{ 26 DAYS LATER… }

  'In-Incredible!' Mirac stammered internally, his eyes widening in disbelief as he gazed, mouth open, at the se before him.

  At the heart of the castle, the graion hall was vishly and opulently adoro celebrate young Prince Mirac's first birthday.

  The vanil-white walls, adorned with paintings depig ses of battles and noble courts, were illuminated by golden deliers that cast a warm, radiant glow.

  Through the rge arched windows, there was an enting view of the night sky, studded with tless stars that sparkled like diamonds on a dark velvet vas.

  The polished stone floor was covered with richly decorated red carpets, along which the noble guests moved with elegance.

  In the ter of the hall, positioned parallel to each other, twe and long tables of carved wood were den with ary delights: suct roasts, finely decorated pastries, aic fruits, while tall gsses of wine and pitchers of mead sparkled uhe dlelight.

  Servants and butlers, dressed in uniforms even more elegant than usual, distributed small gifts and sweets to the guests, who chatted and ughed, enjoying the abundand the festive spirit that filled the hall.

  Along the walls, groups of musis in colorful attire pyed cheerful melodies with violins, harps, and a grand bck piano in the ter of the orchestra, creating a lively and joyful atmosphere. In one er, an artist ainting the se, capturing the moment in a work of art that would orate that special day forever.

  As expected, at the ter of attention was her than the birthday boy himself!

  Dressed in an eborate outfit of light-blue velvet, Mirac was seated on a throne adorned with gems and fine fabrics, pced at the end of the hall to give him a full view of the celebration.

  Around him, elegantly dressed, the five principal members of the royal family weled the guests. Each guest, after their wishes to young Mirac—often apanied by a ed gift—would bow respectfully to him and the royal family.

  'All… all of this… is for me?!' Miradered, stammering inwardly as his eyes took i pile of gifts accumuting near his throne and the expansive hall decorated for the celebration.

  In his previous, miserable life, Mirac—or rather, Vector—had never had a birthday party. For over 65 years, since his father's death, no one had ever cared to celebrate him. Not even at the orphanage!

  For Vector, there had never been cakes, wishes, ifts: only loneliness as.

  For this very reasoor felt a deep sense of gratitude and joy for this celebration.

  His new parents had taken care of every detail with love and dedication, filling the hall with joy and color. It was a luxury that VECTOR had never known and now, as Mirac, he savored it with a heart overflowing with emotions he had never felt before.

  'Thank you…' Vector thought, addressing his new parents in his imagination with a voice trembling and full of emotion. 'I'll make sure to enjoy this night to the fullest!'

  With this new resolve pulsing in his heart, Mirac, like a true child, turned a wide smile to his parents standing on his left.

  "Aww… Look how adorable he is, Arthur!" excimed Ginevra, notig her son's happy expression and giving her husband's shoulder a little tap in her excitement.

  "You're right, dear," replied Arthur, turning to her and then smiling affeately at their child.

  "He seems quite happy," observed one of the three triplets, standing in lio the left, just after the King and Queen.

  'Michelle?' Mirac guessed, still uo distinguish his sisters precisely.

  Each time he tried, he always cked crete clues to support his guesses.

  " you bme him? After all, the first birthday is always the most important," expined another sister.

  'Veronica!' his youthful instinct suggested this time.

  "True! Especially when it's for the 'Risen Prince!'" cluded the st, presumably Camil.

  Mirac's smile almost faded as he remembered the presence of his three sisters, at whom he cast a slightly annoyed gnce.

  'Did they really have to be ioo?'

  But after all, even if they acted a bit like spoiled princesses, Mirac had started to feel a bit fond of them over the course of the year.

  'Every now and then, even though it was only a few times, they came to visit me a me pany by pying with me. Should I thank them by rewarding them in some way? Maybe I could stop calling them "little brats" and switch to a term that's more "soft and delicate." But whie?!'

  After a thoughtful moment, gng out of the er of his eye at his three sisters, Mirac felt an idea emerge in his mind. A shy smile spread across his face.

