5 - his son

  The days as a baby were... a bit boring. Most of the time, I did absolutely nothing—not because I didn’t want to, but because there was simply nothing to do. So, I started spending most of that time training with that strange magic. I dedicated myself to it every day so I wouldn’t forget how to summon the red dust.

  Gradually, as I grew, the magic became more intense—and my control, more precise. It was one thing to see the dust float... something else entirely to knock over objects around the room with a single thought.

  But one thing never changed: the overwhelming exhaustion that consumed me after each use.

  Time passed so quickly. What once was fun eventually began to frighten the maids—things fell by themselves, and sometimes I could hear them whispering in fear. Still, I valued them. After all, they were the people I had the most contact with in this world. I often pretended to be asleep just to listen to their soft whispers through the house, like even the walls were whispering too.

  — Did you hear that? —one maid whispered, barely audible.

  — Hear what? — the other replied, her voice muffled.

  — Meri said the baby’s mother still wanders nearby... and wants revenge.

  — Meri? The one they fired?

  — Yes, her… I heard from the supervisor she couldn’t handle it. Basically lost her mind.

  — They said she was replaced with someone better...

  — They say that to all of us, newbie... Little by little, this place drives you mad. If someone told me that getting the top grades would land me here, I would've dropped out long ago.

  — I still don’t understand why this is happening. — she murmured, clutching her apron.

  — I studied medicine for years just to end up here...— The discomfort in her scent was almost palpable in the air.

  — Crying won’t help. You’ll be replaced after the next test anyway. So suck it up... we’re not like Meri, who had to stare a demon in the eyes.

  — Shhh... We’ll be killed if anyone hears that.

  — You gonna rat me out, newbie? Knowing too much sends both of us straight to hell.

  The newer one lowered her head, and I already felt sorry for them. After all, Ryskai had brought the best pediatricians in the empire to care for me.

  The top-ranking newcomers became maids; the experienced ones became supervisors. But all of them, without exception, looked like they were one step away from death or madness the moment they set foot in this mansion.

  And that was his fault.

  His very existence.

  When the maids left the room, I slowly opened my eyes. I was nearly two years old now, so my expressions were a bit more controlled. Even though I had encountered the demon a few times, he hadn’t interfered with my growth again—something I still doubt was real. Just the old man’s gaze sometimes made me want to soil my diaper.

  What disturbed me the most, however, was the absurd sense of safety my body insisted on feeling around him. An instinct that usually made me fall asleep whenever he wasn’t directly staring at me.

  As I thought about it, I was already moving. I opened the crib bars easily, like it was part of a daily ritual—silent and familiar. I climbed down backward, feeling safer that way—after all, I was still a fragile baby.

  My tiny feet touched the soft carpet. Walking was still hard, so I crawled toward the door.

  I pressed my ear against it, alert.

  Outside, I could make out two breathing patterns—soldiers.

  They were stationed there to protect me, but to me, they were just another obstacle.

  It would’ve been much easier to escape if they weren’t there. My desire to see the outside grew stronger each day, fed by an insatiable curiosity and this constant feeling of imprisonment.

  Being locked up in this mansion felt like living in a retro museum where technology was a forbidden subject.

  They never let me leave, and anything remotely modern was treated like contraband. I remember when one of the maids almost got arrested for bringing a digital thermometer.

  Thoughts swirled inside me, hazy.

  I felt far too anxious for a body this small.

  Pulling away from the door, I crawled to the window.

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  Resting my hands on the cold wall, I pushed myself upward slowly, trying to get a better view.

  From my low angle, everything looked enormous—the tree branches swayed gently outside, and between them, I could glimpse a tiny fragment of gray sky.

  The light that filtered in was soft, yet carried the weight of something unreachable. My infant eyes were desperate to understand the world beyond the glass.

  It was so close.

  Yet impossibly far.

  THUD!

  Something slammed hard against the window.

  My entire body jumped from the shock. My heart pounded in my chest, and I fell on my butt.

  A blur of blue feathers slid down the glass and landed on the sill.

  From where I sat, I could only see its back—covered in bright blue feathers.

  Curious, I stared at the unmoving shape, waiting for the exotic bird to rise. But before anything could happen, the door burst open violently.

  Another sudden noise made me flinch again, heart racing like it wanted to escape. I even lost balance and fell to the floor.

  The guards rushed in, a flurry of steps and shouted orders, scanning the room as if expecting to find an assassin hiding among toys. I was scooped up firmly—pulled away from the window as if it were more dangerous than I imagined.

  That’s when I got a better look at the thing on the sill.

  It wasn’t a bird.

  The realization froze me: it was a robot.

  A machine mimicking a bird down to the smallest detail. If you looked closely, you could see golden lines between the blue feathers—like exposed circuits. Its eyes pulsed red, more like a lamp than anything organic.

  The other guard raised his weapon without hesitation.

  As I was carried out, I heard the sharp, cold bursts of gunfire behind me.

  Only three shots—quick, precise, clinical.

