Volume 2

Chapter 35: Mingfuluo’s Coldness and Indulgence

“Shall we go in?” Anselm tilted his head, his tone teasing.

“Step into this place you’ve complained about to me countless times three years ago?”

“First, replace ‘complained’ with ‘grumbled.’”

Mingfuluo answered expressionlessly.

“Second, I didn’t grumble to you more than ten times.”

She shifted her gaze from the Mansion’s lavish buildings to the gate guards, who were diligently on duty yet completely unaware of their presence.

“As for the answer…”

The scholar pursuing truth spoke with slow, resolute hatred.

“I have no reason to stop here.”

Her response was as Anselm expected.

The young Hydra gazed into the Mansion, fully aware of the path fate had laid for Mingfuluo.

In six years of wrestling with fate, Anselm knew that, even if he could eliminate nearly all variables within his power, absolute control was impossible.

Adaptability and improvisation were far more crucial than pre-set plans.

Mingfuluo Zege had parents, kin—she wasn’t born a monster capable of controlling her emotions.

Though her childhood was… complicated, these people were still the best tools to stir her emotions.

Fate’s attempt to awaken Mingfuluo’s emotions was within Anselm’s predictions, as his original plan was indeed to destroy her, turning her into an emotionless tool.

His actions upon returning to the Imperial Capital, though seemingly unrelated to this goal, were mere tests and groundwork.

Fate had two “reasonable” paths.

The first was to follow the original trajectory: destroy Babel Tower, exiling Mingfuluo from the capital.

But Anselm, holding Babel Tower, had blocked this path through the Empress’s absurd game, ensuring the organization’s safety.

Thus… fate chose the second path—preserving Babel Tower while using people and events to sustain Mingfuluo’s emotions.

Though Anselm could predict the general direction, in the Imperial Capital—where his control was far weaker than in Chishuang Territory—he couldn’t know how fate would push forward. Following Erlin’s trail, however, was a safe bet.

He just hadn’t expected… fate to be so direct, involving Mingfuluo’s parents.

The young Hydra’s lips curved slightly.

Being unexpected didn’t mean unmanageable.

Countless clashes with fate had made him intimately familiar with that “great” entity—whether it was rigidly predictable or simply too proud to adapt.

If fate sought to awaken Mingfuluo’s emotions through her parents, the first step was resolving their conflict.

Normally, investigating Erlin’s death would mean infiltrating Zege Mansion.

But to spark interaction with her parents, dear Arlo, driven by fate, would choose…

“Guard.”

Mingfuluo, still cloaked, suddenly revealed herself, startling the gate guard.

“Inform the mansion’s masters,” she said expressionlessly to the guard, who instinctively drew his weapon.

“Guests have arrived.”

“Who… who are you!”

The guard’s sword pointed at the two who appeared from nowhere, one seemingly harmless but the other radiating a chilling, dangerous aura that far outweighed her unthreatening appearance.

“I said, inform the Mansion’s masters that guests have arrived. Can’t you understand?”

Mingfuluo frowned, repeating herself. “Is this how you guard?”

Only Mingfuluo, an uninvited guest appearing out of thin air, would command a guard with such a tone.

“Guard,” Anselm stepped forward, speaking gently.

“Please tell the Zege couple that Mingfuluo and her friend are here on business. Just a notification—no issue, right?”

Though disguised in appearance, Hydra’s presence calmed the guard.

He pulled out a communication crystal, eyeing Anselm and the increasingly impatient Mingfuluo warily. After a brief wait, he spoke into it:

“Steward Kain, two people wish to see the master and mistress, claiming to be… Mingfuluo and her friend. Should I… What? I… Understood.”

The guard’s expression shifted vividly during the call. Afterward, he sheathed his sword, bowing deeply in panic and fear.

“Please forgive my rudeness, Miss Mingfuluo, and… sir! Steward Kain will arrive shortly. Please… come in!”

Though Anselm understood why Mingfuluo acted this way, he chuckled.

“Investigating Erlin’s death, yet you openly visit your parents. Planning to confront them directly? Not afraid of spooking the snake?”

