Going to Dinner

As time went on, life settled into a strange kind of normalcy. The estate had a small pool, and on warmer days, his mother would take Elijah and his sister for a swim. Even Abel joined in sometimes, and that was a sight to behold.

For a guy who looked maybe forty or fifty, Abel was seriously jacked. His muscles belonged to a man half his age, rippling beneath skin marked by old battle scars. These weren't the neat kind, either—these were the rough, uneven lines that spoke of real fights, the kind where the odds weren't always in your favor. He moved with an easy grace, slipping into the water without a hint of self-consciousness. Once his mother dismissed him, he swam laps, his strokes smooth and efficient, each movement a reminder that beneath his butler's exterior was a warrior.

His mother, on the other hand, was a different kind of impressive. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a figure that balanced strength with elegance. She was toned and muscular but in a fit, athletic way—not overly built, just enough to hint that she could handle herself if needed. She definitely had admirers. Even the way she moved, fluid and confident, drew the eye. Elijah couldn't help but wonder what his father had looked like. If his mother had that effect on people, his dad had to have been something, too.

Elijah was only four months old, but he was following his sister's lead- what ever she did he would do—both of them doing things far beyond their age. Crawling with surprising speed, pulling themselves up on furniture, babbling in ways that almost sounded like the beginnings of real words. He himself didn't know if they were ahead of the curve, but the way his mother and Abel looked at them said enough. There was definitely something unusual about them, though no one was saying it out loud.

The mana he used to enhance their development in the womb.

One thought drifted through his mind occasionally—had he taken someone else's spot, was this body supposed to be his? Like, had he snatched up this body and assumed its life, pushing out whatever soul might have been here before him? The mechanics of reincarnation had never been clear, stupid laughing guy not explaining anything.

But honestly, it was just a passing thought. He liked living. Whatever the circumstances, he was here, and that was all that mattered.

Then, one evening, something shifted. His mother, usually so practical and measured, dressed him and his sister in little suits that screamed fancy. The fabric was smooth, the cut sharp—tiny outfits with a kind of retro-futuristic vibe. It was like 1950s jazz club meets sci-fi chic, and Elijah couldn't help but find it amusing.

His mother kept her makeup light, just enough to enhance her natural beauty. Her black dress was simple but stunning, the kind of elegance that didn't need sequins or frills to make an impression.

Abel looked like he'd just stepped out of a black-and-white film. Ruggedly handsome, his scars only adding to the allure. He wore a tailored suit that fit him perfectly, and Elijah found himself wondering if Abel had ever been married. He had that vibe—the kind of guy who'd been through a lot but still knew how to be gentle. The way he interacted with Elijah and his sister, the soft smiles and the easy patience, made it clear he was used to kids.

Dude was awsome.

When they finally piled into the hover car, Elijah knew this wasn't just a regular outing. The vehicle was sleek, its interior lined with soft lights and cushioned seats. They cruised through the city, the skyline a blend of steel and glass, neon lights reflecting off the polished surfaces. Their destination was a towering building, its top floors glowing with a warm, golden light.

Elijah had a pretty good guess where they were going. His grandparents, most likely. The way his mother's expression tightened, how Abel sat a little straighter—this was important.

And if he was right, if the ship was ready, then soon they'd be going into space.

They landed on the rooftop landing pad, and it was like stepping into a five-star experience. The kind of place where the air itself felt expensive. This was his mother's favorite restaurant, or at least, it was supposed to be.

Abel seemed to notice the discrepancy too. "I thought your favorite restaurant was native?" he asked, his voice casual but his expression curious.

"It is," his mother replied, her tone as smooth as ever, though a slight tsk slipped through. "My mother changed the venue."

Interesting, Elijah thought as they followed along in their hover stroller. The thing was more a floating crib than a traditional stroller—no wheels, no pushing. It glided along, guided by the simple motions of a watch on his mother's wrist. The whole setup felt futuristic, and Elijah had to admit it was pretty cool.

He remembered how Gorrak had talked about mana tech. The orc hadn't been kidding—it really was impressive stuff. He couldn't help but wonder what the limitations of Earth's membrane were at this point. How much of this tech was cutting-edge, and how much was being held back by the world's natural restrictions?

The restaurant itself was a testament to wealth and taste. It had that kind of elegance that whispered rather than shouted—platinum accents, soft lighting, and a design that managed to feel both modern and timeless. It was the kind of place that made rich people feel poor, a space designed to remind everyone of their place on the ladder.

As they entered, they were greeted courteously—though all the attention was on his mother.

"Miss, if you shall follow me."

The host didn't even look at Abel, whose frown deepened. His mother, however, held up a hand, stopping him from making an issue of it. Elijah picked up on the tension, the subtle hierarchy at play. This wasn't just about wealth. It was status. Titles. Politics.

The way they called her "Miss" felt off. Wasn't it supposed to be "My Lady" or "My Sir"? The memory tugged at him—like the day he'd been born, when the staff had called her "My Lady."

He mentally sighed. Politics. Always politics.

A part of him wished for the simplicity of the Ruh'Kel. Sure, they were brutal, and life with them was a gamble every day, but at least they were straightforward. Strength was strength, and worth was proven through action. None of this cloak-and-dagger, veiled-word nonsense.

He settled back in his hover stroller, letting his tiny fingers brush against his sister's. She looked around with wide eyes, more interested in the lights than the politics. Lucky her.

They moved through the restaurant, winding through tables draped in silk, glasses filled with shimmering liquids, and patrons who wore their wealth like armor. Elijah tried to keep his expression innocent, his curiosity masked by baby blinks and soft coos.

Whatever was waiting for them at the end of this walk, he had a feeling it was going to end up being dramatic.