Chapter 57

Viola’s silence didn’t last long. Her shock twisted into a sharp grin, and she snatched up her wooden sword.

“Alright then,” she said, eyes blazing. “Let’s see if your fancy trick holds up against me!”

Ludger sighed, rising to his feet. “Fine. Don’t cry when it doesn’t go your way.”

They squared off in the courtyard. Viola’s aura flared as Overdrive coursed through her body, her wooden sword glowing faintly as she layered Weapon Enhancing over the wood. She came at him in a blur, her strikes sharp and wild.

Ludger raised his arms calmly, his red-and-silver guards shimmering with a dense coat of mana. The first strike landed with a solid crack, sending vibrations up his arm. The second strike rang louder, sparks flashing as mana clashed against mana.

On the third, the wood gave out.

CRACK!

Viola’s sword split near the hilt, shards scattering across the stones. She froze mid-swing, staring in disbelief at the splintered stub in her hands.

Ludger lowered his arms, the sheen of his Enhancing still steady over the metal. “Guess the difference in materials matters,” he said dryly.

Viola’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “…You—! You cheated! Using enchanted gear against

wood

isn’t fair!”

Ludger smirked faintly. “The world isn’t fair. Better get used to it. Well, I suppose I should fight without the armguards then.”

Her face burned red, half fury, half humiliation, but she couldn’t deny what she’d just seen. Ludger’s technique worked—and it worked better than hers.

For once, she didn’t even argue. She just stood there, glaring at him as if sheer willpower might glue her sword back together.

Ludger slid the red-and-silver armguards from his wrists and set them neatly on the stone step. The polished metal clinked against the stone, and the courtyard suddenly felt quieter. Viola tilted her head, sweat sticking strands of hair to her cheek.

“…What, too easy with armor?” she taunted.

“Not exactly,” Ludger replied, raising his bare arms. Mana bled from his core, flowing outward until it crawled across his skin in a faint, translucent sheen. “I want to see if I can coat myself directly.”

Her eyes flickered with surprise, then narrowed into a grin. “Fine. Don’t cry if you regret it.” Then grabbed another wooden sword.

The clash was immediate. Viola lunged with Overdrive snapping around her legs, her wooden sword glowing as she layered Weapon Enhancing over the wood. The first strike cracked against Ludger’s forearm with a sharp

thock.

He winced, but the mana layer held.

The second blow rang louder. The third dug deeper, her sword biting into his defense hard enough to jolt his bones. Still, Ludger pushed through, redirecting her swings, absorbing shock after shock. Each impact left a stinging vibration buzzing through his arms, his mana coat trembling with the effort to hold.

They went on like that—strike after strike, wood and flesh slamming together, the courtyard echoing with every collision. Viola poured more into her swings, her face twisting with determination, while Ludger gritted his teeth, forcing himself to take the punishment.

Then she froze mid-motion.

Her eyes dropped to his arms. Dark purple bruises blossomed beneath the thin glow, angry blotches spreading along his forearms.

“Ludger—!” she gasped, stepping back. “Your arms—what the hell are you doing?!”

He lowered his guard slowly, rolling his wrists to loosen the stiffness. “Relax. I’ll heal them once we’re finished. Makes it fairer if I don’t patch myself mid-fight.”

Viola stared at him, speechless. She tightened her grip on the wooden hilt, then looked down at her trembling hands—perfectly intact thanks to her weapon. His were already paying the price.

“…So that’s how it is,” she whispered, almost to herself.

“What is?” Ludger asked, his tone calm, even bored.

She bit her lip, then let her sword drop to her side. “There’s no point complaining about fairness. You grind people down, let them break themselves against you. I burn hot and fast, trying to crush them before they can react. They’re not the same game. No amount of whining about advantages is going to change that.”

Her voice carried frustration, but also a flicker of respect.

Ludger gave a small shrug. “Exactly. You play your style. I’ll play mine. That’s the difference between us.”

For once, Viola didn’t snap back. She just lowered herself onto the stone step beside him, chest rising and falling, her sword resting across her knees.

“…Still,” she muttered after a pause, “you’re insane for letting yourself get bruised like that.”

Ludger smirked faintly, flexing his bruised arms. “Maybe. But insane works. My mother has the power at home, after all.”

And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t argue.

The courtyard fell into quiet, broken only by the sound of Viola’s tired breathing. Then a shadow stretched across the stone.

Elaine stood there, her arms folded, her eyes sharper than any blade. The faint shimmer of her aura rolled over the courtyard like cold fog, making Viola stiffen instantly. Without a word, she knelt beside Ludger and took his bruised arms into her hands.

Warm light spread from his palms, a soothing glow sinking into his battered flesh. The purple welts faded, bone-deep aches melting into nothing. Viola watched in silence, guilt flickering in her eyes.

But Ludger smirked faintly. “Relax, Mother. I was joking earlier.”

Elaine’s eyes narrowed, then softened. She exhaled slowly, a sigh slipping past her lips. “…You and your jokes. You’ll give me gray hairs before my time.”

