My Crybaby Father is the Kingdom’s Worst Villain

Luzia stood up from the bed, her bare feet brushing against the soft carpet as she approached the ornate mirror. For the first time, she really looked at herself.

'Didn't even stop to see how I look… too busy stressing about… everything else,' Luzia thought, her golden eyes narrowing as she studied her reflection.

Her brown hair fell in soft waves, framing her face, and her eyes gleamed with an intensity that almost startled her. The gown, a deep shade of green, clung to her figure like it was tailor-made just for her.

'Luzia is really pretty...' she thought, a brief surge of pride washing over her before it was tempered by an undercurrent of discomfort.

With a dramatic sigh, she turned to Cecilia. "Let's go," she said, voice thick with exaggerated finality.

Cecilia bowed, a small, almost amused glimmer in her eyes. "After you, my lady."

Luzia nodded. The two made their way down the grand hall to the dining room. The grandeur of the place was almost stifling—every echo of her footsteps felt like a royal procession.

As they entered, Luzia immediately spotted Ramiro at the head of the table, looking every bit the imposing figure of a man in charge. Aurelio stood beside him, and Beatriz hovered nearby, organizing things like a well-oiled machine, and a few maids darted around.

Luzia approached, raising an eyebrow at the formality of it all, then bowed with exaggerated politeness. "Greetings, my lord," she said, aiming for as much formality as she could muster.

The room froze.

Luzia blinked, confusion creeping in. 'What? Did I do something wrong?' Her eyes flicked from one person to the next, searching for the source of the tension.

Ramiro's expression immediately darkened, as though he'd just received some heartbreaking news. His gaze became wistful, almost sad. "My lord?" he repeated to himself, his face sinking into something that resembled the lost puppy of a noble family. 'But... she called me dad before we came here, right?'

Luzia noticed this and instantly panicked. 'Oh no, not again. Is he about to cry because I called him "my lord"? Please don't tell me I've done this again.' She sighed inwardly. 'I should've seen this coming.'

Trying to salvage the situation, Luzia cleared her throat and put on her best innocent expression. "My lord, did I do something wrong? Everyone's staring at me like I've just set the room on fire." She tilted her head slightly for emphasis.

Ramiro's expression grew even more miserable, his magical aura flaring like a storm cloud that hadn't been given enough attention. 'I see… Maybe she only called me dad back at the orphanage just to calm me down…' His shoulders slumped as he sank deeper into melancholy.

Aurelio and Beatriz exchanged a quick glance, both of them silently thinking the same thing. 'She must be struggling with calling him dad.'

Luzia caught their exchange and groaned inwardly. 'Great. Here we go—time for the "don't cry, please" routine.' She forced a small smile, though it was more out of exasperation than kindness, and turned back to Ramiro.

"Luzia, my dear," Ramiro began, his voice soft but weighed down with emotion, "Why don't you call me 'dad'?"

Luzia gave him a tight-lipped smile, already anticipating the drama. 'Oh boy, here we go.' She let a couple of maids help her sit down, closer to Ramiro, as if she were a child carefully placed in time-out.

Luzia tilted her head, looking at Ramiro with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I can call you 'dad,' my lord?" she asked, her voice a mix of playful sarcasm and childish confusion.

Ramiro's face softened, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Yes, you are my daughter after all."

Luzia leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and giving him a dramatic once-over. "Ohh, I see, so now I'm supposed to call you dad? Is that how this works?" She scrunched up her nose. "That's a lot of responsibility for one little word."

Ramiro lowered his head slightly, his brows furrowing with doubt. 'Am I being too hasty?' he thought, the weight of the moment settling on him. 'I mean, she just found out I was her dad today. Maybe I'm asking too much of her...' He couldn't help but feel a pang of uncertainty.

Luzia noticed his expression and puffed out her cheeks and let out an exaggerated sigh, clearly having way too much fun with this. "Fine, I'll call you dad, but only if you promise not to start crying or anything."

Ramiro smiled, his voice full of sincerity as he said, "I will do my best not to cry." But as soon as the words left his lips, tears started trailing down his cheeks, and his magic began to flare up again.

Luzia looked at him, her brows furrowing into a straight line as she said, "Can't you see what you're doing now?" Her tone was flat, but there was a touch of exasperation in her voice.

Ramiro blinked, quickly wiping away the tears and trying to regain his composure. 'What's wrong with me?' he thought, his magic calming down as he scolded himself. 'Get yourself together, Ramiro! No crying in front of Luzia.'

