"Happy Birthday, Lily!"
A chorus of cheers washed over me as I once again reclaimed my rightful place—
The center of attention.
Yes, bask in my glory, peasants.
A gaggle of well-dressed ladies cooed, their eyes practically sparkling as they fawned over me. A group of distinguished gentlemen chuckled, each taking turns hoisting me into the air like I was some kind of prized potato at an auction.
Sure, the admiration was nice and all… but could they maybe not treat me like a glorified sack of flour?!
Apparently, turning one year old was a big deal in this world.
This whole extravaganza—what my parents called a "birthday party"—was meant to celebrate the monumental achievement of surviving 365 days as a tiny human.
Geez, as if I had a say in the matter.
Most guests were utterly obsessed with my heterochromatic eyes and two-toned hair—predicting I'd become a heartbreaker in the future.
Some even had the audacity to suggest I be "saved" for their sons.
…Huh?
Saved?
What was I, a sword to be inherited?
Then again… if I already had a lineup of future fiancés, that could be hilarious.
I'd get to crush their dreams one by one—metaphorically speaking, of course.
At least for now.
Wait a second—
I was a guy in my past life. What if I still liked girls?
That would make me gay, wouldn't it?!
And I refuse to be gay! Not in this life! Not in a million lives!
…Ugh, thinking about it will always give me a headache.
Whatever. Never mind. Moving on.
The best part of birthdays?
Presents.
A mountain of them.
Here's hoping this shower of affection becomes a yearly tradition.
As I gazed at the sheer love and warmth radiating from my parents and their friends, I had a revelation.
Maybe… just maybe…
Cuteness was the most powerful weapon in this world.
Sure, the path of an assassin was still an option…
But don't get your hopes up just yet.
"Happy birthday, young lady!"
Romeo's deep, warm voice rumbled through the air as he stepped forward, a grin stretched across his rugged face. "I hope you'll enjoy this simple gift from me."
A simple gift, huh?
Considering the sheer avalanche of presents I'd already received, one more wouldn't hurt. But Romeo's presence alone made this one stand out—because unlike everyone else in this room, he radiated that strange, mist-like energy.
Yeah. That still needed an explanation.
Note to self: investigate later.
For now, I focused on the two towering men in my life.
Bruno, my dear father, was elegant, lean, and composed.
Romeo, on the other hand? A walking fortress.
His well-tailored suit barely contained his broad shoulders and thick arms, muscles shifting like rolling boulders beneath the fabric.
No offense, Bruno, but in the testosterone department? Your brother wins. Hands down.
With practiced ease, Romeo lifted a delicate silver necklace.
Dangling from the chain was a colorless sphere, about the size of a raspberry.
It wasn't glass. It wasn't crystal.
The material shimmered faintly—yet at the same time, it felt... empty.
What is this?
Before I could analyze it further, Romeo gently clasped the necklace around my neck.
And then—
The entire room gasped.
Loudly.
A wave of hushed whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire. Some guests gawked openly, their hands flying to their mouths. Others exchanged uneasy glances, their polite smiles faltering.
Uh. Did I just trigger a doomsday prophecy or something?
I mean, come on. This was my day, right? My first birthday. Shouldn't I, the birthday girl, be the first to know what the fuss was about?
I turned to Elza, searching for answers.
She opened her mouth—then snapped it shut.
Her gaze flickered between me and the necklace, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. But beneath the initial shock, there was a spark of pride.
She turned sharply to Romeo, her jaw clenched, as if silently demanding an explanation.
I followed her gaze to my uncle.
Romeo only nodded.
Slowly. Deliberately. A soft smile playing on his lips.
Bruno, ever the stoic figure, simply ruffled my hair. Just once. A single, hesitant stroke.
Warm. Gentle.
Yet his eyes?
Widely opened. Slightly shaking. Worried.
Through the sea of guests, a woman in a stunning red dress pushed forward, nearly spilling the glass of red wine in her hand.
Heh. Careful, lady. That looks expensive.
Her striking features almost mirrored Elza's, though her expression was more... intense.
"Romeo," she pressed, her voice tight with barely contained excitement. "You don't think…?"
She trailed off, letting the unspoken question hang in the air.
Romeo nodded, "The Flow," he said at last, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs. "I could sense it in her every time I visited."
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable.
"No... not just that. She felt it in me the moment we met."
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, as if still processing it himself.
"The Young Lady… it's clear. She's going to bloom as a Flow wielder."
Another collective gasp rippled through the room.
This time, it wasn't just shock—it was awe.
The energy in the room shifted. Some guests exchanged wide-eyed glances, while others stared at me with newfound reverence.
Flow.
In this world, magic was a fairy tale, something scoffed at. But the Flow—that was real. The very lifeblood of all extraordinary abilities.
And apparently, I had it.
The blue mist I'd seen swirling in and around Romeo—was that the Flow?
Interesting.
A strange warmth bloomed in my chest. A feeling of familiarity, like something long forgotten stirring awake.
For the first time that evening, something about this party felt worth celebrating.
Thank you, Romeo.
The woman in red turned sharply to my parents, her excitement making her grip on the wine even more precarious.
Lady, I swear, one more sudden movement and that dress is done for.
