‘Children really do wear their hearts on their faces. Every thought shows.’

A child who spent nearly his whole life tumbling through hardship, flinching and shrinking at every turn even at this young age.

But he was still just a child, and in unguarded moments his expression was transparent and guileless. Exactly as it should be at his age.

‘…Poor thing.’

He could afford to be more guileless. He didn’t need to watch adults so carefully.

The weight in her arms was light as air, and that made her sadder and more uneasy.

Malnourished from the start, his body was bone-thin, and with his spirit just as wasted, he seemed too untethered to stay fixed to the earth, like he might drift away at any moment. Like sea foam that leaves no trace once it scatters.

Mirha shook off the thought, set the boy carefully on the platform, and stepped back. The boy turned to look at Mirha with a frightened face. Mirha explained gently.

“Go and place your hand on the sacred stone. Just rest your hand on it and wait. That’s all.”

Is that really all? The boy, a world-weary child who had been through too much, looked at the sacred stone with habitual suspicion.

But the boy trusted Mirha. Even if she were a fraud, even if every dependable and warm thing she showed him until now was a lie, it didn’t matter.

The boy was already too exhausted, and desperately in need. He wanted to stake everything on the miraculous kindness he barely got to taste.

‘I trust you, Dame Mirha.’

It was all right if she betrayed him later. He could deal with that despair when the time came.

Even if he was eventually cast aside and fell back into misery, right now, in this moment given to him, he wanted to do whatever this gentle adult told him to do.

The boy took a deep breath and reached out his hand. He stepped one step closer to the sacred stone. His small palm touched the rock.

‘The texture is strange.’

The boy was quietly surprised. He expected it to be cold, being a stone, but the warmth that met his hand was gentle, and rather than rough or hard, it felt solid and smooth, like marble wrapped in velvet.

For a moment nothing happened. The boy stood still and waited with growing anxiety, and Mirha, who told him not to worry, was far more tense than he was, her fist clenched tight.

‘Please…’

People born with sacred power are rare. The reason knights and clerics who wield sacred power are treated with such value is precisely because they are scarce human resources.

In the Holy Nation of Alphernia with its tens of millions of people, the number born with sacred power each year who entered the church or the order was barely ten.

Of those, even fewer completed their training and received formal ordination as knights or became clerics.

It was a long-odds gamble by any measure. Mirha proposed the sacred power measurement clinging to the thinnest thread of hope.

Knowing the chance of disappointment was far too great, yet unable to do nothing for that poor, wasted boy.

‘God, please.’

Taniel prayed for a miracle just as desperately as her teacher. She stood with her small fists clenched, eyes wide, watching the boy.

Jeric Zinion watched from a distance, the corner of his mouth twisting into a sneer. But a moment later, the cleric who had been nervously watching Jeric suddenly widened his eyes and spun toward the sacred stone.

“Oh…!”

The cleric raised a finger and stammered without meaning to. He pointed at the platform, and Jeric’s eyes widened too. Mirha let out the breath she held and unclenched her fist, and Taniel let out a soft gasp.

“…!”

The boy held his breath. A shiver ran through him, every fine hair on his body standing on end.

The sacred stone, which had only been warm at first, suddenly grew hot, and his palm heated rapidly.

But it was not a painful, scorching heat. It was a welcome, familiar warmth, like drinking hot tea on a cold mountain.

Light burst from the sacred stone. At first it was a pure white, like fresh snow blanketing an open field, and soon a brilliant gold mixed in, calling to mind the clear morning sun breaking over the sea at dawn.

Then the light deepened and turned red like flame, then became a deep violet like a hushed twilight, and before long it darkened to the deep blue-green of the open ocean, and finally sank slowly into a darkness like pitch black.

When the shifting radiance faded, silence settled over the five of them.

Mirha, Taniel, Jeric, and the cleric all stared at the boy with different expressions, and the boy stared at the sacred stone, which was no longer hot.