Then, unexpectedly, she smiled. Not the tight, guarded smile she often wore in public, but something warmer, gentler.

“I know I overprotect you, Ludger. I know I overreact, cling too tightly. I’m not blind to my own faults.” Her thumb brushed his forearm lightly, as if apologizing. “But seeing you hurt—even like this—makes me feel like I’ve failed.”

Ludger blinked, caught off guard by her honesty. For once, he didn’t have a sarcastic retort ready.

Viola shifted awkwardly on the step, pretending to adjust her broken sword while clearly trying not to intrude.

Elaine finally released him, standing tall again, her protective aura receding. “Just… be careful, both of you. My shortcomings are mine to bear, not yours to suffer.”

Ludger gave her a small nod, his smirk replaced by something quieter. “…Got it.”

The silence lingered for a moment after Elaine’s words, heavy but not unwelcome. Viola, fidgeting with the splintered remains of her practice sword, finally pushed herself up and let out a sharp breath.

“Fine then!” she declared, her grin returning full force. “I’ll just keep training until I can

really

beat you, Ludger. Doesn’t matter how long it takes.”

Ludger raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “That’s fine—so long as you don’t plan on sticking around until then. I’m not planning to stay at Mother’s place until old age. Don’t need you haunting the courtyard for the next seventy years.”

Viola blinked, then scowled, her cheeks flushing. “I’m not

haunting

anything! I’ll crush you way before then!”

Elaine chuckled softly behind her hand, the sound rare but genuine. The sharp edge of her aura dulled, replaced by something warmer as she looked between them.

Ludger smirked faintly, watching Viola’s indignant pout.

She’ll never admit it, but she needed that push. If keeping her busy means less trouble for me, I can live with it.

Viola jabbed the broken hilt of her sword at him like an accusing finger. “Mark my words, Ludger—I’ll wipe that smug look off your face before you get any wrinkles!”

“Sure,” he said, turning toward the door. “Better hurry then.”

Viola let out an outraged groan, chasing after him, while Elaine stood in the courtyard for a moment longer, smiling quietly to herself.

By nightfall the house had settled into a steady quiet. Viola, still sulking about her broken sword, had fallen asleep quickly after dinner. Luna kept to her chores, silent as ever, and Elaine seemed lighter than she had in weeks, humming softly as she put things away in the kitchen.

Ludger sat in his room, staring at the faint glow of mana curling around his fingertips. His arms still tingled from the bruises he had healed, but what lingered more than the ache was the mood in the house.

It was different now. Better.

For the first time in a long while, Elaine wasn’t pacing like a caged wolf, suffocating under her own worries. With Viola and Luna filling the space, she seemed… calmer. More anchored.

So that’s it,

Ludger thought, leaning back against the wall.

She’s not just overprotective because of me. She was afraid—afraid I’d end up like Father. Always gone, always chasing labyrinths, always dragging trouble home. Being alone in this house made it worse.

He let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh.

Now the women’s faction has her surrounded. Maybe she feels less like she has to hold the world together by herself.

The thought wasn’t exactly comforting for him—Viola’s noise and Luna’s efficiency both added their own chaos—but he couldn’t deny the air had shifted. It wasn’t so heavy anymore.

He flexed his fingers, letting the mana die away.

If keeping them here keeps her steady… then maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world.

With that, he lay back, eyes drifting shut, his mind already turning toward the next day’s training.

The faint gray of dawn was just breaking when Ludger stirred. He stretched, his body already itching for movement, ready to slip outside and run drills until the sweat started pouring. Sunrise was his time—quiet, empty, free.

He padded toward the door, still half-asleep, when it slid open.

Luna stood there, a wooden bucket in one hand, a folded rag tucked under her arm. Her amber eyes met his briefly, then she gave a polite dip of her head.

“Excuse me,” she said softly, stepping past him with the bucket. “I need the hallway clear.”

Ludger blinked, still groggy. “…What?”

“Cleaning with water.” Her tone never shifted from calm. “Then the floors, then the kitchen. Please move.”

He shuffled back out of her way, watching her slip through like she’d been born into the house. No fuss, no wasted words, not even a hint of complaint. The moment she passed, the soft pad of her footsteps faded into the early silence, steady and unhurried.

Ludger rubbed his eyes, muttering under his breath.

How the hell does a girl her age follow this routine every day without fail?

He thought back to the tournament—how Viola’s energy burned hot and short, while Luna moved with the same quiet rhythm no matter the hour. She wasn’t loud, wasn’t dramatic, and yet somehow, she carried the house without making a sound.

It wasn’t until he stepped outside, the morning chill biting at his skin, that he realized he was already adjusting his own path around hers. Training and chores ran side by side now, and Luna never once needed to tell him what to do—she simply moved forward, and everyone else fell into place.

By the time the sun cleared the rooftops, the house already smelled of fresh bread and herbs. Luna worked quietly at the stove, sleeves rolled back, her hands steady as she stirred a pot. Ludger sat at the table, sipping water after his drills, arms still slick with sweat.

