Chapter Sixty: The Genius Girl

With a count who could appear behind anyone at any time, silently and without warning, Kevin didn't dare to play any tricks. He dutifully tucked the three books under his arm and knocked on the door of the prodigy girl's room.

The prodigy was named Sunny, said to be the daughter of Count Glaide's younger brother, just ten years old. Her family reportedly dealt in camels, conducting large-scale business in the desert regions. Because the girl was exceptionally gifted, her father tried to send her for advanced studies at the Royal Academy, and so she was temporarily staying with Count Glaide.

"Who is it?" came a less-than-friendly voice from inside.

"New tutor," Kevin replied.

"Who told you to come?" the voice inside grumbled. "I don't need a tutor. Go away."

Kevin felt awkward. "But I came at Count Glaide's instruction."

"That's his business, not mine. If he wants a tutor, let him find one for himself. I don't need one!" the voice retorted.

"Well..." Kevin was embarrassed. "Miss, at least show some respect for the Count."

"Hmph!" came the scornful reply.

"Miss, please open the door."

"I won't! I simply won't!"

Kevin: "..."

After a moment's thought, he turned to a nearby servant and asked if there was a key to the young lady's room. But the answer was that only the Count had one. Kevin then spun around twice on the spot, causing the servant to scowl. "What are you doing?"

"Ahem, I suppose I'll go find the Count," Kevin said, hoping the Count would once again appear behind him—but this time, nothing.

"My advice is not to bother," said the servant.

"Why?" Kevin asked.

"Even if you get the key, Miss will likely take the chance to run out and have you chasing her all over the estate playing hide and seek," the servant answered with the air of experience.

"So should I just break down the door?" Kevin joked half-heartedly.

"You could try," replied the servant, unfazed. "Honestly, it's nothing unusual. The young lady's magic gets thrown around all the time—breaking things is just routine here."

Kevin skeptically returned to the door and gave it a hard kick. And again. And again.

Rubbing his leg awkwardly, Kevin saw the door remained perfectly intact. Feeling along the surface, he could clearly sense earth magic at work—no doubt the door had been reinforced with a hardening spell. The girl's magic was indeed impressive.

Still, the hardening spell was a little weak compared to other mages of similar rank Kevin had seen—somewhat immature. But she was only ten years old; no matter how much of a prodigy, her spirit wasn't fully developed, and her fundamental magical strength was still lacking.

Kevin had worried she might be prodigious beyond his ability to handle, but now he felt she was still within manageable range. He gathered his fighting spirit, stepped back two paces, and began to conjure two magic missiles, planning to blast open the door.

Suddenly, someone grabbed his waistband. Kevin halted and turned to find the Count standing behind him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Ahem, my lord, I was just trying to begin her lessons," Kevin replied, lowering his head.

"Why didn't you ask me for the key?" The Count produced a key and handed it to Kevin. "Here, take it. Listen: if you're not up to the task of being her tutor, I'll have no qualms replacing you. Now go in."

Kevin nodded, took the key, and opened the door. Inside, someone was hiding under a quilt, face covered, ignoring both him and the Count as they entered.

"Sunny, your tutor is here," the Count announced. "Remember to study well."

"I'm sick! I don't feel well!" came a muffled reply from beneath the covers.

Without another word, the Count turned to Kevin and said, "She's yours now," then left, shutting the door behind him, leaving Kevin and Sunny alone. Sunny remained under the blanket, paying him no heed.

Kevin set down his books and took a look around. The room was simple, without any of the dolls, teddy bears, or pink decorations one might expect for a girl her age. By the bed was a yellow wand; against the wall stood a bookshelf crammed with volumes. Out of curiosity, Kevin stepped closer for a look.

"Who said you could touch my things?" the girl abruptly threw back the covers, glaring at Kevin.

Kevin returned to his chair, taking a proper look at his student—a rather pretty little girl, but now red-faced and sweating, clearly too hot for blankets in early autumn.

