4. I'm a normal human being.
"Let me introduce you. Melissa Moretti."
I felt like lightning had struck me the moment that name left Professor Smith's mouth.
"More—" he began again, but—
"Shh." Grandar held up a hand, stopping him. "Let her finish. She's almost done."
A few minutes passed in silence.
We watched as Melissa carefully repaired an intricate pocket watch. Occasionally, she paused—examining it with sharp focus—then resumed, her fingers moving with practiced precision. She wasn't just tinkering; she knew what she was doing.
Beside me, Professor Smith looked like he wanted to speak several times, but held his tongue. Grandar, on the other hand, was utterly absorbed, his curiosity fully piqued.
Click.
She closed the back of the watch, opened it again for a final check, then smiled—satisfied. Then finally she noticed our presence.
"P-Professor?!" She sprang from her seat, eyes wide in surprise. It was almost like her soul just jumped out of her body. "H-How long have you been there?" Her face flushed a deep red.
"It's fine," Father said with a nod toward Professor Smith.
"Moretti, you remember what I talked to you about before?" Smith asked.
Melissa thought for a moment, then nodded.
"This is Mr. Grandar Diffodil—the man looking for exceptional students," he continued.
"And this," he gestured toward her, "is Melissa Moretti."
And just like that, the interview began.
Grandar started with the basics—her name, school, background—then smoothly transitioned into mechanics and technical questions. The more she answered, the wider his smile grew. Melissa, who started out nervous, gradually relaxed and answered with growing confidence. Not perfect, but impressive.
As for me?
I couldn't bring myself to sit still. My mind raced, trying to process the situation and find a path forward—one where I could survive and, hopefully, live peacefully.
Becoming a Beyonder? Yeah, right. That whole system was a scam in my eyes. No matter the path, there were traps, pitfalls, and horrors waiting at every step.
Fortunately, I didn't need to rely on the traditional methods to handle the supernatural.
But seeing Melissa Moretti here, roughly the same age as in the story... that meant the main timeline wasn't far off.
Which meant—that damned sealed artifact must be nearby, too.
Sigh... my life.
"...is. Chris."
"!!"
I snapped out of my thoughts, startled as my father placed a hand on my shoulder.
He looked at me with quiet concern.
"Sorry," I smiled, trying to brush it off. "I was just distracted for a second. What did you say again?"
Still eyeing me carefully, Grandar repeated his question.
"Is there anything you want to add?"
"Oh." I turned to Melissa.
"You mentioned you have two brothers, right? What are their names?"
She blinked, clearly confused by the sudden question.
"They're your current legal guardians, yes?" I explained calmly. "Even if both sides agree to this program, we'll still need their consent. So, we might need to invite them for a meeting. Besides, I think it would lessen their worries if they knew about us directly."
"I was a bit too excited earlier," Grandar added, realizing the oversight. "Chris is right. We need to speak with your guardians as well."
Melissa nodded in understanding. Her face beamed because this conversation meant that she had passed the interview.
"It's Benson Moretti and Klein Moretti."
And just like that, it was decided.
I didn't know whether Klein had transmigrated yet, but at least this confirmed one thing: he was still alive. So the first major event of the story hadn't happened yet.
I quickly wrote up a formal letter for Melissa's guardians to sign and handed it to her before we parted ways.
After that, We also met with several other candidates recommended by Grandar's friends. Even to my eyes, Melissa Moretti stood far above the rest.
"Chris… I missed you so much!"
I was suddenly hugged by a beautiful, mature woman—Peytra Diffodil.
"Mm, I missed you too, Mother," I replied, hugging her back.
"Aww, you can just call me Mom like you used to." She pouted playfully.
I closed my eyes. I'm a normal human being.
"Alright, Mom."
"Lovely!" she beamed, her smile so bright it could've powered the sun. "Grandar already had his turn. Now it's Mom's time."
She glanced sidelong at my father, who was sipping coffee on the terrace, pretending he hadn't heard a thing. Her gaze clearly said, Don't you dare get in my way.
Grandar awkwardly picked up his coffee, doing his best impression of I have no idea what's happening.
And so, my day with Mother began.
I put on my usual best suit, and off we went.
We visited countless shops, strolling through streets, trying on clothes.
To an outsider, it looked like simple window shopping. But I knew better.
Mother was studying.
Every store, every design, every fabric—she was absorbing it all, hunting for inspiration and techniques she could learn (or steal).
"Chris! Try this next!"
Another suit was shoved into my hands.
She was clearly having a blast.
Me? I could feel my soul slowly leaving my body...
After the grand shopping spree, we headed to a high-end restaurant for lunch. Mother sent the driver off to deliver our purchases home while we waited for pickup.
"Chris, there's a really famous seer in town right now. Let's go check it out after this. It's in a place called divination club"
"Eh?"
I froze. The divination club? The Blackthorn Company's seer?! That place was a hotbed of danger!
"Mom, you just got to this city... how do you even know about that?"
"Hehe, never underestimate a mother's connections." She smirked. "One of the owners told me just earlier."
"..."
Damn. But I wasn't giving up yet.
"Mom, fortune-telling is always a scam." I said flatly, trying to echo Grandar's usual logic. "There's no such thing as divination."
'I'm sorry, gods and goddesses. Please don't curse me,' I silently begged. Hopefully, no coincident angels were eavesdropping.
"Hmm… You sound just like your father." Mom laughed. "I know it's probably fake. But it's cheap, and it's just for fun. Come on, let's go."
She dragged me to the carriage.
It's fine. I'm still safe, I cheered myself. Klein rarely visits the divination club after he becomes famous. The chances are low.
"Are you also here to see Mr. Moretti?"
The receptionist smiled at us. "You're in luck—he's in today, and there's no line. Please wait a moment while I check with him."
Ha ha ha... ha...
We were led into the room.
And there he was.
Klein Moretti.
Black hair. Brown eyes. An average face, thin build, scholarly aura.
"Welcome," he said warmly.