His head swam, as though he spent an enormous amount of energy all at once. The boy stepped back unsteadily, breathing in ragged gulps.

He wobbled, stepping down from the platform, and Mirha crossed to him in an instant and caught him with her arm, with Taniel right behind her.

“You did well, child. That was truly something.”

Mirha whispered. The boy had no strength left even to move his lips, and looked up at Mirha with a question in his eyes alone. Mirha smiled at him reassuringly, reading his anxiety.

“That light we just saw is proof that you were born with sacred power. And very strong sacred power at that. So don’t worry. You have more than enough to become a knight.”

Only then did a drowsy relief wash over the boy. The tension broke all at once, and what little strength he had left drained out of him. His small body went limp, and Mirha held him more firmly.

“You did well.”

Mirha murmured warmly to the end and lifted the boy into her arms. She turned to look at Jeric and the cleric. Her gaze toward the adults was cold, nothing like how she looked at the child.

“Cleric, please record the sacred power level measured from the child just now. Since the child’s name and age are not yet confirmed, please file the record under my name for the time being and amend it later.”

“Understood, Dame. Please don’t worry.”

“Thank you, Cleric. And I’ll see you again, Chairman. Please don’t concern yourself that I’ll neglect Taniel by taking this child on as a new student.”

Jeric didn’t answer. He was no longer looking at Mirha but at the boy in her arms. The boy swallowed without meaning to.

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

“Take care.”

Mirha didn’t wait for Jeric’s reply in the end. She exchanged farewells with the cleric, turned with the boy in her arms, and walked out of the Hall of Truth with long strides. Jeric remained silent to the last.

Before following her teacher out of the hall, Taniel hesitated and glanced at her father. Their eyes met, and Jeric’s expression softened warmly, as though it was never sour at all.

“Go on.”

Jeric whispered. He stroked his daughter’s hair with affection. Taniel took his hand briefly and gave it a small squeeze, then turned away again and hurried after her teacher.

Jeric watched his daughter’s retreating figure with a heavy look. A moment later, the door closed.

Taniel caught up with her teacher and the boy quickly. Mirha was still walking down the corridor with the boy in her arms. The boy grew a little embarrassed.

“Dame Mirha, please put me down. I can walk on my own.”

“You used a lot of energy just now. I’m not tired at all, so don’t worry and stay put.”

“But…”

I don’t want to be a burden. The boy fidgeted with his bony fingers, and a soft compassion spread through Mirha’s eyes.

“I really am fine. So just relax.”

Mirha’s tone was gentle but firm, and the boy had no choice but to fall silent.

Mirha walked on quietly, and the boy sat in the adult’s arms like a doll, waiting for the strength to return to his limbs. Taniel matched their pace with a light step.

‘I’m so glad he has sacred power too. Now the two of us can train together from now on!’

She felt like humming to herself. The thought of having her own junior gave her a flutter of excitement.

An only child, Taniel always harbored a fantasy about having siblings. It was practically the same as gaining a younger sibling now. She grinned like someone who received an unexpected gift and looked back at the boy.

‘I’ll treasure him like a real little brother. I’ll be the best senior he could ask for.’

Still smiling, Taniel’s eyes met the boy’s, and the moment their gazes connected she gave him the brightest, warmest smile she had. Her chocolate-brown eyes sparkled sweetly.

Heat rose in the boy’s cheeks. He looked away from Taniel without thinking. Something felt strange.

‘It tickles.’

A warm, bubbly feeling spread through his stomach. His throat tingled and his heart thumped. He had no idea why.

The three of them stepped back outside. The warm spring sunlight poked gently at the boy’s face.

“Child.”

“Yes, Dame Mirha.”

“You said you don’t know your name.”

“…Yes.”

“I think you’ll need a name going forward. I can’t keep calling you child forever. That’s not a proper name.”

Well, does someone like me really need a name of my own? The boy felt a flicker of doubt. Was he special enough, valuable enough as a person, to warrant being distinguished from others by a name that belonged to him alone?