Lenna followed the signs along the forest path.

At the heart of the seminary lay a vast grove of snow pines. Its quiet atmosphere made it a favorite spot for couples seeking romance.

Lenna disliked such serene places. No special reason— in her past life, she’d hidden in desolate jungles to evade imperial pursuers. She’d even compiled a survival manual from her own hard-won experiences.

Her fingertips pressed slightly.

The cat-like girl in her arms couldn’t hold back a sweet meow.

Lenna settled Angela on her lap, slender fingers stroking her chin. She leaned close, inhaling the fragrance of pink hair. "You don’t seem to hate me at all."

"I hate you to death, devil," Angela said through gritted teeth.

"Forgot your master again? How many times must I teach you?"

Lenna felt no satisfaction. That hollow emptiness swept over her once more.

Watching the Narcissus King on her middle finger emit an eerie glow, she suddenly asked, "Don’t you think it’s beautiful?"

Angela panted lightly. "It’s fine. Not as lovely as you."

"Heh heh heh. I enjoy your praise, but practice more. A bad-tempered master might punish you for sounding insincere."

"So your temper is good?"

What a joke.

Faced with such blatant sarcasm, Lenna simply nodded. "Mm. People always said I had a foul temper—even strangers. So I became the Lenna they expected. To please the crowd."

Her arms tightened around Angela’s waist.

"It hurts... Master..."

"......"

Lenna remained unmoved.

"You’ve been struck where it stings! Devil!" Angela burst out. "You’re a selfish, greedy demon in human skin! You only want to possess others, never caring for their feelings! You don’t deserve that beautiful face! Your ugly soul, filthy body, and vile ways of taking what you want—no one could ever love you!!"

"Shut up!"

Lenna’s hand shot up, ready to slap Angela hard.

But it froze mid-air, never falling.

Her eyes narrowed, flashing a murderous glare. "Your courage grows, little cat. Do you really think I won’t touch you?"

Angela laughed instead, reckless and defiant. "If you truly wanted me dead, you wouldn’t warn me first. I see your struggle. If you wished me gone, I’d have died at the Falmouth estate that day Little White was healed! Not here, caged in your arms, bound by contract. You don’t want to kill me!"

"Interesting. Go on." Lenna loosened her grip.

Angela rubbed her aching waist, gathering her thoughts. "You don’t hate me, Lenna. You hate yourself most. I don’t know who you resent, but I’ve seen the paths you’ve paved for Lingling."

"Did Agnes teach you this?"

"Lingling told me herself."

Angela stared at Lenna’s profile. Lenna glanced toward nearby bushes, where two nuns hid poorly.

"Your bond seems deep. Beyond master and servant."

"What makes you say that?"

"Don’t lie. You’ll fool yourself in the end. Lingling loves you. You can’t face it, so you chose me—a substitute. A fair reason, right?" Angela offered helpfully.

Lenna didn’t need it. "You’re wrong."

"Wrong how? Don’t you like Lingling?" Angela pressed.

Lenna’s calm eyes flickered. Her expression turned serious.

"I could say I like her. But you’re wrong. You don’t know what happened to me. You assume I’m some lust-driven sinner drowning in sin. I know exactly what I want."

She locked eyes, each word deliberate.

For the first time, Angela met Lenna’s gaze without fear. Braver than ever, her heart lighter than it had been all day.

She’d seen the devil flustered. Seen Lenna fiercely debate over Lingling. Seen her true, earnest side.

When serious, the devil was as meticulous as a surgeon before an operation. Could Lenna’s usual lazy act be a mask?

Even her treatment of Angela?

"So what are you seeking?" Angela asked.

"I..."

Lenna paused. Her long lashes trembled. "I can’t tell you... Honestly, you’re biting off more than you can chew."

"But you didn’t stop me. Didn’t use the contract. That means you crave someone to talk to. I can help. Be your confidante—like Professor Agnes." Angela blurted it out, watching Lenna closely.

This wasn’t for Lenna. It was for herself.

Success or failure hinged on opening Lenna’s heart.

This compromise—her two-hour plan—was a vital peace treaty with the devil.

Lenna: "Hmph."

What did that mean?

Had Lenna seen through her scheme?

Flustered, Angela urged, "Speak! Don’t doubt me. I can clear your name. Promote your strength and status. Make you the seminary’s star..."

"Heh. Clever little trick."

Lenna replied vaguely again.

Leaning back on the bench, she parted her legs clad in black stockings.

Holding Angela too long had made her legs numb from poor circulation.

What to do when numb?

"Oops!"

"Don’t squirm, little cat. If scared, cling to my collar. Bury yourself in my arms. Your great master will keep you safe." Lenna teased, her palm catching Angela’s tiny bottom before it hit the ground. She lifted her lightly onto the bench beside her.

"I’m not afraid! I fear no one!" Angela retorted, still shaken but forcing bravery.

Yet her weak legs made her lean half on Lenna’s shoulder. They looked like a loving couple, deeply devoted.

"Really? Let the audience judge your performance just now." Lenna swept her hair aside, revealing a pink earlobe.

"Don’t change the subject. Answer me."

"Answer what? I already did."

"?" Angela blinked, confused. She checked her spot on the bench, then Lenna’s empty lap.

Understanding dawned. She huffed. "...Tsundere devil!"

"The audience arrives, Miss Angela. Your performance begins. Don’t disappoint me." Lenna said with half-lidded eyes and a charming smile.