Ludger hadn’t been the type to praise his students during his days as a teacher.
While his standards were strict, that wasn’t the only reason.
If he had to define it precisely, Ludger simply didn’t praise even though he knew he could.
He believed praise ruined people.
A donkey fed only carrots eventually grows lazy.
‘Of course, that doesn’t mean I only used the stick.’
There was a reason carrots and sticks were always paired together.
Ludger’s rewards and punishments had always been clear. His threshold was high, that was all; he was never someone who never praised.
But deep in one corner of his heart, a single stake was driven in.
It was also one of Ludger’s creeds.
‘I don’t give excessive praise.’
Because such praise dulls a person’s mind.
Praise should be given only when necessary, and only in minimal amounts.
You can do it. You’re doing so well. Everyone else says this is more than enough.
Ludger didn’t care for that kind of indiscriminate, worthless, hollow talk.
It held no real meaning or value, yet ensnared a person’s heart at will—
like force-feeding them sweet candy.
No one likes bitterness. Everyone is vulnerable to sweetness.
‘In the real world, if you only eat sweets, you end up diabetic. Your body sends warning signals. And then you have no choice but to cut sugar.’
But the mental sweetness created by praise was different.
It never shows on the surface. You can’t tell whether someone is a critical diabetic or not.
Which is why there is no boundary—and why people crumble so easily.
‘What destroys a person isn’t indiscriminate criticism or cruelty. It’s excessive, unwarranted praise.’
A person who receives praise beyond their worth becomes blindly confident, then arrogant, and eventually destroys themselves, trapped inside their own delusions.
It proved that positive emotions didn’t always produce good results.
So then, what about love?
If positive emotions have a representative, a final destination, it must be love.
Is love truly something great?
‘I can’t deny that it’s great. Love carries a motivation stronger than any other feeling.’
But on the other hand, love could become the most horrific curse.
According to one of Ludger’s private theories, indiscriminate love was just as dangerous as indiscriminate praise.
Some would call that a narrow-minded view.
But for a human who had heard gods whisper of love, it was impossible to see it only in a flattering light.
Because love existed in many forms—good, bad, and everything in between.
So then, Bellaruna Petanada.
No—Bellaruna Bennimore. What about her?
At least from Ludger’s perspective, he could confidently say that that was the worst kind of love.
Bennimore.
As the name ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) made clear, it was Chris Bennimore’s family.
And for Bellaruna’s surname to change meant she had become a part of that family.
Since meeting another Bennimore was impossible, that meant Bellaruna had married Chris.
Good grief.
Ludger wanted to press his aching forehead.
But this was reality. Unavoidable, undeniable reality.
Yes. He’d vaguely suspected things would turn out like this.
Even before, the atmosphere between Chris and Bellaruna had been unusual.
He had seen them openly dripping honey from their eyes with all their lovestruck nonsense.
But this was far more serious than that.
“First of all, congratulations on becoming the mistress of a noble family.”
“Hohoho. Oh my, thank you.”
“How is the Bennimore family doing?”
“It used to be in bad shape, but now it’s doing well.”
Violetta added an explanation beside her.
“It’s not just ‘doing well.’ The Bennimore family’s special potions became so famous in the Empire that the reputation spread to other nations. Their status didn’t just recover—it skyrocketed.”
The Bennimore family had once been a house focused on pharmaceuticals and had been in decline.
But now, it was hard to believe they ever struggled at all.
Chris Bennimore himself was talented and driven, but even he wouldn’t have revived the family to this extent alone.
‘It must have been Bellaruna at his side.’
Special herbs unknown to humans—herbs they couldn’t even name, let alone handle.
Bellaruna knew all of them.
‘No—she knows things even other elves don’t. Which makes sense, considering she once snuck into the World Tree Network to study the stored genetic data of plants.’
The World Tree Network—strictly forbidden to ordinary elves.
Bellaruna had infiltrated it and read the genetic data of countless plants stored within.
For that, she had been exiled by her clan, but she never cared.
And judging from her current appearance, she wasn’t just living well—she was living too well, enough that it left Ludger feeling oddly conflicted.
“You’ve... changed quite a bit.”
Ludger forced himself to continue the conversation, afraid he might lose his sanity otherwise.
“Well, I became the mistress of a noble house. I had to match the position and etiquette, so I worked hard.”
“To be honest, I’m surprised.”
And Ludger meant every word.
That Bellaruna had changed this much?
Even with her inherently outstanding elven beauty, Bellaruna had never been what one would call charming.
She slept poorly, radiated gloom, always reeked of chemicals, barely washed, laughed weirdly, and had an infamously eccentric personality.
If one heard this list, they might think Ludger despised Bellaruna—but every detail he recalled was nothing but the unembroidered truth.
She had sacrificed all of that to exhibit her outrageous talent in pharmaceutical alchemy.
Ludger had always believed she had discarded everything else to gain her exceptional ability.
‘And yet Bellaruna... developed social skills.’
Considering the Bennimore family’s rising prestige, it seemed her innate talent hadn’t rusted either.
Seeing a colleague doing well should be something he gladly congratulated, and yet... why was it so hard to say the words?
“It’s a bit of a relief that you’re surprised.”
“A relief?”
