A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

“You’ve handled everything over there, haven’t you?”

Ansel sipped the crystalline liquor, smiling gently at Suellen, who knelt on the ground.

“Yes, I’ve dispatched people to receive the fleeing refugees,” replied Suellen, now dressed impeccably and elegantly, without a trace of her coquettishness. Her tone was merely respectful: “All survivors who escaped the inferno have been brought back.”

“Hmm… Sending aid to innocent civilians immediately upon learning of the situation—well done. That’s a point in your favor.”

Ansel nodded slightly. These few words caused Suellen’s eyes to sparkle brightly. The young girl suppressed her self-interest and the joy that arose not from the act of rescue itself, and bowed her head, saying, “Ensuring the safety of the Empire’s subjects is our duty.”

Suellen seemed to have grasped how to interact with Ansel—he didn’t despise self-interest or hypocrisy, but cared about what should be done and said at the right time. In other words… he only cared about a certain kind of correctness.

Professing loyalty wasn’t necessary, nor was absolute honesty. What was necessary was that she be accountable for her words, for this young Hydral could see through the truth hidden beneath her speech in an instant.

Now, as a candidate for Regent, her natural focus was on protecting the common people.

The lady’s small display of wit earned the approval of the young Hydral, and thus a reward. Ansel rested his chin on his hand, smiling lightly as he proactively asked, “I know you have questions. Go ahead, ask.”

Suellen’s breath caught. She unconsciously clenched her fists and, after a brief silence, asked in a dry voice:

“The Feasting Flame… whose… whose could it be?”

“Not Ephesande’s,” Ansel observed Suellen’s expression. “Most likely… it’s related to Evora.”

The flash of hatred and fear that crossed the Iris girl’s face was a sight to behold for Ansel. The psychological shadow Evora had cast over Suellen was undeniably deep. She would clearly prefer Ephesande’s return, even if it meant a lifelong impossibility of claiming the throne, over Evora’s survival.

Noticing Ansel’s gaze, Suellen raised her face, forcing a smile: “But since it could be extinguished… that means, even if it’s her, her power is greatly diminished, right?”

“A correction — it wasn’t extinguished,” Ansel raised an eyebrow slightly.

“It merely ran out of things to burn.”

After their meeting, all the Dukes and Ansel naturally couldn’t stand by and watch the Feasting Flame spread. By Ansel’s estimation, while the flames wouldn’t consume the entire empire if left unchecked, they could easily devastate tens of thousands of square kilometers.

So, three Dukes eager to prove themselves literally excavated the nearly ten thousand square kilometers of land covered by the blood flames from the earth, allowing it to burn all fuel in the air until nothing remained to be consumed, thus “extinguishing” the great fire.

This indirectly proved two things: firstly, the fire wasn’t being deliberately controlled by someone, and secondly, it indeed couldn’t compare to the Source Flame. After all, if it were truly the Feasting Flame, it would never cease burning merely for lack of physical “fuel” to consume.

Endless aether or even elements… could all serve as its fuel.

“I understand. But even if you didn’t intervene, the Dukes had a way to resolve it, didn’t they?”

Suellen, now calmer, spoke while trying to steady her breathing. She put on an innocent smile while uttering cruel words:

“This means that even if it’s sister, she could potentially be killed by the Dukes, right?”

“You could interpret it that way,” Ansel smiled, taking in the twisted desire in Suellen’s heart.

Perhaps he himself didn’t yearn for Evora’s death as much as Suellen did.

Evora…

The young Hydral narrowed his eyes slightly and took another sip of his drink.

Fate was now working on multiple fronts.

He had changed his name and appearance to search for Evora’s traces in the Western lands because he couldn’t reveal his intent to find and kill her. If this weakness were exposed and exploited by fate, his situation would become dire.

But now, fate was forcing Ansel to speak of Evora’s existence, or rather… even if Ansel didn’t say it, the Dukes would guess that Evora wasn’t dead.

Indeed, the whole relic situation was rather flimsy to begin with. Although Ansel had seen Evora sleeping in some strange ruin, who would believe that a single relic could produce such an abundance of Feasting Flame?

But that wasn’t the main point.

After all, due to his calculations, all the Dukes’ attention was now focused on the Western land. With Ansel as their “backup,” if they were to discover Evora, they would absolutely not consider welcoming back the crown princess. Instead, their minds would be filled with thoughts of how to immediately dispose of her.

