A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

“Lord Crow, all refugees have been relocated to the designated temporary shelter.”

Crow the Ninth murmured, perched atop the sanctuary, her gaze fixed on the blood-red horizon.

[Excellent. In five minutes, Cricket will take over. Continue to shadow Seraphina and Ravenna, maintaining your task of guiding their rescued refugees to the nearest sanctuary… Here are their coordinates.]

Crow’s voice resonated within Nine’s mind.

“Understood.”

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Nine responded impassively, descending from the shelter’s roof with feather-like grace. She surveyed the crimson expanse that nearly engulfed the horizon, preparing to advance towards her objective.

As she took her first step, a timid, childlike voice halted her.

“Um, hey, sister…”

Nine turned to see a raggedly dressed little girl standing before the shelter’s entrance, her parents lingering apprehensively nearby.

“Th-thank you for saving me, my father and mother. I saw those two sisters…”

The innocent child, unaware of the chasm between extraordinary beings and mortals, saw her savior not as an untouchable superior, but merely as an impressive elder sister.

Her parents cowered, torn between calling her back and fearing to offend Nine, while the girl, though frightened, bravely stood her ground.

Nine studied the little girl for a moment before kneeling and placing a hand atop her head.

“Your gratitude is misplaced, child. It’s Lord Hydral you should thank. Remember that. Lord Ansel of Hydral.”

She attempted to imbue her voice with its former warmth and melody, yet despite her efforts, it remained as hoarse and grating as a death-knell raven’s, instinctively evoking revulsion and dread.

The little girl, however, showed no disgust. Instead, she beamed, nodding vigorously. “I’ll remember! Lord Hydral saved me!”

“Good child.”

Nine gently withdrew her hand, careful not to graze the girl’s scalp with her razor-sharp, poison-black nails. She cast a final glance at the refugees within the shelter, absorbing their gazes.

Gratitude, numbness, reverence, fear, and unease… They awaited her command, expecting to be driven like cattle or horse, unable to find peace otherwise.

After a brief pause, Crow the Ninth’s raspy voice emanated from behind her mask:

“In four minutes, another of Lord Hydral’s followers will arrive to oversee you. Rest here until the flames encroach; then, they’ll guide you to the next sanctuary.”

Having spoken thus, and unwilling to hear the predictable pleas for her to stay, Nine’s form liquefied, metamorphosing into a shadow clinging to the ground, swiftly departing.

Ansel’s direct orders prompted swift responses from both Shadewell and Garden. Rhine directed The Garden to straightforwardly invoke Hydral’s name to contact various domain lords, instructing them to open temporary shelters for refugees.

Shadewell, on other hand, unsuited for public exposure, provided manpower, tasked with guiding refugees rescued by Seraphina and Ravenna to safety, ensuring fair treatment in the sanctuaries.

Whether this directive stemmed from Ansel’s genuine desire to aid the unfortunate civilians caught in this calamity, or merely to satiate the wishes of the two pact heads… remained unclear to most in Shadewell and the Garden. Indeed, few had given it much thought.

But Crow the Ninth had pondered this, concluding without hesitation that Ansel was simply indulging the capricious demands of those two young girls.

She believed their efforts would be better spent combating the source of the blood flames… No, not just the source, but seizing this opportune moment to cull other extraordinary beings.

Nine reasoned that by concentrating Ravenna and Seraphina’s powers, coupled with Shadewell’s full force, they could eliminate numerous factions of extraordinary beings, in a few hours… or minutes.

Indifferent to others’ opinions, Nine perceived that despite the current situation favoring Ansel’s schemes, they must guard against the possibility of other extraordinary beings suddenly realizing… that Ansel might be bluffing.

Indeed, upon returning to Hydral’s domain and meticulously analyzing the situation after the Dispute Fortress incident, as the Regent selection loomed, Nine recognized a crucial fact—Ansel was bluffing.

He was buying time for Seraphina and Ravenna’s growth.

Yet this realization offered no aid to Ansel. Both before and after becoming Crow the Ninth, she could only watch as Ansel indulged those two… pact heads who should have been utterly subservient to Hydral, allowing them to act on whims that served no benefit to Hydral, merely satisfying their own desires.

Even now… Even with her newfound power.

Transforming into a shadow and swiftly advancing towards Seraphina and Ravenna’s location, Nine inwardly chuckled with self-derision.

All I can still accomplish is merely handling troublesome matters for those two ladies.

Nine harbored little resentment towards them, merely finding it… pitiful.

Only she knew the true cost of her transformation from Marlina to Crow the Ninth, from an ordinary village girl devoid of extraordinary qualities to a shadow-shifting extraordinary being.

From paying the price to now reaping the results, Nine found herself pitiful.

Nevertheless, she had no intention of wallowing in self-pity. Having obtained what she most needed at an irreversible lifelong cost, both her goal and the price paid compelled her to exert every effort, even without a glimmer of hope, to ascend to that position… where she could truly influence Ansel’s thoughts.

As Nine neared Seraphina and the others, preparing for her second task, Crow’s voice suddenly resonated in her mind.

[Number Nine, in three seconds, our Lord will communicate with you. Three, two—]

[…What?]

Before Nine could process her astonishment, the voice of the one she longed for, the one who had sustained her through that period of despair, echoed in her mind.

[It’s been a while, Marlina.]

[Y-yes, Mr. Ansel. My name is now Crow the Ninth, please call me Nine.]

[Nine… I see. Then I shall address you as such for now. I have an important task for you.]

The shadow skimming the ground instantly rose, transforming into a pitch-black girl. She trembled slightly, as if the one issuing the order stood before her, curtseying to the empty air ahead.

[Please, allow me to serve you, Mr. Ansel.]

Her hoarse, even distorted voice quivered with ecstatic joy, reminiscent of a zealot receiving divine revelation from their personal deity.

*