Volume 01, Chapter 02

  Welcome To Sylvestria [2]

  "So, this is the uniform," I mutter, admiring my reflection in the mirror.

  The crisp, navy-blue blazer adorned with silver trim fits perfectly, paired with matching trousers and a pristine white shirt. The cobalt blue tie adds a touch of elegance, completing the polished look.

  I tug at the lapels and adjust the tie one last time before exiting my bedroom and heading downstairs. Each step brings me closer to the heart of the home, where the aroma of freshly cooked food drifts through the air, beckoning me.

  “Mother’s cooking,” I mutter, a small smile forming.

  Guided by the inviting smell, I step into the dining room. My mother is already seated, her graceful presence contrasting the room's simple elegance.

  "Ah, Dominic, let’s eat some breakfast, shall we?" she says, her tone warm and inviting.

  I nod, my appetite instantly piqued by the sight before me.

  Spread across the table is a stunning array of breakfast cuisine: a freshly baked baguette, golden and crisp, a variety of cheeses, and a vibrant bowl of fruit. A pot of rich, aromatic coffee and a plate of buttery croissants sit beside a small dish of soft-boiled eggs, their yolks visible beneath the delicate white.

  The presentation is meticulous, and the food exudes a charm that speaks to Verdant Haven’s French-inspired culture.

  No, I’m not stereotyping—it’s just that the food in front of me speaks…French. But globalization has influenced Sylvestria’s regions, so seeing cuisines from different cultures blend seamlessly is unsurprising.

  Before I can dig in, my mother pushes another plate toward me.

  “Dominic, you should try these: Puto, Lefse, Tahini, and Xiao Long Bao.”

  I blink in surprise at the unexpected addition.

  “Mum, did you… cook these?” I ask, curiosity tinged with awe.

  She nods with a proud smile. “Yes, they took longer to prepare since I’m not used to cooking international dishes. But it was worth the effort.”

  I glance down at the plate, noting the variety of foods. Each item reflects the diverse regions of Sylvestria: Puto, a soft and fluffy rice cake from Lumina Falls, a region inspired by the Philippines. Lefse, a thin potato-based flatbread from Ember Citadel, which draws influence from Egypt’s rich culture and culinary traditions. Xiao Long Bao, delicate soup dumplings from Celestria, a region inspired by China. Tahini, a creamy sesame-based paste from Frostheim, Sylvestria’s Scandinavian-inspired region.

  I can't help but be in awe at my mother’s effort.

  "Wow, Mum. This is… incredible," I say, unable to hide my admiration.

  I quickly sit down, my hunger sharpened by the aroma wafting from the table. Without thinking, I grab a fork and stab it into the nearest dish, my instincts from my previous life taking over.

  "Dominic! Where are your manners?!"

  My mother’s exclamation snaps me out of my trance.

  Oops.

  I freeze, the fork still in hand, suddenly realizing how thoughtless my actions appeared.

  "I'm sorry, Mum," I say, scratching my head and offering her a sheepish smile.

  Her stern expression softens slightly, but she’s still slightly taken aback. I carefully pull the fork out and sit properly, now mindful of my behavior.

  Sitting here, I’m reminded of how far removed this moment is from my past life. In that life, luxurious breakfasts like this were a distant dream, a symbol of wealth and comfort I could never attain.

  "Dominic, are you okay?" my mother asks, her voice tinged with concern. "It’s unusual for you to stab your food like that and skip saying Bon appétit."

  The comment catches me off guard.

  So, Dominic is known for his good manners?

  It dawns on me that my actions might raise suspicions. Maintaining the facade of being Dominic is crucial, especially in moments like this.

  “Yes, Mum, I’m fine,” I reply, keeping my tone light. “I’m just… excited to eat breakfast, that’s all.”

  My explanation seems to soothe her. She lets out a soft chuckle, her expression shifting to one of amusement. “Fufufu… I’m glad you’re excited, Dominic. It’s not often you show such enthusiasm for meals.”

  Her comment gives me pause.

  So, Dominic isn’t much of an eater? That explains his slender frame.

  Hoping to smooth things over, I quickly add, "Well… I’m especially looking forward to your cooking today, Mum. Something tells me it’s going to be exceptionally good."

  “Oh?” Her eyes narrow slightly, her smile taking on a teasing edge. “So my food only looks appetizing today? Is that why you don’t usually look forward to meals?”

  Her tone is light, but a subtle undercurrent of mock offense makes me sweat.

  Did I just step into a minefield?

