Chapter 141 Neuman
In upstate New York, at a secluded Villa, the lake surface was as calm as a dark piece of glass, reflecting the last trace of gray-blue twilight. The helipad extended along the lakeshore, the gray-white concrete stained with a layer of dullness from the water vapor. Green descended slowly from the air, his clothes fluttered by the downdraft before settling quietly back against his body. He had clearly flown here, yet he chose to land on the helipad—that damn sense of ritual, it had to be there.
"Green!!"
A pretty voice exploded from the group of bodyguards, filled with undisguised joy.
The mixed-race girl of South African and white descent shot out from the sea of black suits like a catapulted candy, her light blue skirt fluttering behind her.
"Oh—my little horsehair worm."
Green bent down, spread his arms, and scooped her up.
"Haha!"
Zoe laughed. Wearing flat sneakers, she kicked off the ground while in Green's arms, jumping up to wrap her legs around his waist, clinging to him like a koala.
Her light blue dress hung down, swaying gently with her movements.
She was like a weather doll in his hands, light and obedient, her skirt and hair fluttering in the wind, while her knee-high white socks wrapped around her calves, swinging happily.
"Hmm, you've gotten quite a bit heavier." Green bounced her slightly and smiled.
"No, I haven't!" Zoe pouted, clenched her fist, and tapped his chest lightly, her touch soft and weak.
"It's clearly because you haven't come to see me in too long, you didn't even know I've developed."
"Oh~ is that so." Green drew out the tail of his sentence, his eyebrows slightly raised.
"Mm!" Zoe nodded vigorously.
"I drink milk every day."
She cupped Green's face with both hands, her small palms pressed against his jawline, fingers curling slightly near his ears.
The posture carried a precociousness that didn't belong to her age.
"When I come of age, we can be together."
She leaned closer, so close that Green could see the almost invisible little freckle on the tip of her nose.
"Or—we can do it now too."
The corners of her mouth curled up with a touch of innocent, oblivious-to-danger cunning.
"Mom has taught me a lot."
"Enough, Zoe, you're being presumptuous."
A capable female politician walked out from behind the bodyguards. Her long, wavy hair shone with a deep chocolate luster in the twilight.
She had an oval face, thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a high bridge of the nose. Her features were beautiful but carried an unquestionable sharpness, and her face wore a look of feigned anger.
Beside her followed a man who looked like a STEM nerd, with an honest-looking face, glasses, and a slightly hunched back, appearing exceptionally weak compared to Neuman's powerful aura.
"Every time Mom mates with Dad," Zoe whispered close to Green's ear,
"she mostly calls your name, and Dad can't last more than a few minutes."
"Is that so~~"
Green looked at Neuman with a half-smile, drawing out his words meaningfully.
His voice wasn't loud, but everyone present heard it clearly.
"Ahem! Zoe! You're… you're exposing too much, we…" Samir pushed his glasses awkwardly, not knowing where to put his hands, unable to speak fluently.
"Zoe, get down."
Neuman cut the man off directly, her tone flat.
Her expression didn't change, she only raised her eyebrows slightly. That composure, as if she didn't care at all about having a shameful secret exposed by her daughter in public.
"Oh~"
Zoe nodded obediently, leaning in reluctantly to kiss Green on the cheek.
When her lips touched him, there was a soft "pop" sound, and then she pulled away slowly, as if wanting to hold onto that sensation for one more second.
"Love you."
"You're still too young." Green smiled helplessly and bent down to put her down.
"I'll grow up soon…" After landing, Zoe wanted to say something more, but was hurriedly pulled away by Samir.
The man walked while bowing his head to talk to her, as if explaining or begging for mercy.
Zoe looked back at Green, a triumphant smile on her lips.
Neuman stood where she was, watching her daughter be taken away, before turning her gaze back to Green.
"Love you~~"
Neuman crossed her arms, pressing them beneath her bust, pushing the already tight fabric into deeper creases.
"Tch!"
She tilted her head slightly, her long, wavy hair sliding down from her shoulder, revealing a well-defined neck.
"You damn bastard."
Her voice wasn't loud, even calm, but every word felt squeezed out from between her teeth.
"Children just say whatever comes to mind." Green shrugged, wearing that habitual half-smile that made people want to slap him.
"Hmph."
Neuman snorted through her nose and walked toward him.
She stopped in front of Green, raised her hand, pressed her index finger against his chest, and poked him.
"Don't let me discover anything that shouldn't be happening, at least not right now."
Her gaze carried a warning, and also an indescribable, ambiguous threat.
"Oh."
Neuman stared at him for a few seconds, then withdrew her hand.
"There's still some time before the family dinner." She turned and started walking.
"My father is cooking himself. This old guy just loves slow work for fine results."
Neuman paused at the doorway, turning her face to the side, revealing only half of her well-defined profile and one eye. That eye reflected the warm light from inside the house, and something was flickering deep within her pupil.
