Meanwhile, at the Magic Tower…
Ramiro and Esteban followed a mage clad in a dark blue hooded cloak down the dimly lit corridor. The mage's robes whispered against the stone floor, the flickering wall sconces casting elongated shadows along the towering walls.
They stopped before an imposing set of double doors, intricately carved with swirling arcane symbols that pulsed faintly with a soft, eerie glow. The mage turned to them, bowing deeply.
"The Master has been expecting you."
Without another word, the doors creaked open, revealing a vast office.
Ramiro glanced at Esteban, their gazes locking in silent understanding. A subtle nod passed between them before Ramiro stepped forward, his boots echoing against the marble floor as he entered the chamber.
The heavy doors closed behind Ramiro with a deep, resonant thud, sealing him inside the grand chamber.
Before him, seated behind an ornate mahogany desk, was a man draped in long, flowing blue robes embroidered with delicate silver runes. His long gray hair cascaded over his shoulders, and piercing golden eyes observed Ramiro with an unsettling stillness.
Ramiro straightened his posture and inclined his head in a respectful bow.
"Greetings, Lord Guillermo De Cazadores," he said, his voice measured and formal.
Guillermo remained silent for a moment, his gaze never wavering. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he placed his hands on the desk and leaned slightly forward.
"You are punctual, as always," Guillermo finally spoke, his voice deep and resonant. "And how many times have I told you to address me as 'father'?"
Ramiro stood still, his expression unchanging, though a flicker of unease passed through him at the unexpected reprimand.
"My apologies, Father," he corrected himself swiftly, his voice steady.
Guillermo's golden eyes softened, though only slightly. He leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"I suppose habits are difficult to break," Guillermo mused, his voice carrying both warmth and authority. "But they must be, if you are to truly grow... Either way, I'm glad you finally decided to visit me after all these years."
"So have you finally changed your mind?" Guillermo asked, his gaze piercing.
"That is not why I came here, Father," Ramiro replied firmly.
"But I heard you've finally found your daughter. You said that once you found her, you'd be able to return as the master of the Magic Tower," Guillermo remarked.
"I am not ready for that, Father... You know exactly why I can't lead this place the way you want me to," Ramiro responded, his tone laced with frustration.
Guillermo sighed, rubbing his temples. 'This stubborn child... Well, I still believe he will change his mind soon... because he's finally found his daughter.'
"By the way, how did you know I found Luzia?" Ramiro asked, raising an eyebrow.
"So, Luzia is the child's name..." Guillermo murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly. "As for how I knew, Arturo told me."
Ramiro's brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched. 'So he knew...'
"About Arturo... that first son of yours tried to steal the Ignis," Ramiro's voice was sharp.
Guillermo's magic aura flared in response, crackling with tension as he slammed his fist on the table. "What?!" His eyes narrowed, fury flashing across his face. "How dare he?"
"Indeed," Ramiro agreed, his tone cold. "By trying to steal the Ignis, he almost killed my precious daughter."
"Do you have proof he tried to steal the Ignis from you?" Guillermo inquired, his voice now cool and calculating.
"Of course I do," Ramiro answered, snapping his fingers. A medium-sized magic circle appeared, intertwining with another, and at the point where they met, a wavelength-like line materialized in the air before Guillermo.
A faint feminine voice rasped from the wavelength. "Yes, my lord, Lord Arturo was the one who hired us to steal the Ignis. Please spare us, my lord."
"These are the words of one of the two spies he sent to my home," Ramiro said, his hand sweeping through the air, making the intertwined magic circles vanish into nothingness.
"Is that child hell-bent on shaming me over and over again?" Guillermo muttered under his breath, his expression hardening.
"If it weren't for Luzia, I would have lost the Ignis... As you can see, I am not fit for the position of Magic Tower Master. So please, accept the Ignis back," Ramiro said, his voice tinged with regret.
"No," Guillermo replied, his tone firm. "The Ignis is yours. It is a symbol of your position as the Tower Master. As for Arturo, I will punish him myself."
"But, Father—" Ramiro began, but Guillermo cut him off, raising a hand.
"I can be as stubborn as well," Guillermo said with a slight smile, his voice full of quiet authority. "And by the way, I wish to meet Luzia one day... So, bring her with you the next time you come."
"Father, listen—" Ramiro tried again, but before he could finish, Guillermo snapped his fingers.
A golden magic aura enveloped Ramiro, and in the blink of an eye, he was teleported out of the chamber.
---
Gregorio explained the history of the Evorian Empire, his tone measured and authoritative. He spoke of the first emperor, a renowned swordmaster who had fought alongside the ancestor of all mages in the empire. Together, they waged war against the terrifying maisbeasts that once plagued the land.
"The first emperor forged a pact with the Dragon King," Gregorio said, adjusting his glasses, "while the first mage entered into a contract with the Divine Spirit King. With their combined strength, they led humanity to victory and laid the foundation for the empire as we know it today."
