Mother-in-Law Refuses to Regress! (7 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 12
Clever Larisa, once William set his mind to teaching her, memorized all 28 Hangul letters in a single day and began reading, however haltingly, just a few days later.
Larisa, having finished reading a fairy tale book all by herself, ran gleefully to Guinevere’s study. She knocked firmly, and Guinevere opened the door.
“Back again?”
“Yes, Mother! I can read all the letters now!”
“Oh?”
She already knew. The maids had praised Larisa as a prodigy, but Guinevere, whose own son had taught himself to read at age two, merely thought, “I see.”
‘Still… she probably wants some praise, doesn’t she?’
“You did very well.”
At that, Larisa hugged the picture book she’d brought, unable to contain her happiness. With bright, eager eyes, she asked,
“Shall I read you the fairy tale?”
Guinevere was busy. Just as she glanced at the Time Regression magic orb and was about to refuse—
“Oh… I guess you’re busy, huh?”
Larisa was a perceptive child. Children from the slums were usually sharp-witted—it was necessary for survival. That trait reminded Guinevere of her own childhood.
Impulsively, Guinevere said,
“Come in.”
She was just a little girl—hardly something to fret over. Guinevere pointed to an empty chair and said,
“Sit there and read.”
“Yes!”
Larisa began reading the fairy tale aloud. Guinevere dipped her pen into ink to continue her work, finishing the formula she’d been writing for a while.
“And then the frog said, ‘Now sleep with me.’ The princess screamed in disgust, ‘No way!’”
Ah, “The Frog Prince.” Guinevere disliked that story.
“The princess picked up the frog and threw him against the wall. When the frog hit the wall, he turned into a handsome prince.”
Thud.
Guinevere set her pen down. Turning around, she saw Larisa staring at her with wide, startled eyes.
“That story—”
“Yes?”
“Do you like that story?”
“Yes.”
Larisa answered with an innocent face.
“Why?”
Larisa hesitated for a moment. Should she answer honestly?
“Because the princess is so cool.”
Guinevere was taken aback by the unexpected reply.
“What part?”
“The part where she throws the frog.”
Guinevere felt uncertain whether to laugh or not at Larisa’s answer. Larisa, not understanding Guinevere’s conflicted expression, stayed silent.
“I hate that story.”
Guinevere said,
“It’s about a shapeshifting sorcerer taking advantage of a naive, young princess.”
“…Huh?”
“A perverted little frog demanding to sleep with her just for retrieving a ball deserves punishment. But why did the princess end up marrying the frog prince?”
“Why…?”
“Because merely having an unrelated man discovered in the princess’s bedroom would’ve been a fatal scandal for her.”
Larisa’s mind went blank.
“So the moral of the story is: don’t make promises lightly, and be cautious—even with frog scoundrels, if you’re a man. Understand?”
“Yes…”
Guinevere felt proud. She believed she’d just given proper sex education to her future daughter-in-law—never realizing she’d just shattered the child’s innocence.
Larisa, closing the book with a sullen face, asked,
“So that’s why you said William shouldn’t sleep with me, right?”
“What?”
“But we’re going to marry anyway, so it’s fine, isn’t it?”
Now it was Guinevere’s turn to be flustered. She hadn’t expected Larisa to so readily agree to marrying William—after all, the girl was only seven. She blurted out without thinking,
“You’re going to marry William?”
“But you told me to give him a baby! Don’t you have to get married to have a baby?”
Guinevere felt utterly shameless. Upon reflection, she realized she’d been a terrible person—demanding an absurd price from a seven-year-old girl.
No wonder William had his outbursts. One never realizes how absurd their own words sound until they’re echoed back by an innocent child like Larisa.
“That… you don’t absolutely have to do that.”
“What?”
“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to marry him. You don’t have to have a baby either.”
“What?”
“My promise to Marina was simply to protect you as best I could so you could live happily for a long, long time.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Your mother wouldn’t have handed you over under such conditions.”
Larisa didn’t fully believe Guinevere’s words, but she trusted her mother—because her mother had told her to live the life she wanted.
“What about the baby, then?”
“That… that was just my wish.”
Seeing Guinevere flustered and stumbling over her words, Larisa burst into laughter. She felt a little closer to the fearsome archmage.
*
While Guinevere devoted herself to the Time Regression spell, even sacrificing sleep, Hedel was once again steeling his resolve.
Knock knock.
By now, Guinevere recognized Hedel’s knock immediately.
“Go away. I’m researching.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Fine.”
She’d said that before, yet he’d never actually left—not once. Annoyed by Guinevere’s indifference, Hedel kicked the door open and yelled,
“You let Larisa visit yesterday! Why won’t you let me into your study?!”
“You’re a mage.”
“Master! What am I to you?!”
Hedel questioned himself. What had Guinevere Rodante meant to him? He’d been an orphan, showing exceptional magical aptitude, and around age fourteen, had gained Guinevere’s patronage.
Thanks to Guinevere, he’d entered the academy; thanks to her, he’d graduated and secured a stable livelihood.
Thanks to her—even if overshadowed—he was now Hedel, a mage whom others would call “Archmage” if he traveled alone.
But then… what was he to Guinevere?
“That damned research secret! Do you really think I’d steal it? Why do you treat me so miserably?!”
Hedel had been proud of Guinevere. Though cold on the outside, he’d believed she possessed compassion—after all, someone who took in orphans and sponsored them unconditionally couldn’t possibly be heartless.
