My Crybaby Father is the Kingdom's Worst Villain
Chapter 39: How To Humiliate A Noble.

Chapter 39: How To Humiliate A Noble.

Crisanto still gushing over Luzia’s shot approached her eagerly. "I knew there was something different about you! That was—unbelievable! The way you fired, the way you—" He mimicked her movements, spinning in place with exaggerated enthusiasm. "—redirected our bullets and still landed the final hit? Incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it!"

His grin stretched wide, excitement practically radiating off him. "I simply must know—where did you learn to shoot like that? No, more importantly—who are you?"

Luzia opened her mouth, unsure how to answer, but Crisanto didn’t wait for a response. He placed a hand over his chest, tilting his head dramatically.

"Ah, but where are my manners? I should introduce myself first! I am Crown Prince Crisanto de Aragón, genius swordsman and marksman, and—" He spun his pistol between his fingers with a flourish. "—undefeated champion of the royal hunting grounds! ...Well, until now," he admitted with a sheepish chuckle.

Luzia blinked. Crown Prince?

"You talk too much," she said flatly, frowning.

Crisanto gasped, clutching his chest as if she’d shot him instead. "How cruel! And after I—"

"Crisanto."

A quiet yet commanding voice cut through the moment.

The cheerful prince immediately straightened, his grin faltering as his sister stepped into view.

Benedicta’s gaze settled on Luzia, assessing, unreadable.

Crisanto, still caught in the aftermath of his excitement, took one look at Benedicta’s expression and immediately took a step back. "Ah. Sister."

His sudden shift in energy was almost comical.

Benedicta’s eyes flickered toward Luzia.

"You handled yourself well," she said smoothly. "I expected nothing less from the daughter of Duke Ramiro."

There was something about the way she said it.

Why is she suddenly speaking to me? A chill crept up Luzia’s spine. Did she recognize that I was the one who possessed her body?

Benedicta took a step closer, the lanternlight catching the curve of her smile.

"Viento Sombrío."

Softly spoken, almost idle. Yet the words sent an involuntary shiver down Luzia’s arms.

The phrase felt... familiar. Like an echo from somewhere deep in her mind.

Luzia blinked, but the recognition wouldn’t come. Viento Sombrío—Shadowed Wind. It should mean nothing to her.

And yet—

She frowned, shifting her stance. "What?"

Benedicta’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened, just slightly.

"The way you move. The way you think. It reminds me of an old friend." A pause. "Tell me, Luzia... does that name mean anything to you?"

Luzia kept her face still, but her fingers curled slightly against her palm. She knows something. But I don’t know what the heck she’s talking about.

"Should it?" she asked, keeping her voice even.

For the briefest moment, something flickered in Benedicta’s blue eyes. Disappointment? Amusement? It was impossible to tell.

Then, just like that, she exhaled softly and took a step back.

"No. I suppose not."

She turned slightly, her expression unreadable as she smoothed a hand over the cuff of her sleeve.

"Regardless, it was entertaining to watch the games," Benedicta said, her tone carrying that detached, cryptic elegance only royals could manage. "Perhaps we should have tea sometime."

Luzia narrowed her eyes slightly. Tea? The way she said it made it sound less like an invitation and more like a promise—or a warning.

Benedicta glanced at her brother. "Come, Crisanto. Let’s return to our seats."

Crisanto nodded, but before following his sister, he leaned slightly toward Luzia, lowering his voice.

"You’re fascinating," he murmured, his grin lazy, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Then, with a final playful wink, he spun on his heel and strode after Benedicta.

Luzia exhaled sharply, shaking her head. What an Idiot.

Once the two royals left, Ignacio immediately grabbed Luzia by her tunic, yanking her forward.

"You cheated, didn’t you?"

Luzia’s eyes widened. Seriously? How the heck did the original Luzia fall for this jerk?

"No, she didn’t! Ignacio, how could she cheat when all the guns were inspected before we started?" Isidro cut in, rushing forward to grab Ignacio’s hand.

But Ignacio shoved him aside. "Every other person’s gun fired energy blasts along with the bullets—except yours. And yet you won? I don’t believe it. You cheated."

A murmur rippled through the other kids as they gathered around.

"What is Lord Ignacio saying?"

