The Mediocre Life Concealing Absolute Power

The stench of cheap beer and stale cigarettes filled the dimly-lit warehouse. I stood over a mangled, twitching figure—a local tough who had learned the meaning of 'out of his league' the hard way."Is that...a crowbar?" a stunned voice whispered from behind a stack of rusty barrels. A mop of brown hair and wide, terrified eyes peeked out."It's not just any crowbar, you imbecile," my partner in crime, Tanaka, replied in a hushed, dramatic tone. "Behold! One of the legendary relics of the Shadowless King of"A loud smack and a muffled curse interrupted him. "Hiroshi Takahashi! Will you shut up about those stupid stories you make up?"Tanaka rubbed his head sheepishly as I emerged from behind the barrels, a battered crowbar hanging limply from my hand. I fixed my glasses, genuinely confused. I liked making up stories. It added flair to even the most routine thug-bashing."Just get rid of that trash, and let's go home. You have to be up for cram school tomorrow. And you still smell like you fell in the gym's sock bin again," Tanaka grumbled.I sighed. Ordinary life was so suffocating. Even when beating local goons senseless as my nocturnal alter-ego, I had to keep up the charade of utter mediocrity. After all, true strength lay not in flashy moves and recognition but in the ability to operate unseen and manipulate without notice.My training had reached its limit with this frail human body. I'd mastered every form of hand-to-hand combat I could find, pushed my stamina to its peak, and even taught myself the fine art of lockpicking from less-than-reputable online sources. But ultimately, there was only so far muscle and willpower could take you.Fate, it seemed, wasn't content to let me languish in my mediocrity. As a truck careened around the corner, my mind raced. Even with my well-honed reflexes, this was beyond me. My only thought was, 'This isn't strong enough...'A blinding flash...pain...then silence.--Eyes flickered open. Plush carpet. Ornate chandeliers. A servant was bowing low at my bedside. Were those tears in his eyes?"Good morning, young master Ravi."I blinked. "Ravi? Master?" The words felt foreign in my mouth. Gone were my calloused hands, replaced by the soft skin of a pampered noble. And this overwhelming sensation—was this magic? It thrummed through my body, a potent energy that sang to my very soul. I could practically taste it in the air—an intoxicating sweetness.A wicked grin spread across the child's face. This was power. Not the brute force earned through spilled sweat and aching muscles, but a power with limitless potential. Hiroshi—no, Ravi—had lucked into a lifetime of roleplaying as a grand mage. I'd always fantasized about it, but this was on a whole new level."Alright, enough lollygagging," I demanded, sitting up abruptly. "Tell me everything!" This was the script of my dreams. Nobles, magic classes, potential enemies—the sooner I knew it all, the sooner I could start my plans.The servant blanched. "Uh, young master, shouldn't you start with potty training?"I looked down at myself. A humiliatingly small body was clad in embarrassingly frilly pajamas. It seemed that the price of immense power was an equally immense lack of dignity. My sigh echoed through the room. It was going to be a long journey to absolute dominance, indeed.--Six years passed in a blur of magic tutors, etiquette lessons I mostly zoned out of, and the delightful discovery that chocolate cake apparently existed in this world.At twelve, I was the picture of a well-bred noble son—polite, obedient, and possessing a middling grasp of elemental magic. It was all, of course, a facade. My public persona was as bland and forgettable as a bowl of cold oatmeal.The interesting stuff happened under the cover of the night. My 'weak' magic had a peculiar knack of turning invisible, just the way I liked it. Manipulating objects from afar? Child's play. Scrying in conversations? Trivial.