Volu 2
Chapter 21: The Devil’s Companion (5)
Mingfuluo, head bowed, mixing a nutrient potion, heard a surprised voice:
“You’re planning to live on that stuff for another month?”
“Ti is precious.”
Mingfuluo answered without looking up: “Waste is shaful.”
Anselm, sitting on the workbench, sighed: “That’s why you’re so…”
“…” The woman turned, glaring at Anselm with sharp, icy eyes.
“Alright, alright, just a joke. But this isn’t healthy, Aluo.”
“I’d rather think your latter remark is a joke.”
Mingfuluo gently shook the glass vessel, expressionless: “It’s more nutritious than anything you’ve ever eaten.”
“I an…” Anselm tapped his temple, “this aspect.”
“It may seem like just food, but ultimately, it’s about humanity’s pursuit of ‘enjoynt,’ our nature.”
“You’re not so wretch struggling to survive. Skipping als occasionally for ti is fine, but this ‘I don’t need it’ attitude is wrong.”
He looked at the green, viscous liquid in her hand, advising earnestly: “You’re stripping away your humanity for your work and ideals.”
“Not eating is stripping humanity?” Mingfuluo’s lips twitched. “Your knack for fearmongering grows daily, Anselm.”
“It’s a sign, foretelling you’ll willingly shed more… Never mind, when that ti cos, I’ll kindly save you once.”
Anselm chuckled, patting her shoulder: “You’d better think of how to thank then.”
Mingfuluo didn’t shake off his hand, rely adding a final drop of unknown liquid to the vessel, shaking it again, her tone cold: “Keep dreaming.”
The young Hydra raised an eyebrow.
Though used to her attitude, familiarity didn’t equal tolerance.
He bent down, snatching the potion from her hand. Under her increasingly icy gaze, he said leisurely:
“Alright then, I was going to… tell you about a grand, unparalleled idea.”
“…You never use such pompous adjectives for your concepts.”
Mingfuluo’s tone shifted slightly: “Another bad joke, or—”
“Of course, it’s true.”
Anselm tilted his head, a playful glint in his sea-blue eyes: “‘Now,’ only I could conceive sothing this grand.”
His words made Mingfuluo pause.
She’d seen many of Anselm’s shocking ideas, even realized so, but he almost never—no, never—called anything “unparalleled.” “Remarkable” was already high praise, even for sothing as fantastical as chanized armor.
Mingfuluo’s heartbeat quickened.
Only in these monts did she rarely feel an emotion called “excitent.”
Though this annoying—well, not entirely annoying—blond brat turned his ideas into sweet fruit, blatantly setting a crude trap around it, waiting for her to step into the noose and be toyed with.
So what? If she could taste that fruit, let him toy with her.
Besides…
He didn’t seem to be doing it just to toy with her.
“…So, what do you want to do this ti to tell about it?” Mingfuluo looked at him expressionlessly. “Another way to waste my ti?”
“No, no, Aluo, you must understand—this is for a very, very, very grand concept, pivotal to the future you anticipate, the new era I wish to see. It’s one of the cores, no less.”
Anselm exaggerated its importance further, making Mingfuluo wonder if he was deceiving her.
“So, it won’t be that easy this ti.”
The young Hydra hopped off the workbench, grinning at the wavering Mingfuluo: “No more cases where you do sothing simple, and I tell you.”
“…How can I be sure you’re not lying?”
“When have I ever lied about this?” Anselm countered.
“I might deceive you in any other way, Aluo, but this—”
“Only the vision I wish to see…”
His sea-blue eyes glead, making Mingfuluo’s breath catch.
“…is the sa as yours,” Anselm Hydra said.
…Yes, in this alone, Anselm wouldn’t lie to .
After a brief silence, Mingfuluo nodded: “Fine, what must I do for you to tell ?”
“Well…”
Anselm rubbed his chin, froze the nutrient potion into a block of ice, and smashed it on the floor.
“First,” he said with a bright smile, “start with eating properly every day.”
***
The bedroom door was slowly pushed open.