"Come."
Then she turned her head and walked inside. The sound of her high heels gradually faded. She didn't look back, didn't stop, and didn't give Green any reason to refuse.
An hour later, in the bedroom, in the pitch-black space, there was only the moonlight shining in from outside the window, a thin layer falling on the creases of the bedsheets like spilled mercury.
"Ah—"
A long moan exploded from the darkness, dragging a wet, trembling tail, as if something had been uprooted from a very deep place.
Then came the gasps, rapid, unrecovered gasps, shallow and deep, interlacing.
"This is true pleasure."
Neuman's voice came from the darkness, carrying a satisfied, lazy hoarseness, with a breath between every word, as if savoring the aftertaste.
She rolled off Green, her movements not graceful, even somewhat rough.
She yanked the quilt over to wrap her beautiful body, revealing only a shoulder and the wavy hair spread on the pillow.
The fabric clung along the curves of her body, outlining the deep hollow between her waist and hips.
She lay down, felt for a cigarette from the bedside, and lit it.
The flame illuminated her face for an instant; the flush of passion still lingered between her brows, her lips slightly swollen, yet the corners of her mouth held a cold, satisfied smile.
"When I do it with Samir, I'm always afraid I'll kill him if I use too much force. It's too boring."
"It's good to have you."
She took a drag, and the smoke slowly spilled from her lips.
Green took the cigarette from her hand and brought it to his own lips.
The temperature of her lips and a bit of moisture remained on the edge of the filter. He held that spot and took a drag.
The smoke circled in his lungs, slowly spilled from his nasal cavity, and scattered into pale blue wisps in the moonlight.
"You only vent your emotions like this when you have something on your mind or too much pressure. What? Trying to stir up trouble?"
"Yeah."
Neuman lay beside him, looking up at the ceiling.
"I plan to betray my father."
Green's hand holding the cigarette paused.
The ash fell silently, shattering into the creases of the bedsheet.
"As long as you're sure of yourself."
He and Neuman had known each other for a long time.
He understood this woman.
What she craved was never power itself, but the freedom that power brought—freedom from being restrained by anyone—and an ambition grand enough that no one could hurt her or Zoe.
She was a woman aiming for President.
Green would not stop her.
"Can you help me?" Neuman turned her head to look at him.
"No."
"Why? You just had me."
She unceremoniously used her own body as a bargaining chip, her tone even carrying a sense of taken-for-granted entitlement.
Green didn't answer immediately.
He stubbed the cigarette out on the nightstand, the sparks emitting a faint hiss in the darkness.
"You injected Zoe with Compound V, didn't you?"
Neuman was silent.
"…How did you know?"
"Her eyes have a bit more bloodlust." Green turned his head to look at her.
"She's tasted blood, hasn't she?"
Neuman lowered her head, her long hair falling to cover half her face.
"Mm."
"Does Edgar know?"
"Nothing."
"That sentence carries a lot of information."
Green didn't say anything more.
He threw off the quilt and got up, turning his back to her, and began to put on his clothes.
"Can you… protect her?"
Neuman's voice came from behind, lacking the composure from earlier.
She hugged Green from behind, her arms wrapped around his waist, her cheek pressed against his bare back.
"I know I don't love you, and my time with you is mostly…"
"I can."
She wanted to continue, still organizing the wording to persuade him, but Green gave the answer cleanly and decisively.
"As for what you want to do, do it. If you dare to play with Fire, be prepared to be burned to death by it."
He walked out the door without looking back.
The lights in the hallway were dim.
Samir happened to be passing by the door and saw Green walk out of Neuman's bedroom.
Samir's gaze paused on Green for a moment, then quickly shifted away.
He gave a dry laugh, his mouth pulling into an awkward, fawning arc. He kept his head down, eyes fixed on the tips of his shoes, not daring to say anything.
When Green walked past him, he even leaned slightly to the side, giving up half a shoulder's worth of space.
But he couldn't help but look up, watching Green's back.
That figure turned at the end of the hallway and disappeared around the corner.
There was something more in Samir's eyes, hidden behind his lenses, almost unnoticeable without careful observation.
He withdrew his gaze and turned to look at the half-open door.
Neuman was sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in the quilt, her long hair scattered on her shoulders, her head bowed, wondering what she was thinking.
The moonlight fell on her profile, making her outline look very soft, like a completely different person from the capable and sharp female politician she usually was.
Samir sighed.
He didn't go in. He reached out and gently closed the door. The lock made a soft "click."
Then he turned around and walked away alone.
Chapter 142: Vought Family Dinner, Original Compound V, Green Morgan's "Staple Food"
"Pop—" The cork was slowly pulled out, emitting a dull, rounded sound.