"Congratulations, Elza! And Bruno!" she beamed, her smile stretching ear to ear. "Your daughter is one of the two per thousand! And at such I young age!"
A ripple of reactions followed.
"Yeah, I wish her all the luck in the world!" called out one man from the crowd.
Another raised his glass high, his voice ringing clear, "Here's to Lina's path! May it be a great one!"
"Cheers!"
Glasses clinked, voices cheered, the energy celebratory.
But me?
I was still stuck on that number.
Two per thousand.
So the Flow was that rare?
The realization sent a chill down my spine.
Sure, this was amazing news. Having Flow meant potential—power. It made me someone special.
But... I didn't want to be special.
Not in this life.
I'd already been exceptional once before, and let's just say… happiness hadn't exactly come packaged with it.
I just wanted to live normally this time.
I glanced at the faces around me—the admiration, the awe, the expectations.
Yeah. Something told me that wouldn't be happening.
Great. A shift in the narration. Just what I needed.
And, as expected, my life took a turn.
A subtle shift, but significant nonetheless.
My parents still loved me dearly, but their focus had undeniably changed.
Now, everything seemed to revolve around the Flow.
They swapped out my usual bedtime stories for children's books about Flow. Cartoons with Flow-wielding heroes dominated my playtime. They even tried slipping educational Flow programs into my routine—as if brainwashing a one-year-old was going to yield results.
Cute effort, Mom and Dad. But neither of you even has Flow.
Still, their excitement was endearing.
Then there was Romeo.
His visits became more frequent, more personal. He'd sit with me, sharing glimpses of his life as a Flow wielder. His words carried experience, wisdom, and something else—curiosity.
Curiosity that often lingered on my necklace.
Like, dude, what exactly are you expecting? A surprise transformation? A color change? Did he already regret giving it to me?!
Sorry, buddy. Gifts are non-refundable.
But through our conversations, I began piecing together the key difference between the Flow and magical energy.
In my previous world, magic was as natural as breathing. It saturated the air, pulsed through creatures, and lived within humans as an innate reserve.
Magic was like a well of power inside you—something you could cultivate through meditation, absorbing the ambient mana to expand your reserves. Skilled mages could even manipulate external mana, weaving it into their own, creating more potent spells with the right incantations.
Speaking of which, spellcasting was an art.
Most spells required recitation—ritualistic, poetic, and, frankly, kind of badass. Sure, it was a bit slow, but there was something undeniably charming about it.
Then there were affinities.
Each person had a natural bond to a specific element—fire, water, earth, lightning, and so on. The greater one's magical reserves, the stronger their affinity became.
In my previous life, I was a nobody to the unknowing eye.
No surge of magic, no flicker of power. Just a man who seemed utterly ordinary.
But that was the greatest deception of all.
I did possess magical energy—more than most, in fact. But unlike others, mine was undetectable.
The reason?
My affinity—Emptiness.
It was an exception, an unclassified power beyond even the most revered S-rank affinities.
Magic was supposed to be seen, felt, sensed. But mine? It was a void. A black hole that swallowed perception itself.
It wasn't just defensive—it was absolute control over the very environment.
I could bend gravity with a thought, snuff the air from a room, drown a battlefield in a vacuum, and wield the unseen as both blade and armor.
And the true strength of Emptiness?
Its unpredictability.
Enemies couldn't react to what they couldn't perceive. No chants to decipher. No elemental traces to follow. No glowing spells telegraphing my attacks.
By the time they realized they were dying, it was already too late.
Add to that my early years of relentless training, my life spent walking in the shadows, and well…
That's how I became the greatest assassin in history.
Flow, however, operates on an entirely different principle than magical energy.
Unlike mana, which saturates the air, the earth, and every living thing, Flow is selective. It resides only within specific beings and objects, granted at birth or imbued through unknown means.
A Flow user can draw from their own internal reserves, but the real strength of Flow?
It lies in borrowing power from the world itself.
To do this, one must rely on an intricate network within their body—Flow Circuits. These circuits, similar to blood vessels, circulate Flow throughout a user's system. But their true potential comes when they are extended outward, reaching beyond the body like invisible threads.
Touch the ground, and you connect to its Flow. Reach out to an object, and you borrow its power. Most beginners start by drawing Flow through their legs, grounding themselves to the earth. A stable foundation, yes—but a fatal weakness in battle due to the lack of mobility.
The downside? Flow doesn't replenish through meditation like mana. No quiet focus to restore your reserves—only time can heal a depleted Flow. Artifacts can accelerate recovery, but patience remains the ultimate remedy.
Unlike magic users, Flow wielders aren't bound by affinities. They adapt, shaping their power to fit their combat style. But there's a catch—unlike mages who summon fire from thin air, Flow users need contact. Want to bend the earth? You must touch the ground. Want to manipulate water? Your Flow must connect to it.
But there was something that didn't add up.
They say Flow exists only in tangible things. If so, why does fire—a mere chemical reaction—possess it? Water has Flow… but what about vapor?
Romeo's words were firm, "Vapor, air, light, any intangible thing, and most of chemical reactions lack Flow."
But how could that be?
Contradictions. Mysteries. Gaps in logic that no one else seemed to question.
But I would.
I would unravel the secrets of Flow—no matter what it took.