“Lord Luke… are you certain?”

“Mm. Please trust me.”

After a brief hesitation, Elise silently set down the elven artifact in her hands.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“Thank you. I do have one matter to ask of you…”

As the golden-haired elf hiding above departed, Luke swiftly activated his domain magic: *“A Year Feels Like a Day.”*

True to its name, the spell warped time perception through psychological illusion—dulling the sense of time’s passage.

Like how an hour with your beloved flies by, yet a single second during an argument drags endlessly.

Luke was buying time.

When the magic faded and normal time perception returned, Lady Mary gasped—someone new now stood among them.

Her son. Earl Bag.

“How did *you* get here?”

Lady Mary’s fury surged. Her clenched fists drew blood.

This wasn’t new.

Since Earl Bag gained even a shred of independence, he’d provoked her endlessly. After inheriting the title, he escalated—sabotaging her work, as if eager for this “shameful woman who tarnished the family name” to vanish so he could seize control.

If he’d shown *any* competence, she might’ve endured it. But he was utterly inept—a pushover who wouldn’t notice if swindled out of his trousers. How could she not rage?

Confronted, Earl Bag—long cowed by her dominance—flinched back instinctively, eyes darting for cover.

“I *asked* why you’re here!” Lady Mary shrieked.

“I… I… d-don’t… kn-know…” Trembling violently, words shattered on his lips.

But the fear lasted only seconds.

“His Lordship came to reconcile with you, My Lady,” Luke said with a gentle smile.

In that instant, Earl Bag stilled. His gaze turned cold, sharp.

Yes—Luke had just spread the Corruption Magic to him.

“Pah!” Emboldened, Earl Bag spat sideways. “Who’d reconcile with a hag like *you*?”

“Fine! Fine! So *this* is your heart! Guards—teach this ungrateful brat a lesson!”

The guards hesitated. Normally, no matter how reckless Earl Bag acted, Lady Mary only confined him. She’d never ordered violence.

But hesitation vanished—the Corruption Magic now gripped them too.

“You *dare*?!” Earl Bag roared.

Luke stepped swiftly between them. “Stand down! As guards, do you have no shame attacking your master?”

Honestly? Righteous words. Textbook perfect. Utterly useless.

With Corruption Magic infecting everyone, they’d likely beat *him* too. Sure, the Hero could flatten the whole manor—but causing a scandal this early in the kingdom? Far worse than being caught in a compromising situation with Lady Mary.

Luke wasn’t that foolish. (That pink-haired scum would’ve cackled with joy.) Yet he took no action.

Not laziness. Not waiting for chaos.

“This… is Princess Aelia’s power?” Elise’s voice rang from above, stunned.

A pure white light erupted from Lady Mary’s chest. In moments, the Corruption Magic vanished from all.

Don’t misunderstand—the pink-haired scum wasn’t present.

But Luke knew her style: even while scheming to ruin him, she’d secure personal gain *and* cover her tracks meticulously.

Knowing Elise lurked nearby, ready to expose misconduct, she’d layered three safeguards beneath the Reverse Purification Magic on Lady Mary:

First—a Negation Magic to cancel it the moment someone intervened “justly.”

Second—a Soothing Magic to pacify *everyone*, preventing guards from attacking Elise and silencing accusations.

Third—to craft a flawless resolution where *only Luke* looked guilty… or to showcase her “foresight” and win public praise.

She’d engineered Lady Mary’s shift from corruption to crystal clarity… and accounted for Earl Bag too.

“Yes… a filthy, despicable woman like me doesn’t deserve to be your mother.” Bathed in holy light, Lady Mary’s arrogance dissolved. “You suffered so much—controlled by me, scorned everywhere because of me… I *knew*. Yet I never helped. I just… let you endure it…”

Earl Bag didn’t rebel. He only bowed his head, silent.

*(Ugh. So close, yet…)*

Luke sighed inwardly.

He’d stayed passive due to her contingency *and* to avoid exposing his mind-reading.

But things hadn’t gone smoothly.

Luke glanced at Earl Bag—and gave his heart a quiet nudge.

“No! I never resented you!” Earl Bag surged forward, voice cracking. “You sacrificed everything—to raise me strong, to let me inherit Father’s legacy! How could I *ever* look down on you?!”

“Don’t comfort me… If you didn’t hate me, why provoke me so?”

“I hated *myself*! For being weak! Useless! I tried to prove I could stand alone—to tell you, ‘Rest now. You’ve given enough!’ I only wanted you to *rest*!”

“How…?” Lady Mary whispered.

More than doubting his words, she reeled: *How could someone like me—a woman scorned by all—still be loved by her son?*

Tears streamed freely.

But it wasn’t enough.

“I believe,” Luke said softly to Bag, “no parent in this world wishes anything but their child’s happiness and peace.”

Absolute? Yes. Perfectly timed? Also yes.

Were Lady Mary’s scoldings truly born of seeing him as worthless?

No.

Others mocked him as a good-for-nothing. *She* never did.

Their clashes? He fought to prove himself. She feared he’d rush—begging him to cherish health and safety above all.

She never needed him to outshine others. Never needed progress.

Only this: that after she was gone, he’d live—alone, yet *happy*.

*Why did I understand this only now?*

*Why did such a simple truth keep us apart for years?*

*How much did Mother suffer?*

As Bag drowned in regret, Lady Mary’s tears turned inward too.

Regret for treating him as a child. For missing his care. For every blind, foolish moment.

But regret alone wasn’t enough.

Luke watched them both, smile warm yet firm.

“It’s not too late… to change.”