Sorcerer’s Handbook

As Sonya began to answer the question, everyone leaned in to see, including Danzel.

Then, they looked at the Hooded Man in the painting, and then at Ashe.

“Isn’t that you?”

“Right, I too think it’s me,” Ashe replied. “So, this answer definitely isn’t correct.”

Though Sonya agreed, she didn’t understand Ashe’s confidence. “Why are you so sure?”

“Because the question was ‘the one I love most,’” Ashe explained. “Leaving me aside, what do you think the relationship is between the other two people in the other paintings and the Lover?”

There was a moment of hesitation before everyone realized Ashe was referring to Sonya as the Lover.

Deya glanced at the middle-aged farmwoman and speculated, “Could this be the Lover’s (Sonya’s) mother?”

“It might also be a foster mother, a teacher, an aunt, etc.,” Danzel added. “But regardless of her exact role, judging by her age, she likely has a nurturing relationship with the Lover.”

Ashe slightly nodded in agreement with their views and pointed to the painting of a small, dark-skinned girl. “And her?”

Danzel guessed, “Daughter?”

Sonya frowned slightly. “Maybe my sister?”

“Stop talking!”

As they discussed, a hysterical scream suddenly erupted nearby. Deya was seen doubling over, furiously pounding her head, her slightly cleaner hair beginning to get dirty again.

“Stop talking, stop, stop, stop! Stop arguing in my head!” Her cries were mixed with sobs.

The reason Deya had calmed down earlier was because Ashe had captured her attention with his intricate, hard-to-disprove reasoning, keeping her and her sisters busy digesting information, leaving no room for thought.

Once Ashe stopped monopolizing her attention, the sisters became restless like children without parental supervision. It had started as a simple guess about the identity of the little girl in the painting, but their discussion had evolved into a debate and finally into an argument that Deya could no longer tolerate.

“Bite.”

Deya felt something being stuffed into her mouth and instinctively bit down hard. As the sensation of biting spread throughout her body, the screams stuck in her throat slowly subsided, and the pressure was gradually released as her teeth clenched together, even quieting the arguing voices of her sisters.

It was then that Deya realized she was biting Ashe’s hand. She quickly let go and blew on it, “Sorry, I—”

“It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt.” Ashe said, “Look, there’s not even a mark. Don’t worry about it… this really is a magical place.”

“Feeling bad is like drowning, the more you struggle, the more it hurts. The right way to save yourself is to stay still and let someone else pull you out of the water. When you feel uncomfortable, just bite my hand.”

Deya grabbed Ashe’s hand, hesitated, then nodded and sheepishly licked the spot she had just bitten. Ashe couldn’t help but laugh, “No need to savor it like that. Hmm, if you feel you’re not in a good state, you don’t have to join our discussion. Just feel free to chew on my hand.”

Deya took a moment to realize that ‘sister’ referred to herself. She was about to agree, but her expression turned uncomfortable again. She opened her mouth and pressed it against Ashe’s hand, but did not bite down, as if looking for the best spot to bite.

However, after a moment, she suddenly said, “We think, she is not the Lover’s daughter, nor the Lover’s sister.”

“She is the Lover herself.”

Perhaps as an apology, or perhaps to prove she was more than just noise, the sisters in her mind told Deya this answer, strongly urging her to speak up.

The others were taken aback, looking carefully at the dark-skinned, thin little girl in the painting, then at Sonya. Sonya was dressed tonight in a blue and white dress with a gold-edged red coat draped over her left shoulder, looking like the most beautiful protagonist on stage, a stark contrast to the little girl in the painting, like a bright flower against green leaves.

“While that is possible,” Ashe said, “the resemblance isn’t convincing enough, is it?”

Sonya also shook her head vigorously—she genuinely did not want to associate herself with the plain-looking girl in the painting.

On the other hand, Danzel nodded, “Now that you mention it, they do look alike.”

“How do they look alike?” Sonya retorted. “The nose, the mouth, the eyes, none of them match, do they?”

This was precisely why they hadn’t considered this possibility initially: if it were a younger Sonya, one would likely be able to recognize her from her facial features, as people’s features generally follow a consistent pattern as they grow, and even with many changes, it is possible to see the traces of time. However, Sonya and the little girl in the painting, although not completely dissimilar, had enough differences to make it difficult to immediately connect them.

“The eyes are very similar.”

Deya shook her head and said, “She… we think, the gaze of this little girl is exactly like yours, Lover.”

“Alert, stubborn, bright.”

Sonya was taken aback, lowering her head to make eye contact with the little girl in the painting.

Her gaze… it’s a lot like mine?

As their gazes intersected, as if triggering some Miracle, Sonya blinked and found herself entering the world within the painting.

This was the edge of a forest just outside a village, a small stream flowed from the woods into the town, the Radiant Star’s brilliance streamed in the river, danced on the river pebbles, and sparkled in the children’s eyes.

Not far away, a few children were arguing. Sonya couldn’t hear them clearly, but from the children’s expressions and gestures, it seemed that apart from the emphatic tones, the rest of the words were probably offensive insults.

This was not a Battle of equals. One side was a mixed group, while the other was a one-person army — the little girl stood alone, inviting several peers to challenge her. With her hands on her hips, she stood atop a rock, looking down on them. Her rapidly moving lips and the nearly tearful faces of her enemies were enough evidence of a one-sided slaughter.

