The enchanted water slid over Ligia's skin like a warm veil of relief. Inside the massive arcane bathtub, the steam carried the scent of crimson-herb and golden petals — a relaxing blend crafted specifically to restore the mana circuits of those reckless enough to survive lethal training at five in the morning.
She sank to her chin, eyes half-closed, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"I can't believe I survived the lesson. And the bleeding eyes. And the professor trying to wrap me in rune paper."
The system purred, curled on a dry cushion beyond the reach of magical moisture, eyes barely open.
"You're alive. That's a respectable improvement."
Half an hour later, Ligia finally stepped out of the bathtub, her skin warm and her body lighter, though some aches still clung as reminders of the limits she had pushed.
As she stepped onto the enchanted rug, a small floating disk lit up in pale golden tones. She tilted her head, and the artifact shot out a stream of warm, scented wind — drying her platinum hair in seconds.
Ligia hummed softly while the device did its job, her voice low, tuned, playing with a nostalgic verse from an old Earth song.
"Don't stop me now… I'm having such a good time…"
With her hair dried and loose for a moment, she walked over to the large enchanted wardrobe. The doors opened with a soft blue glow, revealing a sequence of flawless dresses.
Ligia folded her arms.
She stared at the dresses like someone facing a banquet menu when all they want is buttered toast.
She sighed, rolled her eyes, and turned to the side section. There, discreetly spelled to look less important, were her personal clothes.
She pulled out a pair of light gray sweatpants, loose and comfortable. Then, an oversized white shirt with a subtle golden moon print in the center. She dressed with an almost indecent amount of satisfaction.
In front of the mirror, she tied her hair into a high ponytail. The platinum strands fell in a perfect cascade, rebelliously elegant. The reflection in the mirror looked like a warrior disguised as a university student from another world.
Finally, she picked up her enchanted sneakers — simple, dark, with self-tying laces — and slipped them on with ease.
She spun once on her heel, checking out the casual look.
"Perfect."
The system watched from atop the headboard, chin resting on its paws.
"And to think you could be a duchess decorated with sapphire runes… but you chose sweatpants."
Ligia smirked "Sometimes all royalty needs… is pockets."
She walked quietly across the room, still bathed in the soft light of the rising sun, until she stopped before a solitary chair.
She sat, pulling her knees to her chest with absolute comfort. For a moment, she just sat there, feeling the breeze coming through the open window as the last remnants of training faded from her body.
Then, something crossed her mind.
She narrowed her eyes with curiosity.
"Hey system… didn't you say there was a section of Earth webnovels in the shop?"
The system, which had been yawning and sprawled across the bed like a feline luxury rug, suddenly perked up, eyes sparkling.
"Ah finally. I knew you'd remember eventually."
With a snap of its front paws, the air before Ligia shimmered. A holographic screen opened, floating just inches from her fingers.
[ Webnovel Section ]
▸ "Supreme Villainess: I Reincarnated to Crush Princes"
Genre: Fantasy, Role Reversal, Status Magic
Price: 75 Points
▸ "Apocalypse CEO Wants Me as His Wife (But I Prefer My Pet Zombie)"
Genre: Romance, End of the World, Comedy
Price: 90 Points
▸ "The Cultivator Who Stole My Wi-Fi"
Genre: Action, Modern Cultivation, Tech vs Qi
Price: 110 Points
▸ "Academy of the Rejected Heirs"
Genre: School, Rivalry, Lineage Secrets
Price: 50 Points
▸ "Contract with the Dragon God: The Reincarnated in Sweatpants"
Genre: Romance, Reincarnation, Ancient Dragons
Price: 120 Points
▸ "My Vengeful System Only Makes Jokes"
Genre: Adventure, Meta-humor, System Parody
Price: 65 Points
▸ "The Empress of the Empty Bookshelf"
Genre: Drama, Ambition, Literary Kingdom
Price: 150 Points
Ligia pursed her lips, her eyes scanning each cover, each brief glowing synopsis.
"They have worse titles than the strategies of the ducal heirs."
"And yet they outsell magical war treaties" the system purred. "Gonna pick one? Or download them all and pretend it's for cultural research?"
Ligia sighed thoughtfully, still staring at the screen.
"Maybe I just need to laugh a little before the next lesson… or the next spiritual trauma."
The system twirled in the air like a cat in a trance.
"Choose your weapon, Lady Crimson. The literary world is yours. For a mere fraction of your sanity."
She laughed.
Ligia slid her finger across the holographic screen, eyes narrowed in dramatic indecision.
"Hmm… apocalypse, CEO, zombie… or an empty bookshelf with imperial pretensions?"
After two more seconds of council-worthy deliberation, she tapped.
[Contract with the Dragon God: The Reincarnated in Sweatpants]
"Why not? I'm already wearing the sweatpants. Bring on the dragon."
The system vibrated midair. It rose from its floating cushion like a magical market vendor who had just closed the sale of the month.
"Excellent choice, illustrious reader! A gripping romance with a supernatural pact, elemental powers, and moderate fanservice. Oh, and the dragon speaks in caps lock!"
Ligia didn't even glance.
She was absorbed.
Sunk into the magical comfort of the enchanted chair, legs crossed, the hologram floating at eye level while she dove into the absurd comfort of the plot.
An hour later…
Knock knock.
The knock was immediately followed by the door opening.
Vael entered with his usual precision and discretion. He stopped beside the bed.
Looked.
Nothing.
He frowned slightly. The bed was made. Untouched. That alone was strange.
He swept his gaze around the room with the caution of an elite guard. And then he saw her.
In the chair.
Feet resting on the armrest, bathed in the morning light. Platinum hair tied in a purposefully messy ponytail. Sweatpants, oversized T-shirt, and sneakers.
Vael froze for half a second. His eyes — trained to neutrality — faltered in a glance that said everything his face never would.
But his voice, as always, came out perfectly measured.
"Miss Ligia. It's time to say goodbye to the ducal heirs."
Ligia raised one brow but didn't move.
The system, of course, leapt dramatically from the cushion into the air as if the moment was simply too good to let pass.
"Oh my god… the Crimson embodiment of noble elegance decided to challenge imperial dress code with… sweatpants. The empire will fall ahead of schedule."
Ligia, without taking her eyes off the hologram, replied
"It's fallen for less."
Ignoring both the cat and the slight tension in Vael's shoulders, she shut off the screen with a lazy flick and turned toward the butler.
"Why do I need to say goodbye? I thought the heirs would be staying in the North for a few more days."
Vael, regaining full composure, clasped his hands behind his back. His gaze met Ligia's.
"Perhaps… events occurred that weren't part of their plans."
The system blinked, projecting a neon sign that read "YOU ARE THE ERROR IN THEIR SOCIAL CODE, SWEETIE" floating behind Vael's head.
Ligia ignored that too.
She tilted her head slightly, thoughtful. Her vampiric senses — now far too sharp — picked up the emotion in Vael's voice: controlled curiosity… and a hint of pride?
She took a deep breath, stood from the chair, and stretched her arms.
"Let's see what kind of goodbyes they deserve… before someone tries to slip away without saying farewell."
And she left the room with the calm of someone who knew that even in sweatpants, she could not go unnoticed.