Lilith’s body stiffened in an instant, as if frozen into a stone statue.
‘She moved, she moved, she moved!
She’s resting her head on my lap!’ ‘What do I do, what do I do?
Push her away?
Would she fly into a rage and dissect me?
Not push her away?
What is this?
Some new kind of restraint play?’ ‘Her hair…
is so soft…’ [Host, calm down!
Maintain your persona!] The system’s voice carried a trace of an imperceptible tremor, [Right now, you are the aloof, mysterious Prophet who scorns the very idea of a mortal’s lap pillow!
Not some pervert being graced by a goddess!] ‘I am not!’ Lilith roared frantically in her heart.
The soft sensation, the warm body heat, and the scent of stardust mixed with a cool floral fragrance, so close it was almost tangible, enveloped her from all sides.
This was Herta’s scent.
The iceberg-like genius, for the first time before her ‘daughter,’ had shed all her defenses and arrogance, revealing pure dependence and exhaustion.
Lilith looked down, able to see only Herta’s long, slightly trembling gray-purple eyelashes.
Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady.
The face that usually held three parts mockery and seven parts indifference now held only tranquility.
This extreme contrast completely threw Lilith’s heartbeat out of rhythm.
She felt as if the cold metal collar around her neck had also become scalding hot.
“So noisy.” Just as Lilith was about to be drowned by the barrage of thoughts in her mind, Herta, who was pillowed on her lap, suddenly let out a dreamlike complaint.
Lilith was startled, instinctively holding her breath.
‘She said I’m noisy?
I didn’t make a sound!’ [She’s probably referring to your inner thoughts,] the system added quietly, [your brainwaves are fluctuating like you’re at a concert.] Herta seemed truly exhausted to the extreme.
After that unconscious complaint, she just nuzzled against Lilith’s soft thigh, finding a more comfortable position.
Time seemed to stand still in that moment.
The clamor outside the control room, the discussions of the researchers, all became distant background noise.
In this small lounge, only the quiet sound of their breathing remained.
After a long time, Herta finally spoke in a soft voice, almost like a sigh, thick with weariness, whispering, “Your existence is more interesting than the entire universe.” Lilith’s heart clenched violently.
Herta didn’t open her eyes.
Her voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable certainty.
“Stay by my side.
Don’t go anywhere.” These words were like a gentle yet inescapable spell, more like a brand.
Accompanied by the faint glow from the collar around her neck, they were deeply etched into Lilith’s heart.
This was not a request, nor a discussion.
It was a declaration.
At that moment, the collar seemed to completely lose its physical meaning as a restraint.
It became a symbol, a ‘pet collar’ proclaiming ownership, personally placed by its master, and incredibly precious.
[Warning!
Sweetness levels exceeding limits!
Target’s possessiveness has broken the critical threshold!] The system issued a piercing alarm.
[Congratulations, Host.
You have successfully been promoted from ‘interesting experimental subject’ to ‘private property that no one else can touch’!] Just as this moment of warmth and ambiguity was about to ferment to its peak, a rapid communication alert abruptly shattered the tranquility.
*Beep beep beep.* The personal terminal on Herta’s wrist lit up, and a light screen automatically popped up.
She frowned impatiently, clearly extremely displeased with this ill-timed interruption.
On the light screen, a name with a distinct style was displayed—[Genius Society #76: Screwllum].
‘Screwllum?
That mechanical aristocrat?’ Lilith’s heart stirred, recalling game plot details.
Herta opened her eyes.
Those purple eyes, which had just held weariness, instantly regained their usual iciness the moment she saw the screen.
She seemed to want to hang up directly, but after a moment’s hesitation, she reluctantly answered the call.
A half-body portrait composed of intricate machinery, elegant and gentlemanly, appeared on the light screen.
His voice was steady, precise, devoid of any human emotional fluctuation, every syllable seeming to have undergone the most meticulous calculation.
“Herta, my apologies for the interruption.” Screwllum’s signature mechanical voice came through.
“I have received your brief on the ‘curio creation’ algorithm.
A very…
genius concept.” “It defies logic, yet creates miracles.” “Get to the point.” Herta’s tone was terrible.
She didn’t even get up from Lilith’s lap, just lazily glanced at the screen.
“Based on my deductions, this kind of non-linear logical creation does not seem to be your style.” Screwllum’s voice remained steady.
“I heard you recently picked up an interesting ‘toy’ from an Antimatter Legion attack?” Toy.
That word, like a needle, instantly pierced the ambiguous atmosphere in the room.
Herta’s body stiffened for a fleeting moment.
She slowly, very slowly, turned her head.
Her cold purple eyes first glanced at Lilith, whose body was equally stiff on her lap, desperately holding herself still.
Upon seeing that little look of hers—clearly terrified to death yet trying hard to appear calm—the frost in Herta’s eyes melted for an instant, becoming incredibly gentle.
But then, when she turned her gaze back to Screwllum on the light screen, that gentleness transformed into an absolute zero cold enough to freeze stars.
She sat up straight, her gorgeous skirt sliding off Lilith’s lap.
Then, facing the communicator, in a tone icy enough to freeze one’s bones, she answered word by word, coldly, “She is not a toy.” Herta paused.
A flash of obsessive, possessive madness flickered in her purple pupils, and the corner of her mouth lifted into a smile that proclaimed absolute sovereignty.
“She is mine.”