A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

"..."

Ronger was visibly taken aback by this revelation, unable to utter a word for a few seconds before she finally regained her composure, realizing with a start, "Is she... an alchemical puppet you've crafted?"

Ansel's response was a smile, which Ronger took as an affirmation.

This understanding allowed her to breathe a sigh of relief, her heart, which had momentarily stopped, now rapidly beating again.

The notion of creators viewing their creations as a form of "offspring" is not unusual, and if Helen was indeed a puppet created by Ansel, referring to her as his daughter seemed fitting, yet...

Was she truly an alchemical puppet?

The face hidden beneath the black veil was indistinct, yet Ronger felt an inexplicable sense of déjà vu.

"Would you like to touch her?" Ansel suddenly offered, extending the hand of "Miss Helen" to the dignified lady before him.

"... What?"

Ronger was momentarily confused.

"My exceptional daughter," Ansel said with a smile, "A remarkable young lady."

Despite her confusion, Ronger, taking Ansel's word, reached out to hold Miss Helen's hand.

Upon touching her fingertips, Ronger felt Miss Helen instinctively retract her hand slightly.

… Could it be shyness? A puppet with personality? Indeed, for someone like Lord Ansel, who never lacked for mere tools, a puppet with a personality would undoubtedly hold more value.

Ronger still grasped Miss Helen's hand, the lace glove preventing her from feeling the skin directly, but the flexible, soft fingers and the delicate palm conveyed a surprising sensation.

Crafting puppets is an exceedingly delicate task, and for an organization like the Tower of Babel, which could be described as... pedestrian, maintaining a top-stage puppet master was neither feasible nor necessary, as they would not deign to stay in such a place, hence Ravenna had to create her own puppets.

However, coming from a distinguished background, Ronger possessed a perspective far beyond most members of the Tower of Babel, and even so, she could affirm... in terms of verisimilitude, she had never encountered an automaton with a higher degree of realism than this doll.

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It was as if... she was witnessing true life.

"Truly… a remarkable feat of craftsmanship," Ronger exclaimed, her scholarly curiosity surging as she instinctively reached out to grasp Helen's hand, carefully feeling it. Yet, the more she felt, the more she sensed… something amiss.

Why did this hand... resemble Ravenna's so closely?

The shock and confusion on Ronger's face deepened as she gently held "Miss Helen's" hand, her gaze fixated on the black veil for a moment, her thoughts becoming increasingly chaotic.

"Lord… Ansel," she asked softly, "may I inquire a bit further into Miss Helen's condition?"

"Of course," Ansel replied with a broader smile, "but do be gentle, this child is quite shy."

Ronger nodded, cautiously casting a minimal detection spell on the arm.

In the next moment, Miss Helen swiftly withdrew her hand from Ronger's grasp.

The madam watched in stunned silence as the petite puppet stepped back, hearing her speak in a deliberately youthful voice, "I do not wish to be probed... Father."

"Why, do you dislike Miss Ronger?" Ansel inquired.

"No, it's just that I... I apologize, Father," the young girl said sweetly, causing an inexplicable pang of sympathy in Ronger, who quickly spoke up on her behalf, "Lord Ansel, I didn't—"

She stopped mid-sentence, realizing she was the least entitled to speak out of turn here.

"Are you that shy, Helen?" Ansel sighed, then turned his head and extended his hand, his eyes filled with mirth.

The "shy" Miss Helen had no choice but to grasp Ansel's hand immediately, leaning into him as a cover.

"My apologies, Madam Ronger," Ansel said, turning back to her, "this child's mind is not yet fully developed."

"..." The mentally undeveloped Miss puppet did not utter a word.

"Puppets, especially those with personalities… it's understandable," Ronger nodded, "To achieve such a creation is... quite terrifying, Lord Ansel. You truly live up to your reputation."

"No, no, no, it is more my father's doing," Ansel said with a laugh, which Ronger took as modesty and Ravenna saw as a lie to add credibility.

Her heartbeat was still erratic, the shock of almost being detected by Ronger's spell a moment ago... In front of the very few elders with whom she had a deep connection, being introduced as a doll, as a "daughter," made Ravenna's throat dry and... burn with emotion.

"Ah! Please, take a seat for a moment."

Ronger, who had been standing and conversing with Ansel, belatedly offered. However, Ansel shook his head, "There's no need for such formalities, Madam Ronger. I've merely come to have a brief discussion with you. Let me think... What have you been focusing on lately?"

Realizing Ansel truly meant no formalities, the straightforward scholar replied, "As you know, I don't possess much talent in alchemy. Lately, I've been mostly engaged in simple teaching duties, and occasionally... just now, for instance, providing whatever assistance I can to the alchemy department."

She gestured towards the scattered parts on the workbench, "I'm responsible for reinforcing the alchemy furnace and making modifications to meet any special requirements."

"So, essentially... logistical work."

Ansel nodded in understanding, then, with genuine interest, inquired, "Madam Ronger, in your earlier years, you were known for your aggressive style in the sorcerer circles of the Imperial Capital. I recall, some twenty years ago, you were expelled for directly confronting a senior lecturer during a class at the Etheric Academy."

The mature lady, slightly embarrassed, laughed helplessly, "That was a long time ago... I had been a student of his for a while by then, and I grew increasingly intolerant of the Etheric Academy's ethos. Being expelled was inevitable."

"Sir Eileen..." the young Hydral sighed, "Once, when discussing the distinguished figures in the Empire's alchemy field with my father, he mentioned that if Mr. Eileen had not passed away, he would have certainly made significant achievements."

This statement momentarily overwhelmed both listeners, with Ravenna gripping Ansel's hand tightly, and Ronger's reaction more pronounced, her voice trembling, "Did Mr. Flamelle… really say that?"

"Of course," Ansel replied calmly, "His abilities were, I believe, evident to everyone."

"...Yes."

Ronger's excitement gave way to a somber melancholy, her expression darkening, "His abilities, his capabilities..."

For some reason, the lady's gaze seemed to carry a hint of sorrow.

"Speaking of Mr. Eileen's death, most believe it was due to his pursuit of... universal extraordinary," Ansel continued, squinting slightly, his tone naturally inquisitive, "Madam Ronger, what are your thoughts on this?"

Ronger paused, glancing at the silent, head-bowed Miss Helen, before softly responding after a moment, "My thoughts... From my perspective, I naturally support the teacher, but..."

"But?"

The malicious devil raised an eyebrow, and his "daughter" stiffened at the word.

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