"Seriously, why is he like this?" Luzia thought, her expression unreadable as she watched Ramiro struggle with his emotions. "People who are emotional aren't always this... dramatic."

She let out an exasperated sigh, her arms crossed as she shook her head. "Let's just eat..." Her eyes darted toward him.

Ramiro's hopeful gaze remained fixed on her, a pleading expression in his eyes. "But you will call me dad, right?"

Luzia raised an eyebrow, her tone dry as she looked at him with a hint of sarcasm. "Sure, whatever it takes to stop you from crying..." she muttered, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Ramiro smiled, his expression softening with relief. "I'm glad," he said, his voice still a bit shaky but sincere.

The staff watched the exchange with wide eyes, their thoughts swirling.

'What in the world is going on here? The young lady's sharp tongue is like a whip, but she's somehow managing to soothe his emotions... This is definitely not what we expected. She's exactly like Lady Dahlia.' Beatriz thought.

Elena raised an eyebrow. 'I thought the Lord was supposed to be the one in charge here... but now it looks like he's the one needing comforting.'

Cecilia thought. 'I've never seen the Lord act like this before. She really knows how to handle him, doesn't she?'

"Let's begin dinner, shall we?" Ramiro said, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to regain his composure.

"Yes," Luzia said, nodding.

The maids moved quickly, serving the carefully prepared dishes onto the long table. The clink of silverware and the rustling of cloth filled the air as they placed plates before each of the guests. The aroma of roasted meats, fresh vegetables, and fragrant spices blended together, tempting the senses.

Ramiro picked up his fork, his eyes flicking to Luzia, who sat stiffly across from him. Her small hand trembled as she awkwardly gripped her own fork, holding it like it might explode at any moment.

She lifted it, imitating his poised movements, but the result was far from elegant. The fork wobbled dangerously, clinking against her plate as she tried—and failed—to spear a piece of roasted carrot but instead sending a piece of carrot skidding across the table.

Aurelio's eyes twitched with barely contained amusement. "She's fighting the fork," he muttered under his breath.

Beatriz shot him a warning look, but even she couldn't completely suppress a tiny, amused smile.

A faint frown tugged at Ramiro's lips, his gaze narrowing slightly. "Luzia," he began, his tone sharp but calm, "is something wrong?"

Internally, Luzia groaned. 'Of course, this body doesn't know how to use utensils. The original Luzia didn't either. All those etiquette classes from my past life as princess Benedicta... wasted! I remember them all, but I can't showcase anything. I'm like a dancer stuck in cement!'

Ramiro cleared his throat loudly, silencing the room. "Luzia," he said, his tone carefully measured, "do you... need help?"

The words hit her like a thunderbolt. She froze, her face heating up as every pair of eyes in the room turned to her. Her voice came out as a whisper, unsteady and filled with reluctant vulnerability. "Dad... I don't know how to use these."

The room went silent. Every staff member froze mid-motion, their gazes darting to the table. Aurelio raised an eyebrow, barely concealing his amusement, while Beatriz's expression betrayed only the faintest flicker of surprise.

"What?" Ramiro asked, his voice sharp and disbelieving, his fork pausing mid-air.

Before he could speak, Luzia cut him off, her tone sharp and tinged with irritation. "Yes, I can't use these. Is that what you wanted to hear? I don't know how to use your fancy utensils." She held up the fork, her small hand gripping it like a dagger.

Ramiro's expression darkened, his jaw tightening as an ominous thought flickered across his mind. 'I should have tortured those orphanage staff before erasing them...'

How dare they neglect to teach her even the most basic skills required for a dignified life?

Luzia, pausing mid-sigh, narrowed her eyes at him. 'I can almost see what he's thinking,' she thought.

Beatriz swept forward and bowed deeply. "My lady, if that is the case, I shall assist you immediately—"

"No," Ramiro interrupted, standing abruptly. His chair scraped against the marble floor, and his gaze burned with sudden determination. "I will handle this myself."

He moved to her side and reached for her hand, his fingers curling over hers to guide the fork.

"Dad!" she hissed, her cheeks burning.

"This is important," he said gravely, ignoring her protests. "You must master this."

Behind them, Aurelio let out a choking sound that was definitely not a cough. Beatriz smacked his arm, whispering furiously, "Compose yourself!"

Meanwhile, Luzia wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. 'Why couldn't I have just been reborn in a family that eats with their hands? Dignity? Dead. Reputation? Buried. Just let me disappear!'