The next morning, after breakfast, Ludger asked his mother to step out into the backyard with him. Elaine followed, wiping her hands on a cloth, her curious gaze narrowing as they crossed the threshold.

“What is it you want to show me?” she asked, her voice half-serious, half-playful. Then her lips curved into a sly smile. “Don’t tell me… your first girlfriend? If so, I’ll need to educate you a bit. It’s far too soon for that, and I won’t have you turning into your father.”

Ludger froze mid-step, blinking once before his face twisted into a grimace.

Elaine chuckled, her aura softening but her eyes sharp. “Good. Because I’d hate to start sharpening my knives already.”

Ludger groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Why does she always do this?

“I wanted to show you something else,” he muttered, glaring at her through his fingers. “Something important. So could you—just for once—not joke about me turning into Dad?”

Elaine tilted her head, studying him with that same mix of fondness and worry that always seemed to coil together whenever he looked too serious.

“All right,” she said, her tone gentler. “Then show me.”

“Let me ask you something first,” he said. “What would you do if you could learn magic?”

Elaine blinked, her frown deepening. “Magic?” She shook her head, a touch of bitterness in her voice. “That’s not for me. I’m far too old—already in my twenties. Even if I weren’t, I doubt I’d have the talent. Magic is for those chosen young and trained early. Not for someone like me.”

Ludger waved her words away with a flick of his hand. “Forget all that for a second.” He lifted his right hand, palm facing forward. “Watch closely.”

Mana stirred at his fingertips, threads of energy gathering, shaping themselves under precise control. The air hummed faintly as he focused, and with deliberate slowness, a small, shimmering bolt of blue-white light formed above his palm.

“Mana Bolt,” he said calmly, holding the construct steady. “It looks simple, but it isn’t. Watch what happens if I ease too much…”

He let the structure unravel slightly, and the glow flickered unstable. Then he tightened it again with a pulse of intent, stabilizing it until it shone sharp once more.

Elaine’s eyes narrowed, her usual smile fading into something far more serious. She leaned closer, studying every twitch of his fingers, every subtle shift in his breathing.

“This…” she muttered under her breath, “…isn’t just power. It’s control. A push here, a pull there. Pressure, release… you’re guiding it, not forcing it.”

Her arms folded as she straightened, her gaze flicking back to him. “That’s why most people fail. They think it’s about strength. But it’s really about balance, isn’t it?”

Ludger smirked faintly. “Exactly.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, only the faint hum of mana in his hand filling the air. Elaine’s frown hadn’t vanished—it had deepened—but now it wasn’t skepticism. It was a thought.

Elaine crossed her arms, eyes narrowing as the faint hum of mana shimmered between them. “Why are you showing me this, Ludger?” Her voice was soft but edged, like she already suspected there was more to it. “You don’t waste time unless you’re hiding something.”

Ludger only smiled, letting the Mana Bolt flicker brighter before dissolving it with a snap of his fingers. “Nothing suspicious. I just want you to learn a bit of magic—just in case. And…” He tilted his head, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I wanted to test my teaching skills.”

Elaine raised a brow, skeptical but not dismissive. “…Teaching skills? At your age?”

He ignored the jab, stepping closer and holding up his palm again. “First step: feel for the mana. It’s not about forcing it. It’s like… pulling on a thread that’s always been there. Close your eyes if you need to. Don’t think about strength—think about flow.”

Elaine frowned, but humored him, closing her eyes and standing still, her breathing steady.

“Second step,” Ludger continued, “is shaping. Once you feel the thread, you guide it, nudge it into form. Not too loose, or it’ll scatter. Not too tight, or it’ll break. Balance. Always balance.”

He demonstrated slowly, letting a faint orb of light form above his hand again, smaller this time, steady but gentle.

“Third step: define the shape. Bolt, orb, arrow—whatever you decide. And once you have it stable…” He tilted his wrist, letting the little orb spark forward and fizzle harmlessly into the dirt. “…you release.”

Elaine opened her eyes just in time to see the spark vanish. She stayed quiet, studying his hand, her frown unreadable.

Ludger grinned. “Simple, right?”