Blue-gray high ponytail, gray-white glasses, a pure white lab coat, a hip-hugging skirt faintly revealing flesh, iron-gray stockings wrapping long, shapely legs, and pure black high heels.
With such an intellectual, mature appearance, visiting at this hour, it could only be our Mingfuluo Zege.
Her expression remained icy, but compared to before, this iciness held… a hint of lifelessness?
A kind of resignation, not helpless despair, but a deliberate acceptance of despair after a difficult choice.
“I thought you’d co in person… to show sincerity.”
Anselm, sitting on the sofa, raised an eyebrow.
“…I can’t go back yet.”
Mingfuluo’s voice was still emotionless, but now, like her icy expression, it carried a touch of hollowness.
She shifted her gaze to Anselm’s face, continuing in that eerie tone: “If you want—”
“Stop.”
Anselm cut her off: “My intuition tells you’re about to say sothing rude and self-degrading. That’s enough.”
He nodded toward the sofa opposite: “Sit first.”
The refined, beautiful mature puppet sat silently across from Anselm, her lusterless purple eyes slightly lowered, avoiding his gaze.
“First, I need to confirm sothing—”
Anselm leisurely poured himself a glass of wine: “Aluo, do you understand your situation?”
“…The war failed, I’m ostracized, isolated.”
Mingfuluo spoke softly, expressionless: “And Babel Tower is yours, leaving without a foothold.”
“I’m at your rcy.”
When she said “at your rcy,” her tone barely wavered, describing her plight as if an observer—terrifyingly so.
This wasn’t rationality anymore… but another kind of madness.
“You’ve figured it out quickly.” Anselm propped his chin, watching her. “How do you feel?”
“Utterly awful.”
“But you don’t look at it… well, maybe a little.”
The ga’s greatest victor smiled maliciously at its sole loser: “But if I said this is your own doing, would you accept it?”
Yes, Anselm planned, pushed, guided, and controlled everything.
But what truly let this “ga” unfold exactly as Anselm intended?
Mingfuluo Zege’s near-mad rationality.
She’d never let Babel Tower, the vessel of her ideals, collapse.
She’d push the war forward with confidence.
She’d do… exactly what Anselm could predict.
—Because when given a choice, she’d always pick the one that favored her ideals.
Anselm had learned this long ago.
So, simply “scheming” against Mingfuluo wasn’t that hard.
Though she could see through his plots most of the ti, apply enough pressure, place sothing tied to her ideals on the other side of the scale, and even if she saw the trap, she’d step in without hesitation.
Just like three years ago, when Anselm tempted her with new concepts, she always yielded.
As for minor sches she saw through, they didn’t matter—Anselm didn’t care.
But even if Mingfuluo was, in so ways, easier to trap than Hitana, that didn’t an she was easier to ta.
“What’s unacceptable?” Mingfuluo said coldly.
“Failure demands consequences. That’s natural.”
—As clear as her response.
Mingfuluo Zege wasn’t soone whose spirit could be easily broken.
Dear Miss Hitana, only sixteen this year, had a thin life before eting Anselm, her personality highly emotional.
Good and evil, love and hate, could easily sway, disrupt, even break or twist her mind.
But Mingfuluo was different—a rational, mad, resolute, obsessive idealist.
An idealist won’t die or be broken until their ideals are destroyed.
Even with her lifeless expression and hollow tone, seemingly in despair, Mingfuluo wasn’t truly crushed by the war’s dire consequences.
Her current despondent state stemd from Anselm seizing Babel Tower, her lifeline, creating an almost insurmountable obstacle to her ideals.
As for isolation?
Rejection?
Loss of footing?
Those emotional blows, unbearable to soone like Hitana, didn’t faze her at all.
The only thing that made her so cold was the sharply increased difficulty of realizing her ideals—nothing more.
“Bearing the consequences…”
Anselm chuckled, his tone laden with aning: “Are you truly ready for that?”
“…What do you want to do?” Mingfuluo’s voice was hoarse.
“Such nostalgic dialogue.”
The young Hydra sighed, beckoning Mingfuluo and patting his lap, the gesture speaking volus.
The cold, glamorous beauty stood, straddled Anselm’s lap, and remained silent.
