In the luxurious drawing-room, Ansel toyed with a black feather, while Marlina sat opposite him, her head bowed as she recorded sothing.
"Margarate," Ansel propped his chin up with one hand, gazing at the earnest expression on Marlina's face, "What are your thoughts on Mr. Milo?"
The girl's pen paused. She lifted her head, a contemplative look crossing her features, and after a mont's reflection, she replied, "Judging by the docunts and materials in his office, Mr. Milo has never truly cared for the 'prosperity' of Dispute Fortress.
As long as he could bask in the adoration of thousands, akin to an emperor, whether it was Dispute Fortress or Peace Fortress, it made no difference to him."
"He treats the populace as tools. No… not tools, but assets, possessions... objects to delight himself."
Marlina's thoughts drifted to the day Ansel first unveiled the harsh truths of this world, allowing her mind and spirit to transform amidst despair.
She instinctively murmured, "Just like the empire to its emperor."
Ansel, hearing her whisper, chuckled, "So, do you feel any closer to the answer?"
"...The answer?"
Before the slightly dazed Marlina could comprehend what Ansel ant, there was a knock at the door.
The black feather dissipated between the young Hydra's fingers as he lazily reclined on the sofa. "Enter."
The drawing-room door was gently pushed open, and a voluptuous, alluring woman entered, bearing drinks and refreshnts with a sycophantic smile.
"Lord Faust, I apologize for the wait."
Yvaine, the Queen Bee and mistress of the Hive, now completely assud the deanor of a servant, lowered her eyes and humbly placed the drinks on the coffee table before Ansel.
"This is wine brewed from the blood of the Frost Dragon and the Scorching Dragon. I hope it pleases you."
While Marlina, a re mortal, sat on the sofa, Yvaine, a fourth-stage extraordinary being, stood obediently, like a plump, docile lamb.
She bent to pour the wine, but Ansel raised his hand to stop her—this single gesture made Yvaine's heart skip a beat.
Never mind whether this Faust is real or not, no matter who he truly is, he's undoubtedly a madman who inexplicably decided to kill Milo!
Ansel poured the wine himself and took a slight sip under Yvaine's tense gaze.
"Passable," he remarked, causing Yvaine to breathe a sigh of relief.
This wine was sothing she had treasured for a long ti, reserved for only the most distinguished individuals. If it weren't for Marlina's sudden ssage that "Mr. Faust needs Milo's head," she wouldn't have brought it out.
"Magarate said you wanted to see ," the dark-haired youth said nonchalantly, swirling his glass. "Speak, what is it?"
Yvaine's mind went blank. She had intended to probe Ansel's background, perhaps even establish so connection. However, when his status suddenly elevated to an unattainable height, she found herself at a loss for words.
In the unnerving silence, Lord Faust's brow gradually furrowed.
"I... I..."
Yvaine stamred, unable to articulate her thoughts. She didn't feel any oppressive aura of a strong presence from Ansel, not in the least. Yet, she realized that even without him exuding any deliberate pressure, the beast of fear within her heart grew rapidly, savagely tearing at her reason and dignity.
"Miss Yvaine has long admired you, Mr.Faust," Marlina's voice cut through Yvaine's panic like a divine lody. "She ans no harm."
"Yes... yes, Lord Faust!" Yvaine quickly regained her composure after Marlina's reminder. "It is presumptuous of . I rely wished to know more about such a legend as yourself and hoped for an opportunity to serve you well."
Despite her experience, the seasoned and alluring woman seed almost incoherent, not even noticing the ambiguity in her words.
Ansel took another sip of his wine, giving no direct response to Yvaine's humility and flattery. He simply stated calmly, "Regarding Milo, you've done a small favor."
A black dragon scale appeared between his fingers, which he casually tossed onto the table.
"Your reward, take it."
Yvaine was montarily stunned, then instinctively began to protest, "How can I—"
She intended to refuse imdiately but caught the gaze of the mortal girl opposite Ansel.
Resisting the urge to glance at Miss Margarete, Yvaine obediently picked up the scale and placed it in her pocket, striving to show a sincere smile, one she had long forgotten, devoid of seduction.
"Thank you for your grace, Lord Faust."
Marlina, observing Yvaine's deanor, found her unanswered questions replaced by new ones.
Why do adventurers… humble themselves to such an extent before Mr. Ansel?
Whether it was Yvaine now, Milo before his death, or even the vice-chairman of the Executioners' Guild, their attitudes towards Ansel transcended re respect—they were profoundly submissive.
In the Imperial Capital, Marlina had interacted with many nobles, ranging from the Duke's representatives to renowned marquises and insignificant barons. Regardless of their status, power, or influence, they maintained a high degree of humility and respect towards Ansel. Yet, this humility did not reach the… inexplicable depths of subjugation she witnessed now.
She longed to ask Ansel about this, to record her thoughts and questions, but restrained herself due to the presence of others.
Ansel leisurely drank about half a bottle of wine before standing up and glancing at Marlina.
"It's ti to go, Margarate."
"Yes, Mr. Faust."
Marlina imdiately grasped her shoulder straps and hurried to Ansel's side, brushing past Yvaine.
Yvaine quickly reacted, moving to Ansel's side. "Allow to escort you, Lord Faust."
Ansel made no objection, letting Yvaine lead him out of the drawing-room. In this mont, the "guest" seed more like a master with two attendants.
Following behind Ansel, Marlina continued to ponder.
Answer… What did Mr.Ansel an by "the answer"? He agreed to et with Yvaine without any apparent purpose—was he deepening my control and influence over her as compensation for my isolation?
And regarding Milo, surely Ansel had a replacent in mind, and Shadewell wouldn't let act independently. How should I respond next—
Marlina's steps suddenly faltered.
Though there was no significant commotion, Ansel turned his head, slightly puzzled. "What's wrong, Margarate?"
"...I apologize, I was distracted, Mr. Faust."
Marlina responded apologetically, catching up to Ansel while placing a hand over her heart.
What are you doing, Marlina?
Your duty is to give everything for Mr. Ansel, to handle matters that shouldn't trouble him. When did it beco about doing what benefits you?
Realizing that all her thoughts were self-serving, Marlina's lips turned pale.
Striving for status, gaining leverage, securing what she desired amidst the conflict between Shadewell and the Garden—all of these were important. But how could she forget her most fundantal and primary duty?
Ansel's goal was to find Evora in the vast Western lands, and her role, her task, was to assist Ansel in accomplishing this. Personal desires must never supersede this duty.
You've confused your priorities, Marlina… don't make this mistake again.
Marlina exhaled softly, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. She realized she had never truly considered the purpose behind Ansel's actions. Without understanding this, how could she effectively support Ansel and keep pace with him?
Faust… Faust…
Enjoy new chapters from empire
Mr. Ansel has never restricted the spread of his reputation. Whether I use the na Faust to subdue the Queen Bee or accept the commission to take Milo's head, Mr. Ansel had shown no intent to keep it hidden.
He is allowing the na of Faust to spread… in Western lands filled with many Fausts.
So, what was Mr.Ansel's reason for doing this?
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