5 Cunning As Me

This was not the first encounter between Ansell and Seraphina.

Upon Ansel's arrival at this temporary residence, the moment he stepped into the bedroom, he laid eyes upon the Marlowe sisters, garbed in sheer gowns, languishing helplessly on the bed.

One must acknowledge that the Count of Red Frost, the veteran of the game, knew how to manage things quite well. He had even left a crystal on the coffee table that recorded the entire process of the Marlowe sisters being carefully packed, transported, and redressed, all by the hand of the maids, without a single man laying a finger on them. Truly, he had spared no effort.

However, Ansel did not appreciate the kindness of the Count. Although, upon seeing Seraphina, he had indeed contemplated, for a fleeting moment, ravaging and destroying her personality with pink magic and tentacle magic, it was only for an instant.

For this was not in line with Ansel's personal principles and aesthetics. He even deeply self-examined and reflected upon having such thoughts.

The final conclusion was — the supreme power known as fate made them loathe each other. The dark desire surging in that instant was less a product of his intentions and more akin to a fleeting inspiration, as if "heaven-sent".

A sort of... non-compulsory correction. Ansel had long understood this.

If Ansel had followed that thought, extremely dangerous things would surely ensue afterwards.

So, he would not do anything inappropriate to Seraphina — at least not until she was completely submissive.

"Miss Marlina and Miss Seraphina... right?"

Seated on the sofa, Ansel's fingertips touched, resting on his raised leg, looking at the two vulnerable girls with a gentle and polite gaze.

"Did you have a good rest?"

Marlina, who was shielded behind Seraphina, whispered, "We are grateful for the kindness of Lord Hydral, we—"

"Not at all!"

Seraphina interrupted Marlina's words. Underneath her choppy bangs, her dark red eyes bore a ferocity that didn't match her age or appearance: "Who would like to be imprisoned?!"

Saville, who stood to the side, slightly furrowed his brows but remained silent, while Marlina, in a panic, tugged on Seraphina's sleeve, glancing at Ansel while being too timid to say much else.

"Imprisoned..." Ansel chewed on the offensive term and couldn't help but chuckle, "Do you think that's imprisonment, Miss Seraphina?"

"Isn't it?!"

Seraphina's eyes widened. Frankly, she looked quite cute at this moment, but combined with her rude demeanor and tone, it wasn't endearing at all.

The foolish girl, who seemed to have no understanding of her own situation, yelled, "You won't let us move, you won't let us communicate with the outside world, you keep us locked in a room! If this isn't imprisonment, then what is it, your prank? Is our young lord still at an age where he likes to play pranks?"

— During her rant, our future heroine didn't seem to consider what would have happened to her if she hadn't been sent to Ansel, and instead ended up in the hands of the infamous Count of Red Frost.

"... Young lord." Saville, with his head slightly lowered, couldn't help but speak up.

Ansel, massaging his temples, sighed and waved his hand.

"Slap her."

A crisp, clear sound echoed in the living room.

Seraphina stood dumbfounded in place, the burning pain on her face making her realize what had happened after two seconds.

Though no one in the room had moved, the red mark on her snow-white face said it all.

Her resentment was ignited by rage at this moment. She glared at Ansel like a mad wolf, the pitiful and foolish young creature roared, "You are indeed—"

"Continue." Ansel, propping his cheek with one hand, drooped his eyelids.

Slap!

"You!"

Slap!

"..."

Slap!

Not until Seraphina's cheeks were swollen on both sides, not until she dared not glare at him with those resentful eyes, did the young noble on the sofa raise his hand to signal his butler to stop.

"Miss Seraphina."

At this point, Marlina had positioned herself protectively in front of Seraphina. Bereft of the courage to plea for Ansel of Hydral to desist, but innate instinct had driven her to this futile act.

Ansel, murmuring Seraphina's name, rose and approached the sisters. With no effort at all, he brushed aside Marlina's trembling, feeble arm.

He studied the tear-filled eyes of the young girl. Few could resist the pleading look in Marlina's eyes at this moment, even the most savage of nobles might grant Seraphina a reprieve.

But Ansel proved an exception.

It wasn't that Marlina failed to move him, but rather that he was not at all annoyed.

Having spent over a decade poring over the annals of memory, he felt not the slightest sympathy for most noble principles. Seraphina's "offense" was as insignificant to him as the barking of a stray dog. Even by the standards of the current aristocracy, executing Seraphina on the spot would not be considered strange.

