The concept of reincarnation was no stranger to me. You could find it everywhere you looked in the the twenty-first century; television, novels, manga, and animation. Ironically, reincarnation or transmigration was my favorite trope.
I had always im...
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"Apple?" I offer, holding one out as he perches stiffly on the edge of the chair. I don't wait for him to answer. "You know what? Never mind. Just eat the apple"
Where did the apple come from you might ask? I call it 🌟 magik 🌟
Charles blinks at it like I've handed him a live grenade. After a minute, he carefully takes it, without muttering a simple "Thank you"
Oh well.
He's been strangely quiet since he came in to my room. Apparently, his family is staying here for a day while they move into their new place near a cliff. From what he's told me, they're loaded. Not noble-born or anything but clearly so rich it hardly matters. Would I like to meet his family? Not particularly. Do I want to babysit this kid and make him comfortable? Also no.
But... looking at him, all stiff posture and fidgety hands, his tiny frame making him seem even smaller, I can't help but feel a little sorry for him. The kid's what? Nine? Ten? I sigh, shoving aside my irrational weariness against him because of who he's supposed to become someday.
Without thinking, I reach over and pinch his cheek. Not hard, just enough to watch his face crumple into an offended pout.
So soft.
"Why'd you do that?" he huffs, rubbing at his cheek.
"Because it's funny," I deadpan.
His scowl deepens and I almost laugh when Shawn, my raven, swoops in and lands gracefully on my shoulder.
Charles stiffens immediately, his eyes fixed on the bird like it's a hurricane of doom.
"What's... that?"
"This handsome fella here," I grin. "is Shawn. Relax, he doesn't bite. Well, not often."
Charles hesitates, his gaze flickering between me and the bird. "Is it... clean?"
I roll my eyes. "Yes, he's clean, tame and probably has better manners than you."
Did he just click his tongue at me? Don't you roll your eyes at me!
"Here," I say, grabbing his hand and guiding it toward Shawn. "He's harmless. Just keep your fingers away from his beak."
Charles's fingers tremble at first but when they brush against Shawn's glossy feathers, I can see the tension draining out of him.
Shawn, the traitor, seems to like him immediately, hopping onto Charles's lap like it's his new favorite perch.
Charles's eyes widen with wonder as he strokes Shawn's feathers. It's such an innocent expression-that I find myself watching him more than I intend to.
"You're lucky, you know," I say, breaking the silence.
Charles looks up at me, puzzled. "Why?"
"Shawn doesn't like just anyone," I explain, scooting closer to brush a speck of dust off his collar. "He's picky. He actually bit me once." I hold up my hand to show the faint scar, a reminder of that day.
