In the urban sky where rain clouds hung low, a mana wave of an unidentifiable color brushed past the smooth glass buildings.

Even though decades had passed since magic was revealed to the world, cold prejudice and illegal underground trade still cast shadows over the city, but beyond the walls of this mansion, things were precarious in a completely different sense.

From early morning, a thick pink smoke erupted in the middle of the mansion hallway with a pop.

Emerging through the cloud of smoke was Delicia, holding a suspicious bottle with sparkling eyes, making his tragic past of being abandoned for his strong mana seem like a distant memory.

Running straight toward the most precious person he met at the orphanage, the way he sent excessively twinkling gazes was the very definition of over-the-top affection disguised as aegyo and pranks.

His selfish intentions were transparently visible in that suspicious reagent bottle he was thrusting forward recklessly.

However, the one who blocked that brazen advance was his master, Lawrence, who appeared elegantly holding a teacup.

As a world-class Archmage, he always maintained perfect and gentle dignity, but whenever his disciple attempted a surprise attack with ulterior motives, the composure would strangely vanish from his face.

With an elegant gesture, Lawrence levitated the reagent bottle out of Delicia's hand, and while maintaining his perfect masterly grace, he dropped it on the floor and shattered it. It was a childish and petty abuse of power by a master that would make the title of Archmage weep.

A troublemaking disciple whining and stomping his feet in grievance.

A master subtly checking his disciple while citing tattered justifications.

And the daily life of having to stand in the middle of their sparking glares, quietly pressing a hand to one's forehead.

Will true peace ever come to this noisy and eccentric mansion?

The only thing certain was that this morning was already far from ending quietly.