“My Lord, I do not understand.”
“Malcador, this is necessary.
We need a preliminary experiment to minimize potential errors.”
Inside a hidden laboratory beneath the Himalayas, two figures gazed at a tiny infant soaking in a nutrient tank, remaining silent for a long time…
What on earth?
Why is my body so sticky?
Morningstar was currently in a daze.
She hadn’t drunk that much during last night’s business dinner; surely she hadn’t vomited on herself.
Damn, this is disgusting.
I need to get up and shower.
Struggling to open her eyes, what met her gaze was a breathtakingly beautiful face.
Snowy white hair like silk, skin like the bright moon, cherry-pink lips, and willow-leaf brows.
Most striking were those violet eyes, comparable to glazed glass.
It was so beautiful it didn’t seem mortal.
For a moment, Morningstar thought she was looking at a legendary angel.
Wait, damn, who are you, lady?
Don’t I live alone?
How did you get in?
The other party also wore a look of surprise, as if questioning Morningstar on why she was there.
Morningstar reached out to touch it, only to feel a cold, smooth texture, like glass.
Glass?
Morningstar finally cleared her head a bit and looked around.
It was indeed glass.
She was lying inside a capsule-like tank.
Outside the capsule was a magnificent room filled with all sorts of strange objects she had never seen before.
And that beautiful face was clearly her own reflection in the glass.
Haha, this can’t be right.
I must be dreaming.
Morningstar truly hoped she was dreaming.
She had just had a bit to drink and fell asleep as soon as she got home.
How did she end up here?
What kind of place was this?
Unfortunately, the sticky discomfort on her body and the cold texture in her hands all told her: Child, you’re not dreaming.
Surprise!
Surprise my foot!
Why isn’t there anyone here?
Someone tell me what’s going on!
She looked down at herself.
A sticky white cloth wrapped around a body that looked like a work of art—not overly slender, yet gracefully slim.
“Damn, look at those long legs.”
Morningstar praised aloud.
Her voice was exquisite yet slightly raspy, as if she had just woken up—definitely a voice fit for a professional streamer.
Morningstar moved her body; it felt like something was growing on her back.
Unfortunately, the capsule was a bit narrow, and she couldn’t see yet.
“Hello?
Anyone there?
Annyeonghaseyo?
Sawasdee ka…”
Morningstar shouted a few times, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts.
It seemed she had transmigrated.
She didn’t know where to yet, but whatever—she might as well make the best of it.
Speaking of which, don’t transmigrators usually have systems?
‘System!
System?’
Fine, looks like there’s no system.
After shouting for a few minutes with no one appearing, Morningstar decided to find a way out herself.
Morningstar examined the interior of the capsule.
No, there was nothing like a mechanism.
To get out, she would likely have to break the glass.
Morningstar touched the inner wall of the capsule.
She had no tools with her; breaking the glass would depend on her fists.
If it were tempered glass, she wouldn’t get out even if she broke her hands.
Whatever, let’s try.
Morningstar took a deep breath.
The space inside the capsule was too cramped, giving her only about ten centimeters of room to exert force.
It would probably take a lot of effort.
Inhale.
She pulled her fists to her waist, and then—strike!
An unmatched force exploded within the capsule.
Glass shards flew high and scattered like scrap paper.
“Eh?”
Morningstar was a bit stunned.
She had been prepared for failure.
Looking at her fists, there wasn’t even a mark from the impact, let alone a wound.
“Turns out I’m actually this badass.”
Stepping out, a stretching sensation came from her back.
Morningstar looked back and saw clusters of pure white feathers.
They were actually wings like those of a bird.
At this moment, three pairs of wings were unfurling behind her.
“A beautiful face, wings…
have I become an angel?”
Morningstar looked around.
The full view of the room was revealed to her: magnificent and opulent, with a decor style comparable to an oil-rich nouveau riche.
A tall, tightly closed door stood behind her.
She was surrounded by various machines, and the capsule that had trapped her was in the center of the room, with several pipes connected to its base and a layer of transparent slime still inside.
“This doesn’t look like Heaven, though.”
Morningstar avoided the clutter in the room and walked toward the door.
Her intuition told her that these things she didn’t understand were very dangerous.
Standing before the door, Morningstar examined the luxurious carvings on it.
No, she couldn’t make sense of them.
She pushed the door; surprisingly, it opened easily, even though the metal door looked as thick as her palm.
Outside was a long corridor, and at the end of it was another door, still in that gaudy nouveau riche gold style.
Morningstar walked barefoot on what seemed to be a marble floor.
Marble pillars stood on both sides of the corridor; walking here felt like being in some ancient Greek palace.
When she reached the door at the end, there was a freaking digital keypad on it!
Morningstar fell into deep thought.
Was this actually a coded door?
She pushed hard, but no, the door wouldn’t budge.
Morningstar looked at the keypad, wanting to input some numbers, but she had a strange intuition that if she entered the wrong ones, something bad would happen.
Nothing to do but wait.
Morningstar sat down cross-legged.
Speaking of which, how was she supposed to sleep with these wings?
Do angels even need to sleep?
Just as Morningstar was wondering how an angel would use the bathroom, a vague sensation surfaced in her heart.
Morningstar stood up and stared intently at the door.
Someone was coming—someone very important.
It was like a creation’s feeling toward its creator, a feeling like…
a father?
An angel’s father, God?
The door slowly opened, and two figures emerged within a dazzling golden light.
On the left was an old man draped in a cloak, with two strands of silver hair hanging down.
He held a scepter with a ball of blazing fire burning at its head.
Surprisingly, the old man’s height only reached Morningstar’s waist.
The figure on the right was clad in golden armor, incredibly tall, with light brown skin and a resolute face.
Long black hair fell to his chest, and he wore a golden circlet.
His eyes glowed with golden light, and his whole being seemed to radiate light (in fact, he really was glowing).
At this moment, he was looking down at Morningstar.
Morningstar froze on the spot, looked left, then right, and then her eyes rolled back as she fainted.
“…”
The Emperor looked at his Eldest Daughter, who had fainted on the floor, and asked his close friend beside him.
“Do I look that scary?”
Malcador chuckled, “Who knows.”