“…No matter how cowardly and vile he is,” Mingfuluo said softly, walking beside Anselm into the Mansion, “he couldn’t commit the beastly act of killing his own father.”

“So, you’ll probe indirectly.” The young Hydra stroked his chin. “Let’s see… how can I stir things up?”

Mingfuluo glanced at him but said nothing.

Shortly after entering, an impeccably dressed, upright elderly man hurried over.

Seeing Mingfuluo from afar, tears in his eyes were no pretense.

“Miss… Miss Mingfuluo!”

The old butler, kneeling on one knee before her, choked up. “Have you… come back?”

“…I’m just here to ask some questions, Kain. Don’t overthink it.”

Mingfuluo looked at the man, older even than Saville, too aged for a steward’s role, her eyes flickering briefly before she extinguished the emotion.

“I thought they’d have dismissed you long ago.”

Ignoring the man who’d served the Zege family since Erlin’s rise, she walked forward, her tone cold.

“Given their character, they’d have replaced you with someone stronger, wiser, younger.”

“Miss… the master and mistress aren’t so heartless.”

Steward Kain rose, his face bitter, following her.

“Please believe—”

“Not heartless?”

The scholar, estranged for over a decade, sneered.

“That’s the funniest joke I’ve heard in a while.”

Kain opened his mouth to explain but, seeing her back, gave up.

“I… I’ll guide you. The master and mistress are waiting.”

Kain stepped ahead, his gait unsteady, unable to hide his frailty despite his upright posture.

Focused on Mingfuluo, he didn’t even acknowledge Anselm.

Such behavior was unbecoming of a proper steward, even if overwhelmed by joy at reuniting with the young miss.

He led them to the Mansion’s central villa, through corridors to the reception room.

Oddly, few servants were seen.

Though less grand than Hydra Mansion, Zege Mansion’s near absence of staff cleaning or working was peculiar.

“The master and mistress are inside… I’ll take my leave, Miss.”

Anselm glanced at the departing Kain, while Mingfuluo’s gaze remained fixed on the reception room’s door, her thoughts unreadable—except to a certain devil and damned fate.

“Need me to open the door?”

Anselm’s voice pulled Mingfuluo from her memories.

Silently, she gripped the handle, pushing the door open with only coldness on her face.

Inside, a well-matched, refined couple sat together.

At the sound of the door, their eyes shot to the entrance. Compared to Mingfuluo’s tangled emotions, Anselm instantly caught the complex feelings in the parents’ eyes.

Excitement, guilt, sorrow… emotions intertwined like tangled vines, obscuring the truth beneath.

“Arlo, you—”

“Good afternoon, Lady Haitana.”

Mingfuluo’s mother began excitedly, but Mingfuluo cut her off expressionlessly.

“Please forgive my unannounced visit.”

An invisible wall blocked Lady Zege’s outpouring words, her eyes filled with vivid sorrow as she looked at her daughter.

“…Sit.”

Layden Zege, Erlin Zege’s son and Mingfuluo’s father, a senior lecturer at the Ether Academy, lowered his eyes and spoke calmly.

“Whatever your purpose, sit and talk.”

Mingfuluo didn’t object, as she never intended hostility—only coldness, the indifference of a stranger.

Anselm and Mingfuluo sat across from the Zege couple.

Layden turned to the unremarkable young man beside her, asking evenly, “And this is…?”

“I’m Mingfuluo’s… hm, friend.”

Anselm smiled, effortlessly telling a lie that wasn’t a lie.

“Her situation concerns me, so I came along uninvited. Please don’t mind.”

The hidden meaning in his words carried weight, silencing the couple momentarily.

Mingfuluo seized the moment to strike first:

“Grandfather’s grave has only been tended by me.”

“…What?”

Layden was caught off guard.

“I said, Grandfather’s grave has only been tended by me.”

Mingfuluo repeated, her purple eyes, so like her father’s, radiating cold detachment that might have wounded her parents’ hearts.

“From fifteen years ago until now, I’ve been the only one cleaning it.”

Layden’s expression soured.

