he didn¡¯t seem to understand. But when I made a triangular roof gesture with my hands, he seemed to think of something upon noticing the shape. Grabbing my hand, he excitedly dragged me through the dark forest, and my bare feet stepped on untouched, soft grass.


    ¡ª Calm down! ¡ª The boy let go of my hand, startled, and then pointed to the final destination of that frantic run. His long, black nails had scratched me a little, but with a pitiful look, he didn¡¯t dare touch me again.


    In that greenish landscape, at the top of a peak that met the sea, there was a large stone mansion, just as worn down as the museum, full of cracks and collapsed sections, slowly succumbing to time and constant decay.


    ¡ª This looks almost decent¡­ decent for a horror movie! ¡ª Just seeing the building gave me chills, but at least now we had a place to spend the night.


    The way the boy led me here suggested he wasn¡¯t entirely clueless; he must have been living here for a while. Before it got completely dark, I figured we should start climbing this peak straight to the mansion.


    ¡­


    Even after 20 minutes of walking, the boy, still extremely excited, walked beside me, seemingly checking on me constantly, but I really couldn¡¯t take it anymore.


    ¡ª We¡¯re almost there¡­ It would be so nice if someone could welcome this cute girl with a cozy afternoon tea¡­


    I hadn¡¯t really thought about that possibility¡ªthat there might be more people around, humans or creatures. What would they do if they saw me or this little one by my side and acted hostile?


    We were now in front of the mansion¡¯s gate, which was just the entrance alongside a dead garden behind the collapsed wall. The gate wasn¡¯t closed, so we entered easily, and the boy, now ahead of me, led the way as if showing me around his home. Running straight to the entrance of the building, he waved from a distance as if urging me to hurry up. In a way looking at him from afar, he even seemed a little cute¡­ but he still needed a bath.


    Entering the mansion, with its white marble floors and walls covered in peeling wallpaper, this place had three floors and numerous rooms, reminding me a bit of Victorian architecture. The wooden pillars and objects were carved with beautiful floral patterns. From the outside, it was clear the mansion was divided into two areas and a stone tower, so I had a feeling I¡¯d have to explore a lot inside.


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    My stomach suddenly growled¡ªI was hungry! Rubbing my belly with my hand, I awkwardly looked at the pale boy:


    ¡ª Do you know if there¡¯s anything to eat here? Bread, fruits, or even potatoes? ¡ª My eyes sparkled with the faint hope of actually finding something to eat in a place as abandoned as this, because at first glance, all I saw were butterflies and moths nesting in every corner of this hall.


    Since his expression wasn¡¯t well-defined due to his dark sclera, the way he stopped and stared at me so seriously made me think he might have misunderstood or didn¡¯t get the question, but soon after, he smiled and, unnaturally, half-closed his eyes. In an instant, he hopped toward a large door behind the staircase leading to the second floor and tried to open it with all his strength. In the end, I had to help, and the door didn¡¯t seem that heavy after all.


    Behind it was a large kitchen, but it was overrun by rats. The smell of rotten food and the rats made me nauseous, and I didn¡¯t have the courage to enter without covering my nose with a piece of the white dress I was wearing.


    ¡ª I don¡¯t know about you, but I don¡¯t like living in a dirty, messy place. ¡ª I looked at him and received a confirming glance in return.


    I opened all the windows I could, grabbed a ragged cloth, and wiped down the kitchen counter to remove the dust. As for the rotten stuff, I discovered the boy knew how to separate the food that was still good from what we could throw away, so I left that task to him while I finished cleaning and chasing out the rats (Honestly, I¡¯m disgusted by rats, but considering only I could get rid of them, I had no choice).


    The boy had finished separating and putting the spoiled food into a wooden crate. I placed it outside with the idea of reusing it for composting or extracting seeds. That little creature assumed a hostile attitude toward the mice, and with a growl, he finished scaring off the rest of them.


    Well, the kitchen wasn¡¯t completely clean. There was no potable water coming from the tap, so I¡¯d probably have to go looking for water somewhere¡­ But for now, filtering and heating it on the brick stove in the kitchen would do for a bath. I couldn¡¯t stand the boy¡¯s smell anymore.


