After entering the illusion, Paul found himself in a vast, empty void. Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction. Looking around, he muttered, "Dark..."
His voice echoed faintly as he stood still, then raised one hand to his chin in thought."Now... how do I begin..." he whispered to himself.
Recalling his lessons, Paul muttered, "Teacher said... it has to be controlled with mana."He extended his hand and began channeling his energy. "Alright then... let's start."
As his mana flowed outward, the empty space slowly began to shift. Shapes formed in the darkness—structures, land, outlines gradually emerging.
"I hope that mana crystal is enough…" he murmured, focusing hard as he moved his hands like a conductor shaping the illusion.
Half an hour passed. A sprawling landscape, roughly the size of a metropolitan city, now spread beneath his feet—roads, terrain.
Exhausted, Paul let his mana flow cease and collapsed backward onto the newly formed ground.
"Hah... Hah… Hah…" he gasped for breath.
After a short rest, he sat up, rubbing his forehead.
"So it really... drains this much mana, huh," he said, glancing around the quiet, unreal world he had created.
Noticing the perpetual darkness above, Paul looked upward and said, "Let's try this…"
He raised his hand to the void overhead and began releasing mana again. After several moments of concentration, a small sun formed in the sky—a soft, glowing orb that bathed the entire landscape in warm light.
Paul exhaled, then smiled faintly.
"Now... that's better."
He dusted off his hands by patting them together and stood up, ready for the next step.
After standing, Paul surveyed the quiet, glowing landscape before him.
"Let's start with the school," he muttered, eyes focused. "First, the elementary school... then the middle school... and finally, the high school."
Raising both hands, he released another stream of mana. Glowing glyphs circled his arms as buildings began to take shape—walls rising from nothing, windows forming, roofs locking into place like puzzle pieces made of light and memory.
By the time he finished the third building, Paul collapsed again onto the ground.
"Hah… hah… hah… hah…"
His chest heaved, his body drenched in sweat, clothes clinging to his back. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with determination.
After a short rest, he forced himself upright and pulled out his notebook.
"The rest is... the library... large hospital... airport... military base... chemical plant... government headquarters…" he listed off while scanning the scrawled plans.
With a weary chuckle, he sighed, "So many… huh."
He lifted his hands again and began to channel mana.
The next six hours crawled by. One by one, structures took form—some towering and industrial, others sleek and modern. Steam vents, glass walls, helipads, rows of clean beds and massive research halls… all born from illusion and ambition.
Eventually, Paul dropped into a seated position, utterly drained. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his breath ragged.
"What else…?" he mumbled, flipping to the last page of his notes.
"Steel mill, car factory, motorcycle factory, airplane factory, engine factory… wind turbines... nuclear power plant... weapons factory… museum..." he read aloud in a sluggish tone, then groaned.
"So much more…"
He let his arms fall to his sides, shoulders slumped.
"And I haven't even started the rivers, the roads... the bridges…"
Paul stared at the glowing horizon of his illusion world—a skeleton of a dream city still in the making—and exhaled.
"...But I'll do it," he whispered.
Two days later, inside the illusion—
Paul sat atop the tallest building, legs dangling off the edge, gazing out at the world he had created.
The cityscape had transformed. Towering buildings loomed over clean boulevards in the government sector. Green belts framed residential zones, military districts stood fortified with rows of barracks, and massive factory complexes emitted simulated steam into the artificial sky.
Every zone—forest, housing, production, administration—was meticulously arranged, almost symmetrical in its efficiency.
Paul nodded with quiet pride."Not bad..." he muttered, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. "Now… how do I get out of here?"
His brows furrowed."What did Sis Lilith say again…?"He tried to recall her instructions, but the details escaped him.
Sighing, Paul brought two fingers to his temple."Let me just… concentrate on my thoughts first," he murmured, closing his eyes and reaching inward.
Outside, in the real world—
"But, Prince—" Renya tried to speak, concern rising in her voice.
Too late.
"Start," Paul said sharply, cutting her off as his mana surged into the magic core, activating the illusion.
A pulse of energy shimmered through the air. Paul's body went still, eyes closed, suspended in the illusion field.
Renya stood in silence for a few seconds, then let out a soft, exasperated sigh."I was just about to stop you..."
She looked at the still form of the Prince, then turned her gaze to the broom resting against the wall.
"…If this is how it's going to be, I might as well clean up."
Muttering to herself, she picked up the broom and began sweeping the living room, stealing glances now and then at Paul to make sure he was still breathing. The quiet sound of sweeping filled the chamber.
Two hours passed.
Just as she finished tidying the last corner, the silence broke.
A door creaked open behind her.
Renya turned sharply.
From the back room, a figure emerged.
Startled, the woman stared wide-eyed at Renya.
"WHO ARE YOU!?" she barked, hand already twitching toward the dagger at her hip.
Inside the Prince's chamber—
Startled by the sudden shout, Renya turned toward the source. A young woman stood in the doorway, dressed in a standard maid uniform, her eyes locked onto Renya with suspicion.
Renya narrowed her gaze and replied calmly, but firmly,
"Excuse me—but who are you?"
The maid scowled and shot back,
"Not me—you! Who are you?!"
The tension in the room spiked. Two more maids appeared behind her, stepping forward and instinctively shifting into combat-ready stances.
Renya sighed, slapping her forehead.
"I'm the Prince's personal maid. And again—who are you people?"
The lead maid, Helena, snapped,
"You're lying! The Prince doesn't have a personal maid we haven't been told about! TELL ME WHO YOU REALLY ARE!"
Before the situation could escalate further, a sharp voice rang out from behind them.
"STOP!!"
Everyone froze.
A composed yet authoritative figure strode in—blonde hair in a tidy bun, posture proud. She glared at Helena and the other maids, hands planted on her waist.
"Helena! All of you! That's enough!!"
Immediately, the maids stepped back, heads bowed in shame and silence.
Once calm returned, the woman turned to face Renya and gave a respectful nod.
"Apologies. Nice to meet you. I'm Liselotte—one of the new maids assigned to the Prince's service."
Renya returned the nod curtly.
"I'm Renya. The Prince's personal maid."
Their eyes met—measured, wary, but not hostile. A mutual understanding formed.
Just then, a familiar voice broke the moment.
"Looks like you're all getting acquainted already..."
Hearing Paul's voice, Renya, Liselotte, and the other maids in the living room immediately turned to face him.
Paul looked at Liselotte first and said clearly,
"Good. Because things are going to get a lot busier from now on. Liselotte—call all the maids. Now."
Liselotte straightened and gave a sharp nod.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Without delay, she turned and hurried toward the back of the residence.
Paul then shifted his gaze to Renya.
"Renya," he said in a steady tone, "You're the new Head Maid. Can you handle it?"
Renya let out a long breath, brushing back a lock of hair that had slipped loose.
"...Okay," she said, her voice calm but carrying a hint of reluctant acceptance.
Paul nodded, satisfied with the answer. Then he turned to the rest of the maids who remained standing in silence.
"You all follow Renya's orders from now on. Got it?"
There was a brief pause, then the maids responded in unison with obedient nods.
Without another word, Paul turned away and walked back to his device, adjusting the illusion mechanism with practiced movements.
Seeing this, Renya took one last glance at the Prince, then turned to face the other maids.
"Follow me," she said simply, her tone calm but commanding.
She walked toward the back hall with measured steps. The rest of the maids followed in silence, their gazes now directed toward the woman who had just become their superior.