Hands clasped, fists tight, he stared at Mingfuluo, speaking deliberately.

“So, you came after over a decade just to reprimand us?”

“I used no anger or criticism, merely stating facts.”

Mingfuluo maintained her unsettling calm.

“If you think I’m reprimanding you, that’s your issue, Mr. Layden.”

“…Hah.”

The man gave a cold laugh.

“Expecting you to change was my—”

“Layden!”

Haitana gripped her husband’s hand tightly, cutting him off, then turned to Mingfuluo, her voice weak, almost pleading.

“Arlo, I… we’re sorry about Father’s matter, we…”

“I don’t care if you feel anything about Grandfather’s death.”

Mingfuluo disregarded her mother’s submissive tone, her voice growing icy, tinged with hatred.

“Just as I’ve given up questioning your betrayal, your plundering, your shamelessness—because the answers are obvious.”

The reception room’s atmosphere plummeted to freezing.

No one’s expression was pleasant, including Anselm’s—though inwardly, he felt otherwise.

Observing it all, the Hydra delighted in deducing the emotional trajectories of Mingfuluo, Layden, and Haitana under fate’s pull, even… their spoken words.

He turned his gaze to Layden, whose face was utterly grim, whispering in his mind:

【Didn’t I give you all of this!】

“Didn’t I want to give you everything!”

Layden raised his voice in anger: “Money, the mansion, resources, everything he left for_you, didn’t I contact you when you came of age, asking you to take it all?”

【You think】 Anselm, lightly tapping his cheek, chuckled inwardly 【I want to have the slightest connection with that guy!】

“You think I still want any connection with him!”

“All I see is the result, and the result is, I rejected those things, and you shamelessly chose to take them for yourself.”

“You!” Layden stood up, incensed by the absurd words, “So you’d rather I sold everything off, let others take it all, than have me possess it, is that it?”

“Yes.” Mingfuluo replied without hesitation, “Because you’re not worthy.”

A cruel strike piercing the deepest wound in her father’s heart, Anselm sighed inwardly.

As he had sighed, Layden seemed extraordinarily sensitive to the words “not worthy.”

The fury on his face, the blaze in his eyes, the clenched fists with veins bulging… all of it was unlike a father facing his daughter.

“…”

Layden stared at Mingfuluo with that furious gaze for a long time. Not tall, even somewhat frail, he seemed to lose strength and sat down, weary and defeated.

【Mingfuluo, I really shouldn’t have held any expectations for you.】

Anselm, resting his chin in his hand, muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing slightly.

And now… the first critical juncture was approaching.

He propped his forehead with his hand and said softly: “Mingfuluo, I really… shouldn’t have held any hopes for you. You’re long gone, completely mad, just like him.”

The father revealed deep helplessness and pain in that moment, the heavy sense of powerlessness in his words unmistakable even to Mingfuluo.

In the woman’s heart… a faint but pivotal flicker of hesitation stirred her thoughts.

Her father’s emotions didn’t seem feigned. Why…

“Are you sure, Mr. Layden?”

At that moment, Mingfuluo’s “friend,” who had been silent, suddenly spoke.

“I know of Mr. Erlin’s deeds. I admire his intellect, his ideals, his courage… How could you call what he did madness, and how could you label Mingfuluo, who inherited his ideals, as mad?”

Anselm’s words momentarily stunned Layden, but he quickly recovered, showing no shame or other emotions, only deep, profound anger.

“What are you saying! What do you know!”

An outsider meddling in his family affairs was intolerable to anyone, especially to Layden, who felt deeply wronged.

He slammed the table, his voice rising again:

“Great… great? That foolish, arrogant, unrealistic idea deserves to be called great? He only used those fantastical notions to prove his talent surpassed everyone else’s. I’m telling you… Erlin Zege was never a great man, nor did he deserve greatness! He was a madman! A selfish bastard!”

The hesitation in Mingfuluo’s heart vanished instantly, leaving only coldness.

“That last sentence,” she said indifferently, “suits you better, Mr. Layden.”

