The Female Lead Takes Care of Everything - Chapter 58

The children’s testimonies kept echoing in Magia’s mind.

That boy—he’s been bullying the other kids just because he’s a mage. And this wasn’t the first time.

Worse still, the teachers had known—and let it happen.

That realization led Magia to another troubling thought.

Back when the cat showed up in my lab…

When Nivellia had first joined the kindergarten, these same teachers had once lost track of her.

At the time, Magia had personally found her and protected her, so he let it slide.

But now, looking back, he realized it wasn’t something he should have dismissed so easily.

“……”

Magia looked over at Armiphera.

She caught his eye, smiled knowingly, and gave a small nod.

“Hey there, little ones!”

She stepped into the classroom with her usual bright energy.

“My name’s Feraranda, the Mercenary Queen from way out west in Latro. And this adorable little kitten here? This is Ather, my friend—the one and only Evil Dragon!”

With practiced ease, Armiphera took charge of the classroom, quickly gaining the children’s attention and trust.

Within moments, the room filled with cheers and excited laughter.

There was no better protector for children than the Mercenary Queen herself.

Just what I needed, Magia thought.

Someone else’s daughter, and yet she swept away his worries like they were dust.

The same clever girl who once tore apart the lungs of that self-righteous paladin he despised the most.

Thanks to Armiphera, Magia could now speak freely and seriously with the teachers.

“Mom said I should give this sweet thing to Grandpa,” Nivellia said.

“It’s made from Ather’s dragon scales! The Great Witch made it herself. Everyone in our family had one!”

“Let’s see… Aunt Della, Uncle Monitos… maybe them too…”

Magia licked his lips, savoring the lingering taste of the tangy fruit in the treat.

He needed something to keep his mind steady.

After receiving treatment, Alec was summoned to Magia’s office.

It was a place he’d always admired—especially the reception room, which only opened for special guests.

But today, stepping into it filled him with dread.

The luxurious leather couch was softer than fur, plush and inviting.

Yet to Alec, it felt like a torture chair, like invisible chains were locking him in place.

Magia sat across from him, his face unreadable.

“……”

He didn’t say a word—just watched.

And that alone was almost enough to make Alec cry.

“Alec.”

Just as the boy’s eyes welled up, Magia finally spoke.

“Would you like something to eat?”

“I-I’m okay…”

“No, no. Kids need to eat well to grow strong.”

Magia reached into his cloak and pulled out a handful of snacks—fruity candies and chocolates filled with jam.

With a flick of his fingers, he summoned a glass of cold milk from thin air.

“I didn’t bring you here to scold you. I just have a few questions.”

“Q-questions…?”

“That’s right.”

Alec let out a breath and, feeling slightly more at ease, placed a chocolate in his mouth.

It melted instantly, smooth and rich, with a burst of apple jam inside. There was a hint of cinnamon—it tingled on his tongue in a really good way.

“Yummy!”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Magia smiled.

“Do you know who made that chocolate?”

“Did you, sir?”

“I am good at a lot of things. How are your parents doing?”

“They’re doing great!”

Alec smiled brightly and reached for another chocolate.

His family was special. Both his parents were mages, and so were his grandparents.

Multi-generational mage families are incredibly rare, Magia thought.

Alec’s grandparents had once fought beside him in the Krepata War, more than forty years ago.

But not these two.

Everyone who’d fought in that war had strong personalities—each with their own quirks and beliefs.

And yet, somehow, after everything, they all agreed on one unshakable rule:

Don’t mess with the Saintess.

Every Elder in the Tower knew Nivellia was her granddaughter.

She looked too much like Muniel to ignore.

One Elder had once tried to spy on Nivellia during class and spent days writhing in shame, haunted by memories of the beating the Saintess gave him during the war.

So then… between their son and his wife…

Which one had planted these twisted ideas in their child?

“My dad praises me every day!” Alec said, eyes shining.

“Oh?” Magia asked, smiling gently.

“He says he’s proud of me! That it’s hard to keep a mage bloodline going—and that when I was born, our house finally became a real mage family. He was so happy!”

“I see.”

The more Alec spoke, the warmer and brighter his smile became.

And the more he talked, the deeper Magia’s own smile grew—but not from joy.

“I agree with my dad too. I mean, honestly, mages are strong enough to rule the world if we really wanted to…!”

“Alec.”

Magia’s voice turned calm and serious as he asked, wiping away his earlier smile.

“Do you remember what I asked earlier—about who made that chocolate?”

