My Crybaby Father is the Kingdom's Worst Villain
Chapter 33: Gregorio Says No, Luzia Says Watch Me.

Chapter 33: Gregorio Says No, Luzia Says Watch Me.

The moon cast a pale glow over the estate, its silver light spilling through the open balcony doors into Luzia’s dimly lit room. The night was still, save for the quiet rustling of the curtains in the cool breeze.

Luzia sat on the floor, legs crossed, her hands trembling slightly as she tried, once again, to stabilize her mana. Her breathing was ragged, sweat dripping down her forehead as she clenched her fists. The ache in her limbs was growing unbearable, but she refused to stop.

"I must get it done!" Luzia thought fiercely, her jaw tightening.

She focused, reaching deep within herself, searching for that elusive thread of energy. She reached for it, tried to pull it in—to make it hers. But just as she thought she had control—pain

A sharp pulse shot through her body, and the mana slipped from her grasp again. She gasped, doubling over as exhaustion clawed at her.

Three times she had failed. Three times she had tried to control the untamed force inside her. And now her body was screaming at her to stop.

Still, she gritted her teeth.

"I must get it done..."

Summoning whatever strength she had left, she forced herself to try again.

The moment she reached for her mana, an intense wave of dizziness overtook her. Her vision blurred, her arms felt heavy, and before she could attempt another breath—

Her body gave out.

She collapsed onto her bed, her mind slipping toward unconsciousness, her breath uneven.

The balcony door creaked softly. A figure stepped inside, moving soundlessly across the room.

A silver-haired boy.

His pale eyes observed Luzia’s exhausted form, his expression unreadable. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat and sighed.

"My master can be foolish sometimes," he thought. "Shall I help you out again?"

Without hesitation, he strode toward the bed and sat on the edge, his gaze lingering on Luzia’s worn-out face. Strands of her hair clung to her damp forehead, her breathing slow and uneven.

Gently, he reached out and placed his hand on her forehead.

"Master, don’t you know?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "If you continue to force it, you will kill yourself... So just take it slow."

A soft, silver glow emanated from his palm, washing over Luzia’s skin in a warm, soothing light. The tension in her muscles eased, her labored breaths growing steady.

She stirred slightly, her lips parting as a hazy thought drifted through her mind.

"What is this warmth...?"

But exhaustion was stronger than curiosity, and before she could even attempt to wake, the comforting warmth lulled her into a deep sleep.

The silver-haired boy watched her for a moment longer before retracting his hand. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a quiet sense of familiarity in his gaze.

Then, just as silently as he had entered, he stood up and disappeared into the night.

The Next Morning...

Luzia’s eyes snapped open. For a moment, she lay still, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the familiar dull ache to creep back into her limbs. But it never came.

No throbbing, no crushing exhaustion weighing her down.

That was impossible.

Her brows knitted together as she pushed herself up—too fast. Instinct told her to brace for dizziness, for her vision to swim. Instead, she felt... steady. Stronger than she had any right to be.

Her fingers curled into the sheets, testing her grip.

"What the hell happened?"

A knock at the door cut through her thoughts.

Elena stepped inside, balancing a tray with her usual morning tea. She glanced at Luzia, her sharp gaze lingering.

"Awake as usual, my lady," she said. Then, after a beat, "Something wrong?"

Luzia’s eyes flicked toward her, but she shook her head. "No. Nothing." She swung her legs off the bed, already pushing the strange feeling to the back of her mind. "Help me get ready. I need to see my father."

If there was one thing she could count on, it was that a conversation with Ramiro would be distracting enough to keep her from overthinking.

Now infront of Ramiro’s Study,

Luzia rapped her knuckles against the door twice.

"Come in," came the familiar voice.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, her sharp eyes sweeping over the room. As always, Ramiro was buried in paperwork, his shoulders tight with the weight of responsibilities she knew he never truly shared.

At the sight of her, his tired expression softened, his lips twitching upward.

"Luzia," he said, setting his pen down. "I’m glad you’re here. Sit."

She slid into the sofa without a word, her back straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

Ramiro leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. "I couldn’t come see you yesterday. I was swamped with work." His eyes met hers, almost hesitant. "Will you forgive this father of yours?"

Luzia arched a brow. "You act as if I had expectations."

Ramiro chuckled. "Fair enough."

