Volume 2

Chapter 54 : A Mother’s Request

In the teleportation room of Hydra Mansion, Hitana hugged Anselm, picked up her suitcase and said cheerfully: “Anselm, Lina and I are heading out!”

Anselm smiled and nodded: “Have fun… Marina, don’t worry about Chishuang Territory when you’re back. Just relax with Hitana.”

The serene, snow-haired girl lowered her head slightly and replied softly: “Yes, Mr. Anselm.”

Initially, Hitana had wanted to bring her parents to the Imperial Capital, but Marina had stopped her.

The thoughtful Marina explained patiently that their parents wouldn’t be happy in the Imperial Capital or at Hydra Mansion; they’d only feel uneasy and intimidated.

Not bringing them was the best choice.

Hitana didn’t fully understand but trusted her sister implicitly.

So, under Anselm’s perfect arrangements, she had this afternoon to spend with her family and friends.

Carrying a suitcase full of gifts, the girl stepped toward the teleportation array.

Halfway there, she suddenly turned back, dashed to Anselm, kissed his cheek, then blushed and joined Marina in the array to return to their village.

Anselm touched his cheek, chuckling softly, and walked out of the teleportation room.

Outside, Mingfuluo stood silently like a statue.

“Well… now it’s just you and me, Arlo.”

The young Hydra leaned against the doorframe, looking down at the delicate, beautiful doll with a half-smile: “You’ve never shown such an expression before, so burdened with worries. Want to talk about it?”

His generous, kind words made it seem as though they were still close friends, trusted companions.

Anselm noticed Mingfuluo’s shoulders tremble faintly, and a surge of satisfaction welled within him.

Mingfuluo was a near-flawless monster.

An abnormal childhood and terrifying talent had forged the current Mingfuluo Zege.

She could remain rational and make decisions at any moment, even keeping up with Anselm’s thought process despite vast information gaps.

In short, aside from outright coercion, there was almost no way to make her yield.

Though it sounded simple, outright coercion was the last thing Anselm would do.

Eroding a personality, capturing a mind, was a delicate, intricate, complex art.

Crude coercion was not only ineffective but utterly inelegant.

Of course, after lengthy preparations, these tightly linked steps of taming had proven highly effective, but Anselm didn’t believe victory was at hand.

The same logic applied—if Mingfuluo were like Hitana, driven almost entirely by emotion, viewing Anselm as her everything, he would have succeeded three years ago.

Continuing like this, she’d be consumed by guilt, grow anxious and become even more docile. But she would never place her ideals beneath Anselm.

Making Mingfuluo submit purely through emotion was impossible.

Recognizing this fully, Anselm had decisively chosen to abandon her three years ago, spending that time preparing more thoroughly, crafting a more perfect plan to utterly break her.

He even felt fortunate that, three years ago, out of affection for Mingfuluo, he hadn’t revealed the truth of Erlin’s death. Otherwise, he’d have lost a powerful trump card.

In a few days, Ivora would approach Mingfuluo and his dear Miss Doll’s choice would be obvious, smoothly advancing the next phase of his plan.

“What, don’t want to talk?”

Seeing Mingfuluo’s continued silence, Anselm chuckled: “Fine, let’s communicate in a way you prefer. Follow me.”

He pushed open the teleportation room’s door and stepped into the array.

Mingfuluo, head lowered and silent, followed closely. With a flash of light, they appeared in a dim hall.

“Welcome to the Notun, dear Arlo.”

Anselm glanced at Mingfuluo, whose expression shifted slightly, and said with a raised corner of his mouth: “Since you don’t want to talk, let’s communicate in your favorite way… My father’s alchemical workshop is far beyond your crude studio.”

“…Anselm.”

Mingfuluo finally spoke, her mature voice mismatched with her appearance, slightly hoarse: “What… Do you want me to do?”

“Hm?” Anselm raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean, what do I want you to do? Have I ever given you orders or implied coercion, Arlo?”

His tone wasn’t aggressive, carrying a hint of teasing, but this nonchalance made Mingfuluo even less able to bear it.

“Oh…”

Seeing her increasingly rigid expression, Anselm’s smile deepened. He leaned forward, whispering in her ear: “Are you trying to provoke me, Arlo?”

