That night, Tulia didn’t sleep.
She sat on the sofa until dawn, hugging the pillow she had kneaded out of shape in silent anger.
Sophia had left as quietly as she’d come, only leaving behind a “See you tomorrow” and a roomful of coldness.
As daylight broke, Tulia resignedly stood up, walked into the kitchen, and began preparing for the day.
While handling the chicken, she angrily imagined the chicken wings were the face of a certain red-haired woman, poking at them forcefully.
—Serves you right for threatening me! For trespassing! For pinching my butt! Poke you to death!
She spent her busy morning indulging in this childish “Spiritual Victory Method.”
At noon, when the flow of customers slowed, she returned to the living area behind the shop, intending to whip up a quick lunch for herself.
But as she pushed open the door, she saw Sophia sitting elegantly at her dining table, holding a cup of black tea and sipping it unhurriedly.
She had changed into a homey purple long dress, her red hair loosely gathered up, and wore a stiff, awkwardly flattering expression on her face—as if she wasn’t an uninvited guest, but a nervous bridegroom visiting her in-laws for the first time.
“You… How did you get in?” Tulia’s voice was dry.
“I… walked in,” Sophia put down her teacup, sounding a little guilty. “I… this is my home too. Do I need anyone’s permission to come home?”
Though her words still carried that overbearing tone, her eyes kept cautiously observing Tulia’s reaction.
Seeing Tulia only staring at her expressionlessly, without the fierce resistance from last night, Sophia relaxed a little.
She stood up and, as if presenting treasures, pointed at several beautifully wrapped boxes on the table.
“I… brought gifts for you and… for the child.”
Tulia didn’t move, just crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a look that said, “Let’s see what trick you try this time.”
Sophia didn’t mind. She opened one of the boxes on her own, revealing a brand new staff made entirely of Star Silverwood, inlaid with a Wind Mana Crystal.
“This is a staff I had custom-made by a dwarf master. It’s perfect for beginners with high wind element affinity.”
She opened another box, inside which was a letter sealed with red wax.
“This is the Chief Court Mage’s Letter of Recommendation. With this, Lisbeth can freely access the ‘Forbidden Book Repository’ at the Academy, which is not open to outsiders.”
Finally, she opened the smallest and most exquisite box.
Inside lay a necklace strung with countless tiny “Moonstones,” quietly exuding a gentle glow in the light.
“This,” Sophia’s voice softened unconsciously, “is for you.”
Tulia looked at the gifts on the table—each enough to make Empire nobles flock—and felt a mix of emotions.
—Really now, a slap and a sweet date to follow?
No, this isn’t a sweet date—this is moving the entire candy factory in!
She knew perfectly well what Sophia was trying to do.
But…
Tulia looked at the beautiful staff, then at the weighty letter of recommendation. That “motherly” heart of hers couldn’t help but start beating faster.
—Damn! Such a shameless assault with wealth! Too despicable! But… but she’s given too much…
She didn’t care much for herself, but if… if it could pave a smooth road for Lisbeth’s future…
Sophia saw the hesitation in Tulia’s eyes and grew even more nervous.
Seeing Tulia unmoved, she panicked, thinking her “gifts” hadn’t reached Tulia’s heart.
—She still… won’t forgive me?
For the first time, Sophia’s proud heart tasted the flavor of “unease.”
She walked up and gently caressed Tulia’s cheek, speaking with an awkwardly gentle voice meant to please:
“Don’t like them? That’s fine, whatever you want, I’ll get it for you. Even if it’s the moon from the sky—”
“Ding-a-ling—”
Just then, the shop’s front door opened, the wind chimes tinkling brightly.
A vibrant, youthful voice rang out.
“Mom! I’m home! Teacher Claudia said we have the weekend off, so I can stay at home!”
The clear voice was like a stone dropped onto the calm surface of a lake.
Tulia’s body instantly tensed.
She could feel Sophia’s hand on her cheek pause for a second, and then an unprecedented tension and panic washed over her, as if she was about to face judgment.
Footsteps approached, and Lisbeth appeared at the back room’s entrance.
The smile on her face froze instantly when she saw the unfamiliar red-haired woman with her hand on her mother’s face.
“Mom,” her voice turned cold, “who is she?”
Sophia instinctively withdrew her hand. For the first time in this world, she felt something called “awkwardness.”
She looked at the girl who looked almost like a younger Tulia, eyes filled with wariness and hostility, and found herself at a loss.