“Stealing Grandfather’s designs, selling them to the Ether Academy, securing a petty position to preserve yourself… I can’t fathom how you have the audacity to call Grandfather selfish.”

The second juncture.

Anselm pressed his fingers together, the corners of his mouth curling slightly.

Dear Arlo would no longer listen to her father’s words, so what came next should be…

“You!”

“Arlo!” Haitana anxiously pressed Layden’s shoulder, her eyes pleading as she looked at Mingfuluo, “We had no choice back then… Father, Father had been researching alone for nine years. Many feared he’d actually create that thing. I was pregnant with you then; we couldn’t take the risk…”

A well-played, justified emotional card.

Anselm, who had an overview of Mingfuluo’s life, couldn’t help but marvel at the “coincidence” of fate.

Perhaps twenty-one years ago, fate had already prepared for this conversation.

“…” Mingfuluo’s expression stiffened slightly.

She was silent for a moment, then said softly, “But betrayal is betrayal.”

“Betrayal… betrayal!” Layden was clearly losing his rationality to anger.

“So what? So you’d have Haitana and your unborn self die for that madman’s ravings? Would that satisfy you!”

The instinct to protect one’s child is rooted in life itself.

If the Zege family was indeed in turmoil back then, Layden and Haitana’s actions were understandable.

This laid the critical turning point for Mingfuluo’s reconciliation with her parents.

—But a venomous devil would not let fate smoothly place its pieces.

“Hm… I mean no offense,” Anselm spoke again, “but if Mr. Erlin had truly achieved results that made other forces ruthless enough to… assassinate a fifth-tier alchemist’s family, doesn’t that mean he was one step away from success? If so, wouldn’t supporting Mr. Erlin have been better than betraying him?”

“Under his protection, your lives wouldn’t have been… that dangerous, would they?”

This plunged the reception room into silence once more.

Haitana’s gaze toward Anselm now carried deep resentment, but her clenched fists seemed to still want to explain to Mingfuluo: “Because… because…”

“Enough, Haitana.”

Layden interrupted his wife, saying coldly: “Do you still think she’ll call you Mother, see herself as your daughter? In her eyes, we’re just two parasites, two traitors, two despicable cowards clinging to life. She’s not here to reconnect with us; she’s here to trample, condemn, and humiliate us. She’s here… for revenge.”

“Babel Tower is favored by Lord Hydra, soaring to new heights, no longer suppressed by the Ether Academy. Now she finally has the chance to vent her hatred toward us.”

Twice, subtle emotional currents that could have led to a turning point were utterly shattered by Anselm’s perfectly reasonable words, spoken as a friend standing by Mingfuluo.

Anselm’s question, along with Layden’s earlier words, also destroyed the last flicker of hope in Mingfuluo’s heart.

“…I only have one last question for you.”

Mingfuluo stood, staring into her father’s eyes, though he no longer met her gaze.

“Mr. Layden, after Grandfather died, did you ever miss him? Even once.”

“…He was my father, Mingfuluo.”

The man tugged at the corner of his mouth, attempting a mocking smile, but his expression showed only sorrow and exhaustion.

“No matter how mad, how much of a bastard he was, he was my father. I’m not like you… you monster.”

Mingfuluo said nothing and turned to leave the reception room.

Anselm also stood, giving a slight bow to Layden and Haitana, preparing to leave.

But, unexpectedly, Layden Zege, the man who called his daughter a “monster,” stopped him.

“Do you know?”

The current head of the Zege family pulled a cigar from his pocket and put it to his lips. Anselm could see his hand trembling slightly.

“I really, really, really want to beat you senseless right now, preferably leave you half-crippled… make you, this self-righteous, ignorant fool, pay for your words.”

“I’m sorry for offending you,” Anselm said apologetically, “but I’m…”

“But you’re her friend.”

The man exhaled a cloud of smoke, shrouding his weary, sorrowful face, using tobacco to numb his shattered emotions.

“I always thought she could never have friends, but now she has you, someone who firmly stands by her side, speaking for her.”

“…”

Layden lowered his eyes slightly, the cigar trembling between his fingers: “You might be the only friend she’ll ever have.”

