My Crybaby Father is the Kingdom's Worst Villain
Chapter 31: Not Yet Time to Remember.

Chapter 31: Not Yet Time to Remember.

Luzia barely had time to process what was happening before she felt strong hands wrap around her waist. In the blink of an eye, the world around her twisted—the wind roared in her ears, and her vision blurred as an unfamiliar force pulled her through space.

The next thing she knew, she was standing on solid ground, deep within the estate’s gardens. Her heart pounded in her chest as she staggered slightly, the lingering sensation of teleportation making her head spin.

The silver-haired boy was still holding onto her, his grip firm yet careful. As soon as he was sure she wouldn’t fall, he released her and took a step back, his crimson eyes gleaming with unreadable emotion.

Luzia stared at him, her breath uneven. I feel like... I have met him before. Have I?

She parted her lips. "What’s your—?"

Before she could finish, the distant clamor of approaching footsteps reached her ears. The estate guards were coming, their hurried voices cutting through the quiet of the night.

The silver-haired boy didn’t hesitate. With a flick of his wrist, the air shimmered around them, distorting like a heat mirage. Within seconds, an illusion unfolded—a rustling in the hedges, the flicker of shadowy figures moving in the opposite direction.

The guards rushed past without a second glance, fooled by the deception.

Luzia turned back to the boy, her chest tightening with unspoken questions. Who was he? And why did she feel like she had met him before?

She turned to the boy, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Illusions? You’re skilled."

The boy smirked, tilting his head as if amused by her observation. "I had to be, Master."

That word again. Master. Luzia stiffened. "You keep calling me that. Why?"

The boy remained silent for a moment, his crimson eyes searching hers, as if deciding how much to reveal. Then, with a soft chuckle, he stepped forward. "Because you are my master. Or rather, you were..."

Luzia’s breath caught in her throat. "What? I was what?"

Before she could demand an explanation, the illusion flickered. The boy’s expression hardened as the distant sound of approaching footsteps reached them. He took another step back, shadows curling around his form.

"Not yet," he murmured. "It’s not time for you to remember."

Luzia lunged forward, her fingers just inches away from the silver-haired boy’s sleeve.

"Wait—"

Shadows swallowed him whole, his crimson eyes the last thing to fade.

Silence.

The night air was cool against her skin, but her palm burned. She looked down—her fingers tingled as if they had brushed something scorching yet familiar. A phantom sensation. A presence she had felt before.

Her breath hitched. Who is he exactly? Why do I feel like I know him?

The feeling of warmth clung to her, distant yet intimate, like the remnants of a dream slipping through her grasp.

A name ghosted at the edge of her thoughts, unformed yet on the tip of her tongue.

She clenched her fists.

"Just who... are you?"

The guards’ voices jolted her back to reality, but the lingering presence of the boy refused to fade, his words circling her mind like a whisper she couldn’t quite grasp.

The illusion finally dissolved, revealing the real garden just as a pair of guards rushed in, lanterns swinging.

"My lady!" One of them called out. "We heard a sound—are you alright?"

Luzia took a shaky breath, masking her bewilderment. "I’m fine," she said smoothly, brushing off imaginary dust from her nightgown. "Just... taking a walk."

The guards exchanged uncertain glances but nodded. "Please return inside, my lady. It’s dangerous to be out at this hour."

Luzia forced a small smile and turned back toward the estate. "Of course."

But as she walked away, her mind swirled with unanswered questions.

What did he mean by ’you were’?

Luzia entered her room, her mind still reeling from the encounter. The cool night air seemed to hang in the room, but the heaviness in her chest wouldn’t lift. She moved automatically, pulling back the covers of her bed, her fingers trembling slightly as she slid underneath the warm sheets. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting faint shadows that danced across the walls.

Her mind, however, was consumed by the silver-haired boy’s words. Master. You were...

They echoed in her head, each repetition twisting and turning like an unsolvable puzzle. Who was he? And why did he call her "Master"? What did it all mean?

She tried to push the thoughts away, but they only grew louder. Images of his crimson eyes, his smirk, and the soft, mocking tone of his voice filled her mind. She shifted restlessly in the bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin as if it could shield her from the questions clawing at her thoughts.

What was he?

The silence in her room felt suffocating. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, but the boy’s presence lingered—his mysterious aura wrapping around her like an invisible thread. The sound of his voice was still fresh, his words hanging like a whisper in the stillness of the night.

Not yet. It’s not time for you to remember.