  'Maybe… B-Big sisters?!'

  The word seemed funny to him, a bit out of pce, sidering he was many years older than they were.

  Yet, it warmed his heart: after all, in his previous life, he had never known the affe of a sister or brother, and now, disc this new kind of bond thrilled and moved him, almost without him realizing it.

  'Yes... That should work!'

  Pleased with his stroke of genius, Mirac chuckled to himself, c his mouth with his small hands.

  * * *

  The evening tinued, and an incessant stream of guests and dignitaries took turns before the throne, ing to pay homage to the royal family with boracticed smiles.

  Mirac, seated on his miniature throne, initially enjoyed the tinuous flow of faces, fasated by the attention directed towards him.

  However, as time went on, the amusement faded, repced by a sense of annoya the monotony of those repeated gestures.

  Many of those well-wishes, he perceived, were not si all: behind every kind word was the shadow of a subtle calcution, a banal attempt to ingratiate themselves greedily with the King and the royal family.

  After an hour, now bored and indifferent, Mirac turned his gaze away from the guests and directed it toward the windows. The night sky attracted him more than the empty words of the courtiers.

  The stars shone in a deep bck mantle, and he lost himself in them, staring at an invisible horizon. As the celestial lights sparkled, Mirac let his thoughts drift:

  'From what I've gathered, listening to my parents, the body of this child was born on March 13. Today, however, is the 14th of the same month. I imagiherefore, that everyone siders the day of my birth to be that of my "resurre," ign the true date.'

  Gazing ily at the stars, Miratio refleself:

  'Peacock… Southern Cross… El Dorado… The steltions are the same as those in my old world. I assume, therefore, that the celestial bodies and stars in the universe are identical to those of my previous life. The moon is the same as well. They may have different names, but aside from that, nothing seems to have ged. However, having not yet seen any maps of this world, I'm not sure that the tries are the same as those I khe ndmasses might have different shapes. Therefore, I shouldn't assume that the so-called ti "Harmony" corresponds to a try or a nation in my world.'

  Little Mirac, to cheuch time had passed sihe party and how long was left until the cake cutting, looked towards a grandfather clock hanging high on the right wall.

  'ht, I almost fot: I 't read the time from clocks with hands. Tsk, damn math!'

  After emitting a sound simir to a huff of anger, since he still couldn't really do that, Mirac slipped bato his thoughts:

  'Another aspect to refle is TIME. It seems to flow just like in my old world. Moreover, living up to today, I've noticed that the annual division is identical to that of the Gregorian dar: the hours, days, months, and seasons are all the same! But if I think about it, I wonder how such a thing is possible. Giverange nguage and religion of this world, I expected a dating system to be pletely different. Could Pope Gregory XIII somehow have existed in this other world? Or is it just a ce that the dars are the same?'

  He paused for a moment, lost in his thoughts, his eyes wandering as if searg for the answer written in the air.

  'Hmm... No, they're too identical to be a mere ce! And the first hypothesis is also uo be true.'

  Mirac yawned, a sign of fatigue and boredom in the face of the tinuous stream of well-wishes from the guests.

  Unbeknownst to him, the time for cutting the suct cake was fast approag. But with nothing else to do while waiting, Mirac returo his bubble of refle:

  'Still referring to the year I have lived here, I have clearly noticed the absence of holidays such as Christmas, Easter, Holocaust Remembrance Day, or Independence Day. This fact, rather obvious and predictable, gave me the absolute certainty some time ago that the history of this world is pletely different from the one I know. Therefore, with a different religion, nguage, history, and who knows how many other different things, why is the annual division the same as in my old world?'

  Perhaps Mirac was getting lost in an unsolvable riddle, mulling over a detail that might actually prove to be unimportant.

  But just when he was about to let it go, a sudden and bold idea crossed his mind: a crazy theory, but strahe most pusible, no matter how absurd it might seem.

  'Could it be that... the dar was introduced by someone like me? Or rather... by someone who was reinated into this world just like I did?!'