    ¡ª Boy, do you know where the bigger pots are? Let¡¯s heat up a large amount of water. ¡ª The attentive boy went to a small room in the kitchen that was probably for utensils and brought back a cauldron, almost dragging it on the floor because it was so heavy. Placing the cauldron on the ground because he couldn''t handle its weight, he tripped and fell headfirst into it. This wasn¡¯t what I was expecting, and I burst out laughing while pulling him out by his legs. As he emerged, he seemed to laugh at the situation too (He didn¡¯t seem upset).


    ¡ª Hahahaha! I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re so clumsy. Next time, let me handle the heavy stuff. ¡ª I gave him a gentle pat on the head and noticed that even though his hair was dirty, it had a soft, silky texture, and the antennas on his forehead swayed like a cat¡¯s tail.


    Unfortunately, even though I said I¡¯d handle the cauldron, I couldn¡¯t even lift it onto the stove. I had forgotten I¡¯d shrunk back to being 8 years old.


    ¡ª This is bad¡­ A cold bath isn¡¯t going to be fun¡­


    ¡ª Pipipi! ¡ª What was he trying to say? Leading me out of the kitchen, up to the second floor, and into one of the huge rooms, I caught a glimpse of what seemed like a suite or a fancy bathroom inside the bedroom. There was a porcelain bathtub in perfect condition, and the boy turned on the tap, releasing clean, hot water.


    ¡ª Huh? It doesn¡¯t make sense for the bathroom water to be cleaner than the kitchen tap water, and on top of that, it¡¯s hot! ¡ª I said, leaning against the tub and dipping my hand in to check the temperature. This opened up possible uses. The former owner of this mansion must have planned two water systems: one for common uses like cooking, cleaning, and drinking, and another for bathing. Is it thermal water, or is there a furnace still functioning somewhere? I¡¯ll probably have to check later if I can fix the kitchen pipes¡­ I realized I got too immersed in thinking about this, and the tub was already overflowing!


    ¡ª Turn off the tap! We¡¯re wasting water! ¡ª And in the same second, he closed it. He seemed to be reacting very well to everything I said, as if someone had already taught him what each thing was, and he was even smarter for his age than I had imagined.


    ¡ª Boy, do you know how to bathe by yourself? ¡ª I looked at him, who had been sitting on a wooden bucket on the floor for a while, and in return, I got a disapproving look.


    ¡ª Take off these rags. I¡¯ll see if I can find something else for you to wear. Get in the tub and scrub yourself with this sponge. ¡ª I handed him a vegetable sponge I found in the same wooden bucket, along with a bar of soap that I broke in half, giving him one piece to lather up. I¡¯ve taken care of my little cousins before when I stayed at my aunt¡¯s house for a few months, back when my mom was sick, so I¡¯m not embarrassed by this kind of situation. But since it was just the two of us, I wished this boy could be a little more independent.


    He got into the tub, and the water overflowed a bit more. After a few seconds in the water, his pale skin started turning red.


    ¡ª Is the water temperature hurting you? If you want, you can get out and wait for it to cool down. ¡ª He refused to do so in front of me, and soon his skin returned to its pale color. It didn¡¯t take long before he wanted to finish the bath, and in the end, he was still dirty in all the hard-to-reach places.


    ¡ª At least take the bath properly! You need to scrub with the soap and sponge under your arms, your back, and even the soles of your feet! ¡ª I said in a stern tone. I grabbed the piece of soap and ended up washing his strange green hair, careful not to touch his antennas. Finally, he was clean! The smell was just ordinary soap, but it was better than rotting flesh, and his skin even seemed to glow after being scrubbed well, his silky hair greener than ever.


    ¡ª I thought there would be marks, but aside from his pale skin and thin body, he looks perfectly healthy!


    I wrapped him in a white towel hanging over the bathroom screen and dried his long hair with a cloth I found in the room. I then looked for something that could serve as clothes for both of us and ended up finding a pair of various-sized pajamas in a wardrobe.