The agate-colored wine poured into the glass, surging and swirling against the transparent glass walls like a miniature whirlpool, wrapping around light, coiling around Shadow, slowly tightening circle by circle, then gradually dispersing.
The crystal chandelier hung above the long table, its precisely cut facets breaking the candlelight into countless tiny specks of light, sprinkling onto the rim of the glasses, the silverware, and the silent faces of everyone present.
The lighting was low-key yet elegant, much like the family dinner itself: decent, restrained, and with undercurrents surging beneath the surface.
The banquet was nearing its end. Only scraps remained on the plates, knives and forks lay horizontally on the edges of the bone dishes, and napkins were crumpled into balls and tossed aside.
The air was filled with a mixture of the fruity aroma of red wine, the charred scent of roasted meat, and the gradually intensifying smell of tobacco.
"Ah—thanks for the hospitality~" Green Morgan leaned back in his chair, resting the back of his head against the curve of the chair back, and blew a puff of smoke toward the ceiling.
The smoke rose slowly, dispersing into a light blue mist within the beam of the chandelier.
He turned his head, pulled another cigarette from the pack, and handed it to Edgar beside him.
"Heh, thanks." Edgar took the cigarette, held it between his lips, and leaned toward the lighter Green Morgan offered. The flame flared between them for a moment.
He took a drag, raised the cigarette in his hand, and nodded slightly at Green Morgan in acknowledgement.
"Hm?" Green Morgan offered another one to Samir. A flash of surprise crossed Samir's eyes. He had assumed someone like Green Morgan would look down on him, but Samir quickly put on a smile and waved his hand.
"No, I don't smoke."
"That's right, usually I'm the one who smokes at home." Neuman, who had just walked over, took the cigarette and sat down naturally.
She brought the cigarette to her nose and sniffed it gently. The scent of tobacco mixed with the lingering fragrance of shower gel on her fingertips, intertwining in the air, then she set it aside without lighting it.
"You're late." Edgar leaned back in his high-backed chair, a hint of smiling reproach on his lips as he looked at Neuman. "This isn't the hospitality I taught you."
"Sorry, Father." Neuman picked up the fork on the table, her fingers gripping the silver handle. "But I think our guest is already quite satisfied with me. If he had worn it, I might have come out faster."
"As long as he is satisfied." Edgar's smile didn't change, but his eyes deepened slightly.
"Uh-huh, I'm very hungry now," Neuman skewered a piece of cheese crisp. The moment the silver tines pierced the cracker, it made a faint, crisp sound. "Please don't be so harsh on me for now."
She glanced at Green Morgan, who was sitting on the sidelines as if watching a play. Green Morgan was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, with no sign of shame on his face. He looked at her askance, a faint, imperceptible curve on his lips.
"Hmph, freeloader." Neuman smiled. She popped the crisp into her mouth, and when she bit down, it made a crisp "crunch" sound, the salty aroma of the cheese spreading between her lips and teeth.
"Here's something you like." Samir skewered a sausage and ingratiatingly placed it by the edge of Neuman's bowl.
"Thanks, but I don't really want to eat sausage right now." Neuman extended her hand, her fingers pressing against Samir's wrist, and pushed it back gently. She had no interest in this "trinket" anymore.
Samir's smile stiffened for a moment, then he withdrew his hand, put the sausage back on his own plate, and gave a sheepish smile. "Alright."
"Take Zoe to see her little lamb, Samir." Edgar's voice came from the other end of the long table, affectionate and gentle, carrying an understated command.
His gaze fell on Zoe, who had somehow snuggled up next to Green Morgan. "No～ It's been so long since Green Morgan came here."
Zoe pouted, her voice filled with a spoiled, sticky dissatisfaction. She held her chin slightly high, meeting her grandfather's gaze with no intention of backing down.
"Zoe." Neuman's voice was heavier. Zoe looked at her mother, pursing her lips. The mother and daughter's gazes met in the air for a few seconds, locking against each other, neither willing to look away first.
"Go on." Green Morgan's hand landed on Zoe's head, patting it gently.
"Alright." Zoe's shoulders slumped. She dragged out the end of her sentence and reluctantly moved away from Green Morgan.
Samir nodded slightly at Edgar, bowed, and then took Zoe's hand and left the dining room.
Only the sound of Neuman eating and the rising smoke remained in the dining room. The silver fork occasionally touched the porcelain plate, emitting a faint, clinking sound, crisp and lonely.
Edgar spoke. "According to capitalist logic, when assigning extremely high value to something, one must ensure that it remains under control. This is a trade-off, and also a manageable risk."
His voice wasn't loud, carrying the composure of someone who has held power for years. "In his original design, Homelander was a gray character who was extremely starved for love and needed public approval to anchor himself. But you gave him a complete soul. Young man, this move caught me off guard; the losses are immeasurable."
