Father, I Won’t Do Anything

The reversion to addressing him as ‘Tower Lord’ had slipped out unconsciously like a habit.

Until recently, Jaina had referred to Diamid as the ‘Tower Lord’ far longer than calling him ‘Father.’

As she caressed her flushed cheeks in embarrassment, Jaina noticed a subtle change in Diamid’s expression.

Known for his impassiveness, the shift would have been imperceptible to most, but Jaina easily discerned it.

‘He seems a bit dejected…’

With his crestfallen demeanor resembling a dispirited pup with drooping ears, Jaina’s eyes widened in astonishment.

To witness the peerless Tower Lord so cowed, staring dejectedly at the ground, evoked an inexplicable sense of endearment within her.

‘…Did I just find Father endearing?’

Such a thought would have appalled others, for Diamid’s aura exuded an imposing pride akin to an unyielding, wintry sea – the antithesis of ‘cute.’

Yet having glimpsed his sincere heart, Jaina found the man before her unthreatening.

Rather, she felt as if she had discovered a side of him only she knew, prompting a mischievous urge to tease him.

“Tower Lord.”

“…”

“Tower Lord?”

Reverting to his former title elicited a subtle reaction from Diamid’s expressionless visage, a fleeting ripple of disquiet.

Though brief, the change was unmistakable this time.

“…”

As Jaina watched him wordlessly part his lips, as if to respond yet remaining silent, she stepped closer and peered upwards.

“Father.”

“…Very well.”

Upon Jaina addressing him as ‘Father’ once more, Diamid finally exhaled a sigh of apparent relief.

Touched by his deference to her, and the newfound intimacy between them, Jaina grasped his large hand tightly.

“I, too, have wronged you greatly, Father. Please, don’t dwell on it.”

Diamid’s expression turned stern as he firmly stated:

“There is no such thing.”

His resolute response brought a gentle smile to Jaina’s face.

“Hmm… Like mistakenly calling you ‘Tower Lord’ just now?”

“Ah…”

Finally realizing Jaina’s playful intent, Diamid flashed an abashed smile and remarked:

“Don’t make such jests, Jaina. You have done nothing wrong. Rather, I am deeply grateful that you have opened your heart to me, more than I deserve.”

“Ah… Thank you.”

Owing to Diamid’s earnest nature, their interactions never felt tedious or burdensome, save for the occasional awkwardness.

With flushed cheeks, the momentarily bashful Jaina surveyed her surroundings and spotted the tea set she had brought, picking it up.

“Lepha wood tea, they say it’s effective for fatigue.”

Jaina raised the tea set, intending to brew tea as originally planned. Observing her quietly, Diamid hesitated before speaking.

“That you’ve come…”

‘Your presence alone has already dispelled my fatigue.’

“What?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

However, Diamid swallowed the words he had practiced countless times before the mirror.

Reality proved starkly different from rehearsal.

Apprehension that Jaina might find his feelings burdensome had rendered him hesitant.

‘Seiden will nag me.’

Lately, Diamid had been receiving ‘special guidance’ from Seiden on how to grow closer to Jaina and fully convey his heart – lessons on the ‘art of conversation.’

Unaccustomed to making such efforts, having only been the recipient of deference, Diamid found the entire process unfamiliar and awkward. Yet he persisted, for this was all for his daughter Jaina’s sake.

He had to approach her with utmost care – neither too swiftly, lest she retreat, nor too sluggishly, risking tedium.

Seven years had passed before they could embrace their roles as father and daughter; there was no need for haste.

He would proceed at his own measured pace, one careful step at a time.

“Umm…”

Inexperienced in brewing tea herself, Jaina tensely peered into the tea set, moving her hands as Yurika had instructed her.

Consulting the hourglass she had brought and rereading the meticulously noted steps, Jaina’s brow soon furrowed in consternation.

“Ah…”

Diamid, startled by her slightest change in expression, immediately inquired:

“What’s the matter?”

“I over-steeped it by two seconds.”

Biting her lip as if her pride had been wounded, Jaina declared:

“This is unacceptable. I will brew another.”

Having received alchemical tutelage from Hilvenzia, Jaina had developed a perfectionist streak under her influence.

Having crafted high-grade reagents herself, a mere two-second variance in steeping tea was an intolerable lapse in her eyes.

‘Her perfectionist tendencies resemble me, it seems.’

However, the smitten Diamid attributed even this aspect to his own influence.

Regarding Jaina with a satisfied expression, he remarked:

“There’s no need to rush.”

Yet Diamid remained unaware of the extent of Jaina’s devotion.

‘I want to brew the finest tea for Father.’

Jaina continued steeping and re-steeping until she achieved a satisfactory result.