Mingfuluo immediately replied: “I didn’t—”

“No, you are trying to provoke me. You want clear negative feedback from me to confirm I still care.”

The young Hydra gently caressed Miss Doll’s smooth, fair cheek, chuckling: “This isn’t like you at all, Arlo.

“How did you become so fragile? Like a cat abandoned on the roadside, pitifully trying to confirm your situation this way.”

Mingfuluo’s mind was chaotic and pained.

When Hitana’s words shattered her last crumbling defenses, the rationality she’d been suppressing didn’t prevail. Instead, her instincts took over.

Just now… why had she said that?

Was she really trying to provoke Anselm, to confirm he’d still be angry, still hold resentment toward her?

How could something so absurd happen?

As Anselm said, Mingfuluo didn’t believe she could be this weak.

Her reaction pleased Anselm greatly.

Though he didn’t care much about her current level of submission—since fate had accelerated her taming far beyond his expectations—her confusion and fear still brought him genuine delight.

Even if Anselm didn’t harbor much resentment toward Mingfuluo, looking back, he believed his past failure wasn’t solely due to her detachment but also his own arrogance.

He had arrogantly believed that emotions alone could subdue a woman who’d devoted her entire life to her ideals, that he could break her chains and replace them with himself.

He thought he’d succeeded, but it was merely wishful thinking.

After savoring Mingfuluo’s expression, Anselm straightened up, saying leisurely: “Don’t worry, I won’t get angry. I stopped caring long ago.”

He spoke his true thoughts: “Three years ago, I was too arrogant, too one-sided. Thinking back, Arlo, you stuck to your ideals. The fault wasn’t yours, was it?”

From a purely objective perspective, without any bias, if two people united for a shared goal and one betrayed the other, leading to a rift, the blame shouldn’t fall on the one who stayed true.

Of course, this was only from an “unbiased” perspective.

The rift between them existed, but what if Mingfuluo wasn’t the only one hurt by it?

What if the other’s wounds were deeper, more painful, and irreparable?

And when that person now said, “The fault wasn’t yours,” the overwhelming guilt felt like a roaring tide, a collapsing sky, an inescapable pressure that made it impossible to lift one’s head or meet their gaze.

That seeming forgetfulness, that indifference, was another sharp, icy blade, ceaselessly cutting into Mingfuluo’s soul.

Mingfuluo had thought she could face Anselm with enough rationality and courage.

But now she realized, if she truly had that rationality and courage, how could she… have hesitated so long, haunted by Marina’s words as if they were a nightmare?

—From the start, she had believed Marina’s words but couldn’t face her own mistakes, nor the fact that Anselm had chosen to abandon her because of them.

“Ans… elm. Three years ago, we—”

“Argh, Anselm!”

As Mingfuluo spoke, a delighted voice suddenly rang from the end of the hall.

A beautiful woman in an ornate gown waved energetically at Anselm: “Why’d you come to the Notun? Where’s little Hitana? Not playing with her?”

“…” Anselm’s expression darkened imperceptibly. After a moment’s silence, he replied calmly:

“Hitana went back to her village to visit her parents. I’m not suited to go, but she’ll return tonight.”

“Oh… I see.”

Elnilisa clasped her hands behind her back, skipping lightly to Anselm’s side.

She glanced at him, then at the silent Miss Doll behind him, tilting her head slightly: “So, what’s Anselm doing bringing little Zege here?”

“To borrow one of Father’s alchemical workshops.”

“Hmm…”

The mature, refined Lady Hydra seemed thoughtful, studying them for a moment before breaking into a radiant smile:

“Anselm, are you in a hurry?”

“…What?”

“I mean, are you in a rush to use Mel’s workshop?”

Anselm paused, then shook his head: “No, not really.”

“Then come with me!”

Elnilisa happily grabbed Anselm’s hand, as if to lead him somewhere.

She tugged, but Anselm remained rooted in place.

“Where do you want to go, Mother?” he asked.

“A nice place. Little Hitana’s finally given you some free time. Can’t you spend it with me?”

Elnilisa said confidently: “Mel’s planning to take me to the Lost Sea tonight to unwind. We’re deliberately leaving the evening free for you, so can’t you spend some time with me now?”

“Father’s happy to do that.”

“He’s had plenty of time with me,” the willful Lady Hydra pouted.

