Second Choice Noble Son: Apparently I’m Stronger Than the Summoned Heroes

The house was quiet again after the long day. Father had stored the new tools, Selene was tidying up the kitchen, and Lyra was humming softly as she swept.

I slipped away into my room, dragging a little bronze hand mirror from the shelf. I tilted it toward my face and frowned.

Big eyes. Long lashes. Soft cheeks. A small nose.

“…Pretty boy,” Kaela’s teasing voice echoed in my head.

I puffed my cheeks and leaned closer. “Am I… pretty?”

The HUD blinked faintly, unhelpfully:

[Appearance Assessment: Above Average]

[Trait: Feminine Features – Temporary (Youth)]

I groaned, slumping against the wall. “But I’m supposed to look cool. Like Papa.”

“Like Papa, hmm?”

I jumped. Mama was standing at the doorway, one hand on her hip, her violet eyes glinting with amusement.

“M-Mama! Don’t sneak up on me!” I hid the mirror behind my back.

She chuckled softly, stepping inside. “So. You’re worried you look too pretty for a boy?”

I hesitated, then nodded quickly. “…Yes.”

She knelt down, brushing my hair back from my face. “You know… your father looked the same when he was your age. Too pretty for his own good. People used to mistake him for a girl.”

My eyes widened. “Papa?!”

She laughed, covering her mouth. “Oh yes. He hated it. Every time someone called him handsome, he’d puff up and insist, ‘I’m not handsome, I’m strong!’”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

I blinked, then slowly grinned. “…Really?”

“Really,” she said, tapping my nose. “But when he grew older, all that softness became strength. His eyes sharpened, his jaw hardened, and suddenly no one ever dared call him pretty again.”

I tilted my head. “…So I won’t always look like this?”

Her smile softened. “Not always. But even if you did… Rooga, there’s nothing wrong with being called pretty. It just means people see something bright in you.”

I held the mirror up again, staring at my reflection. My cheeks warmed.

“…Then maybe being pretty isn’t so bad. For now.”

She kissed my forehead, chuckling. “That’s my boy.”

The HUD flickered faintly:

[Condition Updated: Appearance Confidence +5%]

And for the first time, “pretty” didn’t feel like an insult.

The sun had barely risen when I slipped out of bed, the wooden floor cool beneath my feet.

Everyone else was still asleep—Father snoring like thunder, Riaz curled up in his cradle, and Mama resting with her hand on her belly, peaceful for once.

I tiptoed outside, hugging my blanket around my shoulders.

The tree stood there at the edge of our land, taller than before. Its trunk had thickened overnight, bark glowing faintly with green veins. Branches stretched high, leaves rustling with a sound that was more than just wind.

I padded closer, tilting my head back. “Morning, tree.”

The HUD blinked faintly:

[Seed of the Goddess – Growth Progress: 21%]

[Status: Healthy]

[Connection: Bonded]

I grinned. “You’re growing fast, huh?”

The leaves rustled, and for a moment, I swore the sound was like laughter.

I placed my tiny hand against the bark. It was warm—warmer than any tree should be.

“…You’re not just a tree, are you?” I whispered.

The bark pulsed faintly under my palm, answering without words.

I sat at its base, pulling my knees to my chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll get stronger too. So you won’t have to protect us alone.”

A leaf drifted down, landing softly on my head.

The HUD shimmered again:

[Hidden Bond Strengthened: Seed of the Goddess]

[Effect: Minor Vitality Boost while near the tree] Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs novel fire.net

I blinked, then grinned. “Heh. Guess that’s your way of saying ‘good morning.’”

From the house, Lyra’s voice carried softly. “…Rooga? You’re out here again?”

I jumped, spinning around. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her dark eyes unreadable.

I scrambled up. “Shhh! Don’t tell Mama yet!”

She tilted her head. “…About your secret talks with a tree?”

I flushed. “It’s not weird! It’s our tree!”

For the first time, her lips curved into the faintest smile. “…Then take good care of it, pretty boy.”

My cheeks burned. “I-I’m not—!”

But the tree’s rustling sounded suspiciously like laughter again.