I stood up, my body trembling slightly, but my eyes burned with a new determination. I could feel the steady beat of my heart in my chest—calm, controlled. I focused myself completely, blocking out the fear, the confusion, and the fact that I was still wearing maid clothes. Across from me, Lucy smiled, her expression laced with amusement and just the slightest hint of challenge.
"You're a prodigy, aren't you?" she teased, her voice silk-smooth, laced with mocking playfulness. "Then try to copy what I just did."
With that, she raised her wooden staff, and spells came flying toward me—low-level fireballs, gusts of wind sharp enough to sting. I could barely react in time. One fireball grazed me, tearing through the thin fabric of my clothes. I winced, but didn't cry out. My body tensed, and my eyes turned cold—serious.
I exhaled deeply, remembering how she'd formed the spells. I could still feel the burning on my skin from her earlier fireball, but I pushed the pain aside. Instead, I focused on how it felt—the pressure of the mana, the shape of the heat, the will that directed it.
She continued her barrage, testing me. Her expression was almost bored, like a cat toying with a mouse. But with each blast, I began to sense something. Something small. A flicker. Like touching the edge of a dream.
Then, with a deep breath, I reached into myself.
I felt my mana core stir.
It was faint—fragile like the first breath of wind before a storm. I focused harder, imagining fire, imagining heat. But instead of casting it outward, the spell combusted in my face.
"Ah—!"
The fireball exploded against me, sending me stumbling backward. It didn't hurt too much—she had held back—but it was still enough to sting. I blinked through the smoke, coughing slightly, and looked up to find her chuckling, amused by the soot now covering my face.
"You poor thing," she said with a soft laugh. "You'll live. I can always heal you."
But before she could speak again, a small fireball shot from my Staff. It caught her off guard and grazed her cheek.
Ther training ground fell silent.
A mark bloomed across her perfect skin—a small scratch, nothing serious, but enough to leave a blemish.
Her eyes widened slightly.
I hadn't even realized I'd done it.
She touched her cheek, her fingers brushing over the burn. It was hot—not normal. Far hotter than a typical novice spell. Her expression shifted. First to surprise, then to something unreadable.
"My makeup," she said coldly, voice low and sharp like ice breaking on a lake. "You ruined it."
A chill ran through me. My stomach dropped.
She's might kill me.
My instincts screamed at me to run—but where? I couldn't escape her. I gritted my teeth, trying to form a defense. She was going to retaliate, I knew it.
Think! I told myself. How do I block it?
My eyes flicked to the ground. I remembered how earth moved when she channeled mana through it, how her control shaped the elements like clay. I reached down, pressing my hand to the floor, summoning every bit of mana I had left.
A faint glow sparked beneath my palm.
I imagined a wall—solid, sturdy, tall. A barrier between her and me.
Just as she cast her next spell.
The fireball she summoned this time was different—stronger. It wasn't just a lesson anymore. It was a test of limits. Strong enough to hurt a 1-star mage… if I failed to defend myself.
A wall rose shakily in front of me, formed from raw earth and desperation.
The fireball struck.
The wall shattered under the blast, the debris exploding outward. I turned, trying to dodge, but the weakened fire still caught me on the shoulder. It singed my skin, but I could bear it.
I collapsed, panting, my body aching and my mana nearly depleted.
From the dust and fading magic, I saw her silhouette approach.
Her cheek was already healed—her beauty restored.
She knelt beside me, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled, brushing her fingers through my hair with a gentleness that caught me off guard.
"You really are full of surprises," she murmured. "My fifteen thousand gold was truly worth it."
Her hand lingered in my hair as she stood, then gestured for me to follow. I struggled up, wobbling slightly. The torn maid uniform she'd forced me into was mostly burned now, barely clinging to my frame.
Without a word, she took out a slim book—engraved in silver and bound in dark leather.
"This," she said, handing it to me, "contains beginner spell formations. Wind, ice, barriers... and a few defensive enchantments you can embed into your skin. They'll protect you in real battles, especially if you end up in dangerous training."
I took it with wide eyes, already feeling the weight of its knowledge. I followed her, clutching the book to my chest. The hallway was quiet, but as we passed, I could still hear the whispers.
The servants watched me again—some with pity, others with awe.
I ignored them. I had no room left for pride.
Eventually, we arrived at the Grand Spring. A place I was already familiar with—and not by choice.
She stopped, looked at my scorched uniform, and sighed dramatically. "Well, you can't stay like that."
With practiced ease, she stripped me.
My face burned in embarrassment. I tried to cover myself, but she pushed my hands away with a smirk.
"You've already gotten used to this, haven't you?" she teased.
I sighed helplessly, sinking into the warm water as she began to bathe me again.
Her hands were soft, too soft. She washed me slowly, carefully, tracing the burns on my shoulders with gentle fingertips. Her gaze never wavered, and her cheeks were flushed, though she said nothing about it.
I tried to avoid looking at her, but it was impossible. The way she stared at me—it wasn't just curiosity. It was something deeper, something warmer. Possessive.
Her hand lingered just a moment too long on my chest. She bit her lip, her expression tense, almost as if she were holding something back.
She continued to wash me in silence, but her face remained flushed, and her hands… they trembled, just a little.