Lan Qi followed Talia into the room—her bedroom.
She switched on the floor lamp by the plush carpet near the bed. The soft white light reflected off the walls, instantly making the space feel brighter and more open.
From the doorway, Lan Qi spotted an oak cabinet stacked with sealed containers. Through the clear lids he could see cream puffs, cheese pastries, mango pancakes, and other desserts—likely her after-breakfast, after-lunch, after-dinner, and even after-midnight indulgences.
The moment his gaze lingered, he felt a sharp killing intent pierce into him.
“Don’t look around.”
Her voice was cold. Clearly, she hadn’t intended for him to see these uncharacteristic sweets, so unlike her usual demeanor.
Talia bent down and drew a small case from under the bed.
With a crisp click of metal hinges, she opened it, revealing a set of high-grade portable card-making tools. From the cabinet she also gathered several stacks of materials.
“Sit.”
She gestured toward the desk against the wall.Lan Qi sat where instructed, while she settled across from him—on the edge of her bed, long legs crossed, expression composed.
“I’ll create a set of first-tier, basic half-finished magic cards of various schools. I’ll teach you a universal inscription principle. All you’ll need to do is complete a single, very simple step. I’ll finish the rest. From the deviation in completion, we can measure your affinity with each magic type.”
As she explained, her hands were already at work, swiftly arranging tools and materials with fluid precision.
“Uh… if I blow up the card, what happens?”
Lan Qi’s eyes darted about the room, already checking for fire extinguishers.
If he wrecked Talia’s bedroom… he didn’t even want to imagine the consequences. And downstairs was still open for business—he couldn’t risk collateral damage.
“Try it,” Talia said evenly.
Her gaze rose to meet his—cold and sharp as moonlight.
Lan Qi felt an icy chill crawl down his spine. This time, she meant it.
“…I won’t blow it up,” he said firmly, tightening his grip on the card-making tool.
No matter how harsh she looked right now, Lan Qi always adhered to the noble virtue of respecting his elders. To him, a lady of several hundred years was an elder deserving courtesy.
Talia ignored his nervous chatter and focused fully on her preparations.
Demons taught their apprentices this way: if they taught, they taught seriously.
Though she lacked much experience as a teacher, she knew exactly how to handle Lan Qi. From his very first attempts at card-making, she had been observing him—his strengths, his flaws, and how to shape him into a true cardmaker.
His greatest problem was simple—
Aside from his bizarre gift for blowing cards up, his approach to card-making was far too relaxed. Unnaturally so.
A calm mind was desirable, yes, something most cardmakers envied. But if he always remained too calm—too detached—his success rate would forever hover in the low range.
To Talia, a cardmaker’s state of mind was determined by two key factors: challenge target and skill level.
- If the challenge was too great, anxiety or failure would crush the attempt.
- If it was too low, boredom would dull interest, leading to sloppy results.
The ideal state of full immersion only arose when challenge and skill were in balance.
But Lan Qi? He always coasted, choosing an easy state where his skills outstripped the challenge. No pressure, no care—even if the card exploded.
So Talia would train him the demon way—push him to the brink of death, beyond even death itself, until pressure and ability finally balanced.
She completed her first demonstration card—a basic [Mental] half-finished card—and held it out for him.
“I’ve inscribed the core mental influence structure. What you need to do is add one auxiliary inscription. Think of it as an enhancement, or a mana filter—shaping it to add targeting or ally-enemy recognition.”
Her fingers traced the design with calm precision, showing him exactly how to finish the work.
“This card is for demonstration. Every one after this is entirely up to you.”
“…Got it.”
Lan Qi nodded solemnly.
Her current patience and gentleness were conditional—hinging on him following every instruction perfectly.
The moment he slipped up, he suspected he’d truly be done for.
And yet—
Through this, he was beginning to glimpse the true essence of demon-style teaching he had only brushed against at the Demon Academy:
Forcing potential out through life-and-death pressure.
Maybe someday, if he taught students at his own academy, he could apply the same principle.
His duties as “Principal Lan Qi” felt a little more complete.
From then on, silence fell.
Both of them focused completely on their work. No unnecessary talk. No wasted gestures. And whenever they passed a card between them, a quiet rhythm, a tacit understanding emerged.
Time blurred. When one immerses wholly in a task, the outside world fades.
Now and then, Talia glanced at him. His state had shifted. This was progress.
Yes. She would need to keep supervising him closely from now on.
…
Outside, the sky changed.
Bright morning gradually gave way to soft orange-red, clouds ignited like torches by the setting sun.
Blue deepened into violet, then sank into the indigo of night.
By the time darkness fully descended, they were still at work.
Inside her bedroom—
Amidst the quiet sound of breathing—
Lan Qi had collapsed face-first onto the desk, fast asleep, expression as unguarded as a child’s.
He hadn’t even noticed when he’d reached his limit. Whether from sheer focus or the crushing pressure she put on him, he’d endured until finishing the last card—and then succumbed to exhaustion.
Talia’s gaze shifted to the thick stack of cards on the desk—the test results.
Aside from [Mental], he showed promise in [Healing]. Among elemental schools, only [Light] was passable, but far from outstanding.
For minor schools—curses, poisons, and the like—his affinity was predictably poor.
Yet—
One card stood apart. Its runes shone with a pure, colorless brilliance, unlike any other.
This was proof of perfect affinity.
She had tested every possible school, and finally found the one that fit him best.
Talia lifted the card, eyes complicated.
“So this fool’s greatest affinity… is with [Sealing] magic?”
She looked at his sleeping face again. Natural, innocent.
It seemed his growth, once he passed the Cardmaker registration exam, would leap to a new stage altogether.