A headache. That was the first thing I felt the moment I opened my eyes. A throb pulsated throughout my cranium as I oriented myself to the conscious world. I noticed a loud pounding resound from the other side of the door, causing the situation to worsen. In fact, it didn’t help that the horrendous noise was accompanied by a shrill voice, that belonged to none other than Old Lady, yelling, “Wake up you rut! You’re going to be late again!”

“Can it you hag. You’re making this headache worse,” I groggily replied.

“You deserve every bit of pain for all that drinking. Now hurry up!” Thereafter, her footsteps slowly receded down the corridor, leaving me to my own thoughts.

God, she was irritating. Now I understand why she's been living by herself all of these years. Seriously, who could stand a nag like her?...I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

Alright, I was being too harsh. Behind that rubbish demeanor, there was some charm to it. After all, she did have some acquaintances, and I suppose I was able to tolerate her JUST a little bit.

What am I thinking? I shook my head, relieving every strange thought that came to mind. That right there was one of my bad habits: randomly going off on tangents. Ironically enough, I would also consider it to be one of my finer qualities. After all, my capability to overanalyze mundane situations allowed for the development of some very interesting ideas to come to mind, spicing up my pretty dull and monotonous lifestyle. Speaking of such, today would be no exception.

I checked around my perimeter to find that I, once again, fell asleep in the library. I was surrounded by three bookshelves all whilst sitting atop a short, wooden stool with History of the Guilds lying face down on my lap. It really wasn't the greatest idea to keep falling asleep on the stool since I was beginning to develop some really severe back pain. But, for reasons unknown, I always felt the need to spend most of my free time here.

Perhaps in my old life, I was a bookworm. Or could it be that this fascination developed as a new personality trait? I’ve always wondered about that. After all, I was an amnesiac. I could remember absolutely nothing of my past life. Hell, I didn't even know my real name. It was the old lady who came up with “Galvin.” Not sure if that had any deeper meaning, but it’s what I was working with.

Heh, if you really thought about it, I was practically a newborn child. Or perhaps I was a spirit that claimed this empty husk of a body. Or maybe I was…

Before I fell further into thought, I punched my forehead. That right there was another one of my bad habits. If I didn't keep it in check, I was eventually going to fall into an existential crisis.

After that peculiar episode finished, I finally gained enough energy to get off from the stool. I gently placed the book atop the table to my right, attempted a few stretches, and loudly cracked my slowly decaying back as per routine. I then opened the door and made my way down the candlelit corridor towards the dining table. I already knew what breakfast had in store. It was old lady’s specialty: bland porridge.

I arrived at the table, taking a seat across from old lady. As I finally settled in, we proceeded to chant our “prayers” to whoever in the sky may be watching us, before beginning our grand ol' meal.

The porridge was as stale and slimy as ever, but that didn’t stop me from gorging it all down. Through trial and error, I discovered that the best way of not tasting the food was to eat it as quickly as possible. Obviously, there were some failures along the way that resulted in an eruption out my mouth followed by a broomstick to the skull, but hey. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

And with that, I finished today’s porridge in record time: two minutes and thirteen seconds. Although I had already finished, Old Lady was taking her sweet time; without a single shred of concern in her eye. She knew the food was absolutely terrible, but her taste buds have probably fallen off, so the pace in which she ate didn’t really matter much. As some time passed by, so too did the porridge.

Immediately after, Old Lady got up from her seat and went to grab the cold tea sitting on the counter. She came back and placed both cups onto the table. "Lic fluer" was chanted and a small flame enveloped the tip of her right index finger. She proceeded to insert the flame into both cups, instantly heating the contents within. Once finished, Old Lady slid the cup towards me, only stopping mere inches away from my torso.

I picked up the cup and took a sip, savoring the actual good taste that came from the tea. To top it all off, that heat added a nice texture that filled my belly with warmth. I was beginning to feel my headache slowly rescind.

“I wish casting a flame was as simple as just saying the chant,” I mumbled partially to myself.

“There are a multitude of other factors that go into it,” Old Lady replied.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve read about it many times before. Affinity, heritage, talent, environment, etcetera etcetera.”

“Ah, but all the other factors wouldn’t really matter much if you lack affinity. And we all know you lack-"

“Okay stop you don’t need to remind me!” I immediately exclaimed. It was a good thing I stopped her just in time. If she had finished that sentence, my pride would’ve immediately plummeted.