Lisbeth, like a little beast protecting her food, immediately wedged herself between the two, shielding Tulia behind her, then silently glared at Sophia, as if assessing her.
Seeing her daughter so fiercely protective, Tulia’s panicked heart, instead, miraculously calmed.
She was a mother now.
She had to maintain a mother’s dignity before her daughter, and she also needed to give a reasonable explanation for Sophia, the “uninvited guest.”
A thought formed boldly in her mind.
Tulia took a deep breath and stepped out from behind Lisbeth, her face now unusually composed and calm.
She reached out and gently, voluntarily, took Sophia’s hand, which was still frozen mid-air.
Sophia’s body shuddered, looking at her in disbelief.
“Little Liz,” Tulia’s voice was gentle yet resolute, “this is Sophia.”
She paused, met her daughter’s confused gaze and Sophia’s shocked eyes, then slowly and carefully spoke as if telling a distant story:
“She… is your mother’s former lover.”
The word “lover” struck Lisbeth and Sophia like thunderbolts.
Lisbeth was completely stunned.
Mom… former lover?
That “dead father” who existed only in legend—was actually a woman?
Sophia, on the other hand, after the initial shock, felt an uncontrollable wave of joy surge in her heart.
—Lover?
She… she admitted it? She admitted we were… lovers?
That twisted master-servant relationship she’d always seen as “imprisonment” and “possession” was, in this moment, painted by Tulia’s own lips as a bumpy but normal “romance.”
Did this mean that, in her heart, it wasn’t just hate?
“We… were separated for a long time because of some misunderstandings,” Tulia continued weaving this beautiful lie, her eyes only for her daughter, “now, she’s found me again. So… from today on, she’ll be living with us.”
Lisbeth struggled to process this massive revelation, her small face a medley of expressions.
Mom’s “old flame” had shown up.
And she was a woman.
What about herself?
She’d only lived at the Academy for a week, and already her mother…
A vague sense of “betrayal” began to quietly grow inside her heart, as if her most precious, unique treasure had been quietly split in half.
But…
She remembered the Bard’s tales—those stories of widows raising children alone, always so bitter, so pitiful, suffering scorn and bullying.
She also remembered the other day, when Aunt Ilana from the clothing store had taken her hand and said, “Your mom has it so hard, playing both mother and father, with no one to care for her.”
Yes.
Mom got up at dawn every day to run the shop, so tired her back was bent, then cooked dinner for her at night, did her laundry…
Ahem, well, actually, that’s the Tulia from all those storybook fantasies Lisbeth had mixed together.
The real Tulia spent most days calculating the thousands of gold coins in her Space Bag, wondering whether to buy that new jewelry from the east side or check out the latest magic gadgets from the shops on the west side.
As for housework…
Okay, fine, our Tulia really didn’t do much—magic handled most of the chores.
Back to Lisbeth’s perspective—
Tulia really was overworked, she really did need someone to look after her.
As a dutiful child, how could she stop her mother from finding happiness?
A child must respect her mother’s choices.
Once she figured this out, Lisbeth’s annoyance and possessiveness were replaced by a sense of guilt, love, and understanding for her mother.
“Oh.” After a long pause, she squeezed out a single word.
That word marked her compromise.
Seeing this, Tulia hurriedly pointed at the gifts on the table, trying to change the subject: “Look, Little Liz, these are… the gifts Sophia brought you.”
Lisbeth picked up the beautiful staff and felt the powerful magic within. Her mood improved a little. She gave Sophia a curt thanks, which could be taken as accepting the “meeting gift.”
But acceptance didn’t mean approval.
An awkward silence fell over the room. Tulia, making an excuse to cook, slipped away to the kitchen. The living room was left with only Sophia and Lisbeth.
At that moment, Lisbeth moved.
She put down the staff, walked over to Sophia, raised her head, and with calm blue eyes, slowly asked a question Sophia never expected:
“Will you wash my mother’s feet?”
Sophia: “…?”
She wondered if she’d misheard.
“My mom always soaks her feet in hot water before bed,” Lisbeth said flatly, her tone less an explanation and more a “prerequisite exam” for entry. “I used to do it for her. Now that you’re here, will you do it?”
There was an unspoken challenge in that question.
She wasn’t asking, “Can you cook?” or “Can you wash dishes?”
She was asking:
Since you’re my mother’s “lover,” will you serve the person I treasure most, even in the humblest way?