Charles surveyed the ragged children surrounding him without a trace of fear.
"I don't want to hurt you all. Just walk away." Knowing their circumstances, Charles pitied these street kids. Their misdeeds were forced upon them by their boss—none of this was truly their choice. Even if some had stolen food from Agatha before.
"Hah! And who do you think you are? 'Don't want to hurt us'?" Brandt sneered, tossing Charles a look of pure disdain. "You really think you can take on this many people?"
Under their boss's lead, the street kids stared at Charles like he was an idiot. Some even smirked, as if he'd told a hilarious joke.
Charles' lips curled slightly. *Well, I warned them.*
**"Time—Stop."**
No lengthy incantation needed. Charles instantly cast an advanced spell—not true time suspension, but a paralysis field locking his targets in place.
Brandt remained frozen mid-sneer, eyes bulging with frantic effort. But no matter how hard he strained, not a muscle obeyed. His terror could only scream through his widening pupils.
*How can a child cast combat magic?!* Brandt had only qualified as a magic apprentice at eighteen—and even then, under a third-rate mage. Only nobles had resources to train kids this young! *But an elf noble? Impossible!*
The other street kids trembled in silent panic, immobilized as Charles strolled past them toward Brandt with a cheerful grin.
"Boss, your clothes are filthy! Let me wash them for you~"
Ignoring Brandt's petrified stare, Charles conjured a massive water sphere that engulfed the man completely. The currents inside visibly churned, tossing Brandt around like laundry in a washing machine—only he couldn't even flail. Occasional bubbles proved he hadn't drowned.
After a satisfying duration, Charles snapped his fingers. The sphere burst, dumping a drenched, spluttering Brandt onto the ground. His clothes were spotless now—if thoroughly soaked.
"Boss, you must be freezing! Let me dry you off~"
Before Brandt could protest (not that he could), fireballs encircled him. One mischievously zoomed near his face as Charles giggled.
Soon, the scent of charred fabric (and lightly roasted flesh) filled the air.
"See? Nice and dry now!" Charles beamed at Brandt's new look: skin blackened like coal, hair standing straight up from residual static. Even his nostrils emitted thin smoke trails.
Agatha, peeking from behind Charles, muffled giggles into her hands.
"Boss—" Brandt flinched violently at the word—"I can't think of anything else to 'improve' right now. Hehe~"
Turning to the paralyzed street kids, Charles shrugged. *Mom can decide what to do with them.*
---
A peculiar procession soon approached Lamibor's gates:
Leading was a humanoid charcoal briquette (Brandt), followed by a gaggle of wide-eyed street kids, with Charles and Agatha bringing up the rear.
Brandt wished the earth would swallow him whole. Normally shameless, even he cringed under the stares of passersby.
News of the bizarre group spread fast. By the time they neared the city, a squad of guards marched out to meet them. Their captain, Adelaid, zeroed in on Charles.
"Young Master Charles?"
Charles blinked. *Since when am I famous?* "Yes...?"
"By His Majesty's order, you're to be escorted safely to the palace or to Miss Sophie. Your choice."
"Mom, obviously!" Charles couldn't care less about some king. Grabbing Agatha's hand, he called back, "Oh, that walking burnt toast kidnapped me. The kids are his victims—you handle them!"
With that, he dashed toward *Magic Doll*, dragging Agatha along.
Yet when they arrived, the shop stood locked and empty.
"Where... is everyone?" Charles stared blankly at the sealed doors. *I was only gone two days!*
**Will Sophie return in time—or has fate separated them again?**