After an hour had passed…

“…?”

Even Diamid began to sense something amiss.

After numerous further attempts, Jaina let out a weary sigh before starting to clear away the tea set.

Her standards were lofty, but reality fell short.

Despite her efforts, she couldn’t replicate Yurika’s mastery.

‘I want to skillfully serve the most exquisite tea… No, I can’t give up like this.’

After shaking her head a few times, Jaina sought Diamid’s permission.

“May I try preparing it once more?”

“You seem to be straining yourself unnecessarily. To me, it already appears delicious enough.”

“No, I’ve failed. You’ll notice the steeped tea’s color is slightly off.”

While the brewed tea itself wasn’t bad, Jaina’s standards were too high.

“I should discard this batch.”

“If you’re going to discard it anyway…”

Before Jaina could dispose of the tea in the cup, Diamid swiftly snatched it and took a sip.

“Ah!”

“May I drink it?”

At this rate, Jaina would spend the entire day brewing tea. While her diligence was admirable, this was excessive.

As the slightly bitter yet warm tea filled his mouth, Diamid smiled faintly and stroked Jaina’s head.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“There’s no need to aim so loftily from the start. We’ll have ample opportunities to share tea together in the future.”

At his words, Jaina broke into a relieved smile, the tension in her shoulders dissipating.

Thus, the two gradually drew closer, one careful step at a time.

* * *

Before long, Jaina’s eighteenth birthday approached.

It would be the first birthday Diamid officially celebrated as her father.

“What gift would she appreciate for her birthday?”

Of course, jewels and land would be given as a matter of course. But something truly special, more meaningful, was required. A gift beyond the ordinary.

As Diamid contemplated, brow furrowed, the observing Hilvenzia approached and suggested:

“What about a cake? It might hold more significance if you baked it yourself.”

“A cake?”

“I haven’t prepared any baked goods for Jaina since her allergy incident.”

The quietly eavesdropping Mikael reacted with horror at the prospect of the peerless Tower Lord Diamid baking.

The sight of Diamid donning an apron, cracking eggs, proved more daunting than expected. Though outwardly unfazed, Mikael inwardly trembled.

‘Has that old hag decided to die?’

Yet rather than reproaching Hilvenzia, Diamid seriously considered her proposal.

‘No, even if we’ve grown closer with Jaina, surely not.’

Mikael discreetly retreated from their vicinity, unwilling to risk any collateral damage.

“Here is a recipe for baking a cake.”

“Will following these instructions suffice?”

“It provides detailed, step-by-step guidance, so even a beginner should find it manageable. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.”

Leaving the recipe book, Hilvenzia hastily exited the study.

While her presence might have facilitated the process, Hilvenzia had no such intentions. This was her retribution against the Tower Lord who had caused Jaina such hardship.

Her specific mention of ‘cake’ was deliberate, as cakes posed considerable difficulty for novices. Moreover, it presented an opportunity for mischief.

[Ensure no yolks mix with the separated egg whites, and avoid over-whipping.]

Hilvenzia had omitted crucial instructions essential for successful cake-baking from the recipe book she provided Diamid. Even for the formidable grand magician, producing a proper cake would likely prove an arduous challenge.

‘Something seems amiss.’

True to Hilvenzia’s expectations, Diamid floundered from the initial step of separating the egg whites and yolks.

‘Why do these eggs crack so easily? Why do the shells keep getting mixed in…?’

Yet Diamid didn’t easily surrender. After numerous attempts, he finally managed to separate the whites and yolks.

Then, intending to make a meringue, he vigorously whipped the egg whites with all his might.

However, having omitted the need to add sugar, the egg-white-only mixture proved unsatisfactory.

“…”

It could scarcely be called a cake.

Diamid gazed bewilderedly at the spongy result. Clearly, some technique was required.

‘Did Hilvenzia play a prank?’

He wished to summon someone for guidance, but his pride wouldn’t allow it.

Considering abandoning the endeavor, Diamid recalled how Jaina had persisted, brewing tea repeatedly until finally presenting him with a perfect cup.

Shouldn’t he then reciprocate her efforts?

Tap, tap.

Grasping another egg, Diamid tried anew. But his excessive force caused it to crunch and shatter in his grip.

“…”

Thus, he attempted baking the cake repeatedly, numerous times.

Fortunately, his intellect enabled him to grasp the techniques more rapidly than most.

Yet the next cake, though properly shaped, sank in the middle. Unsurprised, Diamid promptly reached for another egg.

With the shape finally resolved, the next hurdle was decoration.

Frowning intently, his expression mirrored the one he wore when facing adversaries – the embodiment of a perfectionist.

“Father?”

It was at that moment Jaina entered the kitchen.