Consistently one of the most uncomfortable experiences I've had is waking up in a place I didn't fall asleep in. It's not a matter of me sleep walking or anything like that either, it's always caused by another person.

I'm pretty adaptable to sleeping in all sorts of places, and in whatever conditions they may provide. My looping life has taught me to deal with that well. Yet, even with that deep understanding, if I wake up to a ceiling when there was originally a sky above me, it doesn't settle well with me. Well, that doesn't matter now, the sky and ceilings all look the same nowadays. But the feeling of where I sleep is still supposed to be consistent too.

Whether it be the sight, the touch, the sound, or even the smell, if something's different about the environment I wake up in, my hands suffer from some sort of internal itchiness as a side effect to my simmering annoyance. They tend to do that when my routine is thrown off in any way, actually. It's a troublesome trait that just makes me more conscious of my unexpected situation, which then cycles me back into feeling odd again.

So, with that said, although I am in an extremely soft and warm bed, snuggled under the covers nice and neatly, I am cranky. Because I wasn't here before. What happened, and why?

Hm… I guess I don't need to ask that question, I know exactly what happened, but I just don't want to deal with the aftermath, so I'm denying it. My father found me, and even when I used desperate measures to escape, he figured out who I was and claimed me as his own. How annoying. I'm here again.

Did the Duke really travel across the entire mountainous region with me asleep? How long was I asleep? How much magic did he burn trying to get me here?

My eyes are still closed, despite me being awake, and I'm making sure to maintain my breathing to keep up the act that I'm asleep. If someone is in here, I want to know who.

After 5 minutes I conclude I am alone. It's very quiet. I haven't even heard someone from a distance.

I'm almost definitely inside a room at my father's place. One of his numerous places, rather. If he recognized me as his daughter, the likelihood is that we're back in the usual spot. What was the name of this area again? It doesn't matter, I won't be staying here long. I'll act as I need to for a little while and disappear at the best moment.

But before that I need to know the situation of this house. There's not a single maid watching over me, in this huge place? No physician or anything? Not even my father?

I can hear my breathing, so I know I'm not deaf, which means my only option now is to risk a mana pulse, and so I do so.

Nothing happens. It feels like a dull thud against a soft carpet. That familiar sensation of my magic spreading outwards and around me is instead reverted into a whimper and fizzle as it fades away.

Ah. Right. I'm in noble territory now.

I'm reminded once again about the idiocy of noble culture. Unfortunately this also extends to my father's family. Because I use my mana pulse to see, I rely on the inherent mana channels in creatures, fauna, flora, objects, or whatever is nearby. Absolutely everything has mana, and I mean it.

Nobles, of course, in their attempts to distinguish themselves, find entertainment and power in the most absurd ways, and it always ends in spectacular downsides. An unnatural powder for beauty will be poisonous, and keeping monsters as pets will in fact kill people, but these nobles push ever forward.

And a pretty significant part of this nonsense is cleansing all of their possessions from mana channels. The bricks and stone and wood and metal that built of their homes and adorn their rooms all have been artificially modified by expert mages to become pristine, preserved, and manaless. It costs fortunes to do so, but these people have the money to spend.

I never really cared about it in my past lives, I just found it odd. Now, this quirk is a direct disadvantage to me. I'm trapped in a place where I cannot orient myself properly, and my mana pulse has nowhere to spread.

I was already cranky, and this isn't helping.

My hands loosen suddenly. It's only then that I realize they were straining themselves. Oh, they were holding…. Scipio. His two halves. My poor friend and my one ally in this life. I kept him close even after our loss and his death, huh? It seems I locked him to me while I was asleep as well. How did I get so attached to a walking stick in 5 months?

Hm. I'll continue to keep him close, even after his split, he can't be left behind now, that would be a betrayal to him and myself. Probably.

Scipio aside, I'm racking my brain with what I should do next. I'm alone in some quiet room with no one or nothing to base my next decisions off of. I can't be reactionary, so I guess I have to do something and see what happens.