  “Ah, no, no, that’s not what I meant!” I stammer, waving my hands defensively. “Your cooking is always amazing, Mum. I just… got caught up in the variety today!”

  She studies me momentarily, her gaze piercing, before finally breaking into a warm laugh. “You’re such a sweet talker, Dominic. Fine, I’ll let it slide this time.”

  Relief floods me as I carefully bite the food, savoring the burst of flavors.

  As I eat, I remind myself to tread carefully. Every interaction is a delicate act, and I can’t afford to slip up.

  -Creak!

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The sound of the door opening offers a much-needed distraction. Turning around, I see the man from the photo in my bedroom step inside.

  “Celine, I’m home!”

  His presence immediately fills the room with warmth, and a natural charisma radiates from his every movement. His resemblance to the man in the photo is unmistakable—Dominic’s father.

  “Ah, André, welcome back home!” Celine’s voice is a blend of affection and relief, and her eyes light up as she greets him.

  Ah, so Dominic’s mother is Celine, and now I know his father’s name is André. The pieces of this new life are slowly falling into place.

  Noticing me, André’s expression softens, breaking into a warm smile. He approaches me and ruffles my hair, a simple but affectionate gesture.

  “Good morning, Dominic. How are you?”

  The question, though simple, is filled with genuine concern. It’s a glimpse into the kind-hearted nature of the family I’ve found myself a part of.

  “I’m doing okay, Dad. How about you?”

  “I’m also doing okay,” André replies as he settles into a seat.

  Celine leans forward, curiosity evident on her face. “How was the Stargate raid, André?”

  “It went well,” he replies, a hint of pride in his tone. “The Shadow Sentinels rewarded us handsomely for our performance.”

  Wait… Dominic’s father is a Stargate Raider? The realization hits me like a lightning bolt. These elite Magicians are tasked with raiding Stargates, dangerous portals teeming with monsters and threats, often saving lives.

  This revelation sparks an idea in my mind.

  “Dad, can you train me?” I blurt out before I can second-guess myself.

  Both André and Celine look at me, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity.

  “Why?” André asks, his tone measured but intrigued.

  “Well, I want to enroll in Verdant Arcanum!”

  Their reaction is immediate—they exchange glances, their faces filled with astonishment.

  It’s no wonder. A sudden change in aspirations isn’t normal, even in a world as fantastical as Sylvestria. I can only imagine how bizarre it must seem for their son to wake up one morning and decide to abandon his dreams.

  “Dominic, what happened to your dream of becoming a Magitist?” Celine asks, her voice gentle yet probing.

  So, the original Dominic wanted to be a Magitist? Magitists are scholars who study and blend magic with science—a noble and respected pursuit. But given what I know about Sylvestria’s future, a more direct approach to strength is necessary.

  Just then, the red holographic screen flickers into existence again, interrupting my thoughts:

  What? I stare at the words, baffled. Why?

  Lie? I groan inwardly. I’m terrible at lying. They’re definitely going to suspect something.

  But if the System insists…

  “I thought about this for a long time and realized that being a Magitist isn’t the right path for me,” I say, carefully choosing my words.

  Both André and Celine study me for a moment. Their initial surprise melts away, replaced by something warmer.

  “If that’s the case, I’ll start training you tomorrow,” André says with a smile.

  Wait… just like that? They’re okay with this? Why are they so supportive?

  My thoughts drift back to my parents in my previous life—the sacrifices they made, the dreams they had for me. They supported me even when they couldn’t afford to, always putting my needs above theirs.

  And I… left them behind.

  The weight of that thought crashes down on me, a heavy, suffocating wave. I failed them. I’ll never get to thank them, to make things right.

  Without realizing it, tears begin to blur my vision.

  “Ah, Dominic, why are you crying?!” Celine’s worried voice jolts me back to the present.

  “Huh?” I blink, confused, before noticing the wet streaks running down my cheeks. I touch my face, feeling the tears.

  “Dominic, are you okay?” André asks, his concern deepening.

  “I-I…” My voice falters. I’m not prepared for this, and the last thing I want is to arouse more suspicion. I scramble for an explanation.

  “It’s nothing, Dad,” I manage to choke out, my voice trembling. “I just wanted to say… thank you, Dad.”

  The words make my chest ache. In my previous life, I never thanked my parents—not properly. Despite everything they did for me, I took their sacrifices for granted.

  “Dominic, you’re crying even more…” André observes, his tone a mixture of confusion and sympathy.

  “O-Oh, uhh…” I stammer, desperately trying to stop the tears. But the more I think about my parents, the more they come, uncontrollable and raw.

