“Demons?” I ask.

“Yeah, that’s what Humans call us,” Lucinda says with a mocking laugh.

“Well, you are one hell of a sexy Demon, in my books,” I wink at her.

“I really can’t figure you out, Luciani. Some of us hate Humans, but you appear out of nowhere and even open a bakery here. You say you don’t care about becoming an [Archmage], but your magic seems even stronger than what your class is supposed to be. On top of that, you can multi-cast.”

Lucinda doesn’t know the first thing about my magic, for now. And she’s already amazed.

“I didn’t know about the ‘Demon’ thing. But if it makes you feel better, I’d always disliked Elves before coming to Amorium and actually meeting them in person.”

We are going back to the bakery after a romantic stroll through a part of the Gardens. It turns out they are much bigger than Central Park. I really don’t know much about these Elves or the rest of this world. Now that I think about it, I don’t even know the name of the continent!

Man, that’s wild.

At some point, I’ll have to learn more. Maybe even read some dreadful history books.

What’s the deal with history books, anyway?

Why don’t people write fiction instead of history books?

If I want to learn about some stupid emperor from three thousand years ago, I might as well make it entertaining, right? I mean, just use the facts for the world-building and make up some of the characters’ personalities to create neat stories.

Dude, I swear, I would take that as a job.

A writer of fictional history books for schools.

Let’s learn how Alexander the Great messed himself up with a massive amount of wine and women. Yeah, he could have died of typhoid fever too, but that’s not a fun story.

Yeah, now I see why it wouldn’t be ideal.

We would always go for the best stories, not real ones.

But would that be bad?

Would it be wrong to fake a better history than the one we had? I mean, at least in part.

Tell me a story where Alexander the Great conquers the world and explain to me why the administration of the cities was so important. Man, that would have been a tale, alright.

But think about it; our story is already pretty pathetic for most parts. Why not make it better?

But I guess that’s why I love fiction, huh?

Achilles over Scipio, Odysseus over Themistocles.

“Joey! I was talking to you!” Lucinda accidentally brushes against my belly, and I jump in surprise.

“Yo! No tickling, woman!” I scream.

She goes wide-eyed for the umpteenth time today.

But then, an evil grin spreads over her face.

I do wonder why I keep telling people that I hate being tickled.

No, not even in bed.

Yeah, no.

No.

No.

NO.

Lucinda could do the most depraved thing she has in mind to me, and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid. But if she even remotely tries to add tickling to our future bed routine. Oh, boy. I’d run to the other side of the continent.

“Lucinda, don’t get any closer!” I say with an outstretched palm meant to block her advance.

“Aw, why not? You don’t want a kiss?”

“You sneaky Elf! Your evil wiles will not work on me!”

I will never be tickled! On my honor! On my dignity!

“If you let me tickle you a little, I’ll let you give me a little pinch,” she says while licking her lips.

Well.

I mean.

Is being tickled such a big deal?

…

We are now going back to the bakery since I have some work to do, and Lucillus is probably wondering if someone has mugged me again.

“I have to study all day, and then I have a shift at work, Joey.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll probably work a bit then. I need to see what Stanimal brought back. No vacation, I guess,” I say with a disappointed tone.

“You worked one day, Joey,” she says with a smile.

“One day too much,” I punctuate my words while shaking my finger in a teacher-like way.

Her golden-blonde hair sways in the air like a princess, and she slightly narrows her eyes at me.

“Joey, can we discuss magic for a second?”

The fated question is finally here.

I can’t really tell her about the book, that’s for sure. I love Lucinda deeply. Even if I don’t know her that well. But I can’t trust her with the book. It’s too big of a temptation for someone like her. Maybe in the future, but not right now.

But now that I know she can be less of an asshole to the less fortunate, I wouldn’t mind teaching her multi-casting. She would probably learn it on her own at some point. I’ll just give her a head start.

“If it’s about multi-casting, simul-casting, or whatever you call it, I can teach you later,” I smile at her.

“That would be great, Joey, but I was talking about something else. How did you do what you did last night?”

“Well, the roses and colors were… a trick. Yeah, let’s say a trick. The circling [Lights], the shedding, and the star-like ones above us, that was all me.”

“Huh, you used a scroll for the rest, so… that explains a lot,” Lucinda nodded.

A what?

Did she say, ‘a scroll’?

Like, that Naruto-stuff?

“But how did you manage to make two [Lights] like that? They were huge. Matrixes have set limits, and once you try to make them bigger, they become harder and harder to manipulate. A normal [Light] spell should get one foot big at most. You made two huge [Lights] that were almost as tall as you. And the shine they created was perfectly regulated. Not even your class can explain that.”

Set limits?

One foot?

“Well, isn’t that a good question? I have no idea. My spellcasting is a bit weird. I don’t really know why—”

Oh.

Wait.

Yeah, no. I do know why the matrixes can’t get as big they want. Because the bigger it is, the more distant from the general explanation. That means that if you're going to make a spell three sizes bigger than the ones you study in the books, you must carefully watch the changes in the matrix. And if you can’t see the matrix properly, that’s just impossible. Or at least bordering impossible.