Chapter 5: Cunning as I Am

This wasn’t Anselm’s first meeting with Hitana.

When Anselm arrived at this temporary mansion and entered the bedroom, he saw the Lansmarlos sisters, dressed in sheer gauze skirts, lying powerlessly on the bed.

To his credit, Count Chishuang, an old hand at this, was considerate.

He even left a projection crystal on the tea table, recording the entire process of the Lansmarlos sisters being packaged, transported, and dressed—all handled by maids, untouched by any man, a meticulous effort.

But Anselm didn’t appreciate Count Chishuang’s gesture.

Though, upon seeing Hitana, he did briefly consider using charm spells and touch magic to shatter her personality, it was only for a moment.

That didn’t align with Anselm’s principles or aesthetics.

He even reflected deeply on having such a thought.

His conclusion was that the supreme force called fate made them despise each other.

That fleeting surge of dark, mad desire wasn’t his own intent but rather a “divinely inspired” impulse.

A… non-coercive forced correction.

Anselm had long understood this.

If he followed that impulse, something extremely dangerous would surely follow.

So he wouldn’t do anything excessive to Hitana—at least not until she fully submitted.

“Miss Marina and Miss Hitana… correct?”

Anselm, seated on the sofa, clasped his hands on his crossed legs, gazing at the two frail, helpless girls with a gentle, courteous look.

“Are you resting well?”

Marina, shielded by Hitana, spoke softly, “Thanks to Your Excellency Hydra’s kindness, we—”

“Not good at all!”

Hitana interrupted Marina’s words, her dark red eyes beneath her choppy bangs gleaming with a ferocity that belied her age and appearance. “Does anyone actually enjoy being locked up?!”

Saville, standing with lowered eyes at the side, frowned slightly but said nothing.

Marina, in a panic, tugged hard at Hitana’s sleeve, stealing glances at Anselm while too timid to speak further.

“Locked up…” Anselm savored the offensive word, chuckling softly. “Do you think that’s imprisonment, Miss Hitana?”

“Isn’t it?!”

Hitana’s eyes widened.

Honestly, her expression in that moment was rather adorable, but paired with her brash and thoughtless demeanor, it was far from endearing.

Like a foolish girl unaware of her situation, she shouted, “You don’t let us move freely, you cut us off from the outside world, you keep us confined in one room! If that’s not imprisonment, what is it? Your prank? Are you, our noble young lord, still at the age for playing pranks?”

—While yelling so loudly, our future hero seemed not to consider what she would have endured at the hands of the notorious Count Chishuang if she hadn’t been sent to Anselm.

“…Young master.” Saville, head bowed, couldn’t help but speak.

Anselm, rubbing his brow, sighed and waved a hand.

“Slap her.”

Slap—!

A crisp, resounding sound echoed through the living room.

Hitana stood frozen, the stinging pain on her face taking two seconds to register.

Though no one in the room had moved, the red mark on her snow-white cheek told the tale.

The resentment surging in her heart was ignited by rage.

Like a crazed wolf, she glared at Anselm, the pitiful, foolish young beast roaring, “You really—”

“Continue.” Anselm, propping his chin with one hand, drooped his eyelids.

Slap—!

“You!”

Slap—!

“…”

Slap—!

Only when Hitana’s cheeks were swollen high, only when she no longer dared to glare at him with that resentful stare, did the young noble on the sofa raise a hand to signal his butler to stop.

“Miss Hitana.”

Now, it was Marina shielding Hitana behind her.

Though she lacked the courage to beg Anselm to stop, her instincts drove her to this futile act.

Repeating Hitana’s name, Anselm stood and approached the sisters, effortlessly pushing aside Marina’s trembling, powerless arm.

He met the girl’s tear-filled eyes.

Few in this world could resist Marina’s pleading gaze at that moment; even the most ruthless noble might have spared Hitana for now.

But Anselm was an exception.

Not because Marina couldn’t move him, but because he wasn’t angry at all.

Having read the memory books for over a decade, he felt no allegiance to most noble codes.

To him, Hitana’s “offense” was no different from a stray dog barking on the street—though for the Empire’s nobles now, executing Hitana on the spot wouldn’t be surprising.