"You've frightened me, Mr. Edgar." Green Morgan raised his hands in mock fear. "But the god you created—and this god is not a foolish one—he will find out sooner or later. If not him, then it will be some accident, or some forces deliberately approaching him that will make him discover it. I merely preserved Homelander's trust in your company at the right time, with the minimum risk."
The dining room fell silent for a moment. "Then I suppose I have to thank dear Mr. Green Morgan?" Edgar's tone gave nothing away.
"As you should." Green Morgan pursed his lips and lifted his chin slightly, a gesture filled with an almost shameless nonchalance. "I accept your thanks."
Neuman was twirling her spaghetti on the side, but her gaze shifted back and forth between Green Morgan and her father. She watched Green Morgan confront her father, a flash of brilliance crossing her eyes, which she quickly suppressed.
"Heh." Edgar chuckled. "You are indeed much more dangerous than Homelander. From your attitude, your eyes... you are terrifying, young man. I cannot think of anything that could keep you in check."
"Aren't we on the same side?" Green Morgan tilted his head and blinked in mock confusion. "You are forcing me to take on the role of suppressing Homelander."
"Suppression, not guidance." Green Morgan's voice suddenly dropped. The smile still hung on his lips, but there was no warmth in his eyes. "Your desire to control the situation is too strong; it will backfire."
"You're lecturing me now." Edgar smiled, but his gaze quietly flickered toward Neuman, who appeared neutral on the side, thoughts already swirling in his eyes. "Originally, for Homelander's loss of control, I had prepared Black Noir." He withdrew his gaze and looked back at Green Morgan.
"Now you have a better one, don't you?" Green Morgan said. "Are you sure?" "You have no choice. You are facing a group of chaotic villains. And I am the best."
Edgar looked at him and remained silent for a few seconds. "Indeed."
He casually pulled two vials from the suit jacket hanging on the chair nearby, one black and one blue, and placed them on the table. "This is a virus with enough dosage to kill Homelander." He pointed to the black one, then turned to the blue one. "And this is the original Compound V."
"It was originally a finished product from the same period as the Captain America Super Soldier Serum. The current version of Compound V is an inferior product, further improved after being diluted. The original can cause a qualitative change in a Supe's own abilities, and even achieve immortality. There are only a few copies preserved in the entire World."
His gaze shifted from the vials to Green Morgan's face. "Now, they are yours. Decide how to use them yourself."
He pushed the two bottles toward Green Morgan. The glass slid across the table, emitting a faint friction sound. Green Morgan didn't reach for them immediately. He looked down at the two bottles, then raised his eyes to look at Edgar, his gaze calm. "What do you need me to do?"
"Don't let this proud daughter of mine be left without rescue at the last moment. I can sense the World is becoming more dangerous. Help her; after all, I don't have enough brute force." Edgar's voice softened.
Crack— The fork in front of Neuman cracked the dinner plate under a sudden increase in grip strength. She lowered her head, her long hair hanging down to cover her face, and said nothing. Edgar glanced at Neuman gently. That look contained guilt, heartache, and more than anything, a long-standing, understated control. He knew she would be angry, but he also knew she would eventually listen to him.
"If possible," he turned back to Green Morgan, "I hope this original Compound V can be used on you and Zoe, or Neuman's child."
He said it very lightly; Samir's name was never mentioned from beginning to end. For their ambitious family, Samir, although there was some affection, was only valued for his scientific worth.
[Samir Shah: Vought R&D scientist, former assistant to Stan Edgar, developed the virus that kills Supes.]
"I'll try." Green Morgan picked up the two incredibly precious vials and stuffed them into his pants pocket, the action as casual as pocketing two lighters, making Edgar's eyelid twitch. "If there's nothing else, I'm leaving." Green Morgan stood up.
"No need to rush; you can spend more time together." Edgar stood up, draped his jacket over his arm, and as he passed by Green Morgan, his palm landed on his shoulder and patted it, like an elder's affirmation of a younger generation, or perhaps something else. "I won't interrupt you young people's time."
His footsteps gradually faded away and disappeared at the end of the corridor. The dining room quieted down. Green Morgan looked up at Neuman; her gaze was so intense it was as if she wanted to devour him.
"I'll cut ties with Samir tonight and focus entirely on preparing for pregnancy." She stood up, her knee pushing the chair away, the chair legs scraping against the floor with a harsh sound. She stepped onto the table, her high heels landing on the solid wood surface with a crisp click. Then the second one followed. She stood on the dining table, looking down at Green Morgan.
"From now on, you are my husband, Zoe's father." She took a step toward him, her high heels clicking on the table, each step making a firm, dull sound. "Protect us, can you?"
Her high heel landed on Green Morgan's shoulder, the heel pressing against his collarbone, slowly moving upward, and stopping beside his cheek. "I said, I won't save a lunatic who voluntarily throws themselves into a source of Fire." Green Morgan tilted his head, avoiding her heel. "And I'm not in the mood right now."