Soon, the other children were chased away by her words, but the victor was not pleased either. She walked grumpily to a large tree near the stream, sat down against the trunk, tapped her Bracelet, and summoned a Holographic Screen to play educational videos.

She was dressed in clothes that had faded to gray from repeated washing, her skin darkened and roughened by labor under the sun, and it was apparent that her nutrition wasn’t adequate. She looked visibly thinner and more frail than her peers, as if a gust of wind could blow her away. She casually plucked a foxtail grass and twirled it between her fingers, a skill she seemed to have practiced a lot.

Although this world seemed to offer her little beyond sunshine and nature, her eyes showed no confusion or despondency but were instead fixated on the educational videos on the Holographic Screen, her gaze animated by the knowledge she was absorbing.

She hugged her legs tightly to her chest, curling into a ball as if to protect herself or perhaps to hide.

Seemingly noticing something, the little girl turned to look at Sonya. In her youthful, clear eyes, Sonya’s spherical reflection was visible.

“Lover?”

Hearing Ashe’s voice, Sonya was snapped back to reality. She looked again at the album, but this time no strange phenomenon occurred, as if what had just happened was merely an illusion of Sonya’s.

After a brief silence, Sonya nodded firmly, “Yes, that was me as a child.”

Although it was unclear how Sonya was so certain, it was obvious that the opinion of the answerer held the utmost importance. Ashe accepted this assumption and said, “If that’s the case, then the answer becomes quite clear.”

Danzel asked, “We have only deduced the identities of these three people, but the question asks who the Lover’s ‘most loved’ person is. How do you know the answer?”

“The concept of ‘most loved’ is really about comparing the degree of affection. Since it can be compared, we can use a process of elimination,” Ashe explained. “If out of these three, one must die, Lover, whom would you choose?”

Sonya hardly hesitated, “You.”

“Good, then among the remaining two, if another person had to die…” Ashe continued.

Sonya’s pupils dilated, and she turned to stare directly at Ashe.

Deya timidly said, “This doesn’t seem quite right, after all, we currently have no memories. If we had our memories, perhaps we would make different choices—”

“We’ve only lost our memories, not our personalities,” Ashe explained with a shrug. “If we need to add ‘memories’ as a variable to speculate the correct answer, then our current discussion is pointless. Who knows, maybe I’m the Lover’s favorite?”

“Besides, memories aren’t static; personality influences memory.”

Amidst the puzzled looks of everyone as if to say ‘what are you talking about,’ Ashe continued, “Memory is actually a rather ambiguous and subjective form of information. When you want to hate someone, you tend to overlook their virtues; and when you like someone, you also tend to ignore their flaws.”

“If you are an optimistic person, you are likely not to remember sad events; if you are always blaming others, you won’t remember the beautiful moments in life.”

“Love and most loved are distinctly different concepts. Memory can make you fall in love with someone because of the emotions that arise from what you’ve invested in them; however, memory cannot change who you love the most. Most loved denotes the one for whom you would sacrifice everything, even if it means changing your own personality to suit them—that’s what ‘most’ really means.”

“Therefore, I believe the answer to this question, Lover (Sonya), will not change whether memories are present or not, because you made your choice a long time ago. To protect ‘your most loved,’ you’ve already modified your memories and adjusted your personality.”

“But, you don’t need to answer my question.” Ashe helped Deya up and gestured for Danzel to turn around with him, “Although it might seem like self-deception, we won’t look at your answer. We hope you don’t worry about us and give the most sincere answer.”

“No need.”

Sonya calmly stated, “I don’t know you; why should I care about you? The Knight is right; who my most loved was had been determined long before we entered the cabin. Therefore, my memories, my personality, and everything about me are all for making my most loved person’s life better.”

“So, Swordswoman, my answer is—my most loved person is this little girl.”

“I noticed you were all having such a lively discussion, so I didn’t interrupt,” the Swordswoman remarked. “According to the rules, each question equates to one of your treasures. Answer incorrectly, and you lose it immediately; answer correctly, and it is returned double. The treasure bound to this question is—your Swordsmanship Faction Realm.”

“Even though you’ve lost your memories, you still retain the knowledge that should help you understand the significance of this treasure, right?”

Sonya’s expression remained unchanged: “My answer stays the same.”

“Good,” the Swordswoman said crisply. “You answered correctly.”

With a flick of her finger, two streams of golden light entered Sonya’s body: “This is your Swordsmanship Faction Realm and your reward—a Time Faction Realm of the same level.”

Before Sonya could fully process this reward, the Swordswoman flipped to another page in the album: “The second question—among these three people, who do you dislike the most?”

One was a woman with messy hair, dark circles under her eyes, and her feet on a desk, holding a sword.

Another was a young woman in beautiful clothes, applying makeup in front of a mirror.

And then there was a woman dressed in pure white silk stockings, short sleeves, and a skirt, looking dignified, gracious, and friendly, but her face was identical to Deya’s mixed-colored hair.

Deya blinked and pointed at the woman in white, saying, “First, let’s eliminate this incorrect option…”

“No, don’t eliminate it just yet,” Ashe grabbed her wrist. “I think this might be the correct option.”

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