“Aluo, do you know?”
The triumphant scher toyed with the pitiful loser, reenacting what the Grand Princess had done to him.
Glistening wine trickled down her pale neck, pooling in a shallow dip.
Anselm looked up, eting her dim purple eyes, and said with deep sentint:
“I truly miss you three years ago, because I genuinely considered you a friend.”
“…Lies.”
“No, it’s not a lie.” Hydra said, lowering his head to sip the wine.
The cool, wet liquid mingled with the warmth of his tongue, brushing the puppet’s false skin, yet making Mingfuluo’s soul tremble.
“Even now, I see you as a friend.”
Anger sparked life in Mingfuluo’s eyes, her lips twitching slightly: “This is how you treat friends?”
“It’s because you stopped treating as one, Aluo.”
Anselm lifted the soft, full “wine glass,” chuckling: “Do I seem like soone who’d be kind to another no matter how poorly they treat ?”
“You see my actions as betrayal, but in my eyes…”
Even with reduced sensitivity, the puppet’s sensations made Mingfuluo instinctively clench her legs around Anselm’s.
Hydra’s voice turned cold, his grip tightening, eliciting a pained moan from Mingfuluo.
“Haven’t you betrayed too?”
His actions and words seed to enrage her.
She knew silence was the best choice—acting like a lifeless puppet, letting Anselm do or say as he pleased—but even though she could suppress her emotions to spark a war… At this mont, Mingfuluo couldn’t contain her anger.
Just like at the Ether Academy, when she failed to control her emotions, leading to her soul being trapped in this puppet.
Because this man once made her believe her ideals weren’t unattainable, that she’d found… a true friend, a destined companion.
“…What.”
Mingfuluo sneered, “Are you saying you invested emotions too? Have you forgotten what you told that night? Need to remind—”
Before she finished, Anselm pinned her to the sofa.
“Aluo,” Anselm said with a friendly smile, “you seem to misunderstand our relationship. Couldn’t control your emotions this ti? That’s not like you.”
“A bit…”
He whispered, his smile fading.
Shrrk—
The puppet’s lifelike skin was easily sliced open, revealing the silver-tal core.
Amid Mingfuluo’s pained cries, the devil cutting her puppet skin declared his reason for this brutal act, expressionless:
“…disappointing.”
After rely slicing the false skin, Anselm didn’t press further, but his fingers, capable of shattering the puppet, lingered on the tallic surface.
His touch was fiery and gentle, yet his voice remained chillingly cold.
“Three years ago, you taught sothing.”
“No amount of emotion can change you. Despite all my efforts to make you see as the most important person in your life… in the face of your ideals, you’d still betray .”
“Or rather, you never truly valued . My place in your heart was just my own wishful thinking.”
Straddling the puppet, Anselm slipped two fingers into the vocal organ—essential for humans but not for puppets, though Mingfuluo had perfected most human-like functions to reduce soul rejection.
Hydra pinched the simulated organ, ruthlessly asserting his dominance.
“You and I are the sa—selfish to the core, willing to pay any price to achieve our goals… demons.”
He sighed: “So I knew you’d never be tad by .”
“Because I understand myself better than anyone, and thus, I understand you.”
Under her increasingly icy purple gaze, the self-proclaid demon smiled, moving his fingers gently, his words dripping with insult despite their mild tone:
“You know what to do.”
The cold, statuesque scholar stiffened, and Anselm felt the heat at his fingertips.
“So, I changed my mind. If emotions are useless, then…”
He leaned down, whispering in Mingfuluo’s ear:
“Let there be no emotions between us.”
“Since you’ll always choose your ideals, always make the most rational choice… I’ll help you, dear Aluo.”
The venomous snake hissed, revealing its vile curse and sche to the wretched soul trapped in a cold shell:
“I’ll make you more rational, more correct, more decisive in your choices, abandoning friends, ntors, emotions, humanity—everything.”
“I’ll shape you into a perfect… monster living only for your ideals.”
“Look.” He lood over Mingfuluo.
“Even now, with your anger and hatred for shining through your eyes, you still choose… to obey .”
