🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 2
Despite the doctor’s urgent entreaties, the Duchess of Brücke chose to give birth to Lulutie.
Forcing the child into the world exacted an immediate, fatal price. The Duchess’s life was ebbing away with terrifying speed.
“My love, please! Do not leave me!” Gild wailed, clutching his wife’s cooling hand in a desperate grip.
Perhaps stirred by her husband’s distraught cries, the Duchess forced her heavy eyelids open. Yet, her fading gaze bypassed the broken man kneeling beside her, searching instead for the midwife.
“The child…?” she rasped.
“She is here, Your Grace. A healthy, beautiful princess.”
“What a relief…” The Duchess’s voice dissolved into a faint whisper. “I have already thought of her name…”
Silence descended upon the chamber; every person present held their breath, straining to catch her final words.
“Lulutie…”
Without another word, without a single parting vow, she closed her eyes forever, leaving behind only her daughter’s name.
Gild could not bring himself to look at the child warmly. To him, she was merely the bargain that had cost him his beloved wife. If this child had never been born, the woman he adored would still be by his side.
“Vile creature. You killed your own mother just to draw breath,” he spat, watching the infant nurse from her wet nurse’s breast.
Yet his hatred did not end there.
The House of Brücke was one of the few elite archmage lineages in the Empire, and Gild himself was counted among the most prodigiously talented in its history. Naturally, he expected Lulutie to inherit that formidable gift and grow into a brilliant mage.
Instead, the reality was insultingly bitter.
“You cannot even cast a spell this basic?! Pathetic child!”
Children of the Brücke bloodline could manifest a blaze large enough to reduce a small cottage to ash by the tender age of five. Yet Lulutie, at six years old, could barely produce a spark no larger than a matchstick flame.
“Try again!” Gild demanded.
Fwoosh.
The flame swelled for a fleeting second before collapsing back into a pitiful flicker.
Lulutie stole a terrified glance at her father. His face remained contorted with fury. Frightened to her core, the young girl channeled every ounce of strength remaining in her fragile body. Desperately wringing mana from her tiny core, her frame began to tremble violently.
“Gah—cough!”
She violently coughed up a spatter of blood, her small body unable to handle the strain of forced mana circulation.
Gild clicked his tongue in sheer disgust. “I have instructed you dozens of times, and this wretched display is all you can manage?”
“I-I’m sorry, Father…”
“I have heard you say ‘sorry’ more than ten times today alone! Enough of this. You, step forward.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” a servant replied, bowing deeply.
“Take Lulutie to the Reflection Chamber.”
The servant glanced down at the child on the floor. Trembling with dread, Lulutie shook her head back and forth in silent pleading.
The ‘Reflection Chamber’ was a cramped, windowless room attached to Gild’s private laboratory. Though the staff were never told precisely what occurred inside, the purple bruises and dark needle punctures marring Lulutie’s arms and legs spoke clearly enough.
Yet, as a mere servant, defying the Duke of Brücke was unthinkable.
Surely he won’t actually kill her… the servant rationalized internally. Besides, a priest had already been summoned to the estate. By evening, the child’s raw, broken body would be neatly restored by divine grace.
“Understood, my Lord.”
The servant took Lulutie by the arm and led her away to the dark chamber.
Locked inside the stifling room, Lulutie curled into herself, waiting for her father’s inevitable arrival.
How can I make it hurt less this time?
It was a question she pondered every single time she was dragged into this place, though a satisfying answer always eluded her. She had learned, however, that keeping her mouth tightly shut yielded slightly better results. If she remained entirely silent, he was less likely to strike her across the face.
Creeeeak.
The heavy door groaned open, and her father stepped inside. But he was not alone. Walking alongside him was her cousin, Diold.
Unlike Lulutie, Diold was a born prodigy. Despite his young age, he had already mastered a terrifying array of offensive magic, making him a prized talent sought after by elite knight orders across the realm.
Diold flashed a bright, cruel smile and offered a casual wave.
“Hey there, Matchstick. Long time no see.”
‘Matchstick’ was the mocking moniker Diold had assigned her after witnessing her pathetic attempts at magic.
Don’t call me that! the words screamed inside her head, but the last time she had voiced her defiance, Diold had ground his boot into her chest. Though she loathed the nickname, she swallowed her anger and simply gave a tiny, meek nod.
“Hello… Cousin…”
“Enough with the mindless babble,” Gild cut in coldly, pointing a dismissive finger at the little girl cowering in the corner. “She possesses magic power. Carrying my blood, her core capacity is actually quite vast. The issue lies in her mana circuits—they are far too narrow, preventing the power from flowing.”
In true mages, mana circuits wrapped directly around the vascular system, allowing magical energy to circulate freely alongside the blood.
“Haven’t you tried using temporary expansion elixirs, Uncle?” Diold asked curiously.
“I administered amplification draughts long ago. It yielded no results.”
“Wow,” Diold chuckled, shaking his head. “That stuff drives full-grown mages mad from the pain, and she actually survived it? Is her mind still intact?”
“She has been a mindless idiot since the day she was born, so there was little mind left to ruin,” Gild spat. “An entirely useless girl.”
Hearing her father brand her useless sent a sharp jolt of panic through Lulutie’s frail chest.
Useless. Unwanted.
In her short life, those words were always the prelude to pain. Physical violence inevitably followed the declaration of her worthlessness.
“Why are you cowering?” Gild barked.