    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be a problem if I use these clothes, right? No residents have shown up so far.¡±


    Apparently, his skin is sensitive, so I specifically chose pajamas made of the softest fabric. In period stories I¡¯ve read, clothes made of silk like these were usually for nobles, so I suppose the person who owned them must have been very wealthy.


    I was proud of the work I had done, and luckily, neither of us had caught a cold from getting wet in the lake. That would have been dangerous since we had no medicine or means to take care of ourselves (the afternoon sun ended up being the hottest, drying us off before we even reached the mansion).


    Now it was dark, and I had spent all the time during dusk taking care of the boy. The only thing left for us was to sleep, but with everything being dark, I needed to find a light source at least to help us find the bed in this huge, fancy, old room. The moonlight coming through the glass windows illuminated the path to a small table with a lantern, its wick still intact.


    ¡ª It seems no one ever used this.


    With the matches I found in the kitchen, I lit it and guided us to the resting place, but apparently, the creature could see in the dark because even before I lit the lantern, he had already lain down to sleep. I was a bit incredulous that he could do so many things and hadn¡¯t even told me, but it¡¯s not like he could speak.


    ¡ª You¡¯re really a brat. Why didn¡¯t you help me too? ¡ª I was really angry, but there was nothing I could do. I just lay down next to him and was grateful that tonight wasn¡¯t too cold. We didn¡¯t have a decent blanket to use. Then I heard a growl coming from my stomach and remembered just as I had already collapsed on the bed from exhaustion:


    ¡°I forgot to eat¡­¡±


    Lying down, looking at the ceiling, I thought I wouldn¡¯t need to worry since I¡¯d soon wake up from this strange dream. The boy still didn¡¯t seem to have fallen asleep and ended up snuggling up to me like a puppy. Was he cold? So I hugged him and patted his back to lull him to sleep.


    It¡¯s strange how he acts. At the same time, he doesn¡¯t seem familiar with human things, yet he tries to behave like one, smiling or even helping. The way he accepted me so easily without any distrust was like an abandoned child trying his best to be useful so he wouldn¡¯t be left alone.


    I wish I could have enjoyed this dream more. I¡¯ll wake up very sad tomorrow, but it¡¯ll be a good story to tell my grandfather¡ªabout a little boy with green hair and red eyes, with his little antennas, who can only communicate with ¡°pipipi¡± sounds, and how he stank before I gave him a bath.

 Chapter 2: Insistence.

    I heard my grandfather¡¯s voice whispering near my face, accompanied by the sound of creaking wooden floors. I felt the warmth of the sun on my skin, streaming through the window along with a gentle breeze.


    ¡ª Lucia, wake up, my dear. You¡¯ve been sleeping for too long. ¡ª His rough hand brushed over my forehead as he stroked my hair.


    ¡ª Just a little longer, I¡¯m waking up! ¡ª Still drowsy, I rubbed my hands over my eyes, trying to clear them. Half-open, I saw a blur in a vast darkness, different from my old, well-lit room.


    ¡ª Come on, my sweet Cicia, your mother is here for you! ¡ª A hand that was once gentle turned cold and cadaverous, touching my cheek.


    Bianca stood before me, her recently buried body now rotten and awkward in a white lace dress. Her face remained beautiful, even in death, like dried funeral flowers. As if in a dream, I woke up standing in a vast darkness where I couldn¡¯t even see my own hands. In the midst of it, I ran desperately, searching for help or someone who could save me.


    I wasn¡¯t afraid of my mother but of the thing pretending to be her, because she was already dead.


    ¡ª Cicia, stop having futile thoughts and focus on the mission given. The boy is the key to what you desire. If he follows his destiny. ¡ª It sounded like trumpets and crystals, a familiar and androgynous voice, the same one that guided me at the beginning, echoing from all corners as I ran, making me feel pursued.


