"As you can see, in the winter of 1991, I found myself at a dead end," the deep voice spoke up again, laden with profound regret that was impossible to erase.
He sighed gently, as if wanting to end this heavy conversation, and said, "But what shocked beyond belief was that death wasn't the end for . After a long period of darkness, I woke up once more, finding myself in an orphanage in East Berlin."
"I was utterly bewildered and didn't understand what had happened. But soon after, I rapidly accepted my new reality, and felt a euphoric joy because I had been given a second chance. The even better news was that this orphanage, located in East Berlin, was headed by a KGB agent."
"This place served as a secret Soviet base for training agents. These orphans lost their families due to the war; they were being taken care of here and were to ultimately beco determined warriors."
"With mories of my previous life and being the eldest, I did the best. Normally, I could have stayed there, followed the sa path, and used the prophet's foresight to save my country."
"However, in the last few decades before my life was on the brink of its end, I saw the truth of our destruction. This isn't a problem that a good agent, a steadfast soldier or a smart scholar can solve."
"Everyone of us had a problem. Our country was gravely ill, and even if I returned to my childhood, just becoming an agent wouldn't be enough to solve this stubborn problem."
"Then, during this ti, I noticed so differences compared to my past life."
As the voice narrated, the scenes unfolded again before Shiller's eyes.
The sound of "da da da" echoed from the end of the alley. A child dressed like a typical German working-class family sprinted from the alley, pursued by several other larger children.
"Wild boy! Wild boy! The wild boy from the orphanage! Stole parts from our bikes, and you still want to run?! Give us back our things!" The oldest among the pursuers yelled.
The child leading in front turned around, revealing a young Shiller's face. He flashed a cold smile that seed inappropriate for his age and retorted, "You're the one who stole the shelter manager's bike parts. If your parents won't discipline you, I will teach you a lesson!"
The children chasing behind turned red in the face, and the tallest one took few steps forward, grabbed young Shiller's shoulder, but Shiller turned and thrust his elbow into the boy's chest, making him wince and retreat.
Unexpectedly, two more kids leaped over the wall in front of young Shiller. They whacked him on his back with a stick, knocking him down. The leader of the group approached and sneered, "Damn little thief, did you really think we wouldn't be prepared? You're finished this ti!"
Young Shiller struggled to roll over, facing the boy, feeling an intense pain in his back. The previous strike must have broken his ribs.
However, he wasn't ready to give up. He gritted his teeth and glared at the approaching boy. Just as the stick was about to strike him, instinctively, he moved to block with his hands.
With a "bang," he felt no pain on his arm, but a scream was heard from the other side.
In the midst of the shower of sparks, the stick broke in the middle. The splintered wood scratched the boy's eyelid, causing him to scream in agony while clutching his eye. He then staggered backward a few steps.
Young Shiller looked at his arm and saw an unusual glow enveloping it. The mont he focused his mind, a fla ignited on his hand, startling the other children, who scread and fled towards the alley exit.
Ignoring his pain, young Shiller rose from the ground, looking at his white hand. It was empty, as if the fla had just been an illusion.
The scene around him began to change from the alleyway to a room. His fingers were still cradle-white and delicate, but this ti his hands held a thick book. Young Shiller's face, still bearing traces of his childish innocence, now carried the seriousness and gravity typical to an adult.
Then, a chubby older man walked over, smiling kindly at him, "Why are you reading a book again? Is it one of those spooky biographies or fictions that you're fascinated with? You should spend this ti reading so classic literature, do you like reading Maxim Gorky?"
"Yes, Mr. Superintendent. I love his 'Childhood' the most. His childhood experiences remind of us. Although we're currently struggling in the orphanage, things will get better, won't they?" Young Shiller looked up from the thick book and said.
The superintendent chuckled, then said, "You always know how to cheer up. Read as much as you like. The bike parts you brought back will co in handy. Later, I have to deliver so goods to the factory..."
After saying this, the superintendent left, and Shiller once again imrsed himself in the book in his hands. After a while, he began to feel drowsy, closed the book, and snuggled up in place, intending to take a short nap.
The embossed writing on the book he used as his pillow read— "Mysterious World Legends of Magic."
