A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

"Can't having only your mother be considered extensive experience?"

"...You're as adept at sophistry as ever, Father."

"This isn't sophistry, Ans," Flamelle said with a radiant smile, "This is the absolute truth."

"Because your mother is the most perfect woman in the world, whether it's attachment or ideal, her love can satisfy all my needs, so of course, I don't need to love anyone else."

This response seemed unassailable. After a moment of contemplation, Ansel asked, "I can understand other aspects, but how can my mother... provide help at your ideal level? She knows nothing about alchemy and has no interest in it. She should be unable to provide any help with the truth and creation you pursue."

Despite all the actions of the divine species in pursuit of further possibilities, setting aside the rest, Hydral, as Flamelle said, they all need some kind of "pursuit", like the empress controlling an empire, to anchor themselves.

What Flamelle pursued was naturally the pinnacle of alchemy, the peak of creation, the eternal truth.

Throughout his life, he has been seeking the answer to this world, the answer he can give to this world.

Flamelle gazed into Ansel's sea-blue eyes, those beautiful eyes identical to his own, and chuckled as he ruffled Ansel's hair:

"You're wrong, Ansel."

But he stopped there, saying no more.

They just watched the ones they loved. During this time, the mature Lady Hydral and the shy tall girl both looked back many times. The former's gaze was generous and gentle, the latter's expression shy and evasive.

"Alright." Flamelle patted Ansel's shoulder with a smile, "I won't continue to disturb you, Ans, while you prepare drinks for Seraphina. Annelisa and I need to get ready to... hmm?"

Before he finished speaking, his gaze shifted to the entrance of the manor. As his eyebrows raised slightly, his expression became more animated.

"Ans."

The man chuckled, "No matter what, you're quite decisive in your actions."

"I don't know what you're misunderstanding," Ansel replied calmly, "but she's just here to celebrate Seraphina's birthday."

Flamelle shrugged, "Anyway, I can't imagine what you would do... well, let's just leave it at that."

"Ansel!"

Seraphina, sitting at the long table, waved to Ansel and shouted, "Aren't you ready yet? The food is almost done!"

"I'm coming."

Ansel gently shook the wine bottle and glanced at Flamelle beside him, "Let's go, Father."

Seraphina swung her legs playfully, tapping the chair beside her with palpable excitement, "Ansel, come sit here!"

As the birthday girl, Miss Seraphina certainly had the privilege to be capricious. Ansel, holding a bottle of specially mixed drink, took a seat next to her. The young girl cocked her head slightly, eyeing the pale pink liquid placed beside her with suspicion, and queried, "Ansel... this isn't your gift to me, is it?"

Realizing her tone might have come across as ungracious, she squirmed and muttered, "I mean, I'm not saying I disdain your gift... it's just that, if it's alcohol, there's no need for such secrecy, right?"

"What are you thinking?" Ansel chuckled at Seraphina's awkwardness, "It's just a drink I've crafted for you, the real gift hasn't... oh."

His gaze shifted towards the entrance, where the white lab coat dazzled in the sunlight.

"The gift has just arrived," Ansel said with a smile.

Following Ansel's gaze, Seraphina's expression turned to one of shock.

"Ravenna... why - why is she here?"

"I invited her on your behalf. In the capital, she's pretty much the only acquaintance you have, isn't she?"

"Is that so?" Seraphina scratched her head, "I suppose... no, wait, we may be acquainted, but we're not that close."

Crossing her arms, she stated pointedly, "Her demeanor, as if everyone owes her money, does spoil the atmosphere a bit."

Clearly, Miss Seraphina still harbored some resentment from Ravenna's "critique" during their previous encounter at the Hydral Manor.

However, seeing Ravenna in person somewhat lessened her animosity—after all, she had also once mocked Ravenna's appearance, which could be considered a form of payback.

Thus, while Seraphina was not entirely averse to Ravenna's presence, she hadn't anticipated a warm welcome either, leaving her puzzled as to why Ansel had invited her.

Meanwhile, Lawrence and Toradon, who were casually observing from the periphery without taking their seats, also seemed to sense the subtle shift in the atmosphere.

"Hey, hey, Toradon."

Lawrence slurped a noodle wrapped in tomato meat sauce and mumbled, "Isn't that the short one...?"

"It's Ravenna Ziegler," Toradon said thoughtfully, watching Ravenna enter, "Strange, what's she doing here?"

"Isn't the young lord planning to make her his pact head? Maybe she's here to declare war on Miss Seraphina?"

Lawrence, perched on Toradon's wrist, stood up excitedly, waving his paws, "Oh, how splendid! I never tire of watching women fight! I always enjoyed watching them brawl for the boss! Now I get to see them clash for the young lord! My rat's life is complete!"

"Cut it out," Toradon scoffed, "Right now, Miss Seraphina could knock her out with a single punch, and it wouldn't even come to that, the young lord he... huh?"

The fifth-stage abyssal sorcerer let out a soft exclamation, his gaze sharpening, "This Ziegler seems..."

Lawrence glanced at him, "What's up? Something wrong?"

"... No, it's nothing."

Despite his words, Tullado's smile took on a peculiar edge.

"I take back what I said; the young lord does seem quite concerned about Miss Ziegler."

"Out with it!" Lawrence snapped, biting Toradon's wrist in frustration. Unfazed, Toradon trapped Lawrence with the noodles from his plate, flinging him away with a swift motion.

As the two pact heads engaged in casual conversation, Ravenna made her way to the dining table. The servants, ever professional, refrained from resting their gaze upon her, yet the few remaining stares were enough to unsettle her breathing.

Seraphina's puzzled look, Marlina's contemplative gaze, Flamelle and Annelisa's evaluative stares, and Ansel's... incomparably gentle gaze.

"... I apologize for my tardiness, Ansel, and... Miss Marlowe."

She bowed her head slightly, avoiding eye contact with anyone—Ansel had made her acutely aware of her place through his actions.

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