Her eyes that were once lifeless now flickered with an emotion known as... 'bewilderment.'
"Do you not comprehend what Loran just articulated?" Ansel inquired, caressing her cheek.
"..." The puppet opened her mouth but no words came out.
She may not have understood the young man's words, but if she wasn't mistaken—
"That's alright, you only need to grasp one thing," Ansel said softly, leaning in.
"In this game, within Breeze City, no one has been harmed."
"The landowners have received substantial compensation, Breeze City has acquired significant funds for development, the original farmers have not been devastated by their crops, and thanks to Loran's sales strategies, farmers in other parts of the empire have been minimally affected. Of course...
this is only temporary, but as you've heard, they are already preparing plans for any potential issues that may arise."
"So..."
The devil asked, lifting the puppet's chin, his head nearly touching her lips in a moment of intimate proximity. "What are your thoughts on this?"
A prolonged, profound silence ensued.
Then, after the collapse, after the destruction, the puppet trembled and uttered her first words: "Is this... subject to change?"
"Of course," Ansel replied with a cheerful smile. "You cannot change it, they cannot change it, perhaps... no one can change it."
His hand, encircling the puppet's slender waist, tightened gently, as if to meld her into his being.
"But..." the young Hydral answered with relaxed certainty, "I most certainly can."
This is... subject to change.
Thepuppet observed everything before her, her once lifeless and frozen eyes beginning to quiver.
It wasn't the worst possible outcome she foresaw, but rather... a better, the best possible one.
In the most nihilistic despair, the doll glimpsed a fragile ray of hope.
"Ravenna... Ravenna..."
Then, this sigh, this name, momentarily eclipsed that light.
"Here..." the puppet grasped Ansel's hand that was wrapped around her waist, her voice numb and mechanical, "Here... there is no... Ravenna."
"Oh? Then who might you be?"
"..."
Observing the puppet unable to answer his question, the devil laughed with delight, lowering his head a bit closer, whispering into the ear of the puppet he embraced:
"Poor Ravenna," he murmured compassionately.
"A life manipulated, pursuits abandoned, and a self of no worth."
"Your convictions are false, instilled and cultivated by force."
"Your companions are false, having committed acts of betrayal long ago."
"Your self is false, how can an existence built upon all that is counterfeit be real?"
"Your pursuits are false, your desires are false, everything you do and think... all of it is false."
Ansel's words became a noose, tightening around the puppet's neck, but how could the puppet suffer from these revelations?
For these were not insights that Ansel needed to remind her of; they were truths she had already recognized, and to which she had become indifferent—
In that instant, a profound shade of sea blue unexpectedly filled her vision.
"You are... no..."
In a daze, bewildered, the puppet saw that beam of light, but within her destroyed self, the indelible talents and gifts allowed her to see through the devil's seduction, struggling to respond:
"Ansel... you... do not wish... to help..."
He had given up; he was no longer—
"But you understand, I have my problems, don't you?"
The critical juncture propelled by fate, seized by the devil, transformed into a blade, pierced through the puppet's last vestiges of persistence.
The puppet murmured: "Problems..."
Yes, problems, Ansel was threatened, I thought, if only the threats could be eliminated, then...
"If only you could help me, if only you could eradicate my foes..."
The devil confessed tenderly: "Wouldn't I then be the one, who never forsakes you, who always stands by your side?"
"Answer my question once more, who... am I?"
If only... I could assist Ansel, if only... the issues could be resolved.
He would stand by my side, forever... steadfast, he understands me more than anyone, can assist me more than anyone, cares for me more than anyone.
The ideal, too, could be... realized.
Upon the puppet's cheeks, a vivid blush emerged.
She extended her arms, embracing the devil's shoulders, her voice betraying emotions no longer befitting a mere puppet.
"You are... Father."
Uttering these three words, she experienced an unprecedented sense of peace.
"Very well," her father inquired with satisfaction and joy, "then, who are you?"
Being by my father's side, as long as he stands with me, I can realize my worth.
My existence... is meaningful.
"I am..."
Immersed in those sea-blue depths, the puppet acquired a new name, responding with such elation:
"I am... Helen, the daughter of my father."
Ansel of Hydral gazed into those eyes, once devoid of life yet now brimming with fervent expression, and gently embraced her tender form.
To destroy Ravenna? To obliterate her self? To annihilate everything about her?
No... What Ansel desired was not destruction, but replacement.
To replace everything in her life, all that she held dear, and her indestructible ideals.
Even at this juncture, are you still hoping to realize your worth, chasing after that crafted illusion?
It's alright, since that's the case, you just need to know... everything you do for me, is in pursuit of that ideal.
Helen, my dear Helen.
From now on, I am your everything.
I am your... only.
*