{ 11 MONTHS LATER... }

  In the silence of the room on a warm summer afternoon, the bright sunlight filtered through the red curtains.

  'Alright, let's try again!' Mirac excimed inwardly.

  Over the past months, he had spent all his time being fed, pying with his wooden toys, having his diaper ged, and doing tless other things, behaving like the perfect baby he was.

  But retly, the son of the royal Strongold family had started fog on a new goal: getting out of his crib and expl the castle!

  'e on!'

  With his face lit by a mixture of determination and curiosity, little Mirac gripped the sides of his crib. His chubby fingers clutched the wood tightly, and his lively eyes studied every detail of the edge above him as if pnning a daring adventure.

  For the past four weeks, it had been the same story every afternoon: pushing himself up on his still-wobbly legs, Mirac would stand, swaying slightly. The soft mattress beh his ti made his movements unsteady, but the desire to explore the castle seemed strohan any obstacle. He had tried numerous times, slipping back, sliding down with a frustrated huff. In short, he had never mao get over the edge of the crib.

  'Today's different, though, I feel it!'

  With a grunt of effort, he pulled himself up until his was over the railing. One foot, theher, tried to find a foothold, pushing clumsily against the wood. His arms trembled from the strain, but with a triumphant smile and a ugh of victory, Miraaged to lever himself just enough to get his torso over the edge.

  For a moment, he seemed frozen in midair, caught between fear and the excitement of what was about to happen.

  'Just a bit more, damn it!...'

  Then, with o push, he propelled himself forward, nding with a soft thud on the blue carpet surrounding the crib. He y there, sprawled on the floor, surprised at his own aplishment, but with eyes wide open with joy.

  Mirac got up on all fours, looking back at the crib now behind him.

  'Finally, damn it!'

  His heart raced with excitement!

  After about a month, Mirac had mao escape that ridiculous "wooden cage" that kept him prisoner and prevented him from leaving the room to explore the castle.

  'I know I said everything would slowly unfold iime... But damn it, I'm bored to death! I'm not going to sit around here after doing that for over 60 years! And besides, there's no danger in taking a few steps to stretch my legs, right?'

  Wasting no more time, little Mirac moved on to the sed part of his pn: he crawled quickly, pushing forward with hands and khat hit the floor at an eager pace. His hazel eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he passed his scattered toys and the familiar ers of the room.

  His goal was clear: the slightly open door!

  'Hmph, just as I thought! She left it ajar again...'

  With this thought, little Mirac referred to his personal maid, Carmen, who always left the door slightly open whenever she came to him. It was barely ajar, just enough so she could hear any cries of hunger httime whimpers from the young Prince.

  'But it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't cried three times a day for the st three weeks! Damn! How embarrassing...'

  Swallowing the bitter feeling at the thought of a probable future niame, "The Whiny Prihat the chatty maids would likely use to refer to him, Mirac reached the door.

  'Well, it was worth it. And now, it's you and me, buddy!' the baby finally decred, staring at his st wooden obstacle almost with a sense of challenge.

  Taking a deep breath, Mirac's tiny fingers gripped the edge of the wood, and with a struggle apanied by small grunts, he mao push it. The door opened slowly, letting a beam of sunlight shine on his face.

  'Ah, damn it!' he cursed inwardly, blinking to refocus his vision, momentarily blurred by the sunlight. 'That damn sun again!...'

  Regaining his sight, the little Mirac gazed out at a long hallway bathed in the warm afternoon light streaming through the tall arched windows, all lined up in front of him and along the side of the corridor opposite the door. The red carpet ad the floor looked like a royal path, soft and inviting, runniween the bd white marble tiles in a checkered pattern. Each tile reflected the sunlight, creating a dance of light and shadows around him.

  Mirac paused for a moment, eyes wide at the new world stretg out uhe golden glow of the sun. It was as if the castle, which usually fined him within the arms of the maids and his mother, was now revealing its secrets.

  'Let's begin!'

  With a giggle of pure childlike joy, little Miraged forward onto the carpet, turning right and moving down the hallway. The softness of the red fabric cushioned each impact, and the warmth of the afternoon ed around every movement he made.

  He crawled quickly, almost running on his tiny hands and knees, and every inch he covered on the carpet felt like a victory.

  'Faster, faster, faster!' he kept repeating to himself, stantly increasing his pace as he moved forward.

  As he traversed the long hallway, Mirased a solemn and majestic atmosphere. The walls were vanil-colored, and every er was an intricate blend of architectural details adorned with plex sculpted designs.

  The coffered ceiling, made of dark oak, was often decorated with royal emblems and floral patterns, while natural light cast shadows that atuated the depth of the spaces.

  Little Mirac gazed around, ented by what he saw.

  'The architectural style seems Renaissance, simir to that used in French castles of the 16th tury.'