“Uh…”

Alec hesitated, then gave a small nod. He seemed rattled by the sudden shift in tone.

“Do you know who made it?”

“…No, I don’t.”

“It was made by the owner of a very famous dessert shop,” Magia said gently.

“And that person isn’t a mage.”

He pointed to the glass that now held only a bit of milk.

“What about the milk? Or the glass?”

“……”

“The milk came from farmers in Kapra who raise dairy cows. The glass was made by an artisan from the Iarlu workshop.”

Again—not mages.

“The couch you’re sitting on? Not made by a mage either.”

“……”

“The clothes we’re wearing? Not from mages. Honestly, the only magical item in this entire room might be that crystal orb on my desk.”

Unless there’s something I missed.

Magia tapped his chin, pretending to think. Then, he glanced at Alec again.

The boy’s face had turned red with embarrassment. He understood what Magia was trying to tell him.

Magia moved to sit next to him.

“Alec Inerca.”

But Alec couldn’t bring himself to respond.

“Yes, mages are powerful. And I am strong enough to rule the world if I wanted to.”

Then why don’t I?

The answer was simple.

“Because the world is too complex and difficult for mages to live in it alone.”

If a mage tried to farm, the plants would probably wither and die.

If they tried sewing, they’d freeze in winter with nothing but poorly stitched scraps to wear.

They wouldn’t be able to craft beautiful glass, tell good stories, or make music. Their appreciation for beauty would fade.

A mage without culture? Magia shivered dramatically. “Horrifying.”

“And there are people out there even stronger than mages.”

“W-who?” Alec asked, his eyes wide.

“The Saintess.”

Forty years ago…

She ended a brutal war soaked in blood, a terrifying woman with power beyond belief.

A woman who was scarier than the monsters themselves.

“…And the Mercenary Queen is strong too.”

Magia almost added that Alec’s proud father was nothing but a speck to Armiphera—but decided to hold that one back.

“So don’t ever judge people just because they can’t use magic.”

Magia’s tone softened into something sincere and deep.

“Thinking that way only isolates you—and it’s a cruel thing to do.”

It was advice from someone who’d made that mistake before, and had spent nearly 200 years cursed for it.

Thankfully, Magia’s words reached Alec.

“…Actually, my friends told me I was wrong. They said I shouldn’t talk like that.”

He remembered how they had stepped in to protect Nivellia.

Honestly, it had scared him. It was shocking—and humiliating.

Alec promised Magia that he wouldn’t think like that anymore.

He also said he would apologize to Nivellia.

Still, both families needed to be informed. A fight had broken out between children, and parents needed to know.

Because at the end of the day, character is shaped at home as much as at school.

The Tower Kindergarten later posted a job opening—for a new teacher. One from outside the mage community.

“…That’s everything that happened at the Tower today,” Deter explained.

He had brought Nivellia and Aref back and was now reporting to Caleo.

In Caleo’s hand was a letter—written by Magia himself.

It wasn’t long.

[Your daughter packs a serious punch.]

That about summed it up.

“Nini won!” Nivellia announced proudly.

Of course, she had her excuse ready too.

“Nini really didn’t want to fight! I mean it!”

She clasped her hands together like she was praying and fluttered her eyelashes like a hummingbird’s wings.

“Please believe meeee!”

“…Where did you even learn that?” Caleo asked, stunned by his daughter’s sudden display of cuteness.

But she was so adorable, he let it slide.

“So, did you make up with the boy?”

“He’s not my friend. But he did come and say sorry. He even asked if he could be my follower—but I said no.”

Nivellia closed her eyes, shook her head dramatically, and let out a deep sigh.

She couldn’t just accept anyone as a follower. Even Nivellia had standards.

“Hm.”

Caleo folded the letter neatly.

In the end, it was just a typical fight between kids.

And from what he could tell, the blame lay more on the other child. Nivellia had at least some justification for what she did.

So…

“My daughter.”

Caleo stepped forward and opened his arms.

“Well done. Come here!”

“Daddy!”

Nivellia ran into his embrace.

Caleo kissed the top of her head, then her forehead and both cheeks, one after the other.

“My daughter must never lose, no matter where she is!”

“Never!”

“If someone picks a fight with you, you hit back twice as hard. Make sure they never try again.”

“Okay!”

Nivellia nodded enthusiastically.

“Nini, this is why you don’t hit first. If you hold back just once, then you’ve got a good reason to strike when it counts.”

That’s what gives your actions justification.

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