A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

Flamelle of Hydral.

A philosopher transcending time, a sage holding the truth, the uncrowned king of alchemists… His titles are too dazzling and magnificent, for a long time, they even overshadowed the terror of the name Hydral.

If it weren’t for the horrific slaughter he committed at the end of his life, following the empress’s orders, he might have been as well-regarded as Ansel, becoming a highly esteemed Hydral.

Of course, Flamelle himself does not care about his reputation, for him, there are few things in life that are precious, and the gaze of the world is not among them.

“Lawrence.”

In the pleasant green courtyard, the man sitting by the tea table sighed deeply, “Do you think Ans feels a bit pressured?”

The man’s medium-length black hair was meticulously groomed, his high nose and slightly deep eye sockets made him look more handsome than pretty, but whether it was his eyebrows or his contours, they all bore a striking resemblance to Ansel.

Dressed in a red and black suit, Flamelle seemed a bit melancholic, “It seems like it’s been a long time since he’s been so serious about meeting me and you.”

“You’re overthinking it, boss.”

The plump grey-black rat, with a long tail, stood on its hind legs on the tea table, its paws crossed over its chest, “How could the young lord possibly feel pressured? It’s not possible, not possible. The one who should feel pressured is Tyrus, right?”

The grey-black rat, Lawrence of Disaster, who had the voice of a little boy, chuckled, “The young lord’s pact head, that little girl, can bear the power of two pact heads, mainly the head of strength.Tyrus, as a senior… You have to give her some good advice later, if you make a mistake by accident…”

It had a face full of schadenfreude — although it was a rat face, it could indeed make a schadenfreude expression, “I will definitely laugh at you until you choke.”

“The young lord’s pact head.”

Behind Flamelle, a brown-skinned man over three meters tall, with muscles coiled like dragons, his upper body covered in scars, and heavy shackles on his wrists and ankles, spoke slowly, his voice like thunder rolling in dark clouds.

Tyrus·Vistidon, [The Colossus of the Firmament], Flamelle’s head of strength, said:

“I’ve seen that recording, she has amazing potential, but she’s too young.”

Lawrence snorted, “Don’t talk about her being young while getting beaten… Toradon, what do you think?”

“Me?” Also behind Flamelle, a young man in a white robe shrugged, “What does it have to do with me, I’m not Tyrus or Falcon, let’s talk when the young lord finds his head of magic.”

Lawrence rolled his eyes, “You don’t care about this, you don’t care about that, then why did you come to the capital? To seek refuge? Afraid of being discovered by that Duke of Magus Primus who blew up his elemental tower?”

“Hmph, do you think I’m afraid of him? I just can’t be bothered to waste time with such trash.”

Toradon·Serenel, Flamelle’s head of magic, scoffed disdainfully.

“Tsk, you and Tyrus, one thinks I’m the best in the world, the other looks honest, but actually still thinks I’m the best in the world, neither of you are objective.”

The rat quickly climbed onto the shoulder of Saville, who was pouring tea for Flamelle at the side of the tea table, “It’s still you, Old Saville, what do you think of that girl called Seraphina?”

“Remarkable.” Saville answered with a smile.

“Huh?!”

Lawrence looked at Saville in surprise, even the other two pact heads, who exuded a terrifying aura, cast slightly surprised glances at the old man.

Saville’s evaluations of others were always fair, even somewhat euphemistic, he never spoke too highly of anyone, to make this old man say the word “remarkable”, that girl who bore the power of two pact heads…

“This ‘remarkable’, for now, is not about power.” Saville explained calmly, “Of course, I believe Miss Seraphina has the potential, but what I value more… is the change she brought to the young lord.”

Flamelle didn’t show any strange expressions, obviously Saville had already told him, but the other three pact heads knew nothing about this, especially Lawrence, who was so anxious that he started squeaking on Saville’s shoulder.

“What change, what change? Can anyone change the young lord? In what way? Are you serious, Old Saville?”

Tyrus, who was like a golem, slightly lowered his head, while Toradon showed a look of interest, obviously curious about what Saville was referring to.

But the old butler just smiled slightly, not saying anything more.

“Old Saville, you’re doing this on purpose, right? You make it sound so amazing, but you won’t explain, it’s killing me!”

Lawrence jumped down from Saville’s shoulder, “What kind of ability does that girl have to change… huh?”

It stopped jumping, turned its head to look at the entrance of the courtyard, “Uh, she’s already here, let’s stop discussing her.”

The blond youth, leaning on his scepter, strolled into the courtyard with an air of composure. Behind him, the young girl, already taller than him by a few centimeters, was making a strenuous effort to appear calm and collected, but her stiffness and tension were all too apparent.

“Good morning, Father,” Ansel greeted Flamelle from a distance, bowing his head in respect.

In a flustered mimicry, Seraphina quickly bent over in a bow, “Good… good morning, Mr. Flamelle.”

In truth, Flamelle had arrived in the capital a few days prior and Seraphina had seen him several times, yet she could not shake off her nervousness upon meeting him.

It was not because Flamelle was particularly strong or great, nor was it related to his status as a Hydral. It was simply because… he was Ansel’s father.

Just as she often felt at a loss in the face of Ansel’s mother’s warmth, Seraphina was always disoriented in the presence of her lover’s parents.

“Come, sit,” Flamelle beckoned Ansel with a hearty laugh, “Since I’ve been back, you haven’t sat down with me for a proper chat. Are you that busy?”