“Because it’s correct, rational. You know that any displeasure I feel will push your ideals further away.”
Anselm gazed at the cold, compliant woman beneath him, sighing softly: “You’re already showing traces of that monster, dear Aluo.”
Why did Ivora propose letting the weapon’s creator decide to surrender when Hendrik conceded?
Because Anselm, colluding with her, ntioned in a letter delivered via Marina a thod to show the Grand Princess’s rcy while ensuring Babel Tower’s participation.
Why did he give the chanized armor’s blueprints to Solen?
Because he knew fate would push Babel Tower’s collapse, ensuring the armor reached a powerful Supre Nine Seat in the Ether Academy, cornering Babel Tower.
In that desperate situation, Mingfuluo would choose to counter violence with greater violence, further letting rationality erode her humanity.
—Anselm forced Mingfuluo to make choices, actively helping her destroy her last traces of humanity.
In the original tiline, Mingfuluo wouldn’t have reached this point.
Before she could fall into this seemingly rational, truly mad abyss, Babel Tower would’ve collapsed, forcing her into exile.
In that upheaval, she’d realize the true value and aning of her ideals.
But now, that future will never co.
“As you grow more rational, you’ll realize one thing—”
Anselm briefly stepped away, returning with the snake-headed cane from the sofa’s side.
The young Hydra gently rubbed the cane, and the solemn snake head… sprouted two sharp fangs.
He aid the fangs at the torn artificial skin, chuckling:
“Even if our ultimate goals diverge, the one who can bring you closest to that height, provide resources, and clear obstacles… is alone.”
A pale pink droplet ford at the fang’s tip.
“So, tell , Aluo.”
Anselm leaned down, whispering in her ear: “Facing endless pressure from the Ether Academy and Ivora, unable to do what you want, struggling blindly forward, at risk of collapsing and losing everything…”
“Or, with my support, no danger, no limits, a clear path to the new era, with the only question being how to defeat at the end.”
“—Tell , as the idealist monster you’re becoming, which would you choose?”
Before Mingfuluo could answer, the droplet fell onto her exposed tal fra.
Instantly, her entire body trembled violently, her impassive face twitching, her purple eyes rolling back.
“Oh, forgot to ntion this little thing.”
Anselm flicked the sharp fang, smiling: “A potion that converts all sensations, including pain, into what you’re feeling now, amplified thousands of tis. I once threatened Hitana with it, but she couldn’t handle it—she’d break.”
“Even you can’t handle it now. This is diluted, maybe ten tis the effect.”
Anselm slipped his fingers into the torn skin, and the puppet trembled again.
“Hm… sorry, I forgot you’re sensitive to pain, so it’s even more intense. But you’d better endure it, because—”
Gleipnir transford into a blade, pressed against the puppet’s body, and then…
“!!!”
In that instant, the humanoid disguise below her neck was shredded by Gleipnir and Mingfuluo thudded from the sofa to the floor.
The faintly silver, curvaceous, soft-textured body exuded an indescribable, bewitching, eerie beauty.
So nobles, it’s said, were obsessed with alchemical puppets without artificial skin, retaining their raw magic tal sheen, commissioning them from top puppeteers at unimaginable cost.
Anselm crouched, propping his chin, gently pulling Mingfuluo’s eyelid: “Hm… good, you’re still conscious. As expected of an unkillable idealist—you wouldn’t lose to re sensation. You’re still my Aluo.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything excessive next.”
He chuckled, lifting Mingfuluo from the floor.
Each ti his hand grazed the soft tal, the puppet trembled.
Anselm carried the puppet, far heavier than a human body, cold but still soft and looked at Mingfuluo in his arms, chuckling softly before gently laying her on the sofa.
“There… that’s better.”
Then, Anselm truly did nothing more, walking out of the bedroom.
“Haa… haa…”
Mingfuluo, gradually recovering, gasped heavily.
Recalling the sensation still made her tremble.
She wanted to shut off the puppet’s senses, but her consciousness froze.
She realized… she’d beco what Anselm described.
In the mont she tried to disable her senses, her first thought was—would Anselm be displeased?
If he was, what would happen to Babel Tower and her future?