"Then, you need to put out the Fire for me." A white film covered Neuman's eyes. Green Morgan's body stiffened for a moment. He could feel it—Neuman's blood-manipulation power...
Rrrrip— The clothes tore at a seam. "How about now?" Neuman lowered her head slightly, the corners of her mouth curling into an arc, looking at him provocatively.
"Heh." Green Morgan lowered his head, his fingers reaching to her ankle, unhurriedly unbuckling the shoe. The high heel was taken off and tossed aside. His fingertips hooked into the depressions on both sides of her ankle bone, and his thumb rubbed back and forth across the top of her foot.
Neuman's breathing grew heavy. A soft moan spilled from her throat, short and light, as if something had been quietly released. Green Morgan pulled her down from the table. "Ah—!" Her body traced an arc in the air, her skirt fluttering, her long hair spilling out. When she landed in Green Morgan's arms, she brought with her a warm breeze. "Let us begin!"
Chapter 143: Seed, Chance Encounter
Early morning. The bedroom was filled with the lingering scent of a night of intense battle—the faint intoxication of evaporating alcohol, the salty astringency of dried sweat. All these scents mingled together, warmed by body heat throughout the night, becoming heavy and ambiguous, pressing down deeply into the air.
On the minimalist bed, Neuman stirred in her sleep.
Her body instinctively leaned toward the furnace-like man beside her, her waist tracing a soft arc on the sheets. She reached out, but her fingertips touched only the cold bedsheet.
Empty?
She frowned, her nostrils slightly flaring.
The air held only the aftertaste of last night, but that intoxicating, poison-like hormonal scent—the one that made her scalp tingle with every breath, mixed with tobacco and some kind of Beast-like musk—had dissipated.
That man had been gone for a long time.
She half-opened her eyes groggily. Sunlight squeezed through the gap in the curtains, painting a long, thin strip of light across the pillow.
There was still a shallow indentation on the pillow beside her, but the temperature had already cooled.
"Hmm..."
She reached out to cover her forehead, pressing her thumbs against her temples and rubbing hard.
She had drunk a lot of alcohol last night to fully enjoy herself. Her memory was a bit fragmented, but her body still remembered.
She felt that at that moment, she was like a living specimen pinned to a display board, cooperating with her mad scientist performance.
"Hmph." The corners of her mouth slowly curled up.
That sense of security—the security of being completely controlled, of not needing to make any decisions herself—pressed heavily upon her, crushing all her anxiety and ambition for the moment, leaving only the most primitive, animalistic perception and response...
Neuman suddenly thought of something. She reached into the blanket to feel around, a faint blush rising on her cheeks—whether from the lingering hangover or something else, she didn't know.
"Should be... quite enough, right?"
At this moment, the dim daylight leaked through the gaps in the clouds, plating the wings of the quinjet with a cold white edge.
Green was sitting in the cabin of the quinjet, leaning against the curved cabin window, holding a bacon sandwich in his hand.
The bread was slightly flattened, the edges somewhat irregular. The crispy fried edges of the bacon stuck out from between the two slices of bread, and the lettuce leaf hung limply.
He took a bite of the sandwich, and the salty aroma of the bacon spread in his mouth.
"Sir, do we need to report to the local consulate in Norway?"
The cockpit door was pushed open a crack, and an S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent poked his head out to ask.
"Turn on stealth mode and just go straight in."
Green chewed and swallowed the sandwich, then picked up a napkin from the side to wipe his fingers.
"Yes." The Agent pulled his head back.
He continued to eat his sandwich.
This trip was very rushed and not part of his plan; it was because the containment of the Asgard berserker staff, which Thor was responsible for, had run into problems.
It wasn't that he had lost control due to the staff's power; the thick-nerved blond hunk was a prince after all, and he shouldn't be unable to keep an eye on a stick.
The problem was that the staff had been intercepted.
Thor had already obtained the staff and was preparing to retreat when he was surrounded.
The ones surrounding him were none other than another team of S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents; strictly speaking, it was Hydra.
Thor wasn't sure if he should kill them, and he couldn't get away. It wasn't that he couldn't outrun them, but that he couldn't shake them off; one by one, they were expressionlessly risking their lives to seize it and firing wildly.
But it seemed Green had people like that under his command too, so he simply surrendered and sent a message to Green to come and fish him out.
"What a pain..."
...
Norway. The morning Sun didn't burn; it fell on the skin as just a thin layer of warmth, like diluted honey, clear and gentle.
The clear blue of the sky stretched all the way to the horizon, interspersed with a few wisps of lingering clouds.
The bright white, flocculent edges were blown apart by the wind, only to reluctantly reconnect, like the eyelids of a sleepy person unwilling to close completely.
The girl was sitting in the open-air leisure area near the buildings.
