The Chosen Pervert

Chapter 9: The Scholar and the Shadow

The next morning, I made a decision.

If this Aldric guy was coming to evaluate me—to judge whether I was dangerous or useful or whatever the hell an A-Rank mage cared about—then I needed to prepare. Not just my magic, but everything.

Including Rue.

She could speak a little now. Broken English mixed with that guttural beast speech that sounded like Russian filtered through a growl. But it wasn't enough. If she was going to survive in this world—if she was going to be safe—she needed more than just my protection.

She needed knowledge.

She needed to speak. To read. To write.

She needed to be able to defend herself with words as much as with claws.

And I'm going to teach her.

I found her in the garden that afternoon, crouched near the flower beds, watching a butterfly with intense focus.

"Rue," I said softly.

Her ears swiveled toward me before her head turned. She looked up, one ear up, one ear down, her golden eyes curious.

"Come with me," I said, gesturing toward the storage room. "I want to show you something."

She hesitated for a moment, then stood and followed me.

The storage room was quiet and dusty, filled with old furniture and forgotten crates. It was the perfect place for privacy. No servants wandered in here. My parents rarely came down.

It was our space.

I pulled out a small wooden crate and flipped it over to use as a makeshift table. Then I grabbed a piece of charcoal from the fireplace supplies and a flat piece of wood.

Rue watched me with tilted head, her tail swishing slowly behind her.

"Sit," I said, patting the ground beside me.

She sat, her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes fixed on me.

I took a deep breath.

Okay. Let's do this.

I drew a simple shape on the wood with the charcoal. A circle.

"This," I said slowly, pointing to the circle, "is a letter. It's called 'O.'"

Rue stared at it.

"O," I repeated, tapping the shape. "Say it with me. O."

She blinked.

"O," I said again, exaggerating the shape of my mouth.

Her ears flicked. Then, hesitantly, she opened her mouth.

"Ohhh," she said, the sound rough and uncertain.

I grinned. "Yes! Exactly! O."

"O," she repeated, more confidently this time.

"Good. Now watch."

I drew another letter beside it. A vertical line with a curve at the bottom.

"This is 'R,'" I said. "R."

"Rrr," she growled, the sound vibrating in her throat.

I laughed. "Close enough. R."

"R," she said, softer this time.

"Good. Now, these two letters together..." I pointed to both. "O and R. They make a sound. 'Or.'"

She stared at the letters, her brow furrowing.

"Or," I said again. "Try it."

"Orrr," she said slowly.

"Perfect."

Her tail swished faster now, a sign of excitement.

She's getting it.

We spent the next hour going through the basics. I taught her the alphabet—or at least the letters in her name and mine.

R. U. E.

W. Y. A. T. T.

She struggled with some of the sounds. The hard consonants were difficult for her, and the vowels sometimes came out too guttural. But she was trying. And more than that, she was learning.

By the end of the session, she could recognize the letters in her name.

"Rue," I said, pointing to the letters I'd written. "That's you. That's your name."

She stared at the letters for a long moment. Then she reached out and traced them with her finger, her claws scraping lightly against the wood.

"Rue," she whispered.

My chest tightened.

"Yes," I said softly. "That's you."

She looked up at me, her golden eyes shining.

And then she smiled.

It was small. Hesitant. But it was real.

Fuck, she's beautiful.

I shook the thought away and cleared my throat. "Okay. Let's try something else."

Over the next few days, we continued our secret lessons.

Every afternoon, while my parents were busy and the servants were occupied, Rue and I would sneak into the storage room and practice.

I taught her more letters. More sounds. Simple words.

Cat. Dog. Tree. Sky.

She absorbed everything like a sponge. Her intelligence was undeniable. She wasn't some feral animal—she was smart. Sharp. Capable.

And the more she learned, the more confident she became.

Her speech improved rapidly. The broken English smoothed out. The beast speech faded into the background, only surfacing when she was frustrated or excited.

By the end of the first week, she could form basic sentences.

"Wyatt teach Rue," she said one afternoon, pointing to the letters on the wood.

I grinned. "Yes. Wyatt teaches Rue."

"Wyatt... teaches... Rue," she repeated slowly, testing the grammar.

"Exactly."

She beamed.

God, I'm proud of her.

The second week, I introduced her to reading.

I'd stolen one of my mother's old children's books—a simple story about a fox and a rabbit—and brought it to our lessons.

Rue's eyes widened when she saw the illustrations.