  Celine rises from her seat and kneels beside me, gently touching my shoulders. “Dominic, whatever it is, you can tell us,” she says softly. Her eyes are so kindly filled that it only worsens my guilt.

  “I…” My voice breaks again, and I can’t say anything momentarily.

  André joins her, kneeling on my other side. “Dominic, we’re here for you. Whatever’s troubling you, we’ll face it together.”

  The sincerity in their voices and the unwavering support they offer feel overwhelming. They don’t know the truth—that I’m not their son—but at this moment, I almost wish I were.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Thank you, Mum… Dad…”

  For the first time, I let myself cry openly, the weight of my old life mixing with the warmth of my new one.

  And I don't feel entirely alone for the first time in what feels like forever.

  -Ding!

  The sharp chime of the oven interrupts the moment, cutting through the lingering emotions.

  “Oh, the blueberry pie is finished!” Celine exclaims, rising from her chair with a graceful urgency and heading toward the kitchen.

  Blueberry pie? I’ve never tried one before, and the thought alone is enough to lift my spirits. The timing feels almost perfect as if the universe itself decided to provide a sweet distraction from my earlier sadness.

  “By the way, Dominic…”

  André’s voice pulls my attention back to him. He stands, reaching casually toward the fruit bowl in the center of the table. In one fluid motion, he picks up an apple and flicks it toward me with surprising speed.

  Instinctively, my hand snaps out, catching the apple mid-air.

  “Impressive,” André says with a grin, his approval evident in his tone. “Since you’re Manaless, I’ll train you physically. You must rely on your body to catch up with the Magicians and Manaficials.”

  The reality of my situation hits me again. In Sylvestria, attending Verdant Arcanum as a Manaless student is technically possible, but it comes with immense challenges. Prejudice against those without innate magic runs deep, and the curriculum is designed with Magicians and Manaficials in mind.

  Placing the apple back in the bowl, I meet his gaze with determination. “I’ll take on whatever you throw at me, Dad.”

  My goal is clear: to gain strength, adapt, and prepare for the challenges this world will throw my way—especially those I know are coming from the web novel.

  “I’m glad to hear that, Dominic,” André says, his grin widening. “But first, you should finish breakfast.”

  Celine returns from the kitchen, holding a tray of freshly baked blueberry pie in her hands. The sweet aroma wafts through the air, making my stomach growl audibly.

  -Growl!

  Celine chuckles at the sound, her smile radiating warmth. “It seems you’re excited, huh?”

  She places the pie delicately on the table, its golden crust glistening in the morning light. “Let’s eat breakfast! Bon Appétit!”

  “Okay, Mum. Bon Appétit!” I echo, repositioning my chair and sitting down properly.

  This time, I remember Dominic’s customary etiquette, a small but important step in fully embracing this new identity. Picking up a croissant, I pause to admire its flaky exterior before biting.

  The taste is divine. The buttery richness melts in my mouth, complemented by its delicate, crisp texture. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever tasted.

  -Munch!

  The croissant disappears quickly, and without thinking, I reach for another. My enthusiasm overtakes my manners as I devour it with barely a pause.

  “Dominic, what did I tell you about manners?” Celine’s voice cuts through my blissful indulgence, a gentle but firm reminder.

  I freeze mid-bite, a croissant still in hand. Offering her a sheepish smile, I lower it slowly, again reminded of the small but significant adjustments I need to make to maintain Dominic’s polished image.

  “Hahahaha!” André’s hearty laughter fills the room, his tone light and teasing. “It looks like Dominic is finally at that phase, huh?”

  I glance at him, puzzled momentarily, before realizing what he means.

  It’s common knowledge that teenagers, especially boys during puberty, develop insatiable appetites to fuel their growth spurts. At 15, I’m right in that range, and his comment is accurate and understanding.

  But for me, the eagerness to eat isn’t just about a teenage metabolism. It’s also about finally experiencing the richness of French-inspired cuisine, something I could only dream about in my previous life. Each bite is a new adventure, a small luxury I never thought I’d have.

  -Munch!

  Unfazed by the teasing, I continue to enjoy the meal. Each bite of croissant, sip of coffee, and taste of the blueberry pie feels like a revelation. The food is more than nourishment—it’s a celebration, a reminder of how different this life is from the one I left behind.

  As we eat together, the moment's warmth wraps around me, a stark contrast to the isolation and struggles of my previous life. For now, I let myself savor not just the food but the comfort of being part of a family that feels like home.