Derek had no idea how utterly captivating he was—so much so that Xinzel had nearly shattered his relationship with his long-lost son over him, pushing their family to the brink of collapse.

Holding a box of freshly bought pastries, Derek walked along the garden path, expecting Teresia and Sophia to come greet him as usual.

True to form, two adorable maids appeared in his view.

Derek prepared to set the box down and step back, clearing space for the Holy Lady’s meal.

But things unfolded differently than he’d imagined…

Teresia didn’t rush toward him like an excited puppy. She glanced at Derek once, her long lashes fluttering like moth wings. A beautiful flush spread across her fair cheeks. Then she turned her head away, unconsciously avoiding his gaze, her small hands nervously fidgeting with the lace on her skirt.

*Hiss—what’s going on?!*

Derek sucked in a sharp breath.

Teresia hadn’t lunged for the pastries?!

And today… she looked kind of cute?!

Before he could savor the moment, Teresia awkwardly curtsied and hurried off.

*Why?!*

Derek stared at the untouched pastry box. Had the "feed" lost its flavor after all this time?

Teresia herself didn’t understand her own turmoil.

Ever since Derek had seen her naked during that bath, a nameless tension twisted inside her whenever they met.

She wanted to let it out but didn’t know how. It just festered, making her miserable.

Especially when she saw Derek—joy would spark inexplicably, yet unease followed just as suddenly.

She’d want to approach him… but her feet would carry her away instead.

After walking far enough, she let out a quiet sigh, heart heavy with regret.

She’d thought it was just a passing illness—eating more would fix it. But as days passed, the "symptoms" only deepened.

Derek sensed Teresia acting strangely around him. She wasn’t as clingy as before. Whether it was unconscious coyness or newfound charm from growing up, she seemed… alluring.

But Derek had little energy to dwell on it.

Xinzel’s physical training sessions were relentless. After class, he was drained—too exhausted to ponder Teresia’s quirks.

Under Xinzel’s brutal tutelage, Derek’s strength surged. He’d mastered basic combat forms. Though not yet a second-tier fighter, he could now hold his own in close combat.

Inspired by Derek’s progress, others doubled their efforts.

After perfecting the Water Orb spell, Sophia returned to alchemy. Derek’s pre-prepared herbs gave her ample material to practice with. Soon, she brewed a small vial of beginner-grade alchemical potion.

Teresia, now awakened to magic, joined the training.

Derek casually instructed Xinzel to take her to Dakelos’s Adventurers Guild for an affinity test. He bought her a first-tier Light magic spell—Flash.

Teresia began "shining brightly" in the courtyard. When her mana ran low, she’d meditate.

Yet during practice, her gaze kept drifting toward Derek.

Sweat brought progress. Everything seemed to be blossoming toward a bright future.

But Dakelos’s scorching sun refused to relent. Months had passed without a single drop of rain…

…

After meeting Xinzel, Gerald didn’t leave.

He usually observed the manor’s daily life from the shadows—something Xinzel had silently permitted.

Gerald had wagered with Xinzel: if Derek solved Dakelos’s drought, Gerald would serve him.

If not, Xinzel must reconsider his future—stop pinning all his hopes on Derek Wudewen.

Gerald was certain he’d win. He simply didn’t believe Derek could handle a disaster.

Still, he was curious about this Derek Wudewen, so deeply trusted by Xinzel.

So he watched Derek’s daily routines.

Admittedly, Derek Wudewen’s talent was extraordinary.

When Gerald last saw Leon Lancelot in Notan, he’d thought Leon the most gifted youth alive. But compared to Derek Wudewen, Leon seemed… lacking.

Most terrifying, though, was Derek’s training intensity. He pushed himself to the brink of death every single day.

*How does this boy endure it?*

Gerald respected it—but wouldn’t admit it easily.

Without compassion, Derek would only become a villain like his father, the infamous Yuri Wudwen.

And to this day, Derek showed zero concern for Dakelos’s drought…

"Father, any movement from Derek today?"

Once everyone retired to the manor for rest, Gerald reappeared.

"No. But I believe Young Master Derek has his own plan."

Xinzel’s voice was calm, though anxiety gnawed at him. Dakelos’s situation worsened daily.

Gerald smiled but said nothing—so long as Derek stayed idle, Xinzel’s stubborn hope meant nothing.

Worried, Xinzel finally nudged Derek the next day. "Young Master, the drought persists. Dakelos grows dire."

"Noted."

Derek replied casually.

He had no solutions.

In his past life, his greatest contribution to drought relief had been donating money.

Now he had funds to spare—but his father forbade it.

Before coming to Dakelos, he’d told Duke Wudewen: *"I’ll punish those peasants in your stead!"* How could he open his purse before delivering that punishment?

The Duke would burn him alive.

*Enough. I won’t think about it.*

Xinzel, however, took Derek’s calm as a sign he’d soon act. He felt reassured.

Days passed. Derek did nothing.

"Young Master, Dakelos’s crisis—"

"I understand."

Again, Derek acknowledged it—but offered no action.

Yet his composure convinced Xinzel Derek was masterminding a solution. He waited eagerly.

The sun scorched Dakelos for days more. Xinzel held his tongue.

Until today.

He had to find Derek.

The drought had triggered ominous signs…

Wealthy residents had begun migrating. Unable to endure Dakelos, they fled to neighboring Braedman.

This was disastrous. If the rich left, merchants would follow. Trade would halt. Dakelos would decay faster. Its poor would starve. This parched land might become a wasteland.

Hearing Xinzel’s report, Derek finally grasped the severity.

Dakelos was dry on the surface—but deep wells still held water. He’d thought people could survive on that.

He never expected them to just… leave.

*They can go. I can’t.*

Dakelos could be poor—but it couldn’t become a dead zone.

If it became unlivable, he’d have to return to the capital.

The thought of constantly reading his father’s moods—and being forced to play actor, joining in his evil "HA-HA-HA!" laughter—made Derek feel like he was wearing a mask of agony.

"Time to fix this," Derek sighed deeply, resigned.

But those words electrified Xinzel!

He lifted his head, gazing at Derek’s composed figure. His faith soared anew!

The peerlessly brilliant Young Master Derek would act at last. Dakelos’s future would shine bright!