“Not like you, always busy with something or clinging to little Hitana, running around every day…”

Hearing his mother’s nagging, Anselm sighed and relented: “Alright, Mother, let’s go.”

“Hehe, that’s my good Anselm!” Elnilisa’s eyes curved with delight as she patted his head. “Come with me, you haven’t been there in ages—oh, right, little Zege, you come too.”

Mingfuluo looked at Elnilisa in confusion: “…Me?”

“Of course, you’re Anselm’s guest. How could we leave you out?”

The woman turned, giving Mingfuluo a warm, radiant smile:

“Anselm doesn’t bring outsiders to the Notun, you know.”

“Mother,” Anselm called softly, his tone firm.

“Ahem, nothing, nothing. Anyway… come with me.”

Humming a tune, Elnilisa held Anselm’s hand and strode lightly toward one of the hall’s many passages.

Mingfuluo stared blankly at Anselm and Elnilisa’s retreating figures.

Only when they were some distance away did she snap out of it and hurry to catch up.

Anselm doesn’t bring outsiders to the Notun… does he?

After weaving through the Notun’s labyrinthine halls, Elnilisa soon led them to a very ordinary door. Beaming, she turned to Anselm: “Anselm, you open it—”

“I’m not going, Mother.”

Without warning, Anselm uttered those words.

He withdrew his hand from Elnilisa’s, his handsome face seeming to deliberately maintain a certain… calm.

—If Anselm were masking any emotion, it would never feel deliberate, Mingfuluo knew well.

Thus, as she gazed at him, she felt a flicker of daze.

If even Anselm’s pretense appeared forced, it meant… he was struggling to control his emotions.

What in this world could make Anselm lose control?

What lay behind that door?

Given Lady Hydra’s demeanor, it shouldn’t be anything harmful to Anselm, so why—

“Why don’t you want to go again?”

Elnilisa said unhappily: “Didn’t you agree to spend some time with me? Are you that reluctant—”

“I’m a bit tired, Mother.”

The young Hydra lowered his eyes slightly, interrupting Elnilisa: “I’m sorry for breaking my promise. Please allow me to rest for a while.”

Elnilisa didn’t respond.

She could have continued with her usual playful cajoling or odd remarks to sway Anselm, but she didn’t.

A mother stood there, silently watching her son for a long time before saying gently: “Alright, Anselm, go rest well… But, could I borrow little Zege for a bit?”

“…Do as you wish.”

Anselm bowed his head slightly and turned to leave without hesitation.

Mingfuluo watched his retreating figure, momentarily at a loss.

“He’s still the same… What’s going on with him?”

Elnilisa propped her cheek, sighing softly: “What’s troubling Anselm? I don’t have a clue. Little Zege, tell me… am I a failure as a mother?”

“Lady, I’m sorry, I…”

“Oh, no, no, sorry, asking you such a question would put you in a tough spot. Forget it.”

The woman smiled gently: “Come with me first. You must be curious why I kept you here. Seeing you brought back a lot of memories… and I have some things to say to you.”

She turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

Mingfuluo, tense, followed closely.

The moment she crossed the threshold, a blinding light made her squint instinctively.

As Mingfuluo adjusted to the light and slowly opened her eyes, she was stunned by the sight before her.

Even when Ivora had teleported her to that vibrant jungle, Mingfuluo hadn’t been shocked, but this scene struck her with an unparalleled impact—a pure, beautiful shock.

Before her stretched an endless sea of flowers.

A true ocean of blossoms.

Flowers of different shapes and colors stretched to the horizon, seemingly without end.

The sun hanging in the sky, though initially dazzling, felt perfectly clear and fitting once her eyes adjusted, illuminating each flower’s vibrant hues.

Not far away stood a wooden cabin with a long swing chair beside it.

They stood there without seeming out of place, blending perfectly with the surroundings.

This… was what Anselm resisted.

“When Mel was young, he always did things he thought were romantic.”

Elnilisa strolled through the heart of the flower sea, her ornate, flowing skirt like the most vivid and beautiful bloom.

“Sometimes I wonder, doesn’t he feel embarrassed doing this?”

Crouching down, the woman inhaled the fresh fragrance, propping her cheeks and chuckling: “And sometimes I wondered, how does he manage to charm me so well?”

“Before I knew it, my heart was tied to him, unable to go anywhere else.”