Soon, night fell. The orphans who had gone out to work gradually trickled back. They were playing gas in the front room, while the young Shiller was alone in his room, studying that book.
After a while, he ran up to the shelf, collected what remained of a piece of chalk, and began scribbling on the ground.
After drawing a mysterious pattern on the ground, he took advantage of the orphanage caregivers' distraction and closed the room door. Then, he pressed his ear against the wall, listening for any noise from the other side.
Upon realizing that the director had not returned, he reassuredly focused his attention on the pattern on the ground. Suddenly, a burst of fla arose at the center of the magic array. An apparition wafted through the flas, a low voice echoing throughout the room: "Why have you awakened , child? What do you wish to attain?"
Young Shiller hastily wiped the magic array away, standing still as he panted heavily, as if he couldn't believe what was happening before his eyes. However, he soon widened his eyes, gazing at his hands, a new sparkle in his eyes.
"In the year before I graduated from the orphanage and entered a more specialized training institution, I discovered that I could use magic."
"For the decades leading up to the end of my previous life, I was a staunch materialist, a belief that extends to the present. So, I see magic as a tool, a tool that can be analyzed and utilized."
"I did not give up my career as an agent. I successfully graduated from the orphanage with the best results and got accepted into a very professional and secretive intelligence training institution in East Berlin."
"This place is not the sa as the Butler School in England; it is specifically for training young staff and leaders of the National Security Committee."
"In the training school, I focused on learning espionage-related knowledge, but I wouldn't limit myself to rely being an agent."
"Over these years, I have been tirelessly studying magic. Eventually, I discovered the truth behind this mysterious power."
"Magic is not an energy but a talent. A magic talent is like a ticket that gives you the opportunity to borrow energy from various powerful creatures. Magic, in essence, is trading."
"Upon realizing this, a plan gradually ford in my mind, but before proceeding, I got into the Soviet National Security Committee with the best performance the school had seen in ten years."
"In the first departnt of the KGB, I distinguished myself with nurous military exploits, whether in dostic counter-espionage or foreign agent work, hence attracting considerable attention."
"Later, I was sent to work in the fourth departnt, becoming a decision-maker. However, I knew it wasn't enough. Therefore, I worked even harder, showed more capabilities, and used my prophetic advantage to provide substantial help to our intelligence operations."
"As a result, I rapidly rose through the ranks to beco the deputy director of the first departnt. On that day, after a cheerful celebration, I approached the director of the first departnt."
As a noisy disturbance emanated from inside the room and the scent of vodka dispersed, a young agent helped an older agent out of the room. The two n moved to the side room, where the elder agent sat on a sofa and lit a cigarette.
"Director, thank you for arranging such a warm welco for . I didn't expect to return to the first departnt so quickly."
"Neither did I, Comrade Schiller. However, rely serving as deputy director would indeed limit your revolutionary passion and ability, but I believe you'll have a bigger stage sooner or later..."
Young agent Shiller laughed and shook his head, then he looked at the director and said, "Absolutely, Director. It's not just ; we all will have a bigger stage."
The director of the first departnt looked at Agent Schiller with curiosity. He sensed an ulterior motive in Schiller's words, but in the next second, he froze, for a burst of fla had appeared in Schiller's hand.
The flas reflected in his gray eyes like the glow of a sunset over a sandbar. Agent Schiller turned to the director of the first departnt and said, "Perhaps, you've been aware of the existence of magic. Well, I am a magician."
Shiller's voice echoed again, "You might be puzzled. A big country like ours shouldn't be short of people with magic talents. The upper echelons shouldn't be discovering the existence of magic just now."
"However, my investigations have revealed that ideology significantly affects a person's magic talent. Simply put, if you don't believe in it, it won't work. And my holand doesn't believe in any supernatural nonsense."
"Therefore, I beca the first person capable of proficiently using magic and participating in research."
"Maybe the agents of the eleventh departnt have already found you. This departnt you've never heard of or seen in the public eye, also known as the 'KGB Magic Energy Investigation and Research Bureau'."
"In other words, the eleventh departnt is the branch of Soviet Union responsible for investigating magic and mysterious incidents, and I am the director of the eleventh departnt."
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