That afternoon.

After finishing my physical training in the corner of the garden, I wiped the sweat from my forehead as I caught my breath.

“…Alright.”

I gathered up the equipment I had used and returned it to its proper place.

I wanted to avoid creating extra work for the servants whenever possible.

After all, I was already a child who was difficult to deal with in this mansion.

If the fourth son without magic left strange training equipment scattered around the garden, people would undoubtedly have something to say about it.

Once I finished cleaning up, I suddenly became aware of how thirsty I was.

It was about the middle of the afternoon.

The rush of breakfast and lunch had long since passed, but it was still too early for the bustle of dinner preparations.

I returned to the mansion and headed for the kitchen.

Apparently, noble children didn’t usually go directly into the kitchen.

Meals were brought to them, and the kitchen was considered the servants’ domain.

But I had come here for water many times before.

After exercising in the garden, it was much quicker to fetch it myself than to call for someone.

As I approached the kitchen, the air became filled with the mingled scents of fire, steam, and fresh ingredients.

It wasn’t nearly as busy as it had been during lunchtime.

Still, it wasn’t completely quiet either.

The fire beneath the stove was still burning, and thin wisps of steam rose from the pots.

Kitchen helpers carried vegetables back and forth, cooks prepared cuts of meat, and others inspected preserved ingredients on the pantry shelves.

I walked quietly along the wall so I wouldn’t get in anyone’s way.

The drinking water was kept in a large barrel against one side of the kitchen.

At the bottom of the barrel was a thin layer of ice created by one of the kitchen staff using magic, keeping the water cool.

Not frozen.

Just cool enough to prevent it from becoming lukewarm.

The kitchen staff seemed thoroughly accustomed to controlling magic with that level of precision.

When people think of magic, they usually imagine things like shooting flames or calling down lightning.

But in this world, magic was also woven into everyday tasks, such as adjusting the heat beneath a pot or keeping water pleasantly cool.

It wasn’t flashy.

Yet daily life couldn’t function without it.

I looked for the wooden cup that was usually kept beside the water barrel.

It was almost always there.

Today, however, it was nowhere to be found.

It had probably been taken to be washed.

Left with no choice, I reached toward the shelf where the cups and small plates were stored.

Just then—

“Young Master Yukiya.”

A voice called out from behind me.

I quietly withdrew the hand I had been reaching toward the shelf with.

“If you want some water, I’ll pour it for you.”

“So please don’t go rummaging through the shelves.”

When I turned around, Greta, one of the kitchen staff, was standing there with both hands on her hips.

Her voice was loud, but her expression looked more exasperated than angry.

“I wasn’t rummaging.”

“I was just looking.”

“That’s exactly what we call rummaging in the kitchen.”

“Ahaha…”

“I’ve learned something new.”

“You’re studying the wrong things.”

“Here.”

“Your water.”

Greta swiftly filled a wooden cup with water and set it in front of me.

I accepted it with both hands and thanked her.

“Thank you, Greta.”

“You’ve been sweating.”

“Make sure you drink it all.”

Greta smiled as she spoke.

She had a somewhat blunt way of talking, but she was also the sort of person who couldn’t ignore a hungry or thirsty child.

The first few times I came into the kitchen, she had been quite surprised.

Recently, though, she had begun treating my visits for water after training in the garden as part of my daily routine.

As I drank, the cool water flowed gently through my body.

I felt completely refreshed.

Even in a world with magic, cold water after exercise still tasted wonderful.

“Your afternoon snack is wrapped up over there.”

“And don’t eat it while you’re walking.”

As she spoke, Greta pointed to a small cloth bundle.

At this hour, light snacks and sweets were prepared for the children.

The maids usually delivered my older siblings’ portions to them.

Mine, however, was almost always picked up here in the kitchen.

After drinking my water, I planned to stop by the stables.

The Vanhart family kept two riding beasts there—Forlfs.

“Um…”

“Would it be alright if I took a little fruit as well?”

When I asked, Greta raised one eyebrow and reached toward a nearby basket to pick up a small piece of fruit.

At that moment, a low voice interrupted.

“Greta.”

“Not that one.”

From deeper inside the kitchen, the head chef, Baldo, spoke while adjusting the heat beneath a pot.

He was quiet, stubborn, and probably the highest-ranking person in the kitchen.

I tilted my head.

“Is that not allowed?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Baldo picked up two pieces of fruit from a different basket and casually placed them on the cloth.

“If you’re taking them to the Forlfs, don’t use those sour ones.”

“Take these sweeter ones instead.”

“They like these better.”

“Thank you, Baldo!”

My voice came out louder than I intended.

Looking slightly embarrassed, Baldo averted his eyes.

“And show them to Rosso first.”

“Don’t feed them on your own.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll ask first.”

When I nodded, Baldo simply replied, “Good,” before turning his attention back to the pot.

He looked intimidating, but he knew exactly what the Forlfs liked.

Whether it was ingredients or animals, he was probably the type of person who never did anything carelessly.

Holding both the fruit and my snack bundle, I left the kitchen.