When Ivyst heard the crisp sound of breaking glass, she didn't lift her head immediately.
She was completely immersed in her own emotions, enveloped by madness and disdain.
To the extent that, she couldn't perceive the outside world.
Just as she had said.
She had witnessed similar scenes countless times.
But some things do not become routine with experience.
The scars of the past gradually accumulate over time, piling up on one's heart.
With just a gentle touch, they would become fresh and bleeding wounds once more.
When she was a child, before fully awakening to her powers, her siblings did not feel such fear and rejection towards Ivyst.
Because they found her appearance repulsive, they would tease her in secret, time and again.
After all, even Saint Laurent VI did not care for Ivyst back then.
Bullying such a little girl brought no guilt to them.
Although they were siblings by blood, they never treated her as family from start to finish.
They would "accidentally" remove Ivyst's mask at the public Royal Family banquets, then scatter far and wide, laughing while watching the guests reveal expressions of fear and disgust.
And she, surrounded by whispers and gossip, could only cover her face and cry.
In the end, Saint Laurent VI never truly punished those pranksters.
The only thing deserving rebuke was scaring the guests.
On reflection, perhaps it was the shadows of the past that made her, even now with her powerful abilities, feel an uncontrollable oppression towards such scenes.
Yet she could never really kill all the nobles present who despised her.
It didn't matter anymore.
Ivyst took a deep breath, attempting to suppress the desire within her to destroy everything.
After all, it had always been this way.
"Duke, sir, it seemed you were discussing some very interesting topics just now, could I, an outsider, join in and discuss with you all pleasantly?"
At that moment, a familiar voice reached Ivyst's ears.
She instinctively lifted her head and spotted the figure.
The moment she saw the crow-masked boy, the heavy stone pressed on Ivyst's heart suddenly vanished.
When the Duke of Tierus heard the crow-masked boy's reply, he was about to get angry.
But upon realizing the implication behind those words, he froze.
The last pick of the cake?
At a glance, it seemed quite ordinary, like a response meant to attract attention.
But upon deeper consideration, one could sense the truth it contained.
As he had said before, human greed knows no bounds.
Once the person dividing the cake has the initiative, they will subconsciously seek their own benefit.
Just like the Heavenly Principle Church, which embezzled a large portion of the city's taxes.
But if they were to choose last, then justice would be unprecedented.
Because if they followed the original thought, the large piece of cake would be taken first, and what's left for them would just be scraps.
The idea was interesting.
But it was merely an idea and could not be applied to reality.
After all, if it came to that point, it was not just the person cutting the cake who mattered, but also those wanting a piece and their status.
However, just regarding this small topic of conversation after dinner, the boy's answer was undoubtedly perfect.
But he did not reveal his thoughts, looking at the boy indifferently, "Is that your answer? An idealist living in a world of their own?"
"Of course, although it's impossible to apply in reality," the boy smiled, "This answer only pertains to splitting the cake, real-life situations are another matter."
Duke Tierus looked at him: "Then if it were you, facing a similar real-life issue, what would you do?"
Hearing these words, everyone glanced at each other.
Could they not hear that at this moment, the Duke was testing the boy's mind?
Maybe the participant for this evening's library discussion had already been decided.
For a moment, all eyes were filled with envy and curiosity.
Envy because the lucky one seemed about to gain the Duke's favor.
Curiosity because they had never heard of such a youth in Orn City.
At the same time, they were also curious about his upcoming response.
Hearing Duke Tierus speak, the boy answered without hesitation, "In reality, I would first distinguish who are enemies and who are friends."
"Oh?" Duke Tierus seemed interested, "How would you discern?"
At this, the boy chuckled, "Quite simple... those who want to take a piece of cake from my hand are my enemies; besides that, all are friends."
"Just as you said earlier, if there's cake left over, I'll take it to go. Why leave it for them?"
The atmosphere suddenly turned somber.
Even Duke Tierus didn't expect that he, who had just advocated for equal distribution, would now give such a retort.
His eyes filled with astonishment as he sized up the other party.
Then, he couldn't help but burst into hearty laughter.
"What an interesting little fellow," the duke couldn't hold back his amusement, "What's your name?"
"My name is Lynn, Your Grace."
The youth raised his glass in a toast.
"Very good, Lynn. Your reply pleases me. Come to my study after the dinner; we shall have a good chat."
Feeling the tension that had been mounting just moments ago completely dissipate, Lynn breathed a sigh of relief.
These people really don't know what's good for them.
If that madwoman was truly provoked, it would be hard for everyone here to hope for a painless end.
Although it was still just the early stages of the original story, the current Ivyst indeed possessed strength comparable to, or even surpassing that of, the deceased former Archbishop from the Heavenly Principle Church lying in his coffin.
Later on, she would become increasingly formidable, slaying gods in her way; it was a pity she wasn't as ruthless as the protagonist group and ultimately failed.
Yet even so, killing these insignificant characters would be a piece of cake for her.
So, for the sake of his own life, Lynn had to stand up.
"Weren't you just saying you refused to be an easy target?"
Glaya suddenly spoke up from beside him.
Upon hearing this, Lynn instinctively retorted, "You know nothing, this is what we call 'demonstrating holiness in front of an audience.' Didn't you see that His Grace has already been won over by my personal charm?"
"Is there not even a little bit of it because you saw Her Highness isolated and helpless, and acted on impulse?"
"You're overthinking it."
Lynn rolled his eyes.
Upon hearing this, Glaya didn't argue back, just looked at him with a grin.
Men tend to say one thing but mean another.
Unfortunately, Lynn hadn't realized this and scornfully laughed to himself.
Pity her? What a joke.
With one hand, she could wipe out everyone present!
Looking at the woman in the red dress standing quietly in the distance, Lynn's gaze met hers midair.
He had expected to receive a look of approval from her.
Instead, Ivyst simply stared at him straight on.
Her gaze was very cold, remaining on him from beginning to end, inscrutable.
It was only after a long while that she slowly closed her eyes.
Who knows what she was thinking.
Lynn felt a bit unnerved by her gaze.
Could she hold a grudge against him for ruining her chance to wreak havoc?
But when he thought about it, if something that significant had happened, the original story wouldn't have omitted to mention it, right?
Lynn's thoughts were in turmoil.
Just then, he suddenly felt his shoulder being patted from behind.
The pressure was heavy, as if filled with resentment.
Lynn instinctively turned around and discovered a figure behind him that seemed somewhat familiar.
He vaguely remembered that this person was supposedly the caretaker arranged by his family in Orn City.
Lynn furrowed his brow, with unpleasant memories experienced by his predecessor surfacing in his mind.
Those servants in the residence, they all treated him with disrespect with this guy's approval.
He had not had the chance to settle the score, and now the man had taken the initiative to approach him.
"Why are you here? Come back with me right now!"
The caretaker Sherlock, oblivious to his displeasure, frowned and looked at him with a cold glare, eyes betraying a trace of disgust.
Hearing this, Lynn's mind went blank for a few seconds.
The commanding tone made him momentarily feel insecure, as if he were the servant.
How had this guy managed to thrive until now?
But before that, his body instinctively responded, smoothly pulling out a revolver from his pocket.
Raising the gun, aiming.