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Nora and Her Perfectly Crazy Dad
墨書 Inktalez
At the age of five, Nora Thorn witnessed the explosion of the Royal Magic Workshop.
To be precise, it was her mother’s experiment that erupted in a dazzling display before a crowd—detonating an entire alchemical reactor within the tower and sending the Royal Alchemy Association's prestigious sign flying.
That evening, the city’s nobility voiced two starkly contrasting opinions.
The first came from the Noble Council: “This is a major safety incident caused by an unlicensed Half-Blood artisan. We recommend strengthening the approval system for the Royal Magic Workshop.”
The second came from drunken patrons in the tavern: “Did you see that? The explosion was just like when my wife found out I was hiding my savings—there’s no way that was a coincidence!”
Nora sat on a high stool, her small ankles dangling above the ground, surrounded by caution tape. She wore a “fireproof and explosion-resistant” cloak handwoven by her mother, with an embroidered crab in boots at its center—her mother always believed this was more reliable than lions or eagles.
She remained silent, her gaze fixed on the distant smoke rising from the Royal Magic Workshop. She knew that inside were her mother’s toolbox and their shared project—the “smartest cake-cutting magic in the entire continent.”
And… her mother herself.
An investigator dressed in a black robe and triangular hat approached, holding a notebook.
“What is your name?” he asked in his usual bureaucratic tone.
“Nora Thorn,” she replied, lifting her head. Her voice was soft but resolute.
“Parents?”
“My mother is Eileen Black, a Royal Certified Craftsman. My father…” she paused, “my father didn’t come today.”
Her eyes were as dark as a lake at night, yet she did not cry. She didn’t even blink, remaining calm like an elderly person suddenly reminded to pay taxes.
The investigator nodded and wrote her name in his records.
“This incident has resulted in seven serious injuries. The Royal Alchemy Workshop will be closed for three months. According to current Magic Craftsman Regulations, as a Non-Noble spellcaster—your mother will have her artisan qualifications revoked, and her remains will be transferred to the third crematorium, marked as ‘non-pureblood public hazard.’”
Nora tilted her head and calmly asked, “Does that mean she’s still considered human?”
The investigator paused, taken aback. “What?”
“You said ‘non-pureblood public hazard.’ So is she still human? Or has she become a Biological Risk?”
“Uh… it’s a general administrative classification—”
“So you don’t even bother to determine her race before deciding she’s a criminal,” Nora said, looking down at her cloak and murmuring, “She would be very unhappy about that. She likes being called a Half-Blood; it sounds like some heroic adventure tale.”
The investigator cleared his throat and flipped through his records. “According to the documentation, your mother did not obtain A-Class permission from the Royal Alchemy Association and used prohibited materials in her experiment…”
“That’s because her approval request was delayed three times last month,” Nora looked up at him, her voice still gentle. “The reason given was ‘noble members take priority in queue.’ She even drew a grinning little demon on the letter, saying it was the mascot of the Royal Approval Department.”
The Investigator opened his mouth but ultimately chose to remain silent. He closed his notebook and hurriedly left.
The night breeze was a bit chilly, and the ruins of the tower shimmered with a ghostly blue light under the starlight, resembling some kind of magical metal slowly cooling down.
Nora remained seated, not uttering a word.
Until a chaotic sound of footsteps approached from afar, a man covered in ash and blood stumbled in, his eyes bloodshot and clutching a pile of oddly shaped metal fragments.
“Nora!” he nearly shouted, collapsing in front of her and gripping her shoulders. “Are you okay? Are you… alright?”
Nora widened her eyes. “Dad? Aren’t you wanted?”
“Being wanted is secondary; the first thing is…” He choked up. “I didn’t manage to save your mother.”
He suddenly deflated like a punctured alchemical beast, sitting down heavily on the ground and covering his face.
“I was supposed to bring her lunch,” he said in a low voice. “You know she only ever eats red bean soup for lunch. I wanted her to try adding a bit of black pepper…”
Nora reached out and gently tugged at her father’s sleeve. “Dad, let’s go home.”
Elias Thorn lifted his head, his eyes still tinged with bloodshot veins.
“From today on,” he said, “I will no longer be the Royal Alchemical Advisor. I want to become what your mother called… uh, an old madman, yes, an old madman.”
“You already seem quite like one,” Nora added softly.
Elias Thorn fell silent for three seconds before suddenly laughing.
“You’re right,” he said. “Then let’s start going completely mad from this city.”
They stood up, with the father holding his daughter’s hand as they turned to walk into the night.
Behind them came a series of small explosions, and a burst of red light erupted from the ruins of the Royal Magic Workshop.
“She still hasn’t turned off the delay rune on the last reaction vessel,” Elias Thorn murmured. “She really does have a terrible memory.”
“Yeah,” Nora nodded. “You also said she forgot to wear shoes on your wedding day.”
“But she brought her wand.” The father looked serious. “That’s why I married her.”
Nora gazed at his profile and smiled gently.
She knew that everything was far from over.
And she was not someone who would forget.
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