If you’re going to strike someone, aim for the face.

Aisha’s death sent shockwaves through the crowd, and the fiery scene of battle suddenly came to a halt. Nobody noticed the cold gleam that flashed in the eyes of the mage who had summoned the water dragon; the dragon, previously frozen by the uncle, now lay on its side, laced with cracks. Without warning, the ice-bound water dragon flicked its tail and shed its frozen shell, lunging ferociously at Ida.

Caught off guard, Ida could only react instinctively, unleashing several powerful, spiraling streams of water bullets at the dragon. The dragon’s size, already diminished by the uncle’s freezing spell, had lost much of its impact, and Ida’s blows shattered it completely—there was nothing left, not even a drumstick to be found.

Erika stared at Ida in astonishment. “Who are you? You can’t be Ida—since when could Ida use magic?”

Ida clearly hadn’t expected her abilities to be exposed so easily; she pursed her lips helplessly and, deciding to seize the moment, rushed directly toward Erika. Along the way, she repelled several would-be obstacles with her powerful water bullets, manipulating water elements to encircle and protect herself. Since her cover was blown, she might as well take Erika down amid the chaos, eliminating any future threats.

But Erika was not so easily subdued. Blue lights flared around her, swirling in the air and gathering where her wand pointed, forming balls of energy—the concentrated water elements she could muster. These spheres grew larger and turned a deep, dangerous blue, beautiful yet menacing.

With a sharp hiss, Erika’s water spheres struck Ida with perfect precision. Ida’s body trembled; her elemental shield was nearly shattered by Erika’s barrage, yet she showed no sign of slowing.

Suddenly, a ring of dark clouds appeared overhead, shrouding Erika. She glanced upward and breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t expected that after years of studying magic, her attacks would inflict so little damage on a fake Ida. But it didn’t matter—she had a trump card: a high-level mage bodyguard, one she’d secretly brought along without her father or family’s knowledge. All for tonight’s victory. She had prepared for this moment for ages, sacrificing nearly all her remaining savings, promising him rank, beauty, and treasures just to bring him here. Erika couldn’t afford to lose.

The title of high-level mage wasn’t something you could buy at the night market; their combat power was extraordinary. The mage Erika had hired seemed either offended by being ignored or genuinely intent on saving his employer. Right there, he began to draw a large magic circle, clearly prepared to risk everything.

Magic circles were not easily learned; they were usually recorded in important scrolls and could only be cast by those with the rank of high mage—and even then, not always to their full potential. A magic circle is formed by condensing years of magical energy into a tangible force, then drawing intricate patterns with a wand in the physical world. Different patterns yielded different effects, but one thing was certain: magic cast through a circle was far stronger than spells cast directly by a mage.

The high-level mage’s wand swept through the air, sketching a massive magic circle. As the circle took shape, its effects became apparent: clouds thickened overhead, lightning crackled, and the dark mass seemed heavy enough to crush anyone if it fell.

The uncle’s expression changed at last. “This is bad! Scatter, quickly! That’s a Thunderstrike magic circle—soon, torrents of water bullets laced with lightning will rain down at dozens of meters per second! It’s a full-range attack! Are you trying to kill everyone?” He stared in shock at the mage, still casting.

Erika’s face went rigid; with wolves before her and tigers behind, she was truly caught between a rock and a hard place.

The mage, watching the panicked crowd flee, was smug. “This is the price for disrespecting a high-level mage like me. Whether it’s the girl who hired me or the one who ignored me, both must die!”

He barely finished gloating when a fist smashed into his face. “Your sister!” someone shouted. “Why should a pervert and sadist like you deserve respect?” The same person, perhaps spurred by Aisha’s death or simply unable to stand the mage’s arrogance, landed another heavy punch. “Looks like mage spells can be interrupted after all—I always thought there was some unbreakable, advanced mechanic!”

The mage staggered, nearly knocked off his feet. If he tried to retaliate, he’d destroy his painstakingly drawn magic circle; if he didn’t throw the annoying woman out, he couldn’t finish the circle in peace.

Either way, the magic circle wouldn’t be completed today. With a dark scowl, the mage put away his wand, concentrating all his available energy into it.

With a bang, the world went black before her eyes—she was sent flying.

The magic circle vanished on the spot.

One morning, she awoke in pain, wrapped in bandages and salve, having rested for days, yet still unable to escape the ache. That damned mage was ruthless! She grimaced, teeth clenched—injuries to the muscles and bones would take a hundred days to heal; with both internal and external wounds, who knew how long recovery would take.

Hearing movement inside, Little Peach hurried in from outside, pushing open the door. “Don’t move around, you’re not healed yet!” She had been struggling to get out of bed, but seeing Little Peach, she quickly sat still, adopting the look of a well-behaved student. “I’m not moving, I’m not moving, Peach dear~ Since I’m so obedient, can I have an extra chicken drumstick for lunch?”

Little Peach placed her prepared toiletries on the carved table, busying herself as she answered, “Don’t even think about it—the doctor said no fatty meat for you. If he says no, it’s no. Just endure for another couple of days.”

She bit her little handkerchief, tears in her eyes. “No, not allowed outside for sun and air, and now no meat? Is this any way to live? If this keeps up, the Grant family won’t need to buy mushrooms anymore—they can just pick them straight off me, oh woe...”

After her “heroic rescue,” she was promoted from low-level guard to personal bodyguard, assigned a new room twice the size of her old one, properly furnished, with her pay raised from ten gold coins to twenty, and Little Peach specifically tasked to care for her needs.

While negotiating for her personal freedom with Little Peach, the uncle pushed open the door. “You look lively today!”

Her eyes lit up. “Uncle, did you bring any good books?”

He lifted a thick stack. “Of course! Look—Origins of Water Magic, Types of Water Sphere Spells, How to Enhance Water Element Absorption...”

Little Peach, sensing her cue, finished helping her wash and left, giving space to the two magic book enthusiasts.

As soon as Peach left, she dropped the act. “Quick, quick! Brother’s chicken drumstick! Did you bring it?”

The uncle pulled a small lunchbox from his pocket, opening it to reveal two drumsticks inside.

She beamed with delight and began eating heartily, asking questions between bites. “How’s Jane Dew?”

“Jane Dew? The girl who sent you up with a water jet to punch faces? She’s fine, still guarding the front yard.”

“What about Erika?”

“Locked up, of course. Don’t know where, and frankly, I don’t care to find out.”

“Where did Ida send me, anyway? What is this place?”

“That’s confidential for now!” The uncle always seemed infuriating at moments like these. “But today, I’ll give you a hint~”

“A hint?” The mention of hints made her uneasy. She remembered, back in her gaming days, it was the hint pop-up covering half the screen that led her to disaster, her hero dying time and again; she regretted it still. “Don’t tell me it’s one of those common-sense hints any normal, mature human would know?”

“No, no, not at all. Would I do that?” He straightened her blankets, cleared away chicken bones, and opened her door. “Listen, Ida sold you to the third one.”

“What? The third miss bought me?” Her exclamation rang through the house.

The uncle, thoroughly black-hearted, closed the door, locking away all her cries, thinking to himself: I never said the third was the third miss. That’s your own interpretation, not my fault.

Stardust Chronicle 008_008: If you’re going to hit someone, aim for the face—update complete!