"Fox," she said immediately, pointing to the drawing.

"Yes," I said. "And this..." I pointed to the text beneath the image. "This is the word 'fox.'"

She stared at the letters, her brow furrowing.

"F. O. X," I said, pointing to each letter. "Fox."

"Fox," she repeated.

"Good. Now, let's read the story."

It was slow. Painful, even. She stumbled over every word, sounding them out letter by letter.

But she didn't give up.

And by the end of the session, she'd read the first page.

"The fox... ran... through... the... forest," she said haltingly.

I wanted to cheer.

"Perfect," I said. "You're doing amazing, Rue."

She looked up at me, her ears perked, her tail swishing.

"Wyatt proud?" she asked.

My throat tightened.

"Yes," I said softly. "Wyatt is very proud."

She leaned her head against my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm around her.

We're going to be okay, I thought. No matter what happens, we're going to be okay.

Three weeks after we started, Rue could hold a conversation.

"Wyatt," she said one afternoon as we sat in the garden. "Why you teach Rue?"

I looked at her, surprised by the question.

"Because," I said slowly, "I want you to be safe. And to be safe, you need to be able to speak. To read. To understand the world."

She tilted her head. "Rue... not understand."

"I know," I said. "But you will. One day, you'll understand everything. And when that day comes, you'll be able to protect yourself. You won't need me to do it for you."

Her ears flattened. "Rue always need Wyatt."

My chest ached.

"I'll always be here," I said softly. "But I want you to be strong. Stronger than me, even."

She stared at me for a long moment. Then she nodded.

"Rue be strong," she said. "For Wyatt."

Fuck, I love her.

The thought hit me like a freight train.

No. Not like that. She's THREE. You're five. This is—

This is complicated.

I shook my head and stood. "Come on. Let's go inside."

She followed me without question, her hand brushing against mine.

The carriage arrived on a grey, overcast morning.

I was in the garden with Rue when I heard the commotion at the front gate. Voices. The clatter of wheels on cobblestone. My mother's excited gasp.

"He's here," she said.

My stomach dropped.

Aldric.

Rue's ears swiveled toward the sound, her body tensing.

"It's okay," I said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's just a visitor."

She didn't look convinced.

We walked toward the front of the house together, Rue staying close to my side.

The carriage was massive—black wood with silver trim, pulled by two enormous horses. It looked expensive. Very expensive.

The door opened, and a man stepped out.

He was tall. Broad-shouldered. His hair was silver-grey, tied back in a low ponytail, and his face was lined with age and experience. He wore dark robes embroidered with intricate runes that shimmered faintly in the dim light.

But it was his eyes that caught my attention.

They were sharp. Intelligent. And they radiated power.

This is an A-Rank mage, I realized. This is what real power looks like.

My mother rushed forward, her face bright with joy. "Aldric!"

The man smiled—a warm, genuine smile—and opened his arms. "Elara."

They embraced, and I watched as my father stepped forward to clasp Aldric's hand.

"It's been too long, old friend," my father said.

"Too long indeed," Aldric replied. His voice was deep and steady, the kind of voice that commanded attention without effort.

Then his eyes shifted to me.

And I felt the weight of his gaze like a physical thing.

"So," he said slowly. "This is the boy."

My parents brought Aldric inside, and we gathered in the sitting room.

Rue stayed pressed against my side, her golden eyes fixed on the stranger. Her tail was wrapped around my leg, a sign of her nervousness.

Aldric sat across from us, his hands folded in his lap, his expression calm but curious.

"Wyatt," he said, his voice gentle. "Your parents have told me a great deal about you."

I swallowed. "They have?"

"Yes. They say you have... unusual abilities."

Unusual. That's one way to put it.

"I can do magic," I said carefully. "Without speaking. Without a wand."

Aldric's eyes narrowed slightly. "Show me."

I glanced at my parents. My mother nodded encouragingly.

Okay. Here goes nothing.

I focused on the candle sitting on the table between us. I reached inward, feeling the familiar hum of mana in my chest, and pushed.

The candle's flame flickered. Then it grew. Brighter. Hotter. Until it was a roaring blaze that filled the room with light.

Then I snuffed it out.

Silence.

Aldric stared at the candle. Then at me.

"Again," he said quietly.

I did it again. This time, I made the flame dance—twisting and spiraling in the air like a living thing.

Aldric's expression didn't change, but I saw the tension in his jaw.

"How long have you been able to do this?" he asked.

