Breakfast was silent that morning. Everyone wanted to mention the man at the end of the table, but nobody knew how to bring it up. He looked unsettlingly like Norman, even more so than Primrose did, yet Norman himself seemed completely unbothered by the whole thing. Not to mention the glow emanating from his glasses or the strange black vines that wriggled behind his back, if it were a child, they could understand; those were brought home all the time. But this… this was a full-grown man.

  “Okay. I have to ask.” Rowboat finally spoke up, sparing the children from having to broach the topic. “Who, or what, is that?” She nodded awkwardly at the man across the table, afraid to offend him, just in case he was someone important.

  “Oh. Right. I forgot that he hasn’t always been here.” Norman cleared his throat, trying to figure out how to explain the situation in the least confusing way possible. “That is my son Wiseman. He was born yesterday.” There really was no better way to explain it. He didn’t want to go into an explanation about Savant and all the things surrounding him while he was eating breakfast.

  Wiseman nodded politely before going back to eating. He was surprised to find out that he could both sleep and eat, even though he didn’t need to. As long as he was provided energy through the fourth dimension, he could essentially live forever without sustenance. Not that he wanted to. Food was surprisingly enjoyable.

  “Does that mean he’s my little brother even though he’s real big?” Paien asked mid-bite. If that was his brother, then it was his brother. The only detail that really mattered was whether he was still the oldest or not. If he was born yesterday, that would make him the littlest, wouldn’t it? But he wasn’t a baby, so maybe not.

  “I suppose so, yes.” Norman was glad that his children were the kind of people who went with the flow. The other two, however, kept staring at him with burning curiosity. They were wondering how he could get a biological child in the span of a day, a grown one at that. “He’s made out of magic.” Was all that he cared to explain.

  “I’m mostly made out of silicone, platinum, and other synthetic materials,” Wiseman spoke up for the first time this morning. He knew what his father was getting at, he didn’t really want to explain either, but he was made out of quality materials! Dumbing it down to magic was absurd!

  “Right. Magic.”

  “Big sister will help you!” Primrose said for the millionth time today. She had really taken a liking to her new title as a big sister and did everything she could to help the ‘baby’. “Good baby, good baby,” she praised the towering man as she helped him wash his hands. Well, help was a stretch. She did little more than clap her hands in the basin of water, but it was the thought that counted.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Thank you, sister.” Wiseman had long since given up on telling her that he was, in fact, not a baby. At least it was cute when she babied him, but the same could not be said for his dad. He had only been alive for a day, but he had already gotten cheered on enough for a lifetime.

  “Wooow! You’re so cute! So handsome!” Savant snapped yet another picture of his son doing something completely mundane and uninteresting. If someone asked him what kind a person he was yesterday, a helicopter parent wouldn’t even have made the top thousand, yet here he was. How could he not take photos of his baby! If he had a wallet, it would already be filled to the brim.

  “What are you looking at?” Shimri asked as they got ready to work. He had no idea how to feel about this supposedly fully grown newborn, but he had learned to go with the flow in this household. Wiseman was a creature with mana flowing through him, so it was probably okay. Probably.

  “Just an annoying fly buzzing around.” Wiseman reveled in the look of shock and betrayal from his dad; it was like his whole world was falling apart. Wasn’t he meant to be a proper member of society? This version of his dad was far different from the ones in his inherited memories. He did feel a bit bad when he poofed back to his realm of reality, but only a little bit.

  Wiseman didn’t know if it was a nice coincidence, or because he was created for this purpose, but he really enjoyed alchemy. Chemistry was a more fitting word for what he was doing, but that was apparently an Earth thing. He had memories of three different worlds, so he couldn’t be blamed for mixing them up every now and then. He found himself looking for The Citadel in the skyline a bit earlier. Whoops.

  He had a little workshop set up in the basement of the main house, as far away as possible from the other work stations. Making perfumes wasn’t dangerous by any means, but the smells could be very overwhelming. Hunching over a fire in the basement made Wiseman feel like he was doing something very illegal, though.

  The process was easy enough. Crushed up spices and dried flowers were mixed with a relatively odorless oil and simmered over the fire for a day or two to vaporise all the water and make the scent stronger. The oil mixture was then strained through a rough cloth until the liquid was a clear amber color.

  A third of the oil would be packaged as-is to be used as premium bath oils and laundry fragrance. Another third would be diluted with water and packaged as affordable perfume. The final third was stored in air tight clay jars for another week before they were mixed with a binding agent and bees-wax to create a premium and long lasting rub-on perfume.

  Wiseman was itching to experiment with different scent combinations, but after a lot of deliberation, he narrowed the list down to a single scent that would serve as the prototype. It was a scent from his father’s home world, one he had inherited memories of. Warm memories, memories of home, hugs, and pats on the head. Lady Persson’s perfume.