  He primarily recalled this knowledge from art history books he had studied in high school. Besides math, and thus physid sometimes chemistry, Mirac excelled in all other subjects!

  'Modestly, a wasted genius...'

  The carved wooden doors on the right side of the corridor were all closed, looking distant and mysterious.

  'These should be the guest rooms. Wow, how many are there?!' Miradered, without stopping as he tinued his exploration.

  Turning his gaze to the left, toward the many arched windows, the little adventurer looked up. But all he could see was the clear blue sky typical of a summer afternoon. It stretched vast and bright above him, a sea of warmth and light refleg the liveliness of summer.

  'I heard that the main part of the castle, where my room and my family's rooms are located, has three floors. King Arthur's three wives, whom he has somehow not yet divorced, and their other daughters also live here. But I've never seen them. Hmph, those snobs! Not that I care or am bothered that they haven't e to visit me… Anyway, from what I uand, the maids, butlers, and everyone else who works in the castle live in the apartments in the side wings of the pace.'

  As he advanced along the long corridor, occasionally gng left and right, Miraoticed something else:

  'Like in my room, there don't seem to be arical outlets in the hallway walls. The presence of debras instead of the usual mps leads me to assume that, in whatever world I've ended up in, teology isn't as advanced as I know it! Now that I think about it, I've never heard the maids use words like "vacuum" when ing or "washing mae" when doing the undry.'

  However, living his sed life with a primitive level of teology didn't seem like a tragedy to young Mirac.

  After all, having lived oreets in his previous life, he hadn't used phones, puters, or other veniences of the 21st tury in years. For this reason, he didn't miss them.

  Though, as a child, wheill lived with his parents, he had been quite obsessed with puters.

  'I really wao learn how tram a video game...'

  Thinking back, there were so many things Mirac would have liked to do and learn in his past life. All dreams lost once he began living oreets, in poverty and misery.

  'Tsk, no use thinking about that now!' he thought, shaking his head to chase away those mencholy thoughts. 'With my new life, I chase my dreams again!'

  * * *

  Miratinued crawling for a while longer, unstoppable, until he came to yet another carved door. This one, however, uhe others, en! Or rather, slightly ajar.

  The little explorer stopped as soon as he noticed it, carefully the oak wood. Then, with some effort—though less than before—he pushed the door, which opened without resistance.

  'Let's see what's hiding behind here...'

  Before him, a majesti opened up: a rge library, nearly two stories high, with shelves rising up to the ceiling. Every wall was lined with books, their worher covers and golden titles glinting in the sunlight. Despite the vast amount of fmmable material and the presenany arched windows, several brass debras were lit, casting small, soft fmes.

  Mirac stood wide-eyed, amazed and captivated by the impressive sight before him: his senses were overwhelmed by the intense smell of old paper and worher, while his gaze drifted over the endless volumes, seemingly filled with stories from distant eras.

  Every detail, from the wood grain of the shelves to the golden gleam of the titles, seemed to whisper a secret, making the entire space feel alive and pulsating—a pce where time seemed suspended and unknown knowledge reigned supreme.

  Growing up and living in the castle, who knows how muew information he could gain, Mirac thought, from this cathedral of words.

  'He he he… I 't wait!'

  Just past the entrance, directly to his right, he spotted a figure hidden behind a book, sitting behind peared to be a solid wooden ter. Whoever it was, they seemed almost camoufged among the pages, as if wanting to blend into the knowledge held withiext.

  Mirac observed the figure closely for a few minutes.

  'Probably the librarian...' the little expluessed, trying to glimpse the absorbed face hidden behind the book, but with no success.

  All he could see were the person's hands holding the book, with fingers pressing into the cover and occasionally turning the pages.

  It was clear that the so-called "librarian" was pletely absorbed in reading, so much so that they hadn't noticed the open door or the little intruder who had just entered.

  Moreover, regardless of their gehe person at the ter wore a long bck robe with golden patterns embroidered on the wrists, torso, and around the colr. It was evident that the garment was nothihan an expensive product of a skilled tailor, who had surely been guided in its design by many years of experience.

  As he analyzed the so-called "librarian" more closely, Mirac's small hazel eyes finally fell on the book they were avidly reading.

  The book's golden title was elegantly engraved on the upper part of the burgundy leather cover. Around it, a golden frame wound in intricate scrolls and fme-inspired patterns, creating a rid refined effect, as if it held precious knowledge.

  In the ter of the frame, a stylized drawing of a fme came to life with simple, flowing shapes: red, e, and yellow iwined harmoniously, giving the impression of a fire burning gracefully. This detail created a fasating trast, sure to catch the eye of anyone who loved books.

  With excitement shining in his eyes, Mirac read the title and the supposed author, the tter inscribed a bit lower in smaller but equally goldeers.

  "Advanced Magical Arts of Fire"

  "Armin J. Bellsing"