"Young master, that concludes today's lesson. I'll see you tomorrow," the woman said politely, dressed in formal attire as she gave a slight bow.
They were in Aiden's room, which was surprisingly spacious for a seven-year-old. It measured around ten square meters and was furnished with various chests and cabinets, most of which were now neatly closed and organized. The toys were stored away, the floor was clean, and everything was in order.
A bed stood beside the large windows. They resembled the ones in Vivienne's room, but in this case, the balcony was permanently sealed. The walls were painted pink, even though the room was meant for a boy. It was Vivienne's doing—she had insisted on that color, claiming it matched Aiden's sweet little face.
"See you tomorrow," Aiden replied softly, respectfully. He didn't look up for long. When the door closed behind her, he walked to the window and stared out into the garden. It was empty. After a short while, he sat down on the floor, pulled a small picture book from one of the chests, and opened it.
He didn't read it. He just looked at the drawings. Sometimes he stopped at a particular page, staring for a few seconds, and sometimes he mumbled things under his breath. Nothing clear. Just soft sounds, like a whisper to no one in particular.
Meanwhile, the tutor walked directly to Cedric's office, where he—as usual—was going through paperwork. She knocked twice, without any special code. After receiving permission, she entered the room, gave a deep bow, and quietly closed the door behind her. Cedric pointed at the chair in front of his desk, and she sat down, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
"Unfortunately, I come with disappointing news again," she began, speaking clearly and without hesitation, as if she had rehearsed it. "Although Aiden is now speaking more fluently, his language skills are still below what would be expected at his age. By now, he should already be learning the basics of a second language."
She paused for a breath and continued.
"He can count and add single-digit numbers but cannot handle anything with two digits. Multiplication, which he should already be introduced to, is completely out of the question. Reading is still difficult for him. It takes too long, and there are frequent mistakes. Honestly… there's no need to continue the report. Nothing has changed since last time."
Cedric listened silently. He didn't interrupt, didn't flinch. His expression stayed calm, but internally, he was struggling. He had heard it all before, but that didn't make it easier.
He blamed himself.
Deep down, he was convinced that he was the reason Aiden was like this. Maybe it was something he did—or didn't do. That's why he spoiled the boy, gave him everything he could. That was his way of trying to make up for something he couldn't fix.
When the teacher finished, Cedric didn't speak a word. He simply lifted his hand in a quiet gesture, signaling her to leave. She bowed again and exited without another sound, leaving Cedric alone with his thoughts.
Thoughts that came back to him every few days, without fail.
He stood up and walked over to the window. Leaning against the frame, he looked out at the garden. In the distance, he saw Vivienne slowly walking with a book in hand. Beside her, the old gardener was pointing at rows of plants, explaining something in his usual calm tone.
Cedric sighed quietly.
He knew he had to do something, but he didn't know what. Doctors had no answers. The mages said nothing useful. The priests told him to be patient and trust in grace.
No one had answers. And time was slipping away.
Back in the next room, Aiden turned another page in his book. He stopped at a drawing of a tree whose branches looked like hands reaching out. He touched one of the branches with his finger and smiled faintly.