"This is such a great place to sleep~~"
She rested her chin in her hand, gazing at the fjord water in a half-asleep, half-awake state. Her gaze was lazy, her pupils focused on an uncertain spot on the water's surface.
"Can't get enough sleep at all... Working stiff, oh, working stiff~~"
She put the straw in her mouth and bit it, her voice muffled and carrying the nasal tone of someone who hadn't fully shaken off their morning grumpiness.
"Wan—da!!"
Whoosh!
The sound barrier tore through the air. A light gray streak flashed along the arc of the street, so fast it left only an afterimage, then suddenly solidified in front of her.
It was a silver-haired, roguishly handsome boy with messy, light-silver short hair, wearing vintage 90s-style clothing, with goggles hanging around his neck.
"I gave you five minutes to wake up, why are you still like this?"
"Are you an idiot? Don't just go showing off your abilities in public."
Wanda said listlessly, lifting her hand to tuck back her hair, which had been messed up by the wind.
"Then I'd definitely be famous. Look at this handsome face of mine, so photogenic; the traffic would explode!" Pietronarcissistically smoothed back his overly well-maintained silver hair.
"Heh, if the Baron gives you a flying kick when we get back, don't you dare dodge it." Wanda rolled her beautiful eyes.
"Look at you, we're all buddies, would he have the heart to beat me up? Also, don't be so lacking in athletic energy!" He shook his head happily.
"Look at what I brought you!" He made a show of pulling something out of his jacket pocket, his hand rustling as he fumbled around in his pocket.
"If you dare pull out that damn pickled herring again, I'll throw you out!" Wanda leaned back tactically, making no secret of her disdain for her twin brother.
"As if!"
"Ta-da!"
Pietro pulled out a bag of waffles; the bag was bulging, and a fine layer of mist had condensed at the seal. It was still hot.
"You stole again?" Wanda looked at him speechlessly.
Ever since that incident, they had wandered for a long time before being absorbed by Hydra.
That period wasn't easy, and it was during that time that he developed the habit of petty theft, just to keep them from starving to death.
"It's fine." Pietro shrugged, his tone airy.
"I saw that guy holding a whole bunch in his arms; he couldn't finish them all anyway."
"I think you just took part of a family's food."
"It's not that serious." Pietro tore open the bag, pinched a waffle, and stuffed it into his mouth. After chewing twice, he added indistinctly,
"He was pretty young, and very tall, scary strong; probably just has a big appetite."
"Young? Tall?"
"And looked pretty fierce too," he added after taking another bite.
Wanda's brow furrowed slightly. She remembered that guy, that foul-mouthed pervert, the most powerful person she had ever seen.
Her Scarlet Power could see through a person's heart, could perceive fear, desire, weakness—everything hidden beneath the skin.
But back then, she couldn't see anything inside his heart.
No fear whatsoever.
Even when facing humanity's most powerful weapons, that moment of despair was exactly the same as when the Stark Industries missile landed near their ruins.
The World was collapsing, the air was burning, and death was pressing down from above.
Yet it was he who charged out a path to survival.
"Just a coincidence, how could it be him?"
She laughed softly, using that laugh to suppress the ripples rising in her heart.
But, how could they be smoothed out?
"Let's go, continue looking for that book, and then go back to finish the job." She stood up.
"Why so professional?" Pietro sprawled in his chair, looking up at her.
"If we can't find it, we can't find it. The Darkhold, it sounds super evil; better if it stays lost."
"Getting it and hiding it away is the most appropriate thing to do, so it doesn't stay out in the World to harm people." Wanda looked down at him, her gaze calm.
"Fine, fine, since I, your brother, dote on you." Pietro stood up reluctantly.
"Pfft." Wanda cast a disdainful glance at him.
"Wait until you quit butter before talking about age, and I caught you... tsk tsk tsk."
"Cough!!" Pietro's face turned red instantly. He covered his mouth awkwardly, pretending to cough.
"Actually... I just wanted to wipe the ice cream off my pant leg."
"You don't even have the courage to admit what you did." Wanda pursed her lips and looked away.
"You're really pathetic."
She thought of him again.
If it were that guy...
"The sky is really blue today~" Pietro looked straight up at the sky, forcing a change of subject.
"Hmph."
Wanda pursed her lips, her fingertips moving slightly. Scarlet Power emerged from her palm, winding, rolling, and burning silently between her fingers like flowing light.
Seeing this, Pietro immediately shut his mouth, lest that power be plastered on his face in the second.
"Hoo—"
She closed her eyes, emptied her mind, and silently recited the object of her greatest desire.
But one person's figure, or rather, a memory, always noisily broke into her heart, replaying over and over again in her mind, unable to be skipped.
"Go away, go away."
She shook her head with some irritation and waved her hand in the air.
Then she focused her attention.