Elaine exhaled sharply through her nose, muttering, “Simple, he says…” But she didn’t walk away. Instead, she extended her hand slowly, as if daring herself.

Elaine watched his hand for a moment longer, then let out a sharp scoff. She dropped her arm back to her side and shook her head.

“This is ridiculous. I told you—I’m too old, and I don’t have the talent for this. It’s a waste of time.”

Ludger tilted his head, his smirk not fading in the slightest. “Better to fail while trying than to fail by giving up.”

Elaine’s eyes snapped to him, narrowing. For a moment she looked ready to scold him, her aura flaring faintly, but he didn’t back down. He just crossed his arms, staring at her with the same calm weight she always used on him.

“Think about it,” he went on. “You’re always telling me to prepare for the worst. To be ready for when things don’t go my way. So what about you? If something happened and I wasn’t around to play healer, wouldn’t it be better if you knew how to throw at least one spell?”

Elaine pressed her lips into a thin line, glaring at him. It was the same look she gave Arslan when he managed to back her into a corner during an argument—one part fury, one part reluctant admission.

Ludger leaned in just a little, voice steady. “One attempt. That’s all I’m asking. If it fizzles, fine. But don’t just walk away without trying.”

For a long breath, the backyard fell silent except for the rustle of leaves. Elaine finally sighed, lifting her hand with a stiff motion, as if the gesture itself was a concession.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But if this blows up in my face, it’s on you.”

Ludger grinned, already guiding her through the first step.

Elaine lifted her hand, her brow furrowing in concentration. For a moment, Ludger thought she might surprise him. But the seconds stretched, and nothing happened.

Her fingers twitched, her aura flared faintly, but the air stayed still. No hum of mana. No flicker of light. Just silence.

Elaine clicked her tongue, lowering her hand with an impatient huff. “See? I told you. Pointless.”

Ludger only crossed his arms tighter, unfazed. “That wasn’t even an attempt. That was you giving up halfway.”

Her eyes narrowed, sharp as blades. “Careful, youngster.”

He smirked, refusing to back down. “What? You think glaring at me changes the fact that you quit before you started?” He tilted his head, tone sharpening. “You backed Father into a corner with your eyes. You run a tavern without blinking. But one little trick doesn’t work the first time and you fold? That’s sad.”

Elaine’s jaw clenched, her pride clearly stung. For all her protectiveness, she hated being underestimated—even by her own son.

“Try again,” Ludger pressed, his voice firm now. “Fail properly, or don’t call it failing at all.”

For a long breath, Elaine just stared at him, her eyes stormy. Then, with a frustrated exhale, she raised her hand again, this time with real focus, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Elaine’s hand hovered in the air, her brows drawn tight. This time, she didn’t just force it—she listened. Her breathing slowed, her focus narrowing to the point Ludger had shown her.

For a moment, nothing. Then—faint as a candle flame—the air shimmered above her palm. A tiny spark flickered into life, unstable, trembling like it would vanish at any second.

Elaine’s eyes widened. She froze, not daring to move. “...I felt it.”

Ludger smirked, arms crossed. “Told you.”

The spark wavered, then fizzled into nothing, leaving only the faint echo of mana behind. Elaine lowered her hand slowly, still staring at her palm as though it had betrayed her.

“That was—” she began, then cut herself off, frowning. Her pride wouldn’t let her finish the thought.

Ludger shrugged. “Not bad for your first try. Better than most.”

She shot him a sharp look, but there was no heat in it this time. If anything, her expression carried the faintest trace of surprise—and just a sliver of curiosity.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” she muttered.

“Me?” Ludger grinned. “I just taught you something you swore you couldn’t do. Dangerous would’ve been letting you keep believing it.”

Elaine shook her head, exhaling through her nose. But she didn’t argue.

Elaine lowered her hand, flexing her fingers as if half-expecting more sparks to jump out. Her eyes narrowed at him, sharp but curious.

“What was the point of that?” she asked. “You drag me out here, waste my time, just to make me fumble at a parlor trick?”

Ludger smirked, folding his arms behind his head like it was nothing serious. “Simple. I wanted you to learn a bit of magic—just in case. And I wanted to test if I could teach someone else what I already know.”