"You seem quite averse to having a tutor," Kevin observed. "Why is that?"

"Hmph!" Sunny ducked her head under the covers again, ignoring him.

"Aren't you hot?" Kevin asked.

She made no response, feigning death.

"Very well, whether you object or not, I have my job to do," Kevin said, opening a book. "I'll begin the lesson now."

He took up the mathematics text. "For example, suppose there's a blacksmith's shop that receives three baskets of iron ore each day. Each basket can yield ten machetes, forged in one day. But the blades need wooden handles, so the unfinished blades must be sent to the carpenter's shop, half a day's journey away. The carpenters are busy—the first fifteen days, they can install only three handles each day; the last fifteen days, they're free to install eighteen per day. Once completed, the blades go into storage. So, after thirty days, how many finished blades are there in the warehouse?"

Sunny: "..."

"This is really a basic—"

"I'm not selling knives!" Sunny shrieked. "Why should I learn this? Hmph!"

"Well then, I hear your family trades camels?" Kevin tried, seeing no reaction but pressing on. "Suppose your family breeds three more camels a month—"

"I don't have to deal with camels personally!" Sunny protested shrilly. "Hmph! I'm a noble! Those things are for the steward; why should I bother? Hmph!"

"But if you don't understand such basic matters, your subordinates might take advantage of you," Kevin tried to explain.

"My steward is absolutely loyal," Sunny said, throwing off the covers and standing on the bed. "Disloyal servants get dealt with. Do you know that for a noble, killing a servant is as easy as squashing an ant? Hmph!"

Kevin frowned. "So much bloodlust for one so young?"

"Hmph! What's so strange about that? I'm not an ordinary child—I'm a genius." Sunny raised her chin. "Everyone says so. It's undeniable."

"At ten you've mastered more magic than most, that's true," Kevin replied impassively, "but aside from that, where exactly is your genius?"

"Hmph!" Sunny kicked the blanket away. "I'll have you know, I was born a genius! It's destiny. My father told me, in this world, power decides everything. Against absolute power, strategy is meaningless. So I need only study magic. All this other knowledge is a waste of time."

"All right then," Kevin said, keeping his patience, "let's try geometry. It's useful for drawing magic circles."

"Hmph, I don't use magic circles, I just chant spells," Sunny refused.

"Then what do you want to learn?" Kevin asked.

"I want to learn magic! Can you teach me?" Sunny sneered. "Hmph!"

"I can't teach you magic, unfortunately," Kevin admitted, "but every mage is a scholar. I've never heard of an illiterate mage."

"Hmph, that's just a bunch of useless old rules. Many people go their whole lives without needing this stuff. It's pointless," Sunny argued. "And I'm not illiterate—I can read."

"Some people may never use certain knowledge," Kevin countered, "but others need it right away. Have you ever counted how many of each there are? Do you have any data proving that more people are harmed by useless learning than helped by it?"

Sunny faltered, then shrieked, "I don't care! I'm not learning! Hmph!"

"Cultural knowledge is essential for a noble, and the basis of communication. The quality of your words shows your learning—"

"Enough, it's useless," Sunny interrupted, yelling. "What's the point of all this? To end up like you? So poor, so down-and-out you have to come tutor in our house? Ha!"

"Young lady," Kevin's tone darkened, "it seems no one has taught you proper manners for quite a while."

"So what?" Sunny retorted. "Did I say anything wrong?"

Kevin paused, deciding to probe her. "You say you know over a dozen spells?"

"I know thirty-three!" Sunny shouted. "Far more than you think! Hmph!"

"That many?" Kevin pressed. "List them for me."

"Hmph, listen up—" Sunny began to count off thirty-three spells with the pride of a collector. When she finished, she sneered, "You don't believe me? Want me to demonstrate them all?"

Kevin closed his eyes, memorized the spell names, then recalled the magical notebook he'd studied, ensuring accuracy before opening his eyes. "Let's have a duel."

