While I possessed nothing, I could acquire everything others held.
Yet, I had never anticipated paying such a steep price for it,
nor did I ever imagine my future would be irrevocably altered in this manner.
I truly hadn’t.
“How utterly boring.”
This was the phrase I, a mere seven-year-old, found myself repeating day in and day out.
If I were to encounter such a presumptuous child now,
I would undoubtedly give them a sharp flick, questioning what a little squirt could possibly know about having lived a full life.
But at that age, everything in the world genuinely felt tedious to me.
I would rise at the same hour,
Prepare myself in the same attire,
And proceed to the same location, where I would remain seated behind my father for hours on end.
‘This is so tedious.’
On that particular day, the monotonous routine unfolded exactly as before.
It was a vexing existence, forcing me to sit in silence, unable to utter a single word.
“Welcome.”
“A pleasure, Count Noire.”
Once again, a visitor arrived at the mansion’s exquisitely manicured garden.
‘…He’s quite corpulent.’
My gaze, devoid of any genuine interest, swiftly swept over him from head to toe.
Though I knew it was impolite, this was my sole source of entertainment.
Indeed, the only variation in my monotonous existence was the identity of the client who graced us with their presence on any given day.
My father gestured subtly behind him.
I offered a small nod and rose from my chair.
The only occasion I was permitted to stand was when greeting a client.
“Greetings. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Celen Noire.”
“Hoo, the third son of the Noire family. To finally behold your face.”
“I am training my son as a true member of the Noire lineage. I trust you will extend your understanding.”
At my father’s declaration, the man nodded, his eyes meticulously examining my features.
‘How utterly impolite, you fat oaf.’
Unable to utter such a thought aloud, I offered a practiced, artificial smile in return.
Afterward, as was my custom, I poured the black tea and carefully set the prepared dessert directly before him.
My duties, for the moment, were complete.
Upon the conclusion of this preordained task, I would retreat to my chair once more,
Resigning myself to the tedious cycle of sitting patiently until the conversation finally drew to a close.
“My thanks, Count Noire.”
“The pleasure is mine.”
“As dependable as ever. Truly a Noire.”
As the client departed the garden, a satisfied smile gracing their lips, I inwardly clicked my tongue.
‘……Yet another identical farewell.’
I must have heard that precise compliment at least a dozen times this month alone.
Each person praised my father with the same tired phrases, offering identical, practiced expressions.
I detested everything about it.
Everything felt utterly monotonous.
The insincere pleasantries and formalistic speech,
The expressions they wore when addressing my father,
Even my father, who concluded each interaction with an obligatory, polite smile.
Everyone was merely enacting a tiresome play, and I was an unwilling audience member, trapped backstage.
Having endured this routine for over two years, it was inconceivable that life could hold any interest for me.
I loathed the ‘Noire’ they so revered,
And my family’s power, whatever its true extent, held absolutely no meaning for me.
However…
“Celen.”
“Yes, Father.”
“What did you make of this client?”
This disinterest, however, was not shared by my family or my father.
They firmly believed that I, too, must inherit the revered name of Noire,
And, by extension, the extraordinary abilities intrinsic to our lineage.
‘I shouldn’t have divulged everything I witnessed.’
I inwardly clicked my tongue, then addressed my father with a flat, emotionless tone.
“They are doomed to fail.”
“Indeed?”
“He will divorce his wife, and his eldest son will abandon the family. Following that… he will be assassinated during a power struggle with his younger son over the family headship.”
“I understand.”
My father silently lifted his teacup.
I, in turn, selected one of the desserts prepared for the client and placed it in my mouth.
I possessed the ability to glimpse the futures of others.
This was the very reason I was relegated to this endlessly tedious spectator’s seat.
It was not an ability unique to me alone.
Any individual with the blood of the Noire family flowing through their veins could wield it.
The Noires were masters of precognition.
They peered into the future, deciphered its currents, and reshaped it to align with desired outcomes.
Even the imperial family, as a matter of custom, invariably sought the counsel of a Noire before any official engagement.
“On which day would it be auspicious to embark on a campaign?”
“With which family should we forge an alliance to guarantee success?”
“What is the probability of a political assassination occurring?”
To such inquiries, the Noires consistently offered precise answers, grounded in what they had witnessed, rather than mere superstition or speculation.
For these compelling reasons, a steady stream of clients never ceased,
And for anyone bearing the Noire bloodline, the act of seeing the future was hardly an extraordinary feat.
However—
The peculiar aspect of my ability was this:
Unlike other members of my family, I could distinctly perceive the far distant future.
My visions extended even hundreds of years ahead.
My eldest brother could foresee a year into the future,
My elder sister, six months, and my younger brother’s maximum was roughly three months.
Even my father, the esteemed head of the Noire family, could only glimpse three years hence.
My ability first manifested when I was five years old.
The initial future I witnessed was centuries away, a world where everything I had ever known had utterly vanished.
“Father! The world has completely burned away!”
“What nonsense are you uttering?”
Predictably, everyone, myself included, dismissed it as a mere fanciful dream or a terrifying nightmare.
However, a subsequent vision I experienced soon after,
Revealed that a world consumed by flames was far from a simple delusion.
The second future I saw was identical to the one my eldest brother and father had both witnessed for a year ahead.
That prophecy, in due course, materialized into reality,
And only then did the members of our family begin to lend credence to my words.
‘That, of course, marked the genesis of my misfortunes…’
Consequently, at an age when I should have been frolicking and indulging myself, I was transformed into a permanent fixture upon a chair.
If I could only rewind time,
I would have remained utterly silent, never uttering a single word, content to live as an utterly useless dependent.
