The System's voice had gone silent again, leaving me staring at the Glimmerleaf Vine on my desk, then at the glowing instructions for "First Boost." 50ml Natsuiro Family Spring Water, 3 drops morning dew... My brain, still trying to wrap itself around the idea of 'magic' as a real, measurable thing, immediately started breaking down the task. This wasn't some epic quest for a dragon's treasure, no. It was a tedious chore, done by hand, before dawn. For a guy who always found ways to make his computer programs run smoother and automate every boring job, this felt like the most inefficient work imaginable. It was like being asked to write out a huge list of numbers by hand. A low groan escaped me. This was going to be annoying.
The next morning, I found myself digging deep for a huge amount of willpower. It was still dark, the world a muted canvas of charcoal gray and sleepy blues outside my window. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of wet earth, totally unlike the instant noodle and stale coffee smell of my usual late nights. My internal clock was screaming in protest; my body was used to sunrise being the end of my work day, not the beginning of... this. I grabbed a small, clean eyedropper from my old science kit (why did I even have one?) and a tiny, clean test tube I'd found. My new mission: Operation: Dewdrop Harvest.
As I crept into the garden, my senses, no longer dulled by that mental filter, were on high alert. The world seemed subtly different. The air itself felt... alive, with a faint, almost musical hum. It wasn't loud, just a low vibration, like a well-tuned machine. Each blade of grass, each delicate spiderweb, seemed to faintly pulse with that same soft glow I'd seen on the Glimmerleaf Vine. It was barely visible, something my old self would have instantly brushed off as tired eyes playing tricks, but now, it was undeniably there. This wasn't just dew; it was liquid magic, sitting on plants. My fingers, usually good at typing really fast, fumbled awkwardly with the tiny dropper, trying to get just three perfect, glowing drops into the test tube. This manual input was incredibly frustrating. I was trying to do a very precise science experiment with tools that felt like kid's toys.
Just as I managed to get two precious drops, a blur of motion caught my eye from the corner of the garden. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. It was Matsuri.
She wasn't doing some grand magic ritual, as my new, unfiltered brain had half-expected. No, she was just doing her usual early morning stretches. Except... her movements were too fluid, too perfect, almost defying normal human limits. Each stretch flowed into the next with an uncanny grace, her limbs seeming to reach just a little bit further, her balance impossibly stable, as if she were subtly controlling the very air around her. She hummed a cheerful, off-key tune, a nonsensical jingle I vaguely recognized from a childhood cartoon. But now, that hum somehow made the magic in the air ripple, creating faint, shimmering waves around her as she moved. My old filter would've just seen "Matsuri doing her weird morning exercises." My new brain screamed, 'SUPER STRENGTH MAGIC. AURA MANIPULATION. SHE IS NOT A NORMAL HUMAN.'
She finished her routine, completely unaware of my presence, then casually walked over to a cluster of glowing Moonlight Bloom flowers. With a hum, she tapped one of the petals. The flower glowed brighter, and a single, perfectly formed droplet of pure, shimmering dew floated from its surface and into her cupped palm, then she flicked it into her mouth. Just like that. Easy. Smooth. No clumsy dropper required.
"Morning, Rekka-chan~!" she chirped, finally spotting me. Her eyes, still shining with that subtle, unnatural light, twinkled mischievously. "What are you doing out here so early? Playing in the dew? Trying to catch fairies?"
My face instantly went red. "N-Nee-san! Of course not!" My voice cracked with frustration. "I'm just... uh... collecting samples for a school project! Plant studies!" The lie felt painfully thin, even to me. "What are you doing, just drinking flower water?"
"Hmm? This?" She giggled, tilting her head. "Just getting my morning boost of life force! You should try some, Rekka-chan! It'll make you super energetic!" She gestured vaguely at the glowing flowers.
I eyed them nervously. "Uh, no thanks, I'm good." I tried to hide my dropper behind my back. My mana-less hands felt utterly useless next to her casual magic. I even tried to pick up a small, fancy gardening trowel lying nearby, thinking I could just scoop up some dew. But as my fingers brushed it, it felt oddly heavy, almost unresponsive, like its internal parts were somehow locked. My old self would've just thought it was stuck in the mud. My new self realized it was probably a magic-activated trowel, perfectly normal for them to use, but a dead weight for me. Great. Blocked from using basic garden tools.
As Matsuri went back inside, humming her magic-charged jingle, I sighed. This was going to be a long process. I finished collecting my three drops, feeling ridiculous and utterly out of my depth.