The Scarlet Power gradually condensed into shape in her palm, and a chain emerged from the light, as if it had been dragged out from the other side of the void.
It turned its direction straight and slowly in mid-air. Finally, one end of the chain turned toward the street Pietro had come from.
A force came from the chain, pulling her gently but irresistibly, like a hand leading her.
"What the f*ck?!"
Pietro also noticed the direction the chain was pointing and looked back at that street in surprise; there was only sunlight and the gray-white cobblestone road.
"Let's go."
Wanda casually pulled a few banknotes from her pocket, tucked them under the bottom of the cup, and then stepped toward that direction.
Pietro followed behind.
Then,
Whoosh—
Silver light flashed back.
Pietro slurped the remaining milk tea in Wanda's cup into his mouth, then flashed again and returned to Wanda's side.
The two walked one after the other toward the street.
They rounded the gable of the building complex and arrived at the bay on the other side.
An open-air park extended along the coastline. Benches were scattered under the shade of trees, where people sat in twos and threes, chatting, daydreaming, and feeding pigeons.
Then she saw him.
The man was sitting on a bench, holding a dessert with a lazy posture, his head lowered. He used his fingertips to break off a small piece, teasing the little girl in front of him.
The little girl stood between his legs, looking up, her mouth open in a round shape, her eyes shining as she stared at the piece of cake, like a little bird waiting to be fed.
She straightened her waist, reaching out to grab it, making "Ah—ah—" sounds of urging.
The man's mouth curled up, and unhurriedly, he waved the piece of cake in front of her nose before stuffing it into her mouth.
The little girl's cheeks immediately puffed up, and she chewed until her face was covered in chocolate stains.
Beside him sat a beautiful young woman.
A tight-fitting skirt outlined the soft curve between her waist and hips, the hem just covering the middle of her thighs, revealing a section of her knees wrapped in flesh-colored stockings.
She leaned her body slightly, her shoulders tilted toward the man, looking at the little girl with a face full of maternal love.
But those eyes would quickly glance at the man beside her every few seconds, with shy and timid probing.
Her bottom shifted quietly on the bench, bit by bit, moving closer to his hip. The movement was very slow, so slow it was almost imperceptible, but for every inch she moved, her cheeks grew redder.
A few wood pigeons were pecking for food on the ground in front of their feet, their gray-blue feathers shimmering with a metallic luster in the sunlight.
The bright red nictitating membranes blinked from time to time, like a small piece of moist film sliding over their eyeballs, reflecting Wanda's stunned expression.
Her chain pointed straight at that man.
The man seemed to sense something and turned his head, his gaze shifting over.
Their eyes met.
Wanda's heart felt as if it had been struck violently by something.
The Scarlet chain in her hand exploded with a "bang."
The flowing light splattered, shattering into countless tiny specks of light that dissipated between her fingers.
The blast wave spread outwards; it wasn't heavy, but it was enough to startle the little creatures on the ground that were busy pecking for food.
The flock of pigeons suddenly spread their wings.
The gray-blue wings opened simultaneously, the flapping sound merging into one, like a huge piece of fabric being violently torn.
They rose from the ground, forming a broken white curtain between the two.
Feathers flew, light and shadow intertwined, and the silhouettes of the pigeons flapped translucently in the sunlight, obscuring him for half a second before scattering.
Through the feathers slowly drifting down, through the salty, fishy wind blowing from the bay, through the squirrels startled into jumping on the lawn and the laughter of children in the distance,
The two gazed at each other.
"Oh?"
"It's you..."
"Wait, no!!" Sheriff Pietro noticed his head was very shiny!
Chapter 144: The Eyesore Pietro
"You know him?!" Pietro's voice rose sharply,
"Isn't it obvious?" Wanda looked at Green, the corners of her mouth curving downward.
"Don't tell me you got into a relationship before I did!" Pietro exaggeratedly clutched his chest, wearing an expression of utter betrayal.
"Do you think I'd like someone like that?" Wanda jerked her chin towards Green's direction, her tone...
Pietro followed her gaze.
On the bench, Green tilted his head and kissed the little girl's cheek. The little girl giggled.
Then he turned to the beautiful young woman beside him.
The young woman's face was already flushed crimson. She slightly turned her face away, her eyelashes fluttering before she closed her eyes.
Green kissed her.
His lips landed on the corner of her mouth, then slowly moved to the center of her lips. The kiss wasn't long, but it was deep enough—so deep that the young woman rose slightly onto her toes, her fingers clutching the sleeve of his shirt.
When they parted, her lips were glistening with moisture, slightly parted as if she hadn't yet recovered from the kiss.
Green's hand slid down from her waist, landing on the curve hugged by her bodycon skirt, giving it a firm but not harsh pat.
The contact between his palm and the flesh of her buttock produced a muffled, damp, soft sound.
The young woman's body trembled slightly.