A shiver ran down her spine as she rolled over onto her side, trying to find some comfort in the familiar feel of her bed. But sleep eluded her. She stared at the ceiling, her mind lost in the maze of unanswered questions, until eventually, exhaustion took over. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered, and the sound of her racing thoughts began to fade into the soft lull of slumber.

Luzia opened her eyes and found herself lying in a vast green meadow. The scent of fresh grass filled the air, and a soft breeze caressed her skin.

Strange... wasn’t I just in bed?

She pushed herself up, but something was off. Her movements felt automatic, like she wasn’t entirely in control.

She glanced at her hands—larger than they should have been.

"Huh? My hands—"

But before she could process it, her mouth moved on its own.

"Where am I?" she heard herself say, though she hadn’t willed the words. A wave of unease crawled up her spine.

"Luzia! Luzia!"

A familiar voice called out from behind her. Startled, she turned to see a young man with striking red hair and eyes. He was dressed in a horse-riding outfit, leading a horse by its reins.

’Red hair, red eyes... isn’t that exactly how Ignacio was described in the novel?’ she thought.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," he said as he approached.

"It’s alright, Ignacio. I didn’t wait long..."

’That wasn’t what I wanted to say. Why is my mouth moving on its own? And why am I talking to an older version of Ignacio?’

She tried to step back, to call out, but her body remained frozen in place, as if she were merely a spectator trapped inside herself.

"No... this isn’t real. It’s a memory. I’m watching a memory.’

But if this was a memory—why was she seeing it now?

Ignacio smiled. "I promised to spend time with you today. I’ve been busy lately."

Letting go of the reins, he pulled her into a warm embrace.

"Thank you for staying by my side, Ignacio... even at times like this. I love you."

’Times like this?’ Luzia thought, confusion creeping in.

"Anything for you," Ignacio murmured.

The scene suddenly shifted.

Now, Luzia found herself walking hastily down a grand hallway, her heart pounding as she followed Ignacio.

"Ignacio! Are you really... ending this engagement? For what reason?" Luzia’s voice trembled as she hurried after him. Her breath was uneven, her chest tight with desperation. "You promised me!"

Ignacio stopped abruptly, his back rigid.

"He won’t turn around," she realized.

"Are you out of your mind, Luzia?" His voice was cold, detached. "Why are you following me when I told you not to?"

Her heart clenched. That tone—he had never spoken to her like that before.

"No... something is wrong. This isn’t him."

"Just tell me what I did wrong!" she pleaded. "Why are you suddenly ending everything?"

Finally, he turned.

His face was unreadable, his crimson gaze sharp and unfamiliar.

"Because I’ve fallen in love with someone else," he said evenly. "So please, leave."

Luzia felt the ground tilt beneath her.

"Love? No. That’s a lie. He’s lying."

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"When did this ’love’ start?" she finally managed. "With whom?"

Ignacio’s gaze darkened.

"I will gain a higher status if I marry her," he said simply. "I can’t waste my future on an orphan like you. My status would be dragged through the dirt."

The words struck like a physical blow.

Her breath shuddered.

"An orphan."

Her body went still.

The air between them seemed to thin, her chest tightening as the weight of those words settled in.

"He never cared. I was never enough."

Memories flashed—soft laughter under candlelight, whispered promises beneath the moon, the warmth of his arms around her. All of it—every fleeting moment—reduced to nothing in an instant.

Her fingers trembled.

"He made a choice. And it wasn’t me."

Luzia’s voice barely came out. "So... this is what I meant to you?"

Ignacio didn’t answer.

The silence told her everything.

---

"An orphan... like me?"

Luzia’s eyes widened as she gasped for breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her vision blurred for a moment before clearing.

She was no longer in that grand hallway. No longer chasing after Ignacio.

Instead, she was in her room.

The familiar sight of her modest surroundings grounded her, but the unease in her chest didn’t fade. Slowly, she lifted her hands—small, delicate, just as they should be.

"Then... was that a memory?"

Her heart pounded at the thought. "But why? Why a memory of Ignacio and Luzia? And why did he call Luzia an orphan?"

A sudden, chilling realization crept into her mind.

"Is Ramiro going to die?"

Her fingers clenched into fists as dread settled deep in her bones.

"Forget about the fact that Luzia liked Ignacio... I need to get to the bottom of this."

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to think. "First, why was Luzia in tears? Why was she called an orphan? And most importantly... how did Ramiro die?"

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