“Be good to her…” Haitana, who had glared at Anselm with resentment, covered her face, sobbing uncontrollably, “Be good to her… if you can, help her… please.”

Father, mother.

Anselm looked at the couple, the parents, his fingertips twitching slightly.

“If…”

He began, “If you truly had some… reasons, why not try being upfront about them?”

“She won’t believe us,” Layden waved a hand, saying softly, “My daughter was ruined by that mad father of mine. Her life shouldn’t have been like this. My life… shouldn’t have been like this either.”

Layden revealed little, and naturally couldn’t reveal much, but Anselm knew exactly what the son of the alchemical genius was talking about.

Anselm said no more, gave a slight bow, and left the reception room.

His friend was still waiting for him.

***

Inside the alchemical workshop, Mingfuluo gazed silently at the lifeless puppet.

She had to fulfill the price of having Anselm cover for her.

Though she didn’t know what tricks he’d play, surprisingly, Mingfuluo felt no tension.

After letting go of her wariness and hostility toward Anselm, this seemed quite normal.

Rumble—

The heavy door of the alchemical workshop slowly opened.

On this night, only one person could come here.

Seeing the young noble with a smile at the door, Mingfuluo, despite having made no mental preparations, felt oddly calm.

“Anselm.”

She suddenly spoke: “Thank you for today.”

“…Thank me?” Anselm tilted his head, “For what?”

“For always standing by my side, for… speaking up for me and Grandfather.”

As she spoke, Mingfuluo removed her glasses, setting them aside.

Her captivating purple eyes fixed on Anselm as she shed her coat and began unfastening her inner garments.

“As thanks, and as the price to be paid… I think I’m ready.”

“I’ve synchronized with this puppet. Whatever tricks you want to play, it’s up to you.”

The petite woman stood before a puppet much taller than her, both moving in unison.

Her snow-white skin contrasted with the pale silver of the machine.

Though her tone was flat, her usually cold and indifferent face bore a faint flush.

Anselm sat on the workshop’s sofa, resting his chin in his hand, smiling as he gazed at Mingfuluo for a long time before speaking: “Then… first, have the puppet lift your body.”

“…”

Though slightly embarrassed, Mingfuluo complied.

“No, no, not a princess carry. Do you remember how I carried Hitana to you last time?”

Mingfuluo’s expression froze.

“You…”

She took a deep breath, ultimately swallowing the words Anselm wouldn’t have listened to anyway.

The aloof scholar, her lower body clad in semi-sheer black stockings, was carried by her puppet, step by step, to Anselm.

“It seems…” Anselm’s hand casually brushed over Mingfuluo’s skin, “you really are ready.”

“…I’m not that collared bitch you tamed.”

Even as her body began to tremble, Mingfuluo maintained her cool composure: “I won’t… be… ngh… so uncontrollable!”

Anselm held her small, soft foot in his hand, delicate and almost too cute, yet wrapped in mature black stockings.

But strangely, Anselm didn’t push further this time.

He merely caressed Mingfuluo’s body, asking: “Are you sure you want to thank me?”

Mingfuluo, who had begun to breathe heavily, cooled her gaze: “What… are you trying to say?”

“Don’t look at me like that. I just think, if I hadn’t said anything… you might have, at some point in the future, had a chance to reconcile with your parents—I mean, Mr. Layden and Haitana.”

“…I don’t need that.”

“Are you sure?” Anselm raised an eyebrow slightly, “Or was it because of my meddling that you—”

His mouth was briefly covered by Mingfuluo’s tender little foot, just for a moment.

Having lightly stepped on Anselm, Mingfuluo said softly: “I said, I don’t need it.”

“No need to express it with such an offensive gesture, dear Arlo.”

Anselm lifted Mingfuluo from the puppet, setting her astride his lap, pulling her close.

“…Some people like this. I figured you might too.”

“Hm… close enough, but I’d rather feel it with something other than my mouth.”

Mingfuluo sighed: “I’ll try.”