I get up. The floor is cold, and farther from the top of the mattress than I anticipated. I feel a simple nightdress billow down as I stand up. Certainly not the worst clothing I've worn, but I would really prefer pants. Eventually I'd like to grab my outfit and bear skin cloak, but that can wait. I grab Scipio’s first half and start crawling along the ground, pointing him outwards so that he can touch something before I can. No need to bump my head.

It takes me a little under 15 minutes to get a feel for the room. It's not as big as I thought it was, and I'm able to explore it fully multiple times. There's the very large bed, a small nightstand on each side, and some sort of box at the far wall. The door is locked in a way where I can't mess with it, and it has a square handle. …A square handle?

That tells me all I need to know. This is the top floor of my father's place. It was worked on first during renovation, and the square handles are a result of my grandfather liking them at first, but changing his mind midway through the process. The rest of the floors are without squares.

I stand up again and feel my body. My largest wounds have been treated expertly, but there is a textured roughness on my abdomen now. Vulnus unsurprisingly left a mark.

Hm. While the treatment is appreciated, this supposed test is something that I don't want to deal with. I can tell that I'm supposed to follow the obvious hint of opening the box for a key to the door. The Sincavage family is odd in how it measures cognitive function, likely because of the branch family’s business. But there's no need to think about all that, I'll just blast the door off its hinges. As a thank you gift, of course.

I gather mana in my right hand and punch open the door. I'm pretty sure it's reinforced, but clearly not enough. I can hear it shattering into pieces. For now I take a part of the door and artificially shape it with mana so that it can function as a new walking stick. I use mana threads and attach the now free square door knobs to each end of the stick. I'll need a stick more than ever now, with this house being cleansed. I can't send my mana into it, but at least it's longer than Scipio. I'll name this one… Pseudo-Scipio, since they are in no way as good as the real one.

…I should find a way to repair Scipio soon.

Hm. I figured a mana blast would cause a commotion in a place as dense as this one. There's always a maid or attendant in the hallway. Is it nighttime?

It's then that I hear a door opening and the sound of rushing footsteps.

“Daughter, calm yourself!!”

Ah, there we go. He's coming from my left, so I thrust Pseudo-Scipio in that direction hoping to whack my father, but the stick is promptly snapped and crushed in mere seconds. My father picks me up in a hurry and practically throws me on the bed.

Well dang, if Pseudo-Scipio was going to be that useless I should've just left it as debris.

“We're not going to be fighting anymore, alright?”

Frankly I wasn't really looking for a fight, but yeah, sure.

There's a period of silence that lasts for a couple of minutes, but I can still sense that my father is here. It seems he's kneeling at the bedside. He tries multiple times to grab my hand but I always move it. You will accidentally crush my finger bones with your strength, father. It's happened to me before. And I know you've done it to other people too. Your grip strength when you are worried is a menace.

“Are you angry at me? There was no need to blow past the door.”

“...”

“...Will you at least listen to me?”

“...”

“I'll take your lack of a response as a yes.”

“...”

“You've been asleep for nearly a week. I had a forensic mage test your magic while the physician was healing you, and we have near identical mana signatures. Considering that you layered your mana signatures in a confusing way, you're smart enough to know what that means.”

“...”

“Well, there's no doubt that you are my child, and I've already got you here with me now, so I'd like to start anew. We can put our fight behind us, and I'll make sure you live a good life.”

“...”

“...For now, please rest some more. You can't afford to move your body too much. …And I'd rather not have another door destroyed.”

I can appreciate the attempt at sincerity, but this is going in one ear and out the other. I have confirmed two things at least. One, whatever room I'm in is likely intended to become my room, with decorations to be added to my liking. I can conclude this because of its sparseness in furniture. Plus, the Duke was close by, indicating that I'm by his office or bedroom. Despite this, I fully intend to keep this room undecorated.

The second thing, going by the Duke's statements, is that I can leech off of this house for an indeterminate amount of time. I'll need to act in a way that makes most personnel here support me, but not so much that they think I'm a lost cause.