Affinity: the defining factor of all things magic. Without affinity, there’d be no magic. To paraphrase, affinity was a somewhat abstract concept in which it cannot be seen by the naked eye, nor can it be quantified. Rather, it’s an innate feeling in which the wielder is able to identify when they’ve exhausted all their magical capabilities. Think of it like magical stamina. Affinity is obtained at birth, but in miniscule amounts. As an individual grows older, so too does their affinity. However, affinity wasn’t entirely correlated to age. The more someone trained their affinity, the more it would grow alongside with them. Everyone had some sort of affinity…well almost everyone.

Funnily enough, Old Lady had tried to teach me magic. It was very exciting up until I realized that I couldn’t “feel” affinity. Perhaps it was a lost skill due to my amnesia, but regardless, there should’ve been something. Anything! It was impossible to build upon something if my capabilities were completely null.

“Well, one way or another, you eventually gotta face it. Think of it like this, maybe you’re a late bloomer. Maybe you’re just not as talented or well developed as the others,” old lady teased.

“You’re really rubbing it where it hurts, huh?” Forget my pride, it’s already sunk below ground level. Why did I bring up the subject? I took a large swig of tea to calm my ever-growing anxiety.

“Well, then this just shows that you’re special. Well…not special in the most beneficial way, but still special nonetheless,” old lady continued to tease.

Her snarky remarks made me lose my cool.

“Ah yes, special. A fantastic way of describing my inabilities. Tell me, what does ‘special’ have to do with me being unable to cast magic like everyone else? It sure as hell doesn’t make me feel anything ‘special.’ Ah, you know what? You’re right! Having no magic is great! Seeing everybody else prance about with their magical abilities while I’m sitting here eating this shitty porridge. Yeah, that reeeaally warms my heart!”

I lifted the cup to take another sip of tea, only to find the cup completely empty. This caused my irritation to grow tenfold. I was just about ready to flip the table, but Old Lady, as usual, found a way to tame the beast.

“Alright, calm yourself. I’m just messing with you. No need to ponder over it so much. If it turns up, it turns up. If it doesn’t, you just gotta live with it. Sure, magic is convenient, but all things are possible through physical prowess. Just remain true to yourself and all things will fall into place.”

Right there was the charm I was talking about. She always found a way to make you feel like dirt, only to reassure you that deep down, you weren’t truly dirt. What a sadist. I decided to drop the topic to save myself from any more sorrow.

We sat in silence for a bit. In that timespan, I somehow decided to analyze the finer details of old lady’s appearance. She had hazel eyes and wavy hair streaked with gray and black. Despite my constant referral to her as “old lady,” she didn’t have too many wrinkles. She also had a slender nose and tight lips. Overall, if she were to age a decade back, she could be considered to be quite beautiful…though I would never admit that aloud.

“Speaking of such, today's a special day, y’know,” old lady affirmed, breaking the silence.

“Um, can’t really see why,” I quizzically answered.

Today was just like any other day. Waking up in the library, eating breakfast, going to work, drinking at night, coming back drunk, indulging in the library, falling asleep on the stool, repeat. What more could occur?

“Haven’t you forgotten? It’s your second month of being alive,” old lady acclaimed.

“Oh right…that’s one way of wording it,” I awkwardly replied.

Well, she wasn’t wrong. My “life” basically began the moment they found me. According to what the old lady had said, I was found in the Grand Forest lying faced down with my ass hanging out. An eastern district guard was patrolling the area when he stumbled upon me. At first skeptical about whether I was a spy from another kingdom, he ultimately decided to take me into Lamora. Long story short, the old lady miraculously came and told the guards that she’d provide me shelter. From there, the first memory of mine was waking up in this cottage. A bittersweet moment to say the least. But still… “Have you really been keeping track this whole time?”

“I have a pretty sharp memory,” she boasted, tapping the side of her head with her index finger.

“Very surprising, considering your age—”

“Lic fluer.”

“Wait wait wait wait! I’m sorry! Forgive me!” I exclaimed in a panic. No way in hell was I getting another burn on my body. Just how much power did this old lady have over me?

“That’s what I thought,” she said with a smirk, extinguishing the flame. “Aren’t you so fortunate to be living with someone like me?”

Fortunate my ass. I took back anything I said about her having good qualities. Whoever lived with her was going to face all forms of torture. I knew then and there that I had to make my escape.

“You know, I think it’s time for me to get to work. After all, a certain someone is making me pay rent in order to live here despite my grueling condition.”

"Truly this 'certain someone' sounds like an exquisite intellectual who knows how to properly deal with trash," old lady retorted, producing one of the most annoying cackles thereafter.

My left eye began to twitch. I couldn't take it anymore. I was at my limit. I quickly got up from my seat and left the cottage as if my life depended on it.

Truly a fantastic way of starting off my two months of living.