Old woman Agnes inspected the shelves. Her gnarled fingers danced over the jars, lifting a few to check for dust, her eyes narrowing at the faintest smudge. Ethan could almost feel the breakfast slipping away from him with every scrutinizing glance she cast.

Finally, it looked like she was done. "Well, you have done an adequate job. You can come up and have your breakfast." She started walking up the stairs.

"Phew." Ethan slightly relaxed when she turned around and looked at him once again. "Why were you using your hands the entire time? What kind of a mage doesn't know how to do a few simple chores using spirit magic? It's almost like you just discovered mana?"

The old woman stared at him evenly and Ethan's heart nearly stopped. What the fuck? How the hell did she hit the nail right on the head?

"You are hiding something, aren't you?" The old woman smiled wickedly.

"No… I… I mean…" Ethan stammered. "I am not really good at magic." He tried to make something up.

But for some reason his palms were sweating, his heart was beating loudly and he couldn't think clearly. Was he having a panic attack or something? Just looking at the old hag made him feel a tremendous pressure.

An unbearable pressure. It made him want to reveal everything she wanted to know. There was no hope to hide anything from her prying eyes in the first place.

Ethan's knees felt weak, his chest tightening as he struggled to breathe. His mouth was dry, his thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm.

He gripped the edge of the shelf to steady himself, his fingers trembling. Why was he so terrified? Why did her gaze feel like it was peeling back his skin, laying bare every secret he had ever buried?

He was about to completely lose his sanity when he suddenly looked at his hands. More specifically his wrists.

He had always hated his wrists because they always kept giving him issues. In his last life, he had been a random guy caught in a drab software job. Maybe it was never the job's fault. He just wasn't all that interested in it.

However, in this life, he felt alive. He was all alone in this new world and everywhere he turned there was danger hiding and lying in wait for him and still he felt alive in this place.

He loved the feeling of power and not being a helpless little weakling. He still had a long way to and he enjoyed trying to get there step by step, building his strength and power little by little.

And his wrists did not hurt anymore.

There was no way he was going to jeopardize all of this because he couldn't hold his shit in front of a single old woman. Ethan gritted his teeth and stood as he continued staring at his wrists.

Strangely, it helped him get somewhat of a mental clarity.

Miss Agnes's smile widened. "You're a terrible liar," she laughed. "But you have a lot more potential than I thought. Let's see how far you can go." She stared at him for a moment longer before turning around. "You can relax now. Come upstairs and have some breakfast."

Ethan instantly felt as if a mountain of weight was lifted off his shoulders. He slumped on to the cold, hard floor, his body trembling as the crushing pressure lifted. His limbs felt like jelly, his chest heaving as he sucked in desperate gulps of air.

The room spun around him, shadows dancing at the corners of his vision. He pressed his palms against the floor, the cool stone grounding him, anchoring him back to reality. Whatever that was—whatever she did to him—it was over.

His eyes drifted to the stairs where Miss Agnes had disappeared, her crooked figure shuffling away as if nothing had happened. But Ethan knew better. That was no ordinary woman. She had peeled back his defenses, laid bare his secrets without even lifting a finger.

It was raw, terrifying power. And he had been utterly helpless against it. The realization sent a cold shiver down his spine. He wasn't safe here. He wasn't safe anywhere. Not until he learned how to defend himself, how to fight back.

His fingers curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He couldn't afford to be weak. Not in this world. Not when he was surrounded by monsters in human skin. If he wanted to survive, he had to grow stronger.

Ethan pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaking but steady. He walked upstairs deep in thought and became startled when a smiling face greeted him.

"Good morning, Master. Breakfast is ready. Would you like to eat here or bring it upstairs?" Lia beamed at him. Behind her, the little girl looked up and grinned at Ethan briefly before burying her face once again in food.

Ethan let out a sigh. Ignorance is truly bliss. He sat down quietly at the table and ate his food in deep thought.

A couple of minutes later, the old woman walked over to the table, making Ethan instantly tense up. "Oh, relax already, fool." She said, her lips curving into a faint smile. "I don't really care about who you are or what you are."

Ethan's pulse quickened, his jaw clenching. Did she know? How much did she see? He swallowed his fear, and tried to deny it. "I don't know what you're talking about. I am from a nearby-"

Miss Agnes laughed, a low, mocking sound that sent chills down his spine. "You really are a terrible liar." She set her cup down, leaning back in her chair. "But that's alright. I don't need to know your secrets… yet."

Her fingers drummed on the table, her nails clicking rhythmically. "For now, all you need to know is this—you're mine. My apprentice. My student. My free labor."

Her smile widened, her teeth sharp and yellowed. "You'll do as I say, and take care of some annoying tasks for me. In return I will teach you a few things here and there. Do we have a deal?"