The puppet moved as well, but Miss Mingfuluo clearly didn’t know what to do, so she had the puppet bend down to kiss Anselm’s lips.

But Anselm stopped it, and her as well.

“Arlo.”

Anselm steadied Mingfuluo’s waist, his tone slightly serious.

“Why do you think you don’t need to reconcile with your parents?”

The woman’s hands, pressing on Anselm’s shoulders, tightened instinctively.

She fell silent for a moment, then said expressionlessly: “Are you concerned about me? Concerned about someone you’re about to send into the abyss of reason?”

Anselm only smiled: “Maybe this is just another one of my tactics?”

“…If it were before, I’d have thought so, but now—”

Mingfuluo paused, then continued:

“I won’t reconcile with them because, first, it’s unnecessary, and second… it would be more troublesome.”

“Troublesome?”

“Do you know why Grandfather failed, Anselm?”

“Because of betrayal?”

“No, because he refused to make sacrifices. He was only willing to sacrifice himself.” The woman, straddling Anselm’s lap, spoke calmly, but no matter how composed her tone, it couldn’t hide her underlying sorrow.

“He wasn’t disheartened by the betrayal of Father, Mother, and his many students. He realized that continuing his research would bring irreversible disaster to those around him, so he chose to stop.”

At some point, Mingfuluo’s arms had wrapped around Anselm’s neck, as if seeking something to rely on, instinctively drawing closer to what gave her a sense of security.

“He wasn’t willing to sacrifice others, so he failed and died with nothing.”

“So, you can make sacrifices.”

“I can. You’ve seen it.”

She tilted her head slightly to meet Anselm’s gaze, her purple eyes icy.

“Sacrifice… everything.”

The young Hydra murmured softly, recognizing this resolve so familiar to him.

“Yes, sacrifice everything,” Mingfuluo replied without hesitation.

Then came a long silence.

Anselm gently caressed Mingfuluo’s waist and hips.

After a while, he couldn’t help but chuckle: “You really are… so compatible with me, Arlo. I’ve changed my mind… perhaps letting you reconcile with your parents, only to force you to make sacrifices afterward, would be an interesting choice?”

“…You’re truly disgusting.”

“Just a thought. Who’s to say if I’d actually do it? Or perhaps, deep down, you still—”

“Enough!”

Mingfuluo suddenly raised her voice, cutting Anselm off.

Her small, delicate hands cupped Anselm’s face, forcing him to look down at her—at that petite face, inherently cute yet exuding a sinful allure under her impassive expression and mature demeanor.

That face, unusually, showed a trace of… restless agitation.

“Do you have to…” She lowered her head, biting Anselm’s shoulder, “have to say these things now?”

Anselm Hydra.

Once her friend.

The devil intends on destroying her.

Yet he stood by her side, and now… cared about her and her parents, cared about… her life.

Was it false? It should be false. Mingfuluo knew that clearly.

But she needed it.

Even if that care was false, Mingfuluo Zege, branded a monster by her father, no longer restrained by reason, needed it.

Because no one else could touch her heart as Anselm did, say the words she wanted to say, know what she needed most.

The desire ignited by dual sensations, the instincts unleashed without the seal of reason, and… beneath it all, an indescribable heat.

And… the parents she had abandoned, who had also abandoned her.

All of this made Mingfuluo feel she should indulge just this once. Otherwise, these tangled thoughts would affect her work efficiency tomorrow.

“Don’t make me think about those things anymore, Anselm.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, whispering in his ear:

“Just this once.”

“Break me.”

Hydra gently cradled the back of her head, pulling the puppet closer as well: “A troublesome request, but I’ll grant it, dear Arlo.”

As he spoke, feeling the restlessness in his arms, he was fully aware of the shifts in Mingfuluo’s heart.

At this moment, he finally saw fate’s counterstroke.

The same trick he used on Hitana, planning to use again?

You truly are a thorough utilitarian, but—

Kissing her slender neck while feeling his own neck being kissed, Hydra’s actions were fiery, yet his eyes remained cold.

Mingfuluo, who placed her ideals above all, could never love me. And…

You’ve underestimated my cruelty.

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