But everything changed the moment Larisa arrived. His Master could be that gentle to someone—while he himself was nothing. Fuming, Hedel thought,
“What’s so special about that magic anyway?”
He was curious, yes—but he’d never considered stealing or learning it. It required such immense magical power that he couldn’t even imagine attempting it.
Yet Guinevere treated him like a potential thief, barring him from her study.
He’d endured it all this time because he believed Guinevere was equally cold to everyone.
“Master! Answer me! What’s wrong with me that I’m worse than Larisa?!”
Hedel shouted, choked with emotion. No— he was simply crying. He was mortified at himself, a twenty-nine-year-old man whining tearfully to his master.
But he knew it wouldn’t change anything. With a defeated sigh, he said,
“Still… I’ve always thought of you as a mother. I’d like to say goodbye properly—to your face. Please open the door.”
Guinevere’s study wasn’t locked—but Hedel pleaded pitifully nonetheless. If he just opened the door, Guinevere would surely blast him out the window without even listening.
Click.
Startled by the sudden opening, Hedel took a step back.
“You thought of me… as a mother?”
“Yes?”
“You?”
“…”
“Me?”
“Well… yes.”
Then what did he think she was? Seeing the confusion in Hedel’s eyes, Guinevere sighed.
“I didn’t know you thought of me… that way.”
Hedel grew embarrassed. Wiping his tears and snot on his robe, he bowed his head deeply.
“Anyway, I’m really leaving this time. Goodbye.”
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
“Why are you leaving?”
“Huh?”
“You should tell me your reason. Why suddenly decide to go?”
Hedel grew angry again. After everything he’d said, she still didn’t understand?
“You treat me like a total stranger—as if I might steal your research secrets! Why should I keep living in someone else’s house? I’m not incapable!”
“That’s…”
Hedel was an excellent mage. If he stayed for more than a day or two, he’d surely realize that the orb was an imprint of the Time Regression spell.
And then Hedel would be in danger. Guinevere’s instincts whispered as much.
But how could she explain that?
‘After sixty-five years together, I can’t just let him walk into danger. Maybe it’s better to let him leave now…’
As Guinevere thought this, Hedel sighed and said,
“Never mind. I suppose it’s simply time I became independent. I’ll take my leave.”
Yet even as he said this, he didn’t miss the trembling in Guinevere’s eyes. If not now, when could he ever shake her like this?
“Thank you sincerely for taking me in and raising me this far.”
Guinevere’s eyes began to tremble as if struck by an earthquake. Hedel inwardly smirked.
“Since it’s our last moment… could I call you ‘Mother’ just once?”
Had he gone too far? Guinevere regained her composure and said,
“Enough. Just as you know me well, I know you too. You’re trying to tease your master.”
“Tch.”
Hedel grumbled but didn’t say he’d leave again. Instead, he waited for Guinevere’s answer—desperate to hear her true feelings.
“I’ve… never thought of you as a son.”
‘Well, obviously.’
In truth, Hedel had never truly seen her as a mother either. To him, she had always been a figure of respect and awe—his master.
“But you were my only disciple.”
She felt she ought to say something more meaningful, yet couldn’t find the words. At least, she hoped to clear up Hedel’s misunderstanding before he left.
“Taking you as my disciple was an impulsive decision, but I’ve never regretted it. You’ve always exceeded my expectations. If you’d been even slightly less capable, I wouldn’t have cared if you sneaked into my study. But you… have grown enough that I must now be wary of you.”
Regardless of Guinevere’s rueful inner thoughts, Hedel was now streaming tears.
He was just that moved.
‘Master actually spoke to me at such length…!’
Guinevere said flatly,
“Now go.”
“Huh?”
Hedel, whose intention to leave had completely vanished, asked blankly.
“You may leave now.”
“Oh… y-yes?”
“Go quickly. I must continue my research.”
And with a bang, the door shut. Hedel, tears still flowing, stood bewildered.
Guinevere had hastily closed the door, afraid he’d see her own tears—but Hedel didn’t know that.
Male lead fell into her trap — and shattered when she walked away
This is also on my reread list!
This one is a slow burn, but when it burns, it burns hard.
Definitely worth a read, y’all!
The story follows a thousand-year-old seductive spirit who, on a bet, sets out to charm the male lead—a once-promising but unfortunate cultivator.
But just when she succeeds in making him fall for her, she heartlessly leaves, driving him to madness.
Determined to find her at all costs, he captures her, keeping her by his side no matter what, even if she hates him.
I love this kind of trope—I enjoy watching the male lead suffer in agony.
The ending drags a bit with unnecessary filler, but that’s fine.
As long as I enjoy the beginning, I’m good.
Intro
As an enchantress, Su Heng possesses captivating eyes and charming beauty, easily manipulating the joys and sorrows of living beings at her fingertips.
But to enchant a god, making him taste the bitterness of love’s separation, long-lasting resentment, unattainable desires, and inability to let go…
Do you dare?
Su Heng assists a divine lord in his cultivation, aiming to make him experience all the sufferings of love, so that he can attain the Great Dao.
Only after being chased down from the heavens by the divine lord, confined and completely possessed by him, does she realize how successful she has been.
The once gentle and polite youth has transformed into someone she no longer recognizes.
[Touch the gear icon in the bottom right corner of the screen to move to the next chapter if you want.]
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