"Are you serious?" Sunny asked in surprise. "I'm warning you, I won't hold back. My magic will seriously injure you."

"Is that so? Only serious injury?" Kevin smiled. "Then what's there to fear?"

"You really are odd," Sunny said warily. "What level are you?"

"First-rank mage. I only know Magic Missile and Magic Shield," Kevin replied. "And just recently became a warrior with fighting spirit."

"Ha! And you dare say that out loud," Sunny mocked.

Kevin shrugged. "Let's get to it—find a spot to practice."

Sunny quickly led Kevin to an open space, insisting they stand ten meters apart, which she claimed was the proper distance for noble duels. Kevin agreed, and the two maids on the sidelines watched nervously—not out of concern for Kevin, but for their charge.

"I'm starting!" Sunny announced, beginning to chant as fire elements swirled around her.

Kevin sensed she was attempting Fire Whip—a top-level basic spell demanding fine magical control, risky enough to lash herself if miscast. But Kevin wasn't concerned; she wouldn't be able to pull it off.

He sent a Magic Missile her way. Sunny, about to sneer at his poor aim, suddenly felt the fire elements disperse. Alarmed, she tried to force more mana and re-focus.

Kevin sent another Magic Missile, scattering the fire elements completely and causing her spell to fail. The mana drain was double the usual; sweat broke on her brow.

"What did you do?" Sunny screamed, terrified her magic had been interrupted.

"Two Magic Missiles," Kevin shrugged.

Wiping her brow and gritting her teeth, Sunny tried to cast Spinning Stone Axe, a relatively advanced low-level spell. Stones began to rise from the earth, forming a double-bladed axe in the air.

Kevin fired a Magic Missile, shattering the axe with cracks and flying debris. Sunny tried to hold it, but Kevin sent two more missiles—bang! The stone axe exploded. Sunny failed again and swayed on her feet.

"Is this what you call magic?" Kevin taunted. "Have you ever actually fought with it? Or do you think casting spells at a stump means you’ve mastered them?"

"Aaaah!" Sunny screamed, hurling a Fireball at him.

A basic spell, fast but not as quick as a Magic Missile, and at this range Kevin couldn't disrupt it. He wasn't worried. He simply batted it aside like a tossed ball.

"You really don't understand magic," Kevin shook his head.

A fireball, when cast slowly, is deadlier than a fast one. Most fire spells cling to their targets—it's the sticking, burning effect that gives them power, as with Fire Whip. The adhesive quality is built into the spell, but it's not absolute; the faster the spell, or the more oblique the hit, the less it sticks.

A fast-flying fireball glances off, doing little harm—unless it's high-level magic. Only sustained contact is truly dangerous. On the battlefield, a speeding fireball elicits laughter—someone might even kick it back. But at the sight of a slow, glowing fireball, everyone tenses, ready to dodge or shoot it down.

Advanced techniques like curving fireballs are simply telekinetic control of one's own spell, but only possible at low speeds. At high speeds, telekinesis can't hold it.

Of course, top-tier mages can send fast, sticky fireballs, but then, who among them still bothers with basic Fireball?

So Kevin was utterly unperturbed. If he wished, he could have simply charged over and given this arrogant girl a thrashing, but with the maids watching and the memory of the Count who could appear at any moment, he chose to stay put.

"Ahhh!" Sunny hurled two more fireballs, which Kevin casually swatted aside.

She was now pale and trembling, clearly suffering from mana exhaustion. The two maids rushed over, scooped her up, and hurried her back to her room. Kevin followed at his leisure.

Inside, the maids laid her on the bed, wiped her face, brought a towel and water. Sunny panted for breath, and when she saw Kevin enter, she closed her eyes and played dead.

"Enough," Kevin said, shaking his head. "That's it for today. Tomorrow we'll resume proper lessons. If you're not satisfied, we can duel again."

Sunny: "..."

"And don't say I, an adult, bullied a child—you're a second-rank mage bullying a first-rank one," Kevin chuckled. "You have much to learn. You can’t even counter Magic Missile. No matter how many spells you know, they’re just for show—useless."

