Nascent Soul Rebirth: Starting as a Wizard

Phil stood on tiptoe and placed "Basic Blank Spirit Rune Construction" back in its original position—the third row under the "Runic Writing Basics" category.

Just as the books were neatly put back in their places, the heavy wooden door behind her, with its dark silver metal trim, appeared.

It made a very faint, almost inaudible "click" sound.

This is a unique security mechanism for the library:

The door lock will only be released once all the borrowed books have been correctly returned to their places.

Conversely, any book that is not returned to its place will trigger the magic circle, locking the door securely.

Until Lady Elina, who manages this place, or someone with higher authority comes to handle it.

This is both a urging and a silent warning, reminding them of the rigor and value of knowledge.

Isa pushed open the door, holding a thick cloak trimmed with snow-white fur.

"Miss, it's windy outside in the corridor, please put this on."

Phil obediently turned around and let Isa tie the sash of her cloak for her.

The fluffy texture against the neck provides a warm touch.

She stepped out of the library and into the enclosed corridor connecting the main castle with the side buildings.

Although it is an indoor corridor, one side has a tall arched glass window for lighting and ventilation.

As soon as I stepped inside, a chilling draft seeped in through the cracks in the window, a stark contrast to the warmth of the library.

The cold wind howled through the bare branches outside the corridor, making a mournful sound.

Phil instinctively gripped the collar of the cloak, burying half his face in the soft, warm fur.

The sudden chill was like a cold key, instantly unlocking a sealed box deep within her memory.

The scene suddenly changed.

No longer the warm and sturdy Viscount's mansion, but a drafty shack in the slums of Emerald Isle Harbor, barely made of broken planks and tarpaulin.

The winters there don't have the fierce blizzards of the Fiordland Islands, but they are a damp, chilling cold that seeps into your bones.

She and El were just two thin, pale children whose names were barely audible.

Wrapped in a tattered old blanket she had found, she huddled in a corner, shivering.

Their stomachs were growling with hunger, and they listened to the howling wind outside and the occasional drunkard's curses, huddling together to absorb the meager warmth they could get.

She had a high fever and felt like she was about to die, so El risked his life to steal medicine... Those fragments of memory were cold and sharp.

If it weren't for "Home of Dawn" taking them in, giving them names, providing them with food and shelter, and educating them...

They have probably long since become ice sculptures forgotten on some cold winter street, or nameless corpses that died of illness and hunger.

Thinking of this, Phil's heart tightened slightly, a mixture of fear and lingering dread of the past hardships.

It also reflects a growing appreciation for the present circumstances, even tinged with a lingering sense of unreality.

She quickened her pace, walked through the corridor, and returned to her bedroom suite in the side wing.

The living room was warm and cozy, with the flames in the fireplace leaping merrily, dispelling the last trace of chill brought in from outside.

Isa had already prepared everything:

A clean and comfortable set of casual home clothes was placed on a cushioned chair, and on the small round table next to it, the aroma of black tea wafted from the spout of a white porcelain teapot.

The accompanying plate contained several delicate snacks.

Lemon tarts sprinkled with icing sugar, petite almond shortbread, and local specialty milk cakes garnished with berry preserves.

"Miss, the hot water is ready," Isa reminded softly.

Phil nodded and went into the adjoining washroom.

A large brass bathtub was filled with steaming hot water, with a few dried flower petals floating on the surface, emitting a faint, relaxing fragrance.

Soaking in warm water, washing away the fatigue from a morning of mental study, was an unimaginable luxury in her past life.

Even at the Dawn House, bathing was a simple, timed, and rationed process with everyone taking turns.

She still sometimes feels disoriented, wondering if she's having a dream that's too beautiful to be true, and fearing that she might wake up at any moment.

After changing into a soft velvet-trimmed robe and drying her hair with a thick towel, Phil returned to the living room and sat down in an armchair near the fireplace.

Isa poured her a cup of black tea, then quietly stepped back to the wall, standing respectfully with her hands at her sides.

Holding the warm teacup, Phil still felt somewhat uncomfortable.

Being served so meticulously and maintaining elegant and proper etiquette at all times is still a "lesson" that she needs to consciously adapt to.

Lady Alina once said to the three of them gently but firmly: "My dear children, the place you are going to, identity and posture are part of the power itself."

From now on, get used to being served, get used to focusing on your exceptional studies, and leave trivial matters to Isa and the others. This is for your own good.

Just as Phil was sipping his black tea, trying to ignore the ever-present gaze...

A sound, quite different from Isa's gentle knocking, came from outside the door.

"Thump! Thump thump thump!"

It was urgent, forceful, and even carried a hint of impatience.

Isabella frowned slightly, but still quickly went to open the door.

The door had barely opened a crack when a figure nimbly slipped in, bringing in a blast of cold outdoor air and the distinctive smell of dust and sweat from the training ground.

It's El.

His face was rosy and his eyes were bright.

She carefully held a bowl and plate covered with a thick cloth in her hands and presented it to Phil like a treasure.

"Little sister! Look what good things I brought you!" His voice was loud and clear, filled with barely suppressed joy.

Phil twitched his nostrils slightly, already catching a rich aroma of roasted meat, a blend of spices and oil.

This is definitely not the kind of food you would normally eat for lunch.

"What is it?" she asked cooperatively, her eyes showing helplessness and indulgence towards her brother's childish behavior.

"Hehe, it's monster meat! Rock deer hind leg meat! Freshly roasted, it smells amazing!"

Al proudly lifted the cloth, revealing several thickly sliced ​​pieces, roasted to a perfect crisp on the outside and tender on the inside.

The deep red meat, still sizzling slightly with fat, released an intense aroma that filled the air.

He eagerly grabbed the biggest piece with his hand and, without saying a word, shoved it toward Phil's mouth.

"Try it! It's still warm!"

"El!" Phil blushed and leaned back instinctively, while Isa, who was beside him, coughed lightly at the right moment.

El paused, looking at his oily fingers, then at his sister's slightly flushed face and the maid's calm but admonishing gaze.

Realizing his mistake, he immediately looked annoyed and embarrassed, his hand holding the piece of meat frozen in mid-air.

Isa quickly handed over a delicate little silver fork.

Phil took the fork, feeling relieved but also somewhat apologetic.

She didn't want to embarrass her brother, but the etiquette taught by Lady Alina had become like a second skin, beginning to influence her instincts.

She used her fork to pick up a small piece of meat and gracefully put it into her mouth.

The meat is indeed exceptional, firm yet elastic, and bursting with juice when chewed.

With its unique wild flavor and subtle, magical aftertaste, it is far superior to ordinary livestock meat.