    A sharp headache followed by a flood of thoughts overwhelmed my mind. I couldn¡¯t come to terms with this situation, being at the mercy of someone I don¡¯t know. But even as I thought this, something seemed to have stirred in my heart, making me accept this fact willingly.


    ¡ª Cicia, when you wake up, look at the book again¡­ ¡ª The voice grew more distant, as if it had been left behind. The voice said things that made no sense. I had found it irrelevant the first time, but now, when I needed to understand the current situation the most, fewer answers appeared.


    I stopped running recklessly and foolishly. My eyes darted around, trying to find an exit or even the owner of that voice, but immediately my vision cleared with a point of light coming from the ¡°sky,¡± gradually increasing, a white star.


    [...]


    Drenched in sweat and with traces of tears in my eyes, I cried after having that terrible nightmare.


    Now awake, the boy beside me, with his eyes open, seemed worried¡ªeven though everything about his face made it difficult to express such human emotions.


    Sitting on the pillow, he placed his hand on my forehead as if examining me. His drooping antennas and downturned mouth showed a melancholic expression.


    I pushed him away with a slap and a look of horror.


    I quickly got out of bed, feeling an overwhelming urge to wash my face. The tingling sensation on my skin from his touch, which made me feel disgust and dread, eased as I regained awareness of my actions.


    An awkward silence hung in the air as I stood with my back to the boy, who still hadn¡¯t moved from his spot. I covered my face with my arm (as if wiping away my sweat), and instead of fear, anguish and shame were etched on my face.


    ¡ª Did you sleep well? ¡ª I stammered as I slowly turned to him. ¡ª I hope I didn¡¯t scare you. ¡ª And for a fraction of a second, when my eyes were drawn to his face, expecting some kind of reaction, I felt a shiver down my spine as I saw what appeared to be an utterly furious expression. But as my mind processed the situation, the boy once again returned to being a sweet child, his face now calm and smiling.


    I could in no way take out my anger on such a small and fragile boy. Just as I was thrown here without warning, he had to accept that a stranger would take care of him and change everything about him. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if one day he wanted to take revenge on me.


    Even if I don¡¯t accept this as my reality, this is his reality, and I¡¯m only here trying to humanize him for the sake of my desires and those of this ¡°superior being¡± who gave me the book. I feel horrible.


    [...]


    I calmly approached the boy, who had gotten off the bed, and hugged him. My face pressed against his cheek and my hands gently patting his back might not have been for him, but rather to calm myself down. The shiver on my skin remained, but nothing was as strong as the longing I felt for my grandfather.


    ¡°I need to be strong¡± was the only thought running through my mind at that moment.


    All I could do was continue with the plot of this theatrical play, be one of destiny¡¯s puppets, while figuring out how to return to my beloved home.


    I whispered an apology in his ear, squeezing my eyes shut until the tears stopped flowing. I¡¯m an adult (even if I¡¯m small), so I should act according to my age.


    Letting go of the tight hug, I ran straight to the small center table in the room, where the leather-bound book lay on top. I noticed it seemed different from before¡ªheavier and more robust, with more pages inside. Opening the book, its pages smelled of lavender, and the scent grew stronger with each flip. As I turned the pages, the title ¡°First Chapter¡± stood out.


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t here before!¡±


    With the book in my hands, I sat on the table, which wobbled due to its shaky legs. The boy didn¡¯t seem interested in the book¡¯s contents and looked for something else to do, taking light steps with his bare feet on the floor and his flowing pajamas. He silently left through the large wooden door of the room (even though doors usually make noise), but still, he kept a penetrating gaze on my back, as if wanting to confirm something before leaving me alone.


    The book, now open to the first page, had lines that I followed with my eyes:


    ¡°First Chapter: Taking Good Care of Someone!


    As mentioned in the prologue, your mission is to care for and ensure the creature is recognized as a human being. Your first step in this new world is to give him a name and feed him. After a good night¡¯s sleep, you should be able to teach him things humans usually learn, such as: writing, reading, morals, ethics, history, math, and arts. Remember that children often use the people around them as references, so be a great role model! For each completed activity, I will grant wishes based on the level of difficulty proposed in the task. It can be anything you desire, with only one rule: I will grant what I choose during the day, your most sincere wish.