"You truly are a prodigy, I’ll grant you that," Kevin went on, "but only in one aspect. You can cast a spell as soon as you learn it, but that's all. You don't understand the principles or essence of magic. To learn those, you need language, math, and more."

Sunny: "..."

"All right, rest now. And don't be so dramatic—sleep off the mana exhaustion," Kevin said, waving his hand as he left. The two maids exchanged glances and shook their heads.

Before leaving, Kevin of course reported to the Count.

"What did you teach her today?" the Count asked.

After a pause, Kevin replied, "I taught her to be decent."

The Count: "..."

Kevin left the estate and hurried back to Saka City, still early in the afternoon. He returned to the barracks and reviewed his magical notes once more.

The key to disrupting elemental gathering is that if you encounter an unfamiliar spell, you’re helpless. Fortunately, Sunny’s spells were textbook standard—so Kevin could disrupt them with ease.

In theory, these critical points can be deduced, but in combat there’s no time, so they must be memorized in advance. Since it concerned battle, Kevin took no chances and reviewed his notes again.

Come evening, Kevin went to the tavern to give another lecture. By now, his fame had grown and many came to hear him, at least enough to pay for his travels.

Late at night, back at the Count’s estate, Sunny slowly awoke to find herself in a woodshed, lying atop a pile of firewood. Before her sat a masked maid, quietly feeding wood into the stove.

"Where am I?" Sunny asked, frightened and confused.

"The kitchen," the maid replied, glancing at her.

"Who are you?" Sunny asked.

"I'm your sister," said the masked maid.

"What? What do you mean?" Sunny couldn’t understand. Wasn’t her sister supposed to be a lady in a luxurious room? Why was she now a maid stoking the fire?

"You were very disrespectful to your teacher today, weren't you?" the maid said.

Sunny stammered, unsure how to respond.

The maid stood, poked Sunny’s forehead with her finger. "I'm warning you—behave yourself. Any maid in this house could discipline you, understand?"

Sunny tried to block with her little hands, but the maid held her easily, poking her forehead again and again. "Your father didn’t send you here for fun. If you keep misbehaving, I’ll poke you to death—poke, poke, poke..."

"Waaah!" Sunny burst into tears.

"I told you, I'm your sister, and I have the right to teach you a lesson," the masked maid said, letting her go.

Taking her chance, Sunny scrambled away, running blindly through the night. She stumbled into an open space, where another maid was sweeping.

Sunny ran to her, grabbing her skirt. "Help me! There’s a masked person over there trying to poke me to death!"

The maid turned, and to Sunny’s horror, she too was masked. "Are you talking about me?"

"Aaah—" Sunny tried to scream, but the masked maid knocked her out.

The next morning, Sunny awoke in her own bed. Her head throbbed, her forehead and neck ached. The events of the night were vivid—was it a dream? Looking in the mirror, her forehead was clearly red from poking. It was no dream!

She hurried to find her sister, who was in her room trying on a new dress in front of the mirror. "Sister, did you poke me yesterday?"

Her sister looked puzzled. "What?"

"Look, my forehead’s all red," Sunny tilted her head to show her.

"Oh dear, so it is," her sister bent down to look. "But I assure you, I didn’t poke you."

"But that person said she was you! She dragged me to the woodshed," Sunny insisted.

"You must have had a nightmare," her sister said, not wanting to discuss it further, and returned to admiring her dress. "How does my dress look?"

"Hmph!" Sunny stomped off, running to find the Count. "Uncle, last night someone who claimed to be my sister poked me."

The Count paused. "You overextended your mana yesterday. When your spirit is low, you might hallucinate."

"But my forehead is red," Sunny protested, pressing her head to the Count for inspection.

"Ask your teacher when he arrives," the Count said dismissively. "Perhaps it’s an injury from yesterday’s fight, some sort of aftereffect."

Sunny: "..."