I think I could probably sit around for a month before my escape. That'll give me some hearty meals and some better equipment. The longer I stay here, the more the people here will believe that I'll stay, so I'll cut them off before the wound is too deep. It'll just bring more trouble in the future if I stay longer. I should be able to make it if I feign slight stupidity, rather than full incompetence. Plus, with my month-long stay, I can let my father's concerns about me dwindle just enough so that he won't expect my departure.

Resolving to mingle around here for a bit, I close my eyes as a sign of my intention to fall asleep.

“...Alright then. I'm only leaving you like this because a select few people are allowed here right now. This goes for the entire manor, so no one should bother you. I'm sure you're used to sleeping in the wilderness anyways, but I'll prepare you a proper door soon.”

Whatever works for you, dear father.

“...Actually, before I go, I wanted to ask you about something. Do you have a name?”

I sit up and shake my head lightly. I could ignore him, but I know he'll be persistent about the upcoming topic. He always is.

“I've been thinking of how I would want to name you, should that be the case. How do you feel about the name Aella?”

Aella. Whenever I meet the Duke in my lives, he always gives me this name. It's worn and old, but I suppose I'll accept it yet again.

I give a thumbs up. And then abruptly snuggle under the covers of the bed. Shoo father, you did what you needed to do.

“I'm glad. Dream well, Aella.”

Ah! I need pants. I sit back up quickly and grab the Duke's arm.

“...Oh? Did you want me to sleep with you, Aella?”

In hindsight a dramatic action like that from a child would likely be interpreted that way. Oops. How do I say I want pants without looking like a fool? Perhaps I'll play up my childish side a bit.

I urge him to approach and lightly drag him closer to the bedside. I then stand up on the bed.

I tug on my dress, and then tug on his pants.

“I'm… not sure what you're trying to say, Aella. Forgive me.”

Ugh.

I make my motions more dramatic. I point at my dress and then make an “X” symbol with my hands, and then tug at the pants again and do a thumbs up.

“You like pants? Is that it?”

There we go! I nod.

“Is a nightdress not more comfortable? It leaves you less constrained and can easily be worn for relaxation.”

Dear father, you don't know this, but I fully intend to move around a lot during my time here, and dresses are not going to be my friend this life. If you still think I'm cute in this life too, scars and burns and all, then your daughter can be perfectly cute as you want in pants as well, if you give me a chance.

I present to him a dramatic double thumbs down. Give me the pants please.

“Alright, alright. I understand. Come with me.”

He lifts me up and starts to carry me somewhere. Hey, if you do that, how am I supposed to find my way around this place? I try to sign that I want to walk but the Duke just tells me to stop squirming. I resolve then and there to be the squirmiest child ever from then on out of residual crankiness.

It doesn't take long for us to reach another room. It's still on the same floor, and is likely the dressing room going by the smell. If I'm able to grab memories and locations from my sense of smell, it may be worth training it with magic. The more stable environment of the estate means smells are more consistent and less prominent than in the wild. When I return to nature, perhaps my training here could help me better identify all the stenches of the wild without overloading myself.

My feet touch the ground again, although it's much softer this time. Right, this was a carpeted room wasn't it? The only one in the whole house. It must be a pain to take care of. The maid that needs to clean this room must suffer greatly. My condolences to them.

“Aella, I’ve prepared a shirt and a pair of pants. You can change now, if you'd like.”

And I instantly do so. I can feel the Duke staring at me. He's probably agonizing over my wounds. Should I show off my new abdomen scar and glare at him for fun? Nah, that's a bit too cruel. Plus, he gave me pants, so he's safe for now.

“We'll need to feed you well Aella. And truly, you need to spend time resting. For your own sake. Please. Let's go back to your room.”

The Duke thankfully let’s me walk the short trip back, but it's with the caveat that I hold his hand. I am very conscious about his grip those few minutes, but the world spared me this time, and my fingers are safe.

I wait about ten minutes after he leaves before I move again. Alright, despite my father's wishes, I'm definitely not sleeping tonight. There's too much to do, getting a name and eating well are frankly the least of my concerns at the moment.