    When he ¡®grows mentally,¡¯ new missions will be given.


    Signed: Daddy¡±


    ¡°It seemed similar to an RPG game. No wonder I used to play a lot from ages 13 to 16.¡±


    ¡°Whatever it is, this ¡®Daddy¡¯ created a peculiar reward system¡­ So maybe if I complete the mission, I can wish to go back home?¡±


    I scratched my chin with my thumb, deep in thought about what I had read.


    In the rest of the book¡¯s content, aside from the blank pages of the upcoming chapters, there were illustrations of leaves and flowers. At the end, the number of pages remained uncertain since they weren¡¯t numbered, and to find out, I¡¯d have to count them one by one.


    [...]


    The sun seemed to rise just a few minutes after I woke up. It was morning, but without a defined time, due to the lack of a working clock in this house.


    Hearing footsteps outside that distracted me from reading the book, the boy entered through the bedroom door, now covered in dirt, his once-white pajamas now brown with mud.


    ¡ª What were you doing out there? ¡ª I asked.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    I got up from the table and walked toward him, leaving the book behind. I patted his clothes, trying to remove the dirt, though it would only really come clean after being washed with water and soap. The boy shook himself like a dog, scattering dirt everywhere and covering the floor with dust. Then he stretched out his pajama top, looked at it with displeasure, and turned back to me with the expression of someone who had ruined something.


    ¡ª Didi ¡ª the boy said, furrowing his brow and squinting his eyes.


    ¡ª You meant ¡®dirty¡¯ , right? Congratulations! ¡ª Standing in front of him, I ended up getting hit by the dirt when he shook himself, but optimistic about the boy¡¯s achievement, I gave him a head scratch.


    Taking his muddy hands, with a bit of disgust, I dragged him effortlessly to the bathroom. I smiled to avoid showing an angry face after what I did in the morning or acting immature over something as simple as dirty clothes, it¡¯s normal for kids to do that.


    ¡ª Now that you¡¯re dirty, you¡¯re going to take another bath. ¡ª The boy stood still until I left the bathroom so he could undress. ¡ª I don¡¯t know how you managed to get so dirty. Were you playing in the mud or digging holes?


    [...]


    Searching for more clothes that both the boy and I could wear, I climbed the old staircase to the third floor of the mansion, which I hadn¡¯t yet explored.


    The walls were worn, and a stench of rotting flesh came from somewhere. I checked each room in the long hallway, one by one, and many weren¡¯t as luxurious as the one we were currently using.


    This was likely where the servants who worked in this mansion rested, having only the basics: a bed, a wardrobe, a desk, and a chest. Aside from these rooms, there were also ones similar to the one the boy and I had slept in the night before.


    In the pink-walled room, there was a full closet with dresses adorned with frills., as well as simpler ones, but all of them were too big for me, as if only an adult woman had lived there.


    In the yellow room, with its wallpaper of childish drawings, there was a closet with men¡¯s clothes for a small child. Luckily, they all seemed to fit the boy perfectly.


    And in the last room, with white walls, there were men¡¯s clothes for an adult.


    All these rooms were set up the same way: a huge bed in the corner, a small table in the center with torn sofas, a rug, a large bathroom, and various pieces of furniture with carved details, along with golden doorknobs.


    I first entered the pink-walled room, carefully opening its door with the worn doorknob. My footsteps echoed with each step, but what stood out most was the stench coming from the place. Before searching for clothes, I went looking for the source of the dead animal¡¯s smell, intending to throw it out of the mansion and get rid of the odor.


    I walked around the room in my slippers, checking every drawer and behind the furniture, saving under the bed for last. The stench was so strong I could barely breathe, so I sought refuge near the broken windows, where fresh air came in. After taking a deep breath, I filled my lungs and pursed my lips to keep the clean air inside.


    I walked over the rug, which muffled the sound of my steps, and as I approached the bed, I began to see a pair of rotting human feet. I didn¡¯t have time to think, I vomited on the floor at the sight of the grayish skin covered in maggots devouring its insides.


