Chapter 101

“A portrait?”

 

Enria’s eyes widened at Fyoren’s sudden words when he came to find her.

 

“Yes. His Grace asked me to check if Lady Ribenus has a preferred art style. For instance, if you prefer a watercolor feel, then we’ll bring in a watercolor master…”

 

“Wait— hold on. Why? Why a portrait all of a sudden…?”

 

Enria cut him off, baffled.

 

She couldn’t understand why on earth he suddenly wanted something like a portrait.

 

And what was this about “preferred art style” again?

 

Her face was full of questions.

 

“Are you aware that His Grace keeps a shadow formed of black magic—Lady Ribenus’s shadow—standing behind him in his office?”

 

Fyoren, reading her expression perfectly, began explaining how this whole portrait idea started.

 

When she heard that Caldeon formed her likeness with black magic and kept it standing behind him while he worked, her jaw dropped.

 

But when he added that His Grace wanted something more efficient to look at whenever he wanted—thus deciding on a portrait—her gaping mouth snapped shut.

 

To look whenever he wants.

 

In her original world, photographs or videos would’ve satisfied that craving.

 

Here, portraits were the only option.

 

Only then did Enria realize why Hayden had once created her silhouette out of black magic. A sharp sting of guilt pricked her chest.

 

She imagined him missing her while she left him with Chavel to handle errands… creating his mother with black magic to soothe the loneliness.

 

Of course, that interpretation was completely wrong.

 

Hayden wasn’t longing for her at all.

 

He was simply playing with black magic and made it as part of the game.

 

“I need to go see Hayden.”

 

Though Hayden didn’t care in the slightest about his mother’s temporary absence, Enria—who had given deep meaning to Hayden’s actions—was already stepping out of her room to go find him and Chavel.

 

Fyoren hurried after her.

 

“You’re going to Hayden? Suddenly?”

 

“Yes. But why are you following me? Aren’t you busy?”

 

“I am. Extremely. But this matter is the most urgent one.”

 

“…Ah.”

 

Enria stopped, turned, and looked up at him.

 

Fyoren repeated his earlier question.

 

“Do you have any preferred style for your portrait, my lady?”

 

“Not really, but… if it’s something he wants to look at often, then something realistic and vivid would be better.”

 

“I’ll secure an oil-paint master.”

 

He bowed lightly the moment she finished speaking.

 

She nodded back and resumed walking.

 

“How long does it take to make a portrait?”

 

“Normally a week to ten days. But His Grace wants the final piece as soon as possible. We’ll select someone who can finish in three days.”

 

“What if it’s a portrait of the three of us? Caldeon, me, and Hayden?”

 

“A family portrait, you mean?”

 

Her eyes widened a bit.

 

She didn’t expect him to so naturally refer to her and Hayden as Caldeon’s family.

 

“Y-yes. I thought it might look nicer than one of just me…”

 

“I’ll check with His Grace first. I can’t be sure, but I believe he’ll want a portrait of Lady Ribenus alone.”

 

“Oh…”

 

“Well, a family portrait would be good too. We’ll just bring in two artists instead of one.”

 

Saying he’d proceed if Caldeon approved, he bowed again and headed toward Caldeon’s office.

 

Enria bowed back slightly and hurried off to find Hayden.

 

 

***

 

 

“Nope.”

 

Hayden rolled his black eyes as if stating something obvious.

 

The moment she arrived, Enria had hugged him tightly and apologized for not spending enough time with him.

 

“I not sad. I like Chavel. Playing with Chavel is fun.”

 

He shook his small head firmly, telling her not to worry.

 

Enria, thinking he was saying that just to comfort her, hugged him even tighter.

 

“If you miss me, just tell me, Hayden. If you want to be with me, I’ll always be with you.”

 

She stroked his back, saying he didn’t need to conjure her with black magic anymore—that she’d be with him unless something urgent happened.

 

Hayden blinked slowly, then sighed—short but very adultlike—and gently pushed her away.

