Chapter 9 — The Little Genius of Migan
In the country of Migan, the children of the rich and powerful rarely attended public schools.
From the moment they could hold a spoon—or at least stop drooling on it—they were homeschooled by the best tutors money could buy.
Normally, children began at age three.
But Violet De'ora was not a normal child.
Thanks to her Goddess Brain and an unfortunate abundance of curiosity, Violet began her home lessons at just one year old.
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And the results? Let's just say her parents' jaws nearly hit the floor.
It all started with a tablet—one of those fancy ones with bright colors and cheerful baby-learning videos.
Kingsley bought it, thinking, Well, it can't hurt.
Lily agreed.
"Even if she doesn't understand, the pictures will stimulate her mind."
What they didn't expect was for Violet to memorize every single rhyme, tune, and alphabet song in less than three days.
If not for her missing baby teeth, she would've sounded like a miniature pop star.
As it was, her half-tooth lisp only made the performance cuter.
And yes—she was walking now too.
Wobbly baby steps, slow and cautious, but enough to make her parents cry like they'd just won the lottery.
But this time, the De'ora couple had learned their lesson.
No more public videos.
No more "#BabyGenius" headlines.
They realized the world was becoming just a little too obsessed with their precious girl.
What started as admiration had begun to feel like… obsession.
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Meanwhile, in another mansion not too far away, chaos was erupting.
At the Mist estate, a little boy—no more than three—was sitting cross-legged in front of the television, remote in hand.
His chubby cheeks were puffed up in anger.
He had tuned in, as usual, hoping to see "the pretty baby" on the news.
Instead, the screen showed boring business reports and stock updates.
In protest, he hurled the remote at the screen and burst into tears.
His mother rushed out of the kitchen.
His father sprinted from his study, panic on his face.
"What happened?! Did you fall? Are you hurt?"
Between sobs, the boy wailed, "They… they no show pretty baby anymore!"
Both parents blinked, slowly realizing the "pretty baby" in question was none other than Violet De'ora.
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Back at the De'ora mansion, blissfully unaware that their daughter had already gained a fanboy, Kingsley and Lily made a new decision.
They hired a teacher-nanny—a woman named Nela Levaton—to help guide their brilliant little girl.
They didn't expect miracles.
If they were wrong, so be it.
But if they were right…
Then perhaps they were raising something far greater than a genius.
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When Violet first met Nela Levaton, something inside her stirred.
She remembered that gentle face.
In another lifetime—one she'd rather not think about—this same woman had been the only person to show Juliana kindness.
The same teacher who'd believed in her (Juliana)when no one else did.
Now here she was again, standing in the De'ora mansion, smiling brightly at little Violet as if fate itself had hit the repeat button.
So that's why she left Clara back then, Violet thought dryly.
No wonder she switched sides.
Clara really was hopeless.
Still, Violet—Mira—couldn't help but like her.
Nela was warm, kind, and easy to talk to… well, as much as a one-year-old could "talk."
Before long, they'd built a sweet kind of friendship—half babysitter, half confidante. Whenever her parents went out, Violet would cling to Nela like a baby koala, her tiny hands refusing to let go.
Of course, Nela adored her back.
But deep down, she also felt guilty.
She knew what was coming.
Because Nela hadn't just been hired to care for Violet.
She'd been hired to shape her.
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After a week of gentle play and trust-building, Nela switched gears.
The playtime was over.
"Alright, little miss," she said one morning, flashing a too-bright smile.
"Let's start with A-B-C!"
From that day on, Violet's days became a full academic assault—letters, numbers, shapes, even basic logic puzzles.
And because Nela believed children learned fastest before "conscious reasoning," she added in two more subjects that made Violet's baby brain want to file for early retirement: the Migan-world versions of French and Chinese.
To Violet, it was nothing short of torture.
How can they expect a baby to conjugate verbs when I'm still mastering not drooling? she thought miserably.
Whenever her parents were home, they'd cheer her on—often while gently holding her in place so she couldn't make a daring escape.going through the hell with her.
But when they were gone?
Oh, it was war.
Half the lesson would be spent with Nela chasing Violet around the study room while the toddler giggled and crawled under tables, the other half spent reluctantly reciting vocabulary words with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner counting down their sentence.
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Three years passed in that chaotic pattern.
Other teachers were also added to violet life.
And by the time Violet turned four, her "baby lessons" had become something extraordinary.
She could now speak multiple languages fluently—well, as fluently as a four-year-old could manage—with a surprisingly charming accent.
She could play the violin, do simple multiplication, and paint surprisingly good stick figures.
Her parents were over the moon.
Her teachers were speechless.
But none of them knew the real secret.
Behind their backs, Violet had unlocked something far more impressive.
Thanks to a surprise mission from Vira, she had earned two special abilities: The God of Alchemy skill and Scent Enhancement.
She hadn't dared test the second one yet, though her sense of smell had become so sharp she could probably identify what kind of tea a maid was brewing three rooms away.
Vira had explained it was meant to help her one day—something about "recognizing ingredients" and "the art of fragrance.
" For now, Violet just thought it was neat.
Her mind was sharper than ever, her speech clear and confident, and her mischievous grin more dangerous than ever.