"Since I was three," I said.

"And you've had no formal training?"

"No."

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Remarkable," he murmured.

The next day, Aldric asked to see more.

He brought me to the training yard behind the house—a wide, open space surrounded by trees. My parents stayed inside, giving us privacy.

Rue followed me, of course. She refused to leave my side.

"Show me everything," Aldric said. "Don't hold back."

I took a deep breath.

Okay. Let's do this.

I started with the basics. Light spells. Fire spells. Water manipulation.

Then I moved to more advanced magic. Barriers. Illusions. Elemental constructs.

Aldric watched in silence, his expression unreadable.

Finally, I cast the spell I'd used during the goblin raid.

I focused on a boulder at the edge of the yard—a massive stone twice my height—and pushed.

The boulder exploded.

Shards of rock flew in every direction, disintegrating into dust before they hit the ground.

The air shimmered with residual mana.

Aldric stared at the empty space where the boulder had been.

Then he looked at me.

"How old are you?" he asked quietly.

"Five."

"And you did this without speaking. Without a conduit."

"Yes."

He was silent for a long moment.

Then he exhaled slowly. "By the gods."

That evening, Aldric sat with my parents in the study.

I wasn't supposed to be listening, but I pressed my ear against the door anyway.

Rue sat beside me, her head tilted, her ears swiveling toward the voices inside.

"He's beyond anything I've ever seen," Aldric said. "His control. His power. His understanding of magic. It's... it's not natural."

"What does that mean?" my mother asked, her voice trembling.

"It means," Aldric said slowly, "that he's not A-Rank. He's not even S-Rank."

Silence.

"Then what is he?" my father asked.

Another pause.

"I believe," Aldric said carefully, "that he may be God-Rank."

My mother gasped.

"That's impossible," my father said. "God-Rank mages are—"

"Rare. I know. But not impossible." Aldric's voice was firm. "I've seen what he can do. And I'm telling you, Marcus, this boy is destined for something far greater than any of us can comprehend."

"What do we do?" my mother whispered.

"We train him," Aldric said. "We prepare him. And we keep him safe until he's old enough to attend the Arcane Academy. They're the only ones who can officially evaluate and rank him."

"But he's only five," my mother said. "The Academy won't accept him until he's thirteen."

"I know," Aldric said. "Which is why I'm staying."

Silence.

"You're staying?" my father asked.

"Yes. I'll train him myself until he's ready. This is too important to leave to chance."

I pulled away from the door, my heart pounding.

God-Rank.

They think I'm God-Rank.

Rue looked up at me, her golden eyes curious.

"Wyatt okay?" she asked softly.

I nodded, though my hands were shaking.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm okay."

I'm God-Rank.

What the f**k does that even mean?

The next morning, Aldric officially moved into the household.

He was given a room near the training yard, and he wasted no time setting up a schedule for my lessons.

But he wasn't the only one training.

A few days after Aldric arrived, another visitor came.

A woman. Tall, lean, dressed in black leather armor. Her hair was dark, her eyes sharp, and she moved with the kind of grace that only came from years of combat training.

An assassin.

"This is Kira," Aldric said, introducing her. "She'll be training Rue."

Rue's ears flattened, and she pressed closer to me.

"Training?" I asked.

"Yes," Aldric said. "Rue has potential. Raw talent. But she needs discipline. Structure. Kira will teach her how to fight. How to survive."

I looked at Rue. She was staring at Kira with wide eyes, her tail wrapped tightly around my leg.

"It's okay," I said softly. "She's here to help you."

Rue didn't look convinced.

But when Kira extended her hand, Rue hesitated only a moment before taking it.

The first few days of training were hard.

Rue would leave with Kira in the mornings and return in the evenings, exhausted and covered in bruises.

But she never complained.

And every night, she would curl up beside me, her head resting on my chest, her tail wrapped around my waist.

"Rue strong now," she said one night, her voice soft.

"You were always strong," I said.

She looked up at me, her golden eyes shining in the dim light.

"Wyatt make Rue strong," she said. "Wyatt teach Rue. Wyatt... save Rue."

My throat tightened.

"We saved each other," I said softly.

She smiled and pressed closer.

And as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I realized something.

My life was about to change.

Aldric was here. Kira was here. My training was beginning. Rue's training was beginning.

Everything was accelerating.

And I had no idea where it would lead.

But as long as Rue was by my side, I knew I could face it.

Whatever comes next, I thought, we'll face it together.