I truly would have.
Yet, the one fortunate aspect amidst this misfortune was the utter impracticality of my ability.
“Celen.”
“Yes, Father.”
“How many minutes did you perceive today?”
“…Fifteen seconds?”
My father exhaled a profound sigh, deep enough to make the very ground beneath us crumble.
His exasperation was entirely justifiable.
After all, I had only managed to glimpse a paltry fifteen seconds, all at the expense of desserts equivalent to a commoner’s entire monthly living expenses.
The performance-to-cost ratio remained, as ever, utterly abysmal.
‘Though this particular instance was at least somewhat useful…’
My ability harbored yet another critical flaw.
Unlike other members of our family, I possessed no control over specifying the future I wished to witness.
Whenever I attempted to peer into what lay ahead, my power would spread haphazardly, much like ink diffusing uncontrollably across water.
Unwanted scenes invariably surfaced,
And any demand for a specific vision was consistently met with an unyielding silence.
‘How utterly infuriating.’
Everything else functioned as it should, yet only matters pertaining to the future or the past proved so stubbornly uncooperative.
My father, fully cognizant of this limitation,
Never ceased these tiresome, repetitive exercises, relentlessly striving to cultivate my abilities, to no avail…
‘Over two years, my progress has been about as significant as an ant’s antennae.’
What a truly astonishing and remarkably progressive advancement.
To think that two years of my life and a fortune in precious funds had been squandered for such a negligible gain.
Had my grandfather been alive to witness this, he would surely have risen from his coffin to seize my father by the collar.
Alas, my grandfather had passed three years prior,
And my father, undeterred, intended to perpetuate this wretched daily routine once more today.
‘Just one more year to endure…’
The designated period my father had established was three years.
If my abilities remained in this lamentable state by then, I could at least live out my days as a comfortable, if useless, dependent within the household.
At least until I reached adulthood.
****
Before the arrival of yet another client, my father, as was his custom, used a magical artifact to assess my magical power.
“Deplorable.”
“It always is, I suppose.”
“…That is hardly something to accept with such resignation, Celen.”
Yet, it was merely the truth.
My magical power barely exceeded that of a commoner incapable of wielding magic.
If an average person possessed a mana level of around 10, mine hovered at a meager 12.
For context, that 12 was the result of a monumental increase of 1 point over two full years.
‘This abysmal state is precisely why the future appears to me in such an uncontrollable, haphazard manner.’
To articulate my current predicament,
I had diligently studied numerous high-grade spells, but possessed absolutely no magical power to cast them.
It would be quicker, in fact, to simply burn a spellbook containing the ‘Fireball’ spell to kindle a fire.
Consequently, for me to glimpse the future of another,
Unlike the other members of our family, I was compelled to expend an exorbitant amount of resources.
The Noire’s inherent authority could, after all, be activated by offering a significant price to others.
‘With my magical reserves at rock bottom… the losses consistently outweigh any potential gains, which is the core of the problem.’
Family potential or any grand aspirations be damned,
At this rate, our household’s financial ruin would undoubtedly arrive first.
Given the increasing length of my father’s daily sighs, my eventual escape might be closer than I imagined.
****
Once more, the chime bell resonated.
It was the familiar signal announcing the arrival of a new client.
I meticulously smoothed my attire,
Then, correcting my habitually slouched posture, I sat ramrod straight.
A moment later—
Someone entered the garden.
‘That’s…’
It was a figure I recognized.
Hair like finely honed metal, a sharp, pale blue hue.
Golden eyes that betrayed not a hint of their inner thoughts.
It was Duke Elliad.
Even my father’s tension was palpable.
Just as I prepared to rise from my seat as usual, my father subtly gestured behind him.
“Celen.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Step outside for a moment.”
“…Yes.”
This particular signal conveyed an urgency, indicating a matter my father needed to discuss in private.
Clutching the dessert still in my hand, I offered a polite bow.
I then exited the garden, the uneaten dessert still in my grasp.
That man, I reasoned, seemed unlikely to consume even a single bite of such a confection.
****
I walked out to the well-maintained periphery of the garden, as I always did.
‘What to do?’
Though it was a rare moment of freedom,
I knew I would inevitably be called back inside, so there was little cause for true joy.
Like a loyal hound guarding its home, I was simply condemned to waste time aimlessly in the vicinity.
‘Oh, that’s…’
I spotted the client who had arrived earlier.
That unpleasant, corpulent man who had stared so intently at my face.
He still hadn’t departed, his unsettling gaze sweeping across his surroundings.
More precisely—
He was casting an offensive stare at one of our mansion’s maids.
‘What a pervert.’
Such men, to mask their own depravity,
Would invariably feign the utmost nobility, constantly invoking ‘dignity’ as a mantra.
All the while, their eyes remained fixed on the most vulgar sights.
I subtly observed the perverted fatty.
Fortunately, I hadn’t peered too far into his future, so I still had a small reserve of my ability’s cost remaining.
‘Something that will maximally humiliate him.’
A familiar sensation tingled at my fingertips.
The magical power emanating from my hand gently enveloped the fatty, like a subtle moonlight.
A moment later—
A jet-black wig appeared in my hand,
And within my sight, the fatty was flailing about, his head now gleaming bald.
Concealing the wig behind my back, I stealthily began to walk backward.
‘Serves him right.’
My intention was to swiftly return to my room,
Hide the wig beneath my bed, and thus destroy the evidence.
“…What’s that?”
That was, until I heard a voice I had never encountered before, speaking from beside me.
I whirled around to my side.
A girl with dark navy hair and pink eyes entered my vision,
Her expression somewhat bored as she gazed at me.