 

Staring at her face, he spoke with unusually perfect pronunciation:

 

“I didn’t make mommy because I missed mommy.”

 

“…You didn’t?”

 

“No. It was for daddy to see… anyway, I like things the way they are. Playing with mommy, and with Chavel, and with Windel.”

 

His diction was suddenly flawless. Enria’s eyes grew wide.

 

Then—just as clearly—Hayden added, with the unmistakably annoyed tone of someone far older than his tiny body:

 

“So when you have free time, spend it with daddy instead of me.”

 

That uncanny sense—like an adult was tucked inside him.

 

She’d felt this before.

 

That suspicion: Could Hayden also be a transmigrator like me?

 

Reading her expression exactly, Hayden slipped right back into an innocent child’s face and spoke in his usual clumsy way: “Baby like playing with everyone.”

 

His pronunciation had turned childish again.

 

He’d even switched from “me” back to “baby.”

 

‘Maybe there really is someone else inside…’

 

Enria wondered whether God had made Hayden this way—stuffing an adult mind with meta knowledge into a child’s body to better act as His agent.

 

‘If so, then where did this adult come from? My world too? Could I actually talk to him about the world I came from?’

 

Her heart pounded as possibilities spun out—

 

“Mommy.”

 

Hayden’s voice snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts.

 

“Yes—what?”

 

Hayden smiled, eyes curved.

 

“No, you’re wrong.”

 

“…Huh?”

 

When she blinked in confusion, he pointed a tiny finger at her forehead.

 

“What mommy’s thinking. It’s not that.”

 

His tone made it sound like he was seeing straight into her mind—and telling her to stop.

 

“It’s… not?”

 

“Yeah. Not that. Baby just knows things because baby is part of God. Baby never lived a human life.”

 

“Part of… God.”

 

“Mm. So it’s not like what mommy thinks. Not like mommy.”

 

He nodded once, like he understood she suspected he was a fellow transmigrator, and was clarifying on purpose.

 

Enria’s eyes popped even wider. Hayden continued, almost as if closing the topic:

 

“Baby just knows everything God knows. Because baby is part of God.”

 

He still called himself “baby,” but his diction was perfect again—clearly intentional.

 

He wasn’t developing slowly or strangely. He was deliberately performing “being a child” based on what spirits and humans expected children to be like.

 

Only then did Enria realize all her worries about his development were unnecessary.

 

But another feeling crept in—hard to describe.

 

Not sadness. Not disappointment.

 

More like the quiet realization that there would never be a moment where she could teach him something and watch him learn it for the first time.

 

“Walking was fun.”

 

Just as that thought crossed her mind, Hayden spoke—as if he plucked it straight out of her head.

 

Enria flinched, pressing both hands to her temples.

 

“Wait—can you read my thoughts too?!”

 

“If baby wants. Baby is part of God.”

 

“Wha—!”

 

“But baby doesn’t read them much. Baby hates annoying things.”

 

He smiled sweetly.

 

Enria looked torn.

 

Seeing that, Hayden grinned, then spoke:

 

“Baby is part of God, but baby being mommy’s son doesn’t change. Baby is mommy’s child. Baby loves mommy and daddy. Same as you, right?”

 

“Of course. I love my Hayden more than anyone in the world. You’re my son, no matter what.”

 

She shook her head firmly.

 

Hayden nodded.

 

Enria continued, gently scolding: “But Hayden—other people’s hearts aren’t something you avoid reading just because it’s annoying. You shouldn’t read them. Even God doesn’t pry into every human’s mind.”

 

His brows lifted a little.

 

“So Hayden…”

 

“Mom.”

 

He cut her off before the lecture could fully ignite.

 

This time, he dropped the strange adult undertone completely, beaming up at her with his bright baby smile.

 

“Baby go play with Chavel now? Mom came, so Chavel left.”

 

He pointed sadly toward the door—very obviously sulking because she was about to scold him.

 

He looked exactly like a child who hated lectures.