Luzia listened attentively, her fingers idly tapping against the desk.
"Any questions?" Gregorio asked, his sharp amber eyes meeting hers.
"Not really," Luzia replied with a small shrug. The story was grand, but it wasn't anything new—she had heard it before when she was in Princess Benedicta's body.
Gregorio gave a curt nod, snapped his fingers, and a worn leather-bound book appeared on the table before her. "Alright, memorize the first paragraph from this simplified history text, and then write out everything you've just read."
Luzia sighed inwardly but took the book. As she read through the passage, an eerie sense of familiarity washed over her. The words, the structure—they felt oddly known to her, as if she had studied them before.
I never studied this in the princess's body... all I did was learn how to write, she mused, furrowing her brow slightly but continuing to absorb the text with surprising ease.
After thirty minutes, Gregorio's voice cut through the silence. "That's enough." He took the book from her hands and replaced it with a blank sheet of paper and an ink quill. "Write everything you remember."
Luzia twirled the quill between her fingers for a moment before setting to work, her expression calm but focused. Gregorio watched her, arms crossed, a thoughtful frown forming on his face.
The orphanage should have at least taught her how to read and write properly, he thought, observing the way her hand moved across the paper with unexpected confidence.
Minutes passed, and the scratch of the quill filled the quiet room. Luzia finally set the quill down and flexed her fingers, frowning at their stiffness.
It's really hard writing with these hands... she thought, staring at the ink-stained tips. But Luzia did say she learned how to read and write at the orphanage in the novel.
Gregorio, watching with growing impatience, took the paper and scanned it. His expression remained neutral—until it didn't.
His brow twitched.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
Finally, he let out a long, suffering sigh, his face settling into a deadpan expression.
"This is pure blasphemy," he muttered, holding the paper at arm's length as if it were something vile.
Luzia blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
Gregorio ran a hand down his face and turned the paper toward her, revealing jagged, uneven letters that seemed to lurch across the page in chaotic defiance of proper handwriting. Though the words were legible, the way they were arranged and shaped made them almost painful to look at.
"Did they teach you to write with your feet at that orphanage?" he asked flatly.
Luzia scowled, crossing her arms. "I think it looks fine."
Gregorio shook his head in exasperation. "Fine? This—" he gestured wildly at the paper "—this is an insult to the written word itself. I wouldn't show this to a blind man, let alone let it be read aloud in polite society."
Luzia sighed, rubbing her temples. "Well, I did my best."
Gregorio pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. "Your best, huh? We'll have to work on this... extensively."
Luzia groaned inwardly. This was going to be a long lesson.
And so, what was meant to be a simple exercise quickly turned into an arduous, day-long ordeal. Gregorio hovered over her shoulder, correcting every misplaced stroke and uneven letter with an increasingly heavy sigh.
"No, no, no! Your 'R' shouldn't look like it's trying to escape the page!" he barked, tapping the parchment. "And your 'A'—by the spirits, it's not supposed to wobble like a drunk soldier!"
Luzia groaned, rubbing her aching wrist. "It's just writing. Does it really need to be perfect?"
Gregorio shot her a withering look. "Writing is a reflection of the soul, girl. And right now, your soul looks like it's been trampled by a herd of wild boars."
Luzia pouted, thinking, I had bad handwriting as Yoona and even as the princess, and no one ever complained.
Hours passed. Ink smudges covered Luzia's hands, and her fingers cramped from gripping the quill too tightly. Gregorio was relentless, making her practice line after line of careful script until her scrawls began to resemble something halfway decent.
By the time evening rolled in, Luzia collapsed onto the desk with a groan. "I think my hand is going to fall off."
Gregorio crossed his arms, finally satisfied—if only slightly. "At least now it looks like an actual person wrote this and not some unholy creature. Barely."
Luzia shot him a glare but couldn't help feeling a small sense of pride when she looked at her progress. "So... does this mean I passed?"
'Aside from the handwriting, she wrote the paragraph exactly as it was in the book. She has good memory,' Gregorio smirked. "Let's just say you're no longer committing blasphemy against the written word. But don't get comfortable; we'll do this again tomorrow."
Luzia groaned loudly, her head hitting the desk with a soft thud. It's hard because I'm in a child's body...
With that, he adjusted his glasses and strode toward the door, pausing only to give her a final, pointed look. "I will take my leave now."
As the door closed behind him, Luzia let out a long, exhausted sigh. She flexed her sore fingers, staring at the ink stains that smudged her palms and wrists.
The room fell silent, save for the faint rustling of paper as she absently traced the letters she had written. Despite Gregorio's endless criticism, she had to admit—she had improved abit.
Suddenly, her stomach let out a soft grumble, cutting through the silence. Luzia blinked, then leaned back in her chair with a small, satisfied smirk.
"Well, I deserve a snack," she declared, pushing the papers aside.
With that, she hopped off the chair and made her way to the door, already thinking about what's for dinner.