    Standing at the foot of the bed, I gathered enough courage to approach and see the body fully. The rot emanating from it was overwhelming, trapped in such a closed space.


    It was a woman in a simple dress adorned with frills up to her neck, jewelry decorating her body, and countless butterflies beneath her corpse. In the other rooms I was about to visit, I found two more bodies¡ªall three women wearing dresses and jewelry, but with one key difference: the level of decomposition varied, as if they had died at different times or even in different years, since the last one was practically skeletal. The manner of their deaths was indecipherable, no cuts or dismemberment.


    No wonder the boy smelled so bad from the first time we met. The stench of rotting flesh from the third floor had already soaked into the rags he wore as clothes. Unless he had seen the bodies himself and used the curtains from these rooms to dress, there was no other way he could have smelled so bad. The odor didn¡¯t seem to reach the lower floors or the first floor, and in the hallway, it wasn¡¯t as strong as inside the rooms themselves.


    Avoiding further trouble, I tore the most fragrant fabric I had, my own clothing, and tied it around my face as a mask. Standing in front of the door again, gathering courage to enter the room with clothes, I went in and out quickly, taking only what was necessary. Fortunately, some of the clothes didn¡¯t have any odor and could be worn normally.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to touch the bodies, but I must find a way to bury them, both out of respect and for hygiene!¡±


    [...]


    Back in the room, the boy was waiting for me, sitting on the bed wrapped in a white towel. With droplets of water from his long hair dripping onto the floor and the sheets, he seemed to have trouble drying his locks.


    I brought a change of clothes for both of us. I taught him how to dress himself, buttoning up his white shirt and adjusting the collar. Finishing with dark brown shorts, now dressed decently, he was starting to look more human than before.


    Standing in front of him, who had sat back down on the bed after getting tired of dressing, I pulled from my pocket the sharp scissors I had taken from one of the servants¡¯ rooms. The shock on his face was obvious¡ªhis eyes showed distress, and his trembling revealed fear.


    ¡ª Calm down, I just want to cut your hair. It¡¯s not hygienic to keep it long if you can¡¯t wash or dry it properly. ¡ª I made snipping motions with the scissors and took his hand, making him touch the scissors. ¡ª Your nails also seem too long. But look, it doesn¡¯t hurt! ¡ª I then pulled a strand of my own hair and cut it in front of him, using his hand to hold the scissors. I smiled at him, as if to say I felt no pain from the cut.


    He seemed to like the tool after the demonstration, and his anxious look had disappeared.


    I dragged a wooden chair from the corner of the room in front of a stained mirror inside the closet. I guided the boy to sit there and covered his shoulders with a white sheet to keep his clothes clean.


    Little by little, I cut his locks, taking a few minutes to reach a decent length. I was careful not to make any mistakes.


    ¡ª Could you pull your antennas forward? I¡¯m afraid of cutting them off. ¡ª His antennas, now twitching like a cat¡¯s tail, seemed unsure. The boy grabbed them with one hand and held them in place.


    He seemed more relaxed as he listened to the sound of the scissors snipping his hair, watching it grow shorter. His legs swung back and forth alternately, while his other hand reached for the hem of my dress. His elf-like pointed ears were revealed beneath all those strands, and reddish shadows under his eyes appeared as I trimmed his bangs.


    Once the haircut was done, I didn¡¯t let him get up just yet. I took each of his fingers to trim his nails. I was nervous about this, afraid of cutting his skin, but nothing went wrong, and all his nails were neatly trimmed.


    The boy seemed less scared than I was about it, as he immediately got up from the chair and went to play in front of the mirror, admiring his new look. He jumped around happily, made faces, and shook his hair wildly, discovering physics.


    When I saw him happy, my heart ached. Maybe it was guilt? His happiness was just an unplanned consequence.


    [...]


