The witch adjusted her hat with a smirk, waving her hand, "For this spell, it is important to completely memorize the clothes your target is wearing. Next, you must visualize the removal of the outfit, like a snap of one's fingers."
"Seems simple enough," Leon said.
"We'll see! Get ready, young lord—I will fling my spell in thirty seconds. I expect you to counter," Beatrice warned, holding her hand up.
"Got it," he accepted, popping his knuckles with an exhale.
It wasn't hard to etch the witch's outfit into his mind; the violet-and-black robes she wore clung to her voluptuous body as if glued to her skin.
'Yeah, this spell was made for me, I think,' he thought, slowly exhaling as he held out his hand.
Again and again, he analyzed that robe along with the figure it was dressed over.
"Wardrobe Delete!"
"Wardrobe Delete!"
—In unison, he cast the spell along with the witch. It manifested in the form of magenta light, swirling into rings that launched towards their targets.
The chamber quickly filled with the mystical shine as their magic collided. As his cast clashed with his instructor's, it felt like a train pushing against his mana.
Just from a brief amount of contact, he could feel the density of Beatrice's mana; experienced and rich.
'This is not taking it seriously—? Well, if it's about visualization…This scenario is my perfect match,' he thought.
The dormant books fluttered in the winds created by the magical clash. In his mind, he solidified the image of his teacher, all the way down to what she'd look like without her robes before—
"Waaah—?!" Beatrice let out in shock as her magical pressure was pushed back.
Leon focused entirely on that one thought, manifesting it into reality as his spell pushed through, striking the teacher. It was a harmless bit of magecraft, unless one considered vaporizing clothes to be "malicious."
A plume of purple smoke faded as he looked onward, discovering the sight of his instructor standing there.
She held a proud smile with trembling lips and flushed cheeks, attempting to hold onto some semblance of dignity.
"Good job, Leon—erm, that was impressive…!" Beatrice said, putting her hands on her hips.
It was hard for him to pay attention to her words when her entire figure was revealed. In nothing but black, laced panties and a bra, there wasn't much left to the imagination.
"Thanks," Leon said, hardly moving his gaze from the barely-covered chest.
Each small movement Beatrice made caused her prominent chest to bounce, testing the limits of her bra.
"W-well, it does seem your ability to absorb knowledge is superb, indeed. In terms of fundamentals, you're far past the need for that," Beatrice remarked.
"So, the lessons are going to level up from now on?" Leon asked, not even trying to hide the fact he was staring right at her chest.
The witch nodded, "Hmm, level up, that's a nice way to put it. Prepare yourself then—I'm going to push you to your limits in the coming lessons. For now though…I shall find a change of clothes."
Leon finally looked away, "Yeah, probably a good idea."
Taking his leave from the lecture hall, a sense of optimism filled him greater than before. It was difficult to tell if it was purely his talent or the fact he saw a rather pleasant sight, though he was excited.
'At this rate, I can become a master of swordplay and magic,' he planned.
Enough exploring the interior led him outside, exploring the front of the mansion. The reach of his estate presented a flourishing garden, with trees bearing colorful fruit and flowers blooming in the spring weather.
Walking along the cobblestone path of the illustrious garden, the sound of leaves being sheared met his ears. He turned the corner, finding a hedge being trimmed by a man with slicked back, silver hair.
"Ah, good evening, my lord."
["Thorgul Kleisf"] [CLASS: Senior Butler] [Designated Lv: 20]
The aged servant greeted him while masterfully operating the shears, taking no more than a few seconds to turn the hedge into an art piece. It was cut into the shape of a proud lion, somehow done in little time.
"Good evening," Leon returned the greeting to the senior butler, taking note of his heightened level.
Near a bundle of trees bearing fruits ranging from what resembles apples and oranges, he found a maid with fluffy, scarlet hair knelt down.
["Ruby Harma"] [CLASS: Maid] [Designated Lv: 15]
The fiery-haired servant filled the mask tucked under her arm with fruit, humming to herself. As soon as she stood up, a bright smile was worn across her face once seeing him.
"Master!" Ruby greeted him, running over.
"Yo," he responded.
The bright-eyed maid stopped in front of him, holding up the basket of fresh fruit, "I picked your favorites. If you'd like, I can prepare a fruit salad for you."
"Hmm, that does sound pretty good, actually," he said.
Ruby excitedly nodded, "Then I will prepare it right away!"
He didn't get a choice in the matter, watching the energetic maid hurry off into the mansion. Taking the chance to take in the sunlight of the calm spring, he sat on the grass, watching the wind pass through the trees.
"—"
The sound of wheels rolling across cobblestone caught his attention, watching as a carriage was guided into the courtyard by a pair of steeds.
'A visitor?' He thought.
As he got up, approaching the unknown carriage, he found himself accompanied by Thorgul and Irene. It felt nice having backup without needing to say a word, standing at the start of the walkway to the mansion's garden.
"Welcome," Leon greeted.
Who stepped out of the horse-drawn vehicle was a well-dressed man with a bronze cane. With the help of a pair of armored bodyguards with him, the man approached before bowing his head.
"Well met, Lord Schoeller. I thank you once again for opening your ears to my pleas," the old man greeted.
While it confused him for a moment, Leon dug through his memories of his flashed-over life, finally figuring out who the senior was.
'Right…This old fart is the mayor of the town close by my estate—Newfard. What was his name again? Nubert? No, Norbert—yes. That's it,' he recalled.
In the midst of his thoughts, he responded with a clap of his hands, "Right, Mr. Mayor. Before any of that, let's head inside—you a fan of fruit salads?"
"Fruit…salad?" The mayor repeated in surprise. "Well, I suppose."
"Great."