I need to find a way to navigate this place without my mana pulse. And since Scipio is currently half the man he was before, this means I need to brute force it with my hands and feet. I could probably make some light noise without alerting anyone. Thanks to the Duke this place seems to lack residents temporarily anyways, so I think I can risk this.

It takes me 3 hours to memorize the hallway. It's rectangular in its path, wide and with some end tables on its sides, but is generally consistent. I know not to open any doors yet, especially since I don't want to stumble into the Duke again. If I walk at the speed of a commoner rushing to work I can make it around the place in 5 minutes. If I walk at the speed of a princess in a garden, then that takes upwards of thirty. It's a pretty sizable place, and this is only the smallest floor, at the top.

My next move is to somehow spectacularly fall down the stairs. It doesn't really hurt or anything, but it does leave me disoriented. I'm sure that I would have entertained anyone who was watching. I am luckily a quiet faller, so I take my time gathering myself. I know that there is only one set of stairs to the top floor, which means that I'm on the third floor now. This one is… home to various meeting rooms, and some high-tier servants, I believe.

I would skip this floor in a heartbeat if the key to the library wasn't here. Unfortunately, since that is the one thing I'm aiming for currently, I'll need to do some snooping around. If I recall correctly, it's in an office to the east side of the floor, inside the desk. The second drawer on the right side specifically.

The problem is that I have no idea which exact office I'm looking for. It seems I'll have to break and enter into numerous rooms and hope I don't cause a disturbance.

One room down, and all I accomplish is bumping my head on the desk.

Two rooms down, and I nearly wake up who I believe to be the junior butler.

Three rooms down and I get the key! Let's just ignore the portrait that was knocked over as collateral damage. I'm sure it can be fixed.

Key in hand, I'm now forced to travel all the way down to the first floor, which leads to the library, settled in the basement. I manage to fall down only one staircase on the way, which is an improvement, I suppose. I believe I was overall quite lucky, as I didn't get discovered once, even with the current sparseness of the staff.

The library is dusty and mostly unused, just like I'm used to. It is because of this that I consistently find it a nice place to relax. I could very much spend hours here without realizing the passage of time, and that's what I intend to do now. I made sure that the door is locked behind me, I would rather avoid my father's interruptions.

I give the room a good sniff in the intentions of training my nose a bit, but end up sneezing from the dust instead. Maybe I should train my nose in the kitchen, rather than here. Time to move on to other curiosities for now.

I've read practically all the books at this library, but my main concern this time is to figure out how to read them again. I am blind, after all, and if I'm going to entertain myself during this month I want to find a way to read. Using books I'm at least vaguely familiar with could be a way to help jumpstart the process.

I grab one of the thinner books from a shelf close to me. Feeling the grooves on its cover, I can make out the title. It's named “Miss Mary Jumped Down The Chute”.

Ooh. This one is actually a great first choice. Despite the childish sounding name, it's a really gripping story of self reflection that's contextualized in a fairy tale adventure. I could definitely tell that it was very personal to the author. If they weren't long gone by now, I would have definitely tried to meet them in one of my lives.

I distinctly remember the first line of the book, “Miss Mary saw an odd looking hole in the ground that day”. I traced my finger along the page where that sentence is supposed to be. Hm. Doesn't seem like I can identify each individual print of the letters with just my finger. What if I channel some mana to my fingers then?

Nope. All that does is make me more susceptible to the feeling of the pages itself. Does this require an incantation? That's troublesome. The Sincavage family has never been good at any of the subsets of magic study. Incantation, invocation, magic circle studies, sorcery, witchcraft, and magic ritualism. All of that is not quite compatible with us. Where we excel is the raw and direct manipulation of mana in our bodies to enhance our default abilities. There's not really a formal school of magic for that, to my knowledge.

Surely there's a way around this limitation, right? What if I were to really focus a bunch of my mana into my index finger and overstimulate my sense of touch? Could I then feel the difference between the dried ink on the page and the page itself?

Let's try it. Ah! There it is. It's a very odd feeling at first, but I can feel my senses stimulated in a similar way to my expanded hearing technique. I'm able to read that famous first sentence easily now. Of course, this is only possible because I'm very familiar with the letters of this language, as well as the print style of the book. Despite this, I feel a sense of accomplishment.