    Black phrases in the book in my hands turned red. These were the completed tasks, and a reward would be given for their completion. Placing the book back on the table, I noticed the daylight and my stomach growling from hunger, but the boy¡¯s never seemed to show any signs of it. His skinny body was healthy but had no fat. And for me, it was already the second day without eating.


    During this morning period, I had been going in and out of the room, exploring other areas and gathering items I thought were important or could be useful later. I even discovered an office on the second floor while searching for something from the former owners of this place.


    Entering it, I noticed how much dust had gathered on the shelves filled with books. A dark wooden desk stood in front of a large window at the end of the room, with an armchair behind it and various papers on top.


    Taking my first steps into this room, I examined the titles of the books on the shelves, and many of them interested me, especially the romance and storybooks.


    A loud noise came from behind (toward the door), like something heavy falling to the floor, which startled me. It was the boy, who had secretly followed me into the office, being discovered shortly after.


    ¡ª Do you need something? ¡ª The boy timidly handed me a piece of paper from his hands, a drawing of a bee and a flower made with charcoal. Even though we hadn¡¯t spent much time together, I could still interpret his request.


    ¡ª Are you hungry? ¡ª I guessed he wanted a jar of honey, since that¡¯s what bees produce from flower pollen, and it¡¯s also what butterflies usually eat, along with other things.


    ¡ª Unfortunately, we don¡¯t have anything to eat right now. ¡ª I sighed, remembering the hunger pangs in my stomach, almost making me want to eat the paper. ¡ª But honestly, I miss kneaded bread and pure milk. Accompanied by fruits, then¡­ ¡ª I salivated while thinking about food, rubbing my hand over my belly. I closed my eyes, imagining it all in front of me, and regretted the days I stuffed myself with processed food like chips and soda.


    Going crazy from thinking about it, I just wished the mission reward would be a table full of food to make up for these two days of hunger. I just didn¡¯t know when I¡¯d receive it or in what form.


    [...]


    Continuing my area exploration, now accompanied by the boy, we divided tasks. Each of us would pick up what we thought was most important.


    I started with the papers on the desk, reading each one while sitting in the armchair. Most were financial documents or authorizations for something, signed with the surname Vespertino. All the writing was legible, in my own language.


    Aside from the documents, five volumes were found suspiciously hidden under the pile of papers. They were the family diary.


    I¡¯ve seen certain old customs related to this in fictional stories, and the idea of someone recording everything you do seemed strange to me.


    The boy seemed distracted by an illustrated book he had found, sitting cross-legged on the floor, deep in thought. Meanwhile, I was about to start reading these five massive books.


    [...]


    Comfortably flipping through the pages for long minutes, lying on the desk, my vision grew tired.


    Ready to start dozing off, the last book fell from the desk, opening to the final pages.


    As if it were a understood message, I immediately stopped wasting time with the others, which only talked about acquired territories and family trips, and picked up this book from the floor, open to this exact part, stumbling upon the following report:


    ¡°February 30th, year 486, We received a visit from the Sun of Solvariun at our country house. It was requested that this not be recorded, but we needed future proof in case we were accused of rebellion and blasphemy.


    The emperor brought with him a demonic beast, caged in silver bars. Without much context, we were asked to lock it in our tower, which had been unused for a long time. Soon, the Vespertino family would be relocated to another mansion in the capital, as our country house was slated for demolition. The location where it was built was a risky area due to the strong tidal waves that slowly eroded the peak it stood on. It almost seemed like a test for us, a ducal family far from the line of succession to the throne. Regarding the house, the emperor was informed that this place wouldn¡¯t last much longer, but we received the following response:


    ¡®If this demon is truly a divine gift, the mansion shall not collapse until the moment this creature is called to its purpose. But if it is merely a repudiated being, no god will save it from being swept away by the sea.¡¯


    This, respectfully speaking, was inhumane. To ensure secrecy, the Vespertino family must leave immediately, leaving everything behind, as the emperor said. I believe that if there truly is a divine purpose behind these events, the house will not collapse until someone finds this document. If you have found it and are not affiliated with the empire, come to the capital to meet us at the main house.


    Signed: Butler Jasper¡±