Lady Hydra sighed, her face lit with a sweet smile.

She caressed the delicate petals, speaking softly: “Anselm inherited many of Mel’s strengths—intelligence, confidence, courage, decisiveness… but also more of his flaws. Especially when it comes to toying with girls’ hearts, he’s surpassed his father.”

“Little Zege,” Elnilisa tilted her head toward Mingfuluo, “has Anselm tied your heart?”

“I…”

“You haven’t.”

She answered for Mingfuluo.

As Miss Doll fell silent, Elnilisa sat cross-legged in the flower field.

Her fingertips glowed faintly, and the flowers, upon touching that light, seemed to “come alive,” swaying joyfully around her fingers as if with their own sentience.

“I can see there’s something more important in your eyes.”

“…”

“Oh, don’t be afraid. To me, that’s a good thing.”

Lady Hydra smiled: “Anselm needs someone like you by his side. Girls who only adore him are too useless—little Hitana’s an exception, of course.”

“Lady…” Mingfuluo, striving to stay calm and assess the situation, said softly, “What… Do you want to tell me? Is it about Anselm?”

“You’re much smarter than little Hitana,” Elnilisa raised an eyebrow.

“A bit like little Marina… no, wait, you’re fundamentally different from her.”

She beckoned Mingfuluo: “Come, sit.”

Mingfuluo obediently sat beside Elnilisa.

The woman studied her for a moment, then, with a slightly peculiar expression, pinched Miss Doll’s cheek.

“Though I know Anselm’s tastes are broad, I still can’t quite picture… him making a move on you.”

After the teasing, Elnilisa grew a bit more serious, asking softly:

“Little Zege, what kind of person do you think Anselm is?”

“What kind of… person?”

“Don’t think too long. Your first impression.”

“He’s… a genius.”

“Hm, and then?”

“A genius, venomous, skilled at manipulating hearts, with a strong desire for control, but…”

Mingfuluo lowered her head.

After a second or two of silence, her voice hoarse and strained, she continued:

“But he’s the only one who could see the same vision as me.”

“A companion, then…”

Elnilisa’s eyes flickered slightly: “Is that just your belief, or did Anselm… acknowledge it too?”

“…I don’t know, Lady.”

“Hm?”

“Anselm denied it all,” Mingfuluo’s voice trembled faintly.

“He told me it was all fake, a pretense to tame me, but… but I also learned he might have—”

“He might have been forced to give up… something most important to him, right?”

Elnilisa gazed into Mingfuluo’s eyes, her vibrant purple pupils filled with turmoil and struggle.

“Little Marina… such a devoted girl, thinking only of Anselm. She’s no less than little Hitana,” she remarked with a sigh. “She told you about it, didn’t she?”

“…Yes, Lady.”

A heavy silence followed.

After an unknown time, Elnilisa spoke again: “Little Zege, did you know? I actually don’t want Anselm to take you as a Contract Head, even though you have the qualifications, the ability, and… the conviction he acknowledges.”

“But you… betrayed him.”

Those light words struck Mingfuluo’s heart like a hammer.

“Of course, I know that’s not fair. From your perspective, it was Anselm who betrayed you.”

The woman, stroking the petals, said softly:

“But as a mother, how can I be impartial?”

“Do you know what I saw, little Zege? I only saw my son hurt, an irreparable wound that sent him plummeting deeper into hell.”

“Six years ago, when Anselm was ten, something changed in him… I can’t explain it. That child’s too clever, always hiding his emotions so well. I only know he became withdrawn, less willing to trust others.”

“Until three years ago, when he tried to tame you as a Contract Head. In that process, that scheming boy must have used deception, done many things to mislead you. I won’t deny that.”

Elnilisa plucked a flower, her tone growing distant.

“But in that process… Anselm changed too. That year, I didn’t spend much time with him, but I could feel he had a clear vision, something to pursue, even if he seemed under some heavy pressure.”

“Then one day.”

Her tone suddenly turned cold, a bone-chilling frost that didn’t seem possible from this ever-gentle, smiling woman.

“One day, he told me he was leaving the Imperial Capital.”

Elnilisa looked at Mingfuluo, the emotion in her eyes overwhelming.

“Anselm didn’t say anything unnecessary.” The flower in her hand visibly wilted, dead.

Her voice was faint: “But I felt it—he gave up. He was disheartened.”

