A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

"You suddenly appeared and fought with Seraphina."

In the dimly lit room, Ravenna, lying on the bed with her head resting on Ansel's chest, asked with her eyes closed, "Why?"

"To give Faust a reason to notice Fenrir," Ansel gently pinched Ravenna's delicate cheek. "It's only natural for a legendary adventurer to be interested in a prodigious newcomer, isn't it?"

Ansel had concealed Marlina's whereabouts. Marlina, working under Seraphina, certainly couldn't hide herself. Using Marlina as a link to connect Faust and Fenrir...

A mysterious and powerful elite, a meticulous mortal servant, and a fiercely righteous, albeit somewhat foolish, girl.

Such a combination indeed gives a rather nuanced sense of déjà vu. Therefore, Ansel needed a reason for Marlina to appear beside Seraphina.

It was somewhat tenuous but not entirely implausible—as long as Fenrir could display power that matched Faust's "expectations," it wouldn't be too far-fetched.

"Is that all?"

Ravenna slowly buried her head into Ansel's neck, gently breathing in his scent, her tone ethereal.

Ansel tilted his head slightly, resting his chin on Ravenna's head. "What else do you think there is, then, Venna?"

"Don't answer a question with a question!"

Ravenna nudged Ansel lightly, then fell silent again.

"...Forget it, it's nothing."

Ravenna, who usually spoke her mind, chose to evade the topic this time. She nuzzled Ansel's neck and murmured with her eyes closed, "Sleep now, and stay with me in the workshop tomorrow."

Ansel smiled, gently stroked Ravenna's soft hair, and held her as he drifted into sleep.

The lights went out, the night was silent, and although Ravenna, having transcended normal life, didn't need sleep, she slept deeply and sweetly in Ansel's arms—every night spent in his embrace was like this.

Yet tonight, the one who still retained the ability to sleep opened his eyes in the darkness.

He gently released Ravenna, softly caressing her smooth, delicate cheek, then climbed out of bed and walked to the window. In a flicker, his figure vanished, leaving only the faint sway of the curtains.

The streets under the deep night were not entirely dark. Even at this late hour, the roadsides still shimmered with mesmerizing lights and colors… Mr.Secretary ultimately lacked Milo's capabilities. With the real Milo dead and a surge of adventurers, the order in the upper district of Dispute Fortress was gradually disintegrating.

Since the upper district was in such a state, the lower district was naturally in even worse condition.

On the streets, people staggered about, dazed from excess drugs; in shadowy alleys, multiple bodies intertwined; hurried passersby reeked of blood; crows with eerily black eyes swooped low...

Most notably, one of these crows landed on Ansel's shoulder.

"My lord."

A deep, raspy voice echoed in Ansel's mind. "The Duke of Wyvern has already learned of your impending conflict with Miss Seraphina."

"That was quick," Ansel remarked with a slight smile, appearing to stroll aimlessly down the street.

The crow pecked at its glossy feathers and continued, "It seems he plans to lure a dragon to Dispute Fortress."

"Oh?" This information somewhat surprised Ansel. He glanced at the crow on his shoulder, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Does he dare?"

"You left him quite a shadow three years ago."

Ansel sidestepped a disheveled, grinning woman who stumbled towards him and replied, "But if it's just this news, there's no need for you to come personally, Crow."

The crow's name was indeed Crow. Despite being the master of the Shadewell, it hadn't given itself a somehow grand and noble name like… Rhine.

"Voulp has repeatedly advised me to deal with your secretary promptly."

Crow's bluntness was something most of Ansel's followers couldn't match. Rhine, that meticulous and cautious cat, would never dare to speak the word "deal with" in front of Ansel when referring to Marlina.

Ansel couldn't help but chuckle. "Does he feel she threatens the Shadewell?"

"I would welcome any additional support you can receive."

Crow responded calmly. At that moment, a scream suddenly echoed behind Ansel.

A drunken middle-aged man had embraced the woman who had just tried to hug Ansel. The woman, in her dazed state, bit through his neck, causing blood to spray everywhere.

The reason? Her crazed, confused eyes—either drug-addled or simply broken—were reason enough.
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"But according to the mental evaluation submitted by Voulp," Crow gave a slight shake of his wings, "your secretary is currently incapable of bearing such a heavy responsibility."

"Hmm... Marlina would likely disagree with that assessment."

Crow glanced at Ansel, speaking with complete honesty. "It seems you don't quite agree either, Lord."

The young Hydral couldn't help but laugh out loud. His laughter mingled with the sound of bones cracking, like a beast gnawing on flesh in the distance.

Ansel tilted his head slightly to look at Crow. "Am I overly partial to her?"

"Given the current circumstances, yes," Crow nodded.

"You have given her too much favor and assistance. The main issue is that we cannot find a reason—why you bestow such favor and assistance upon her."

What was it about Marlina Marlowe that made Ansel regard her so highly?

From Crow's perspective, the answer was nothing.

It wasn't that she lacked talent, but her abilities did not seem to warrant Ansel's special attention.

What kind of talent would be worthy of Ansel's effort and focus?

Undoubtedly, only an overwhelming martial prowess like Seraphina's or Ravenna's epoch-defining creative abilities could justify such attention from Ansel.

But Marlina had neither. She wasn't just lacking these abilities; she also wasn't sufficiently… unique.

If Ansel wished, Crow could find at least twenty individuals across the empire with similar conditions, qualifications, and talents as Marlina within a week.

Twenty people out of the entire empire's population... it was certainly an impressive number.

But to Crow and the rest of the Shadewell, whether it was dozens out of millions, tens of millions, or even billions… none were worthy of or deserving of Ansel's personal effort to pave their way.

The only ones worthy of such regard were those who, like Seraphina and Ravenna, were absolutely unique.

Facing his exceedingly earnest subordinate, Ansel shook his head with a smile. "Have you ever considered that perhaps you haven't discovered Marlina's true value?"

"It's precisely because we couldn't figure it out that I decided to come ask you personally," Crow replied.

"You don't have to answer our questions, but I earnestly hope you can give us an answer."

Back when Marlina was being interviewed by both the Shadewell and the Garden, the interviewer from the Garden had remarked, "That's just how the people from the Shadewell are."

Operating outside of the normal administrative system, the Shadewell's conduct often didn't resemble that of ordinary followers. No typical follower would, with an emotionless tone, request their leader to "please give us an answer."

Yet Ansel still entrusted them with significant responsibilities. Or perhaps… it was precisely because of this conduct that he entrusted them, placing the Shadewell and the Garden on nearly equal footing.

Ansel stopped walking and looked up. In the lower district, even looking up like this didn't allow one to see the sky. Instead, all he could see were the crisscrossing passages that blocked the view, the sky, and the lives of those living below.

"I'm not actually partial to her, Crow."

"...What?"

"I hold no personal bias towards Marlina," Ansel smiled, turning his gaze to the street where he and Seraphina had fought earlier today.

Crow fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. "But you don't act like it."

"I know it doesn't seem that way. Even Venna doesn't quite believe me," the young Hydral shook his head.

"But that's the truth. It's not me who is favoring her or cleaning up after her, Crow."

He looked at his competent subordinate and sighed in a complex, inscrutable tone.

"It's that she always seems to be one step ahead of me... doing things I might have wanted to do but hadn't yet done."

This was an exceedingly high evaluation, but Crow caught the most crucial part.

"Might have wanted to do?" Crow asked.

"Yes," Ansel sighed, as if the reason behind it was now clear.

"But they are just... things I might have wanted to do, nothing more."

*