“I really wanted to see your reaction, Mr. Ludger.”
In Bellaruna’s playful smile, traces of her past self peeked through.
She hadn’t bothered to dress up back then, but she had always been an elf.
Elven blood didn’t lie—now that she groomed herself properly, her beauty had flourished brilliantly.
“Anyway, I’m glad we get to meet again like this.”
“...Sure.”
“So, what are you planning to do now, Mr. Ludger?”
Hearing her casually address him that way was still strange, but Ludger didn’t bother pointing it out.
“What I plan to do. I haven’t decided. Violetta made a good suggestion, but it’s just one possibility among many.”
Violetta shrugged. “I figured you’d say that.”
“Well, since I finally gained some freedom, I intend to enjoy the moment. Deciding things slowly doesn’t sound bad.”
“Do as you please, sir. No one here will complain.”
“Right. By the way, has there been any news on Arfa’s arrival?”
“Ah, Arfa? He said he might be a little late. But he should be here soon.”
“Late?”
“He said he was helping his little sister.”
Little sister.
The moment those words left his mouth, a knock sounded from beyond the door.
At Ludger’s gesture, the closed door opened on its own.
Entering the room was Arfa—looking exactly the same as he had three years ago.
Naturally so. He was an automaton; he didn’t age or grow.
Beside him stood his younger sister, Betty.
Arfa spotted Ludger and widened his eyes—
then ran straight into Ludger’s arms.
“Teacher!”
Ludger gently hugged him back.
“You really returned!”
“How have you been?”
“I’ve been well! What about you, teacher? You are really alright, right?”
Arfa scanned Ludger up and down with transparent eyes, checking if anything was wrong.
“Despite how I look, I’m quite confident in my health.”
When Ludger said that with a soft laugh, Arfa pursed his lips in wonder.
“Teacher, you’ve become more humorous since I last saw you.”
“Well, something like that.”
“But you look better now. I think you seem more like the kind teacher you used to be.”
Arfa smiled brightly.
Yes. The boy had regained his memories.
Ludger’s gaze shifted to Betty, who stood quietly near the door.
“Alright. And how should I address the assistant?”
“...Just, well, call me casually like before.”
“Are you okay with that?”
There were many layers to that question.
Betty answered with a slightly awkward voice.
“It’s just... hard to get used to. But it’s been three years, so I’m fine now.”
Life as Casey’s assistant, Betty, and her previous life as Arfa’s sister—
They were completely different. When she first recovered her original memories, she must have been terribly confused. Arfa surely felt the same.
But seeing the two of them standing together now, Ludger felt there was no need to worry.
Three years.
If they had spent that time together, they would have healed more than enough wounds.
“How have you been living?”
“I worked helping my younger brother.”
“Work?”
“Oh, nothing dangerous.”
Betty cut in.
“Editing work.”
“Editing?”
Ludger was even more bewildered.
Not because it was bad—or unfitting—but because it was unexpected.
“Well, it can’t be helped. Casey works in that field.”
“Ah.”
Ludger felt the separate puzzle pieces finally lock into place.
Even after regaining her past memories, Betty had continued living as Casey Selmore’s assistant.
Of course she had. Casey Selmore had awakened her, and Betty had spent a long time by her side.
They bickered constantly, but they were deeply attached.
Out of Ludger’s sight, the two had surely solved cases and experienced all sorts of things together.
“Casey struggled a lot, and after that she published a book that became a huge hit. So I helped her with the editing.”
Betty looked young, but her personality was sharp and decisive—and more importantly, she was a special automaton.
She never forgot anything she saw once, and her ability to analyze detailed data or documents surpassed that of human experts.
Arfa, standing beside her, shared the same capabilities.
Betty had supported Casey with editorial work, and Arfa had worked alongside his sister.
“You must have been very busy.”
“Not really. There are a lot of staff members, and we mostly did organizing tasks. Nothing hard or tiring.”
That was something only an automaton could say.
But Betty’s expression had been dark for a while now.
“Did something happen?”
“Well... the author ran away.”
Arfa glanced at Betty, then cautiously explained.
Betty didn’t scold him for revealing it; she had wanted to say it as well.
“When you say author, you mean Casey Selmore.”
“That’s right! Just when I thought she’d finally matured a little, she leaves without a trace except for one lousy letter!”
Betty stomped the floor in frustration, her suppressed anger reaching the limit.
Arfa only gave a sheepish smile as he watched her.
“Huh.”
Ludger recalled Casey coming to find him.
She had said she’d run away—but he hadn’t expected her editor to be Betty.
“So that’s why you came directly. And you knew, didn’t you? That Casey came to the capital.”
“Well, yes. I met her and talked.”
Ludger decided it wasn’t something to hide and nodded.
“I knew it. What did she say?”
“She was troubled about many things. She came partly because of our old connection, but she also seemed very distressed recently.”
“So she’s in what people call a slump. Really—she could have at least explained before running off like that. It’s not like anyone was going to eat her.”
Betty’s voice trembled with hurt.
Apparently, Casey hadn’t told her anything about how she’d been feeling.
But Casey must have stayed silent because she didn’t want Betty to worry.
“Don’t be too upset. Casey probably stayed quiet for your sake.”