Elaine moved gracefully into the kitchen, her sharp gaze sweeping over the scene. For once, her aura wasn’t heavy—just calm, collected, watchful. She watched Luna for a long moment, then let out a soft hum.

“…The house feels different,” she said at last, setting down a basket of fruit.

Ludger raised a brow. “Different how?”

“Balanced.” Elaine leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “For weeks, it felt like the walls would crack if I didn’t hold everything together myself. But now…” Her eyes lingered on Luna, who didn’t so much as look up from her work. “Now it runs smoothly without me forcing it.”

Ludger frowned faintly. “All because of her?”

Elaine’s lips curved into the smallest of smiles. “She’s young, but she doesn’t waver. Order comes naturally to her. Viola is chaos, you are… unpredictable. But this one—” she tilted her chin toward Luna “—is constant. The house breathes easier with her here.”

Ludger glanced at the maid, who was calmly ladling soup into bowls, not a single wasted motion.

All routine, no hesitation,

he thought.

Guess Mother’s right.

Elaine stepped closer, brushing her hand across his damp hair in a rare, gentle gesture. “I can finally… relax, just a little. And that’s worth more than you realize.”

Before Ludger could answer, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. Viola burst in, hair sticking up in all directions, eyes still half-lidded. She flopped into a chair with a groan.

“Food. Food...”

Elaine’s aura sharpened again in an instant, but Luna was already placing a bowl in front of Viola, unfazed.

The morning dragged on with the usual rhythm: sparring, complaining, and more sparring. Viola was sprawled across the grass, chest heaving, her practice sword lying a few feet away where she’d tossed it in frustration. Ludger stood off to the side, stretching his arms, letting the ache in his bruised forearms fade before resuming his drills.

That’s when he noticed a familiar figure at the edge of the courtyard.

Maurien.

The old mage stood with his hands folded behind his back, gray robes hanging loose around his thin frame, his sharp eyes glinting beneath heavy lids. He didn’t say a word, just watched—calm, patient, unreadable, as if he had been standing there for much longer than Ludger realized.

Ludger narrowed his eyes, then walked over, brushing sweat from his brow. “You don’t usually drop by unannounced, teacher. What’s the reason for the visit?”

Maurien’s gaze flicked from Viola groaning on the grass to Ludger himself, then back again. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and deliberate.

“…To see how much my student has grown since the tournament.”

Maurien didn’t continue right away. Instead, he raised one hand, his fingers twitching ever so slightly. The air shimmered.

At first Ludger thought it was heat haze from the morning sun—but then he realized the world had shifted. The hum of cicadas dulled. The distant chatter of townsfolk vanished. Even the rustle of wind in the trees stilled, leaving only the sound of his own breathing—louder now, sharper in the silence.

Ludger blinked, his instincts prickling.

A silence ward…? No, more than that. It muffles the senses, isolates sound itself.

Maurien lowered his hand, his expression unchanged. “There. Privacy.”

Ludger let out a quiet huff. “Neat trick.”

The mage’s eyes narrowed. “You should be more cautious. You’ve been focusing too much on your training, too much on sparring here in the open. Do you realize how often people watch this household?”

Ludger’s smirk faltered. “…Watch?”

Maurien’s gaze sharpened, his tone dropping lower. “Your family is not invisible, boy. Not after the tournament. Not with Lord Torvares marching to war. Eyes are on you—some curious, some unfriendly. And while you grind yourself against bruises and sparring, you haven’t noticed them.”

The weight of the words pressed on Ludger’s chest more than the silence did. He frowned, trying to mask the spark of unease twisting in his gut.

So I wasn’t just being paranoid.

Maurien’s eyes lingered on him, cold and unwavering. “You are strong for your age, yes. Clever. But strength and cleverness mean nothing if you let your enemies watch you until they know all your habits. Be careful, Ludger. You’re not the only one planning ahead.”

Ludger narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t bring this up if it were just idle gossip. Do you know who’s been watching us?”

Maurien’s lips thinned. For a moment, the old mage looked as if he might actually answer—but instead he shook his head slowly. “Knowing names would not change the danger. It would only make you reckless.”

Ludger clenched his fists. “…Then is it about Viola? She’s the heir. If anyone’s drawing trouble, it’s her.”

Maurien’s gaze lingered on him for a long, unreadable moment. Then, with the faintest exhale, he said, “I’ve told you more than most would dare. Beyond this, I cannot help you.”

Before Ludger could push further, the shimmering air around them snapped back to normal. The cicadas buzzed again, the wind stirred the grass, and Viola’s complaints drifted across the courtyard like nothing had changed.

Maurien was gone. No parting words, no fading silhouette—just gone, as though he’d never stood there at all.

Ludger stared at the empty space where his teacher had been, jaw tight.

That’s it? A warning and nothing else?

He exhaled through his nose, forcing his shoulders to loosen.

Fine. If he won’t spell it out, I’ll figure it out myself. But if people are watching this house… then I need to watch back.

His gaze slid toward Viola, still sprawled on the grass, whining about her sore arms. He didn’t say a word to her—but for once, his mind wasn’t on her training.

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