I decide to then manipulate my mana in a way to where I create a sort of dam within my mana channels. It drains a lot out of me, but essentially I've stored a great deal of specialized mana in the tips of my index fingers, blocking their escape with a hardened wall of mana. It's very similar to the automatic defense that my body has put up for the haywire mana in my eyes. I've learned that stored mana won't fade, so testing out the technique on my index fingers should serve as a nice introductory experiment to explore this more. Stuff like this may have even more uses in the future.

Alright time to read. I'll take advantage and improve my pattern recognition through my increased touch. It'll be good to practice with Miss Mary here and then explore books with other fonts and writing styles. Textbooks are sure to be varied, and I bet children's books would be nice tests for picture sensing, if that does work too.

This first book is as I remember it. Miss Mary goes through the motions at first, but soon genuinely looks at herself and what she's done in her life, eventually confronting a vegetable monster in the climactic finale. It makes sense in the context of the book, I promise. Its simple writing style gives the deeper meanings a stronger hold on the reader. A nice strategy for sure.

I read the two sequels as well. I'm not quite sure why Miss Mary jumped down the chute another two times, it just doesn't make sense for her character. The second book has an interesting antagonist who unfortunately gets squandered by the writing of the book being too much of a sharp turnaround, and the third book feels like a rehash of the first, with Miss Mary revisiting locations as an old woman. Heck, even the vegetable monster returns and is all spoiled and rotten then. The themes of the two sequels get jumbled up, and their existences were likely a result of the author trying to ride on the success of the series. Unfortunate. They had good ideas that could have been better as original stories.

Ah. I got caught up thinking about books again. Well, I can't blame myself too much. Old books are just about the one thing that remains consistent no matter what I do each loop. They're an out of touch companion of mine, so I appreciate them.

Alright, let's try a historical drama next. “Princess Penny’s Perfect Parade” is a fair choice. I think it was down the 4th row on the left. …I promise the names are the most childish things about these books. Don't judge a book by its cover and all that.

This strangely methodical process of mine continues throughout the night. I'm gradually getting faster and faster with the speed of my touch-reading. I'm feeling my finger graze the pages in fast swiping motions. In just one night, I feel my speed increase into almost my normal one. People have told me I read books too fast, but life is too short to read them slowly. I can process the information fine anyways.

Well, I claim life is too short, but I guess that doesn't apply to me now. But it doesn't matter. When I read books faster I can read and reread all the books I want.

As I'm in the third part of a magical thesis by a failed Academy graduate, I feel the footsteps of the morning sound out above me. Various people are walking around and shouting in loud voices. The library walls muffle their speech, but I'm sure it involves some tedious work that I honestly don't need to get involved with. Going by the amount of footsteps I do hear, I'm guessing the Duke called back his staff. Was I the reason?

Regardless, I'll finish this set of theses by Mister Mourngrown here and then steal a snack and wash up before returning. I think I can sneak in with little trouble if I go in about… 3.5 hours? That sounds like a fine time.

Hm. It seems Mister Mourngrown here had a failed love story in his third year. What the heck does this have to do with magic? I dismissed this guy's work in my previous lives but I started reading it now on a whim. It's entertaining in the way that this guy sprinkles his personal troubles into a thesis and then tries to tie it back into magic. He claims fluctuations of emotions can directly alter a person's mana. I think it's worth exploring on my own, but I'd need to find someone to mess with first.

Perhaps in a different life. I'd rather not cause trouble with this one. Stay small, don't do anything notable, be quiet, hide yourself, escape when necessary, and live as a ghost. It's best for everyone to forget me this time around. I really am tired of the nonsense I need to deal with. As soon as I decide to leave here, I'll double down on that goal and live quietly until I die. Hopefully I can feel like I've taken some sort of break that way.

For now though, Mister Mourngrown has taken my fancy. I wonder if he did ever get back together with his love? Perhaps this new theorem he's now proposing helped him. Let's read some more.