Chapter 45: The Cold Elf (Thank You, Poorsen, for the Alliance Lordship)

Thump-thump.

"Anyone home? Anyone… oh, automatic door."

Herbert knocked on the door, but before he could even crack a joke, the wooden door slid open on its own.

The room inside was no brighter than the outside, still lit solely by glowing plants growing everywhere.

He stepped in slowly, his gaze sweeping over the entire layout.

A massive table covered in countless bottles and jars, each filled with liquids of varying colors, some containing unidentified biological organs floating inside.

A giant eyeball with eerie energy, withered and shriveled severed limbs, five red stomach sacs lined up side by side, an eye with three pupils…

Logically, Herbert should have felt his skin crawl, his heart race, and undergone a SAN check after seeing this scene.

But for some reason, Herbert didn't feel afraid at all—he even found the scene somewhat… satisfying?

Is this right?

Herbert was just questioning whether his mind had gone wrong when the culprit jumped forward on its own.

【"Hmm~ Her taste is actually quite good."】

"Oh, so it's because of you."

Got it. Case solved.

It's you, you damn thing, messing with my sense of aesthetics.

【"What? Don't you think all these things are amazing? These are all precious items! And the processing methods are incredibly refined, the preservation techniques highly professional!"】

"All precious items…?"

Herbert stared at the three-pupiled eye for a moment; when he realized it was staring back at him, his lips twitched involuntarily.

Fine, I'm not worthy. I don't understand aesthetics.

He forcibly tore his gaze away and continued observing the room's decorations.

Aside from the massive research table, the entire space contained only a small round table and two chairs woven from vines.

One of them had just been woven, its tender leaves still fresh and unshed.

Overall, it looked like a workspace that also served daily living needs, yet there was no bed in sight.

Doesn't she sleep at all?

"You seem to have some doubts in your mind."

A slightly hoarse female voice sounded behind Herbert, making him raise an eyebrow.

When did she get there?

He had carefully scanned the surroundings when he arrived and hadn't noticed her at all.

Herbert narrowed his eyes and turned around—this was the first time he saw the Dark Elf Archmage.

"Oh? Archmage Svanir?"

"Yes, a pleasure to meet you, Warden Herbert."

In Herbert's stereotype, Dark Elves' looks were generally inferior to those of normal Elves.

After all, he personally wasn't interested in dark skin—just the skin tone alone was already a minus.

But now he realized—he was wrong.

What's dark skin?

It's not even an issue.

High beauty breaks all barriers!

He didn't dislike dark skin—he'd just never met a dark-skinned woman he liked.

Svanir looked about twenty-six or twenty-seven—less youthful, but not yet fully mature.

Her features were exquisitely refined; even her slightly dark skin didn't mar the beauty, instead lending it a unique charm.

Her blue-purple hair was meticulously braided, golden ornaments dangling from her earlobes, golden patterns painted along her cheeks.

Among all the prisoners he'd seen so far, Svanir was the most meticulously groomed—she looked nothing like a captive locked in a cage.

At the same time, she carried a special aura—an icy detachment born of ultimate intellect.

Though standing right before him, looking into her golden eyes gave him the sense that she wasn't truly here.

A coldness, unmasked, pushing everyone away at arm's length.

Herbert met her gaze for a moment, unflinching, and smiled as he handed her the skull.

"Here, your package."

Svanir shook her head, didn't take it, but gestured for him to place it on the wooden table, then sat on the vine chair and said softly: "Warden, please sit."

Herbert sat down and noticed the vine branches subtly shifting, automatically molding to the curve of his back, positioning him in perfect comfort.

Ergonomic chair?

Living vine chairs are the true way.

Herbert leaned back comfortably, completely at ease as if he'd been here forever, and asked casually: "So, who is this?"

"One of my people—perhaps a death agent sent by some family to deliver me a message."

Svanir pinched her fingers before the skull, and a phantom soul, palm-high, was directly pulled out.

The soul was dim, faintly recognizable as a Dark Elf girl of eighteen or nineteen; her lips kept moving, as if frantically trying to convey some message to Svanir.

But Svanir's expression never changed; she listened calmly for a moment, then reached out and crushed the lingering soul in her palm.

Herbert raised an eyebrow, puzzled: "Hey, she came all this way for you—this is how you treat her?"

Kill the messenger after the job's done?

So heartless?

Svanir shook her head slowly: "I'm helping her find release."

She has been dead for a long time, surviving only by relying on the power of a forbidden entity, her soul utterly corrupted by 【Miss Xie Shen】.

Now that her task is complete, if she does not do this, the only fate left for her is to become that deity's plaything.

After hearing the honorific name 【Miss Xie Shen】, Herbert understood—he knew why Grass Carp had become that way.

"Oh, so it's because of Him."

【Miss Xie Shen】, one of the most powerful evil deities in this world, presides over all corruption, sin, and lust.

Compared to Nie Nasha, whose origins and strength are unknown, this one is a genuine, utterly insane evil deity—the kind that's completely mad.

Becoming His follower grants access to forbidden, immense power, but one can never escape His grasp.

He excels at corrupting mortals into beasts, and his favorite act is turning followers into mindless lunatics obsessed only with copulation—no matter how many come, or whether they were even human to begin with.

"And her task was to deliver me a message."

"My sister assassinated our grandmother and became the new head of the family. Some elder clan members were dissatisfied and planned to send someone to rescue me, hoping I'd cooperate when the time came."

Svanir spoke coldly, as if recounting someone else's affairs.

Herbert:?

"Wait, you're just telling me this outright? Is that fine?"

He felt something odd and asked with a wry smile: "I'm your warden, after all. Don't you owe me at least a little respect for my profession?"

Aren't you truly unafraid I'll snitch?

"No problem. You may deal with them however you wish."

Svanir toyed with the frail soul in her palm and said calmly: "Because I have no intention of accepting their rescue."

"Oh? You don't want to leave here?" Herbert blinked.

That's unusual.

Who ever heard of a prisoner not wanting to escape prison?

Could it be because the people here speak so well and are all talents?

Svanir replied coolly: "I have no interest in power. Since I can continue my research here, I have no reason to leave. Returning to the family would only bring me disturbances."

Is that the reason?

It sounds reasonably plausible.

"By the way, you're more talkative than I expected."

Svanir shook her head calmly, with a hint of disdain: "I simply refuse to converse with those vulgar people—it doesn't mean I lack the ability to communicate with others."

"Oh, I see!"

Herbert sighed, then curled his lips into a teasing smile and said slowly: "Since you're so talkative… show a little more sincerity. Don't be so cold."

"When will you stop using your avatar and come see me in person?"

He flicked the leaf he'd been rubbing between his fingers at Svanir—the soft leaf passed cleanly through her body and landed on the ground behind her.

Herbert smiled and winked at the dark elf, leaning fully back in his chair, crossing his legs, and asking lazily:

"How about it?"

"Great… Master~ heh."

Thank you to poorsen's patronage! Thank you, great master! I'll split my legs for you!

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(End of Chapter)