Next up: The Natsuiro Family Spring Water. I knew our house was old, nestled away in a quiet neighborhood, but a well? My old self always thought it was just a saying when Mom talked about "our special family spring." But now, the System had explicitly listed "Natsuiro Family Spring Water (sourced from the household well)." This wasn't some hidden ancient ruin, was it? Would I need a rope and bucket? Or would it be a literal glowing fountain in the basement?
My investigation led me to the back of our garden shed, hidden behind a stack of dusty gardening pots. There, built into the old stone wall, was a simple, unassuming brass tap. It looked like any other outdoor faucet. But as I approached, the air around it felt strangely cooler, denser, and I could now see the faint, intricate symbols subtly etched into the brass itself, swirling with an almost invisible light. My old brain would have called them "quaint, old-fashioned decorations." My new brain screamed: 'MAGIC SYMBOLS. MAGIC POWER FLOW. WARNING: DIRECT MAGIC CONNECTION DETECTED.' This was the 'well.' My hands trembled slightly, a mix of awe and worry. This wasn't a normal faucet; it was a magical portal to an underground water source.
I reached for the tap, my fingers brushing the cool brass. No immediate magical burst, thankfully. I tried to turn it, focusing on the simple twisting motion. It wouldn't budge. Not stiff, not rusty, just... dead. Like trying to turn on a device with no power. My mana-less hands were useless. I grumbled, "Seriously? Basic tap operation needs magic now? Do I need special access just to get water?"
Just then, the backdoor of the house creaked open, and Dad stepped out, stretching lazily. He was wearing his usual comfortable pajamas, a sight that used to represent ultimate normality. Now, I noticed his casual ease, how his movements seemed just a fraction too effortless. He yawned, rubbing his eyes, and casually walked over to the tap. He gave it a light, almost dismissive tap with his index finger. No twisting, no pulling. Just a gentle tap.
And just like that, the symbols on the brass flared with a soft, inner glow, and a perfectly clear, shimmering stream of water erupted from the spout, coiling itself into a watering can that seemed to float slightly as it filled. The water itself pulsed with a soft, inner light that would have been invisible to my old eyes. Dad picked up the filled can with one hand, a casual feat considering its weight, and started watering the already glowing Moonlight Blooms.
"Morning, Rekka," Dad said, completely unfazed by the glowing water or the slightly floating watering can. "You're up early. Need some water for your project?" He gestured with the magic-infused water.
I just stared, jaw open. My father, the supposedly 'weird' occult-believing dad, was casually using advanced magic to water his plants. It was like watching someone effortlessly juggle flaming objects while discussing the weather. "Uh... yeah, Dad. Just... 50ml." My voice was a little strained.
He chuckled. "Fifty, huh? Very precise. Must be a tough project." With another casual flick of his wrist, he poured exactly 50ml of the shimmering water into my waiting test tube. He didn't measure, didn't even look. He just knew. My old brain would've thought, 'Wow, Dad's good at guessing.' My new brain shrieked, 'MAGIC SENSING. PERFECT CONTROL. INCREDIBLE PRECISION WITHOUT OBVIOUS SPELLCASTING. MY FATHER IS A SECRETLY POWERFUL MAGIC-USER.'
By the time the sun fully rose, I had my three drops of Glimmerleaf dew and my 50ml of Natsuiro Family Spring Water. I retreated to my room, feeling a bewildering mix of exasperation, terror, and a grudging, overwhelming fascination. My entire morning routine, previously a simple sequence of events, had become a fantastical, maddeningly inefficient treasure hunt.
[Objective Complete: Morning Routine Improved. Glimmerleaf Vine Preparation Started. Magic Power Absorption Efficiency: 0.001% (First Stage). Magic Power Detected in Natsuiro Family Well: High. Magic Power Detected in Natsuiro Family Members: Extremely High.]
The System's dry, technical-sounding report confirmed my worst, and most amazing, suspicions. Magic power absorption at 0.001%? Tiny, but not zero. It meant there was hope. And my family? "Extremely High Magic Power." It was like finding out your whole family was secretly running on nuclear power while you were still trying to figure out how to light a match.
I slumped onto my bed, staring at the Glimmerleaf Vine. My whole childhood, filtered through a lens of 'normalcy,' was utterly shattered, breaking into a thousand impossible truths. Every oddity, every unexplainable coincidence, was suddenly making terrifying, magical sense. Matsuri's "I AM GOD!" declaration, Mom's kitchen portals, Dad's "blessed" spring water, even the instant kettle that never worked for me – it all clicked into a terrifying, coherent pattern. It was a bewildering mix of terror and excitement, a scary new game world I was suddenly forced into, with no instructions, no character details, and a possibly flawed computer helper.