And the reason he acted as he did was, naturally, because punishing Hitana was… utterly necessary in Anselm’s rational plan.

“Miss Hitana.” Anselm said her name again.

After easily brushing Marina aside, he lifted Hitana’s chin, studying her swollen face with interest, no trace of beauty remaining.

At that moment, Hitana averted her gaze, avoiding his eyes.

“You say I imprisoned you, hmm… imprisoned.”

Anselm smiled.

In another setting, Marina, watching him, might have been captivated by that smile, but the frail, powerless girl now only prayed—prayed that this Lord Hydra was as compassionate and merciful as recent rumors suggested.

“But in this imprisonment, what have I given you? I gave you a room filled with fragrant incense, two warm beds, ample clean water, rich and delicious food, maids to attend to your baths, and I even provided two sets of new clothes. Though not extravagant, I believe I’ve shown you the respect you deserve.”

Anselm pityingly brushed Hitana’s swollen cheek, feeling a surge of sadistic pleasure at her pained gasp, though he quickly suppressed it with utmost vigilance.

After a second to adjust his mindset, he whispered again, “And then? In this imprisonment, what have I done?”

“Did I spy on your sleep or eavesdrop on your private talks? Did I commit any improper act or profane deed?”

The handsome young noble withdrew his hand, sighing sadly.

“I thought you’d see it as care.”

“Why, Miss Hitana, what made you disrespect me so?”

“Lord… Lord Hydra.”

Marina mustered all her courage, her trembling fingertips brushing Anselm’s sleeve. “H-Hit… she’s just… just too hot-headed, too sensitive. We don’t disrespect you, I truly… I’m truly grateful to you! Thankful that you’re willing to shelter us!”

Marina wasn’t lying.

Compared to her sister, destined to become a hero but flawed with significant character defects before that, in the trajectory Anselm saw, Marina was an almost perfect woman—perfect to the point of seeming unreal.

Anselm took Marina’s fingers, just the fingertips, just the first knuckle, without advancing further in offense.

In that instant, Marina felt an indescribable eerie chill, but in her fear and panic, she quickly dismissed it, replaced by a warmth from her fingertips she’d never felt before.

“I know, Miss Marina.” Anselm smiled at her before turning back to Hitana.

“But you can’t speak for Hitana.”

Anselm’s words let Marina see a glimmer of hope in endless darkness, nearly bringing her to tears.

She gripped her sister’s hand, her voice trembling with joy. “Hit, Hit, quick, apologize to Lord Hydra!”

“…”

Hitana Lansmarlos said nothing, and Anselm raised a brow, sensing the aura emanating from the girl before him—savage, ferocious, bloodthirsty.

“Hit… Hit?” Seeing Hitana’s silence, Marina’s heart clenched.

She bit her lip, pleading in a voice so humble it was almost kneeling, “Please… please apologize to Lord Hydra, Hit…”

Anselm showed no impatience, but the hand holding Marina’s fingers had quietly covered most of her palm.

“…S-Sorry.”

After an unknown time, Anselm heard the hoarse, almost growling voice from the young beast’s throat.

“Lord… Lord Hydra, I… for my… sob… rudeness, I… sob… apologize to you.”

The girl, who hadn’t shed a tear even when her cheeks were slapped swollen, was now sobbing uncontrollably.

Anselm responded gently, “Then I accept your apology. Saville, have a maid bring up some ointment.”

Hearing Anselm’s words, Marina’s body went limp, nearly collapsing, but Anselm, now holding her entire hand, deftly pulled her up.

“Am I that terrifying, Miss Marina?” The handsome blond youth tilted his head with a smile.

Gazing into those sea-blue eyes, Marina’s heartbeat quickened uncontrollably.

Her limbs felt weak again… or perhaps light as air, she wasn’t sure.

Then she realized her hand had been held by Anselm for quite some time.

“N-No… not at all.”

The delicate girl with snow-white long hair flusteredly pulled her hand back, instinctively turning her head, murmuring softly, “Lord Hydra is… a very gentle person.”

She slightly hunched her neck, hiding her flushed earlobes and cheeks.

And all this went unnoticed by Miss Hitana, consumed by hatred for her own weakness, regret for her recklessness, and loathing for Anselm.

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