“I-I’m…”
If she apologized, he would grow even angrier. Unable to think of any other response, her lips pressed together in habit.
“I am attempting to heal you,” Gild said, his tone dropping into a dangerous calm. “What do you say to someone who is trying to help you?”
“Th-thank you, Father…”
Gild smiled, satisfied.
Lulutie let out a small, silent breath of relief. If her father was in a good mood, perhaps her ‘reflection time’ would be short today.
“If elixirs will not force the circuits open, then her body must learn through raw exposure,” Gild commanded coldly. “Diold, begin.”
Before Lulutie could process the instruction, a wall of brilliant flame erupted directly in front of her eyes.
A agonizing, searing heat devoured her skin before her brain could even register what was happening. Screaming through clenched teeth, she threw her arms over her head and curled into a tight ball.
Diold sauntered closer, his face twisted in a mocking grin. “Uncle said I don’t have to just use my feet today. I can use real magic on you.”
“Wh-what? Please, no—”
“Not a chance.”
With a flick of Diold’s wrist, a slithering serpent constructed entirely of pure, concentrated fire coiled violently around her forearm.
“It hurts! Stop it, please!”
“A pathetic Matchstick like you doesn’t get to give me orders.”
Diold intensified the flame, raising the heat to a punishing temperature.
Lulutie’s hold broke, and a blood-curdling scream tore from her throat.
“It’s not every day I get a living human target to test offensive magic on,” Diold mused aloud, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “I might as well try everything, right?”
Beside him, Gild watched his daughter thrash and scream in agony with an expression of utter indifference.
“I called you here because I feared I might accidentally kill the girl myself,” Gild noted passively. “Keep your power controlled. Do not break the vessel entirely.”
“Yeah, yeah, got it.”
It was an old, forgotten theory that if a mage was repeatedly bombarded by a specific element, the trauma might force their dormant mana channels to awaken. However, the practice had been outlawed centuries ago after countless subjects died or were permanently crippled during ‘training.’
Yet Gild, desperate to turn Lulutie into a functional mage, had unearthed and resurrected the barbaric ritual.
It was not out of a desire for her to become independent or strong.
Her body simply needed to be capable of handling high-tier magic so he could use her as a living catalyst for his true objective: his endless experiments to resurrect his deceased wife.
He could have used his own magical power, of course, but he needed to preserve his own life force to enjoy the happy future he envisioned with his resurrected bride. Thus, he pushed Lulutie to the absolute brink of human endurance, treating his daughter as nothing more than a expendable fuel source for his forbidden ambition.
Three agonizing years passed under this nightmare. In the end, Gild’s horrific experiment proved to be a half-success.
He had failed to bring his wife back to life, but Lulutie’s mana circuits had finally been forced open, allowing her to cast functional magic.
However, the cost was total. The endless, brutal trials had left Lulutie’s body utterly destroyed.
Every single time she channeled her power, she could feel her very life force draining away like water through a sieve.
“Place your hand on the magic stone and pour your mana into it,” Gild ordered coldly, standing over her in the damp laboratory.
“Yes, Father.”
The magic stone, feeding directly on her dwindling vitality, flared with a faint crimson light.
Years ago, her power would have lit up the entire chamber in a brilliant flash. Today, it produced only a dim, sickly glow. There was simply no life left inside her to wring out.
Gild’s face contorted in deep disappointment and rising anger.
“Is this tiny spark truly all you can produce? What good are you? Is there a single thing you can do right?!”
Lulutie did not offer a word of defense. She had long learned that her only role was to keep her mouth shut and endure whatever came next.
Overcome with rage, Gild lunged forward and delivered a heavy, stinging slap across her face.
“You killed my wife!” he roared, his eyes bloodshot. “It is your duty to bring her back to me!”
If I apologize to Mother… will the pain finally stop?
Lulutie thought foolishly, her cheek burning. She longed so terribly for the mother whose face she had never even seen.
“You worthless, mother-killing trash,” Gild hissed.
Trash.
The word struck her heart like an iron spike, embedding itself deep inside her soul. She had believed there was nothing left inside her capable of breaking, yet a sudden, agonizing ache bloomed in the center of her chest.
Tears surged into her eyes, but she bit her lip and forced them back.
If the experiment succeeds… maybe he will finally accept me, she told herself desperately. If Mother comes back, maybe Father will finally forgive me for being born.
Steelingly her fragile resolve, Lulutie gripped the cold magic stone with both hands, pouring every remaining fragment of her soul into the crystal. She pushed herself far past her physical limits until the world spun wildly, and she collapsed into darkness.
When she finally regained consciousness, the estate’s personal physician was leaning over her bedside.
Knowing that opening her eyes might mean being dragged straight back to the dark laboratory, Lulutie kept her eyelids tightly closed, feigning sleep.
Beside her bed, the physician was speaking to Gild in a hushed, grave voice.
“Lady Lulutie will not live past the age of twenty, Your Grace.”
“I do not care about the girl’s lifespan,” Gild snapped, dismissive. “Tell me about the state of her mana circuits.”
“They are completely ruined,” the physician replied with a heavy sigh. “They have collapsed entirely. She will never be able to cast magic again.”
“Tch. Then she is entirely useless for further experimentation.”
Underneath her closed eyes, a soft, genuine smile slowly spread across Lulutie’s pale lips.
A profound wave of joy washed over her heart.
She would never have to step foot into her father’s laboratory again.