This was one of Ansel’s advance preparations, not only to ensure that all the Dukes could almost simultaneously pinpoint Evora’s location, but also to prevent fate from pulling such a move — causing the Dukes to fear Evora’s sudden appearance and secretly smuggle her back to the imperial capital for the Source Flame baptism.

— No matter how incompetent the Dukes might be, they couldn’t possibly be threatened by a half-dead Evora when everyone’s attention was on the West.

Therefore… the focus was on the problems caused by the power of the Feasting Flame.

If Evora wasn’t dead, it would mean that Ephesande’s fire hadn’t killed her, implying Ephesande’s certain doom. Under fate’s deliberate guidance, the Dukes would inevitably realize at some point that if the Empress was truly dead, neither Evora nor Hydral should be allowed to live.

And if it wasn’t Evora’s flame but Ephesande’s, that would be even more fatal for Ansel. The Dukes would undoubtedly side with Ephesande 100%.

So at that moment, Ansel had preemptively stated that it shouldn’t be the Empress’s flame, steering the Dukes’ thoughts towards the possibility of Evora still being alive — which was likely the truth anyway.

In this situation, the only problem Ansel faced was… how to handle fate’s guidance, how to confront this new predicament that had shattered the perfect development opportunity he had worked so hard to stabilize.

“…Heh.”

Ansel touched the ouroboros bracelet on his wrist and suddenly chuckled lightly, confusing Suellen, though she didn’t dare say anything.

He hadn’t originally planned to move against the Dukes so quickly… The fall of a Duke would represent massive upheaval, and if Ansel showed even the slightest hint of involvement, all the Dukes would immediately turn their weapons on him.

But now, with the already fragile balance in jeopardy, Ansel naturally had only two choices left.

Either find a way to establish a new balance, or…

A fight to the death.

However, the current Hydral was not the same as before.

Whether it was the steadily progressing Ravenna controlling the God from the Machine, or the transformed Seraphina once again treading the path of a hegemon… they both possessed the power to truly step onto the stage.

His confident demeanor wasn’t just a bluff.

Should another pact head join the ranks, my odds of success would increase substantially. Perhaps it’s time to choose between Rhine and Crow…

After a moment’s contemplation, Ansel abandoned the notion.

Each position of pact head was invaluable, reserved only for those who could provide absolute power in his struggle against fate, not merely hastily selected stopgap measures to address current predicaments.

[To silently… dismantle the Dukes one by one, with utmost haste]

[And under no circumstances can they suspect my involvement]

[The yet undiscovered Faust, the ongoing power struggle between regents… all still operate within a framework beneficial to me]

Ansel gently tapped the table, a smile playing across his features that filled Suellen with an inexplicable sense of foreboding. Continue your journey at My Virtual Library Empire

“Now then…” he murmured, “Let’s begin with the Duke of Firmament… Hmm? Crow?”

…What?

Before Suellen could ponder the meaning behind Ansel’s words, a jet-black crow materialized on his shoulder.

“My lord,” Crow’s deep voice, uncharacteristically tinged with shock, resonated.

“I apologize for the interruption, but… there’s a matter of utmost urgency I must bring to your attention.”

Ansel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What transpired in the Western lands? Are the Dukes conspiring against me? The Duke of Wyvern or Sapphire? Or has the Magus Primus grown restless?”

“…No, none of those,” Crow shook his head, and under Ansel’s scrutinizing gaze, revealed the inconceivable truth that had plunged the entire Western land into chaos —

“Sixteen seconds ago, thirty-two enigma portals simultaneously appeared in the Western land. Now there are thirty-four… thirty-five. “

“And these portals… are all disgorging Feasting Flame.”

Even Crow, who had long served Ansel and weathered countless storms, struggled to maintain his composure.

“At this rate… the West will be reduced to ashes within three days. And if the portals continue to open, within thirty days…”

“The Empire will cease to exist.”

This time, fate had not courteously waited for Ansel to make his move before responding.

Instead, it had set everything… ablaze!

“M-master,” Suellen, her heart twisted with a mix of loathing and terror from merely hearing Crow’s description, couldn’t help but look up at Ansel again. “What could this possibly—”

Her words died in her throat as she once more beheld Ansel’s smile.

This time, it was more pronounced than the earlier subtle expression—a sinister grin that seemed to captivate Suellen with an eerie magnetism.

In this situation where the proverbial chessboard had been all but shattered…

His smile exuded an indescribable blend of hatred, fury, desire, and… anticipation.