His course of action, however, was dictated by his rational plan. Punishing Seraphina... was a necessity.

"Miss Seraphina," Ansel repeated her name. Easily dismissed Marlina, he lifted Seraphina's chin, looking with interest at her swollen face, devoid of any beauty.

Seraphina, at this moment, averted her gaze, refusing to meet Ansel's eyes.

"You say I imprisoned you, hmm...imprisonment."

A laugh escaped Ansel. Under different circumstances, Marlina might have been captivated by his laughter. But the weak girl was now only praying, hoping that Ansel of Hydral was as kind and compassionate as recent rumors suggested.

"And within this imprisonment, what have I given you? I have provided you with a room filled with fragrant incense, two warm beds, abundant clean water, palatable food, maids to attend your baths, and even two sets of new clothes. They may not be expensive, but I believe I have shown you due respect."

Ansel gently brushed Seraphina's swollen cheek. The slight gasp of pain she emitted stirred a perverse pleasure within him, which he promptly suppressed with heightened vigilance.

After a moment's adjustment, he continued in a whisper, "And then? What did I do in this imprisonment?"

"Did I spy on your slumber, or eavesdrop on your whispers? Did I commit any indecent acts, or perform any sacrilege?"

The handsome young nobleman withdrew his hand, sighing in sorrow, "I had hoped you would see it as hospitality."

"Why, Miss Seraphina, what has caused you to disrespect me so?"

"Lord, Lord Hydral," Marlina summoned all of her courage, her trembling fingers lightly touching Ansel's sleeve, "Seraphina, she is only...she is just too impetuous, too sensitive. We do not disrespect you, I truly...I am truly grateful! Grateful for your willingness to protect us!"

Marlina was not lying. In Ansel's eyes, compared to her sister, destined to become a heroine but with significant character flaws before achieving that title, Marlina was a perfect woman, so perfect it almost seemed unreal.

Ansel clasped Marlina's fingers - only the fingers, only the first knuckle - without advancing further inappropriately.

In that instant, Marlina felt a strange, indescribable chill, but it was quickly overshadowed by a warmth she had never felt before, transmitted from the tip of her finger.

"I understand, Miss Marlina," Ansel first smiled at her, then turned his attention back to Seraphina, "But you can't speak for Seraphina."

Ansel's words gave Marlina a glimmer of hope in the endless darkness, nearly bringing her to tears. She immediately squeezed her sister's hand, her voice trembling with excitement as she called out, "Seri, Seri, apologize to Lord Hydral quickly!"

"..."

Seraphina Marlowe remained silent, yet Ansel of Hydral subtly raised an eyebrow, for he discerned an aura emanating from the girl before him—an aura that was violently savage, a breath of teeth grinding and blood sipping.

"Seri… Seri?" Seeing that Seraphina had not spoken, Marlina's heart immediately clenched. She bit her lip, begging in a tone so humble it was almost prostrate, "Please... apologize to Lord Hydral quickly...Seri..."

Ansel exhibited not a trace of impatience, and the hand that had been holding Marlina's fingers had quietly covered most of her palm.

"...I'm...I'm sorry."

After an indeterminable time, Ansel heard a nearly hoarse voice emanate from the throat of the young girl.

"Lord...Lord Hydral, I...I apologize for my...my...rudeness."

The girl, whose cheeks had been slapped swollen yet had not shed a single tear, was now sobbing continuously.

Ansel responded gently, "Then, I accept your apology. Saville, have the maid bring up a box of ointment."

Hearing Ansel's words, Marlina went weak at the knees, nearly collapsing to the ground, but Ansel, who had by then clasped her entire hand, skillfully pulled her up.

"Am I that terrifying, Miss Marlina?" The blonde young lord tilted his head and laughed.

Gazing into his sea-blue eyes, Marlina's heart began to race uncontrollably, and she felt her limbs growing weak again... She didn't know if it was weakness, or a feeling of lightness.

Then it dawned on her that her hand had been held by Ansel for quite some time.

"No, no... not at all."

The stunning girl with a head of snow-white hair hastily withdrew her hand, involuntarily turned her head away, and murmured in a soft voice, "Lord Hydral is... is a very gentle person."

She subtly retracted her neck, obscuring her reddening earlobes and cheeks from view.

And all this was unknown to Miss Seraphina Marlowe, who was deeply mired in self-loathing for her weakness, regret for her rashness, and hatred towards Ansel.