“He was so sad.”

“At that moment, I truly considered whether to kill you, little Zege.”

“You hurt my son. I don’t care about right or wrong; I just wanted to vent my anger.”

The gentle flower field seemed to transform into a battlefield of swords, the spreading menace and killing intent making Mingfuluo’s body rigid.

“But I didn’t have that right. It was Anselm’s choice, and I wouldn’t interfere, no matter how much—how very, very much—I hated you.”

“I hated that you called yourself his companion but didn’t help when he needed it most. I wondered, if you had stood by him then, would things be different? Would he, today… Will you be willing to sit here with me?”

“…But once I stepped back from my anger,” Elnilisa sighed, “I knew blaming you wasn’t fair. You were a victim too. It’s just that, in my eyes, Anselm’s pain was greater.”

The murderous aura dissipated as if it had never been. The flower field remained a dreamlike paradise.

“Little Zege, do you think I’m alone with you now to criticize you or vent my resentment?”

“I… You don’t seem like that kind of person.”

Clenching her fists tightly, her body trembling faintly, Mingfuluo said hoarsely: “But if you did feel that way, I… I’d be glad.”

Elnilisa smiled with relief: “It seems your heart’s been tormented too. That’s good—it means Anselm didn’t entirely misplace his feelings. Don’t worry, little Zege, I’m not here to criticize you.”

“On the contrary, I’m here… to ask for your help.”

Mingfuluo looked at Elnilisa in confusion: “My… help?”

“Seeing you, I knew Anselm used little Hitana’s birthday to tame you, didn’t he?”

Mingfuluo seemed to grasp what Elnilisa was getting at. She lowered her head, replying softly: “I was just incidental.”

“Incidental? No such thing, little Zege.”

Elnilisa shook her head: “Anselm truly, truly loves little Hitana. For her birthday, such an important day, he made meticulous arrangements, ensuring everything was perfect, allowing no flaws.”

“But even on such a pure day, he used it as a means to tame you, tainting its purity. How could that be incidental?”

“You’re saying Anselm cares—”

Mid-sentence, Mingfuluo stopped.

Even loving Hitana so much, Anselm used her birthday to tame her, even if only incidentally.

Did this mean Anselm cared about her, valued her? No… no, it meant—it meant he—

“It’s proof he can use even that emotion,” Mingfuluo murmured.

“Unconscious use,” Elnilisa corrected. “To Anselm, it’s not useful, just incidental, as you said. But in reality… it’s useful.”

“He’s reached the point where he can sacrifice his emotions as part of his plans, instinctively seeing it as natural.”

Mingfuluo’s body trembled uncontrollably.

Another irrefutable, undeniable piece of evidence lay before her.

Anselm Hydra, a future divine species—what could force him to make sacrifices?

What could make him do so?

It should be impossible.

But it was true.

Even more, this use, this sacrifice, had become habitual to Anselm, his… instinct.

So ingrained that he didn’t even realize what he was sacrificing, taking it for granted.

To form such an instinct, how many choices, how many sacrifices had Anselm made?

Had it started long before, even before he met her?

“Guh… ugh!”

Mingfuluo’s stomach spasmed violently.

If this was true, if this was true… then, as Elnilisa said, how much pain had Anselm endured when he chose to break with her?

“Little Zege.”

Elnilisa steadied Mingfuluo’s shoulders, her voice soft as she spoke: “I’m telling you this not to make you feel guilty about Anselm, nor to urge you to renew your loyalty to him, because you wouldn’t be loyal to him just out of guilt. Your loyalty, I imagine, isn’t so cheap.”

“I just want you to know that Anselm… he’s always had a hard time. He needs someone to help him.”

“Mel and I both want to do this ourselves, but he refuses to tell us anything. We can only watch, powerless.”

“If you truly are his companion, someone who can understand him… even if you won’t be loyal to him, even if there are things more important to you than him.”

Elnilisa gazed into Mingfuluo’s eyes, speaking deliberately, word by word: “I hope you can help him, so he doesn’t continue like this.”

“This is my… plea to you, as a mother.”

She turned her head, looking at the endless sea of flowers, her mind conjuring the image of that tender face with a bright smile, murmuring sadly:

“How I wish to see him smile at me with true sincerity again.”

“Even just once would be enough.”