  When the guard returned, he carried what was left of the machine: a pile of synthetic feathers and broken metal, dark oil oozing out like blood from shattered joints.

  — Camouflaged recon drone. No bomb... we’ll proceed with protocol and bring the child to the leader.

  I was carried ahead down the hallway while the guard with the drone stayed far behind, keeping a safe distance in case the thing still exploded.

  Curiosity burned inside me like an open flame—I twisted in the guard’s grip, trying to turn my head and catch another glimpse of the shattered creature.

  The soldier kept my face forward with firm, clipped motions, but that was all he could do: try. Because in this mansion—no, in this entire country—there wasn’t a single living soul who had the right to say “no” to me.

  Only him.

  The demon.

  Only he had the power to correct me. And in his absence, the rest of the world was powerless before my will... even if I still wore diapers.

  Finally, the guard gave up trying to restrain me, and my gaze returned to the fallen creature with all the wonder of a curious child. The other soldier wasn’t too far—through the distance, I could still see part of the damaged machine. Its red eyes had faded, but its joints twitched faintly, like something inside it refused to die.

  Between the shredded blue feathers, I could see its insides: a delicate tangle of gears, like a luxury wristwatch—just like the ones I remembered from my previous life.

  There was something hypnotic about that mechanism. One gear, unlike all the others, still spun slowly, as if hiding a secret.

  And I wanted to know.

  I wanted to touch it.

  Something inside me craved it deeply.

  But the guard carrying me stopped in front of it—that door. The one that always made me feel smaller than I already was. The door to my father's office. A heavy portal of dark wood, so still it seemed to absorb every trace of light.

  The creak of its hinges filled the hall like a muffled thunderclap. That sound alone made me want to curl up and vanish into the guard’s arms.

  The air thickened, as if the entire mansion held its breath.

  Then his voice echoed from inside.

  Ryskai.

  — My little one missed me again, didn’t he?

  The guard walked toward him with measured steps, as if crossing some invisible boundary. When he finally handed me over, I instinctively pushed against Ryskai’s chest with all the strength a small body could manage.

  I knew what was coming.

  It always came.

  Ryskai had that repulsive habit of leaning in slowly, flashing a gentle, false smile, and pressing his lips against my cheeks—like some average doting father. Like he wasn’t him. Like he wasn’t a monster hiding behind affection.

  His cologne clung to everything around us, and the warmth of his hand on my back made my stomach churn. I tried to wriggle away, to turn my head—but nothing ever stopped that nauseating ritual. Each kiss made me want to soil myself just to make him stop.

  When he finally stopped those vile kisses, the guard who had brought me—still bent in reverence like a statue frozen in time—lifted his head slightly and spoke, his voice strained and controlled.

  — A drone was captured at the young heir’s window.

  The other guard stepped into view, standing in the open doorway with the mangled drone in hand, but he didn’t come inside.

  — What type? — Ryskai asked, his tone suddenly cold, all previous affection evaporating and chilling the room.

  — Gearwork spy drone. No explosives. Internal film.

  I focused on the drone, trying to forget whose lap I was sitting on.

  — The barrier should’ve fried it.

  — Mostly bone gears, with a thin iron coating, sir... the barrier mistook it for organic, — the guard replied, still holding the drone.

  — Interesting... so why is it still so far away?

  — It may contain dangerous chemicals, sir.

  I stared at the thing like it was candy. If it could kill me quickly and get me out of this place, I wanted it. I reached for it like any normal baby reaching for a toy. Seeing this, my father said:

  — Bring it here. You must be new... Let me teach you something, young man. Do you really think my beautiful barrier wouldn’t have the latest modules? Nothing truly dangerous gets through without my permission.

  The soldier approached in ritualistic silence and set the mechanical bird on the table, right in front of Ryskai and me. The soft metallic thud sounded like a whisper of dying gears.

  My eyes were locked on the broken creature. I even touched it, a little sad that it couldn’t kill me.

  I was so absorbed in the fascination, drowning in that childish desire to dismantle, understand, and uncover... that I didn’t even notice the two guards beside the door, kneeling with their foreheads pressed to the floor in silent supplication.

  My fingers nearly brushed the still-moving gears—until my father’s strong hand stopped me. Then his voice filled my ears:

  — Do you like this, little one?

  — I do!

  The word slipped from my lips before I could stop it. I’d been speaking since I was three months old, but I kept it secret—one of the few secrets I had in this place, where even thoughts felt monitored. But this time, I couldn’t hold back.

  — Oh, your first word... my little one liked this horrid thing so much... — he sounded a bit sad. — Daddy can give you something much better than this pathetic junk. Just say the word. Say ‘Daddy,’ and I’ll give it to you...

  — Daddy! — I said before I realized the trap I’d just fallen into.

  — As expected of my son... Call the maids. Seems like our seven-month-old baby understands adults already—he’ll need more intensive care. — Ryskai said, sounding proud.

  I was already sweating. That slip might cost me dearly.