“…”
Her “rationality” made another choice.
But without shutting off her senses, Mingfuluo, lying on the sofa, still felt the puppet’s shocks to her soul.
Even a breeze from the open balcony made her quiver.
“Hydra… Hydra…”
Mingfuluo twitched slightly, murmuring the na in a weak, chaotic haze.
Anselm had openly declared his plan to mold her into a perfect monster, devoid of humanity, living only for her ideals.
His thod… seed vulgar and absurd, yet devastatingly effective.
—Placing Mingfuluo herself on the scale against her ideals.
If she’d sacrifice her dignity, her body, everything but her ideals… what wouldn’t she sacrifice?
Human or monster.
The devil no longer set traps; he rely smiled, presenting two paths to despair before her.
In the bedroom echoing with heavy breaths, the puppet in Hydra’s grasp had to choose her future.
After an unknown ti, long enough for the carpet beneath Mingfuluo to darken, the bedroom door suddenly opened.
“Oh, Anselm, why so sudden… in broad daylight…”
“Hitana doesn’t want to? Then I’ll find Mar—”
“Who said I don’t want to! I just… ah!”
Hitana, face flushed, grabbing Anselm’s wrist, scread upon seeing Mingfuluo dangling off the sofa: “What’s with this guy?!”
Anselm wrapped his arms around Hitana’s waist from behind, chuckling: “Isn’t this the scene you’ve been longing for?”
“Longing—eek!”
Hitana instantly realized what was happening, her face reddening further: “Anselm, you—!”
“You said to keep an eye on ,” Anselm said innocently. “And now, I’m giving you a chance to help .”
“Help… help you?”
The wicked Hydra chuckled softly, leaning in to whisper in Hitana’s ear.
The girl froze, then trembled, then went frantic, finally shouting in anger: “No way! She’s not Lina! No, no… absolutely not!”
“Hm?” Anselm raised an eyebrow, grasping the collar around Miss Wolf’s neck.
“I’m not discussing this with you, Hitana.”
A slight excess of electricity surged through Hitana’s body.
For her now, it wasn’t pain but… a signal.
Though she’d grown taller and stronger, she actually enjoyed Anselm pulling her collar and sending currents through her.
Slumping into Anselm’s arms, Hitana let out a weak, suggestive breath: “Bad thing… bad thing…”
Anselm gently kissed her cheek: “Shall I put the blindfold on you?”
“…”
“Taking that as a yes?”
Hydra ruffled Hitana’s hair vigorously, blowing in her ear with satisfaction: “Good girl, Hitana. You’re my good girl. Rember to say those words to Mingfuluo, got it?”
“Ugh…”
Mingfuluo heard the rustle of clothes sliding off, the girl’s soft moans, and approaching footsteps.
“Mingfuluo.” The devil’s voice sounded in her ear.
“I didn’t tell you to close your eyes. Open them. Look at .”
“…”
She had no choice but to obey.
And so, she saw—
“Huff… haa… Ming, Mingfuluo… this spot… is mine now.”
“Anselm… is amazing, hehe… just, just watch.”
“After all, Anselm… doesn’t want you anymore. Even if he did… it wouldn’t be your turn.”
Bound by whip-like blades, constantly constricted, Mingfuluo could only watch, listen, and feel.
Yet she could never be whole.
The dual assault on her senses and spirit left her dazed, chaotic, on the verge of madness.
Suppressing the raging emotions in her heart, only to have them reignite, tornting her in this endless cycle—anyone else would have collapsed long ago.
Yet Mingfuluo endured this storm-like onslaught, clinging to her unshaken convictions, but…
But those jumbled, chaotic mories tornted her will and soul uncontrollably.
[“This is just a sign, foretelling you’ll eventually shed more…”]
[“Fine, when that ti cos, I’ll kindly save you once.”]
Hydra, Anselm…
How many lies have you told ?
Amid this long, joyful, painful tornt, Anselm’s question lingered in Mingfuluo’s mind.
Would she turn back, reclaim her humanity—
Or obey the devil’s every command, follow his will, and walk with him again as… a monster who saw her ideals as everything?
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