He leaned back against the old tree, casual but focused. “Consider it a first experiment for the future.”

Elaine blinked, frown deepening. “Experiment?”

“Yeah. If I can pass down what I know, then I’m not just hoarding tricks for myself. I’m building something. If it works with you, it’ll work with others. It means I’m not just training me—I’m training my future influence.”

Elaine stared at him for a long beat, her expression unreadable. Then she shook her head, muttering, “Eight years old, and already scheming like some old guildmaster. Gods help us.”

Ludger only grinned wider. “Better get used to it, Mother.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple, but there was no real anger in it—only resignation. And maybe, beneath that, a touch of pride.

Elaine brushed him off with a shake of her head and went back inside, muttering about chores waiting in the tavern. Ludger stayed under the tree, arms folded, his grin fading into something sharper.

Teaching worked. Not perfectly—but it worked.

He looked down at his own hands, flexing them as if he could still feel the echo of the mana bolt he’d shaped earlier. If he could guide someone like his mother—a complete beginner with no confidence—then what about others?

The thought made his pulse quicken.

If I can teach one person, I can teach more. And if I can teach more… then maybe there’s a job tied to that. Teacher.

He could almost picture the notification flashing across his vision, new bonuses, new skills, a whole new path. And the best part? Leveling it wouldn’t be like grinding monsters or risking his neck in another battlefield. He’d just need students. Lots of them.

Basic magic lessons, he mused. Charge a small fee. Or skip the coin, let them feel indebted. Influence is worth more than copper. Start small, build trust, and eventually… build a group that works for me.

He leaned back against the tree, smirk tugging at his lips. Maybe it was too early for that kind of network—he was still only eight, after all—but the door was open.

Teacher, merchant, tactician, fighter… step by step. Every role I touch makes me harder to pin down. Stronger in ways they won’t see until it’s too late.

The wind stirred the leaves above him, and Ludger chuckled softly to himself.

“Guess I found my next experiment.”

Ludger leaned his head back against the tree, letting his thoughts spool out.

If I’m right, unlocking a Teacher job won’t happen just by showing someone once. I’ll need the right setup. Someone to teach me the basics of teaching.”

The first idea that came to mind was Viola. She already had home instructors lined up for swordplay, history, manners—every dull subject her grandfather thought an heir should know. If he slipped himself into that system, he could get the job. But with Lord Torvares away, Viola wasn’t sitting in fancy lessons anymore. She was studying on her own, half under Luna’s eye, half through sheer stubborn will.

Which means those instructors aren’t even here right now.

That left Luna.

Practical, disciplined, sharp enough to see through almost anything. She could stand in as a bridge, help him find the right person. But the problem was obvious: Luna didn’t have the influence to make others obey. She could teach quietly, sure—but she couldn’t order people to show up for lessons, couldn’t create the kind of following Ludger needed.

He tapped his fingers against his arm, frowning. So it’s a choice. Viola has the access.

Viola’s status could open doors, give him legitimacy. He could set up the foundation he needed—and if he played it right, no one would realize he was really just leveling another job behind the scenes.

The clatter of wooden swords reached Ludger’s ears before he even saw her. Viola strode into the backyard, practice blade in hand, her expression already set with that stubborn spark.

“Ready for our spar?” she asked, rolling her shoulders.

“Later,” Ludger said, brushing dirt from his sleeve. “First, a question.”

Viola arched a brow. “What now?”

Ludger hummed, filing that away. Then he shifted gears without missing a beat. “What about your old teachers? Any of them still around? Or ones you could contact?”

Her frown deepened. “Why?”

“I want to learn the basics of teaching,” he said flatly.

Viola stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Now? You want to learn that now? Out of all the things?”

Ludger only shrugged, expression calm but unreadable. “Given time, it might help you learn magic more freely.”

Viola blinked again, suspicion warring with curiosity. “…That’s your reason?”

“More or less.” His smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Call it an investment. You’ll thank me later.”

Viola narrowed her eyes, clearly not convinced—but also not able to shake the thought that Ludger rarely wasted words without some kind of plan. At the same time, she knew that she owed Ludger a few favors.

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