"She cheated?"

"A dirty orphan like you would always pull tricks like that. I should have known." Ignacio sneered. "I wouldn’t have let you participate in the first place."

"Ignacio, that’s enough! Stop it!" Isidro snapped.

But Ignacio wasn’t listening.

"She’s an orphan?"

"So the rumors about Lord Ramiro picking up a kid from the orphanage are true."

"Disgusting."

Luzia felt anger boiling inside her. This is too much.

Ignacio smirked, eyes glinting with satisfaction. What will you do now?

"So she’s low-class."

"My parents told me orphans are dirty. They were abandoned not just because they were unwanted, but because of their parents’ sins. That’s what makes an orphan dirty."

The scornful whispers made something snap inside Luzia.

An odd energy swelled through every inch of her body, sharp and electric. Before she even realized it, her hand shot up—gripping Ignacio’s wrist.

Her golden eyes flashed for a brief moment.

Then, with a swift motion, she yanked his hand off her tunic and slapped him across the face.

The sharp crack echoed through the air.

Ignacio stumbled back, his cheek reddening.

"A dirty orphan?" Luzia’s voice was cold, cutting. "Did I not warn you to not cross the line?" Her eyes locked onto his, unwavering. "Or have you already forgotten?"

Ignacio’s smirk was gone.

And for the first time since she’d met him—he looked afraid.

A stunned silence fell over the gathered crowd.

Ignacio stood frozen, his cheek burning red from Luzia’s slap. His eyes widened, disbelief and humiliation battling for dominance on his face.

The whispers turned to gasps.

"Did she just hit Lord Ignacio?"

"Unbelievable...!"

"She’s insane!"

Ignacio clenched his fists, his pride wounded beyond measure. His jaw tightened, his voice seething. "You... you dare—"

Luzia took a deliberate step forward, golden eyes flashing with unshaken resolve. "And what if I do?" she cut in, voice sharp as steel. "What are you going to do, Ignacio? Run crying to your father? Have me punished for bruising your delicate ego?"

Ignacio flinched.

Luzia scoffed, unimpressed. "How pathetic."

The gathered noble children barely breathed as they watched. Some looked on in horror, others in something closer to fascination.

"You talk about bloodlines and class like it makes you superior," Luzia continued, her tone even but laced with contempt. "But tell me—how much of your own strength comes from you? You were born into power, but without your name, what are you?"

Ignacio’s expression darkened.

Luzia leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "I’ll tell you—nothing."

Ignacio’s breathing turned heavy, his pride crumbling under the weight of her words.

Someone choked back a laugh in the crowd.

Ignacio’s gaze darted around, realizing people were watching him now—not as a powerful noble’s son, but as a fool who had just been humiliated in front of everyone.

He gritted his teeth, chest rising and falling with barely contained rage.

"You...!" he hissed, hand trembling at his side. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to strike her back.

Luzia tilted her head. Try it.

Ignacio hesitated.

He couldn’t.

Not here. Not in front of everyone. If he struck her now, he’d look even weaker.

Luzia smiled—a slow, knowing curve of her lips that sent ice down Ignacio’s spine.

"Now," she said, brushing imaginary dust off her sleeve, "I suggest you think very carefully before opening your mouth next time."

She turned her back on him without a second thought, stepping away. The ultimate insult.

Ignacio stood there, fists trembling, his anger festering as his thoughts spiraled, his pulse pounding in his ears.

No one has ever hit me.

Not once. Not ever.

And then she—

His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. His pride screamed at him to retaliate, to wipe that smug look off her face, to remind her who he was.

But he couldn’t.

Not here. Not now.

Instead, he forced himself to breathe, to steady the fire burning in his chest.

She’ll pay for this.

Isidro watched Luzia walk away, his eyes wide with something close to admiration.

She had handled Ignacio so well—calm, sharp, and utterly merciless.

No one had ever put Ignacio in his place like that.

A soft smile tugged at Isidro’s lips.

She’s... interesting.

Most people would have cowered, tried to justify themselves, or simply endured the humiliation in silence. But Luzia? She had turned the entire situation on its head, leaving Ignacio speechless, humiliated, powerless.

Isidro had never seen anything like it.

Now, he found himself genuinely curious about her.