He tapped a finger against the desk, studying her. "So? Your first mana training lesson—how did it go?"

Her fingers twitched slightly in her lap.

How did it go? Pain. Frustration. Failure. And then—

She dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

"Fine," she said flatly.

Ramiro’s brow lifted, waiting.

Luzia sighed. "I didn’t die. That’s all that matters."

His lips quirked, amused. "That bad?"

She crossed her arms. "I wouldn’t call it bad, just... tedious."

Ramiro let out a hum of understanding, leaning forward slightly. "That’s normal. The body resists what the mind demands of it. But I have no doubt you’ll figure it out." He paused, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk. "I wish I could help you, but Gregorio forbade it."

His tone was even, but Luzia caught the flicker of something—frustration beneath his words.

Luzia’s brows twitched at the name.

"Sir Gregorio forbade it?"

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Of course he did. How very wise of him."

Ramiro gave her a look. "Luzia—"

"No, really," she cut in, her voice laced with dry amusement. "Why let the person who actually wants to teach me be involved when we can just let me flounder alone?"

Ramiro sighed, rubbing his temple. "Gregorio has his reasons—"

"I’m sure he does," she said coolly, leaning back against the sofa. "And I’m sure none of them involve my best interests."

Her father hesitated, as if weighing his words.

Luzia took that silence as a confirmation.

She huffed, fingers drumming against her arm. "Fine. I’ll manage on my own."

Ramiro frowned. "That’s not what I—"

"Father," she cut in smoothly, tilting her head. "Let’s not waste time pretending I’ll listen to Gregorio."

A pause. Then—

Ramiro chuckled, shaking his head. "You really are impossible."

Luzia smirked. "You say that like it’s news."

Luzia held his gaze for a long moment, then exhaled, her posture easing just a fraction.

" I will definitely get it," she muttered.

Ramiro smiled, but something about it was knowing. "I know you will...you’re my daughter after all." he said. "Then let’s talk about something more interesting."

Ramiro leaned back in his chair, his tired expression lifting slightly as he took a deep breath. The change in topic seemed to bring a sense of relief to both of them, as if they were leaving the heavy matters of mana and Gregorio’s interference behind.

He clasped his hands together and looked at Luzia with a thoughtful gaze. "I forgot to tell you that the Sunshine Orphanage redevelopment has been completed," he began, his voice more measured.

Luzia’s eyes sharpened.

She nodded slowly. "It’s finished then? That’s great."

"Yes," Ramiro said, leaning forward just a little. "I couldn’t be more pleased with the results. The place looks completely different now. It’s not just a shelter for the children anymore; it’s a place that can offer them a future. We’ve added new classrooms, a medical wing, even a library for the older children. There’s a space for mentorship, too." He paused, his expression softer now. "It’s exactly what I promised you it would be when I brought you out of there."

Luzia’s breath caught slightly at the mention of her past, of the promise she had made him make. ’To be honest, at first I thought he was not going to take it seriously but he did...’

"I’m glad you kept the promise, father," Luzia said, her voice quiet but steady.

"By the way, Luzia... Ignacio’s birthday is approaching. I want you to attend the celebration. It’s important—not just for the family, but for your future connections." Ramiro’s voice was steady, his gaze firm yet not unkind.

Luzia raised an eyebrow. "Ignacio’s birthday?" She hadn’t thought about it in months—she had completely forgotten.

Ramiro nodded, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "Yes. You should make an appearance. It would be your first official step into society."

Luzia’s mind churned. The thought of attending, of being surrounded by nobles she barely knew, felt suffocating. Yet, she also understood it wasn’t something she could avoid.

"I’ll go," she said finally, her tone steady but resigned.

Ramiro’s expression brightened slightly, though there was an unmistakable sharpness in his gaze. "Good. Make the right impression. And while you’re there, keep your eyes open—you might learn something useful."

Luzia gave a slow nod, though she wasn’t sure if "the right impression" was something she could ever manage. She had little patience for the shallow niceties and political maneuvering of the nobility. But if this helped her father—if it served her purpose—then she would endure it.

"As long as I can leave without a headache," she muttered under her breath.

Ramiro chuckled. "You always find a way to make things interesting."

"Will you be coming with me that day?" Luzia asked.

"Yes, of course," he replied without hesitation.