Three entirely different options appeared before Ecaros.
The three options clearly pointed to different futures.
First, there was the obviously very, very suspicious Branch 1.
Ecaros didn’t need to think to know what would happen if she chose it—in simple terms, the visual-novel-straight-to-CG-scene vibe.
Although Ecaros, to be honest, did want to briefly appreciate the artistic contours of the future Sarkaz King’s physique to add a little inspiration to her piano playing, in the end, after a single thought, she directly eliminated this option.
No particular reason—just that Ecaros was not a lesbian.
She really didn’t like girls, even if she’d apparently been one in her past life!
As for the second option…
though it matched her system quite well and was a classic express route to raising a villainess, Ecaros was a normal person.
By alignment classification, she’d even count as Neutral Good.
Coupled with the fact that, deep down, she still harbored doubts about the system’s assurances, she had no intention of throwing away her humanity.
Through the first-person perspective, she had seen just how close Theresa and Theresis were in the simulation.
A textbook case of the younger sister protecting her older brother.
She had no idea why, two hundred years later, the two would part ways and turn their blades on each other, but at least for now, their bond was still strong.
So the only viable choice was Branch 3.
Actually, picking this option wasn’t so bad, was it?
A game was only truly interesting when you put down enough chips for an even, high-stakes gamble.
If she won this game, the sight of Theresa thoroughly submitting to her would surely be beautiful, wouldn’t it?
Heh…
making the future Sarkaz King grovel on the ground and kiss the tip of her shoe—that would certainly be amusing…
I really am looking forward to the day you submit to me completely, Theresa.
Wait…
why am I having such strange thoughts?
Could I be getting influenced by my sim-self?
A delighted smile unconsciously tugged at the corner of her lips.
Ecaros gazed deeply at Theresa, but just as she was about to choose the branch, she suddenly felt something was slightly off about her own thoughts.
And then Ecaros rather sorrowfully realized that her mind was no longer pure.
She needed to remember that she had once been the neighborhood’s famously model Lateran citizen, the adorable little angel everyone loved, with the purest of thoughts.
But now…
just how pure the thoughts of a girl who’d awakened her past-life memories really were…
that was hard to say…
Still, the girl didn’t agonize over it for long.
She’d just dump all the blame on the system.
After all, Ecaros was not a lesbian; it was impossible for her to have strange thoughts about girls!
Ab-so-lute-ly not!!!
System: […] [Choice confirmed: Branch 3.
Simulation continuing.] The system, rendered speechless by its own host, couldn’t be bothered to argue.
It simply resumed the simulation.
And the world—which had seemed paused in time—began moving once more before Ecaros’ eyes.
The earthy scent, tinged with a hint of heat, mingled with the faint fragrance drifting from her swaying hair tips, lingering over the wilderness at Kazdel’s border.
Thud— The carriage door closed softly but still made a gentle sound, alerting its sunset-gazing master that Theresa had stepped out.
Ecaros came back to her senses, lifted the cane she leaned upon, adjusted her hat with one hand, and turned to face Theresa, who stood outside the carriage door.
Theresa watched the turning Ecaros warily, her body still, but Ecaros could read the tension and vigilance in her eyes and the subtle twitch of the slender tail behind her.
“Names.
Yours, and the other’s.” Ecaros surveyed Theresa’s entire appearance, while Theresa cautiously did the same.
This was, in the truest sense, the first time they had seen each other in full.
In Ecaros’ eyes, she saw a scrawny, pitiful, frail little Sarkaz—one with a promising future in looks, an unyielding spirit concealed within, and the wisdom to hide her anger.
Similar to her past self, yet entirely different.
In Theresa’s eyes, her assessment of Ecaros was far lower than Ecaros’ assessment of her.
The general impression was rich, mysterious, and beautiful but inexplicably fake and detestable.
And a slaver who now owned her.
If possible, she’d like to kill her and then run away with her brother.
However, Theresa was naturally not going to show these thoughts just yet.
Faced with Ecaros’ question, and not knowing the depths of the other’s strength, Theresa chose to compromise and feign weakness—though her tone was hardly that of a slave.
“Theresa.
The one in the carriage is Theresis.” Theresa’s tone was neither cold nor fawning; it could be called neither humble nor arrogant.
Truthfully, Theresa’s attitude was already quite decent.
Back at the slave trader’s, she hadn’t even deigned to respond, even when whipped.
Such actions only made Theresa angrier and planted hatred in her heart.
And she would usually find ways to retaliate without the slave trader noticing.
After all, the Theresa of now was not yet the gentle Queen of the future.
The change that would define her had not yet arrived.
Right now, all she cared about was the promise to protect her family.
Nothing more.
And, to be honest, Theresa felt her attitude toward Ecaros was already quite good.
But this attitude only made Ecaros furrow her brows slightly, a sense of displeasure rising within her.
No matter what, Theresa’s current status was that of her slave.
And as a Grand Duchess—even if one in name only—Ecaros’ authority was not something anyone could trample upon.
Theresa’s special nature could earn her considerable tolerance from Ecaros.
But that did not mean Theresa could challenge the authority of the Grand Duchess of Manchester, of Victoria, while standing as a slave.
Ecaros decided to teach Theresa a little lesson to make her recognize her current position.
A cold, faint smile curved upon the girl’s lips.
“Allow me to introduce myself.
I am Ecaros Richard Serena Manchester, the last Grand Duchess of House Manchester of Victoria.
And am now your, Theresa’s—from now on, and for the rest of your life…
—Master.” As she spoke, Ecaros deliberately paused and then, in a single blurring motion, arrived directly before Theresa, pressing close against her.
She emphasized her identity with an oppressive presence.
With the final two words, the distance between Ecaros and Theresa was less than half a foot.
The warm, delicate breath, carrying the subtle fragrance of her hair, gently brushed against Theresa’s face, allowing her to admire Ecaros’ exquisitely sculpted features up close.
But this intimately ambiguous scene brought Theresa only hair-raising terror and a sense of mortal danger!
Her body instinctively sensed peril.
Her pupils contracted sharply; the combat factors in her Sarkaz blood boiled over from fear and the desperate will to survive.
Theresa’s body didn’t even give her conscious mind time to react.
Her right hand, shaped into a knife hand, shot toward Ecaros’ pale neck like an arrow loosed from a bowstring.
In half a second, that fair throat would gush crimson, and both Theresa and Theresis would be free.
Provided, of course, that Ecaros did nothing in that half second.
In the next instant, Ecaros’ figure vanished from before Theresa’s eyes—like a mirage, a reflection of flowers in water, it simply disappeared from her sight.
Then, Ecaros reappeared behind Theresa.
Her right hand gently rested on Theresa’s neck, tender as a mother cat licking her kitten.
The touch was soft, but the voice beside her ear was a demon’s whisper.
“Breathe deeply.
Don’t speak.
The dizziness to follow is perfectly normal.” And as Ecaros’ murmured words fell, Theresa felt time slow for an instant, before her vision plummeted violently downward.
Her entire body, along with the sound of rushing wind, was ruthlessly smashed into the ground.
And embedded straight into the earth.