She pulled a business card from her purse, pinching its corner between her fingertips, her face still red, and slowly tucked it into the waistband of Green's pants.
As she slid it in, her fingers didn't immediately withdraw. Instead, they slowly trailed down along the edge of the waistband, her fingertips grazing the fabric inch by inch, pausing at a certain spot as if confirming something.
Her fingers curled slightly.
"Oh, my god..."
Then her eyes softened, looking as if they might melt, becoming watery, with Green's face reflected deep in her pupils. Her white teeth sank into the fullness of her lower lip.
She bent down to pick up the little girl. The girl squirmed unwillingly, pouting and muttering something, before being gently coaxed by the young woman, who then walked away quickly.
Pietro watched the entire scene.
His mouth was slightly agape, his expression shifting from confusion to something complex and indescribable.
He slowly turned his head to look at Wanda, his tone uncertain.
"You wouldn't... would you?"
"What do you think, dessert thief?"
The voice came from directly behind Pietro, completely without warning. It was a man's voice.
Wanda stood right in front of him, her lips pressed together, looking at something behind him.
Pietro's pupils dilated sharply.
He froze in place, his eyes slowly looking down. Unnoticed by him, he was now standing in the shadow of a tall, human-like figure.
Before panic could set in, instinct reacted faster than his brain. His hand shot out to grab Wanda's wrist, preparing to turn and run.
And then he was put in an armbar.
"Go ahead and try,"
Green's voice came from above him.
"You... you... you..."
Pietro's tongue tangled, his teeth biting the tip of it. The pain made his eyes sting, and his limbs went weak.
"So you really did steal from him," Wanda sighed, her tone carrying a hint of helplessness, but more a sense of 'I knew it.'
"Your boyfriend?" Green smiled as he looked at Wanda.
"What if he is?" Wanda retorted, not a trace of worry in her eyes. Instead, a faint smile played on her features.
"Would you kill him?"
"You already know the answer. I love seizing treasures, especially those cherished by others."
"Is that so~" Wanda looked at him, tilting her head, her hands clasped behind her back, fingers gently intertwining at her waist.
"It seems I'm very valuable in your eyes."
"Priceless."
Wanda's face flushed red. The innocence of a girl hadn't completely faded from her, but her face already showed hints of maturing contours.
The blush spread from her cheekbones, seeping along her smile lines. She bit her lower lip, yet the corners of her mouth refused to stay down.
The two of them stared at each other.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
...
"Air... uh... give me some air..."
Pietro's face was also red. He was nearly suffocating.
"You should probably let him go," Wanda said helplessly.
"He stole my dessert," Green didn't loosen his grip.
"He's my only family, you know. A bit mischievous."
"He stole my dessert," Green repeated the same line.
Did Wanda not know what he wanted?
She snorted a laugh, took a step, and lunged towards him.
Green released Pietro, spread his arms, and caught her whole body in his embrace, then lowered his head to kiss her.
The moment their lips met, Wanda's eyelashes fluttered. She closed her eyes.
Their tongues intertwined. Pheromones attracted between lips and teeth, like some invisible firework spreading from the mouth to the nasal cavity, then burning all the way down to the lungs with each breath.
Her scent was sweet, carrying the unique innocence and softness of a girl, mixed with the lingering milky tea fragrance from the drink she'd just had.
His scent was different—tobacco, coffee, and something deeper, belonging to a grown man, a dizzying aroma.
The two scents mingled, indistinguishable from one another.
Wanda's response was clumsy and stiff.
Her tongue probed awkwardly, unsure whether to advance or retreat, like someone learning to dance for the first time, stepping to an unfamiliar rhythm, each step cautious yet unwilling to stop.
Her calf lifted happily, her foot arching taut, dangling in the air and giving a slight sway.
"Cough... cough..."
Pietro covered his neck, coughing. His throat was dry and sore.
He looked up at the two bodies pressed together, kissing obliviously, and suddenly felt the sky darken.
Not literally darken, but darken in his heart.
It's over.
His innocent little sister was caught by a promiscuous scumbag.
"Wh... when did this happen?!" He couldn't catch his breath, his voice rising to a squeak.
The passionate kiss ended.
Wanda went limp in Green's arms, as if all her bones had been removed, relying on his chest to stand steady.
Her lips were slightly swollen, glistening with moisture. Her gaze was dazed, her pupils as if veiled by a thin mist, making everything she looked at seem watery.
Green held her by the waist, tilted his head, and glanced at Pietro.
"Don't you think you're a bit redundant?"
"I..." Pietro opened his mouth, feeling aggrieved as if he'd swallowed a live frog.
"Go play, Pietro. Be good." Wanda's eyes were still glued to Green's face, unwilling to look away for even a second. She spoke without turning her head.
Pietro felt even more aggrieved.
His lips moved a few times as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed the words.
He couldn't beat either one of this couple.
Not even one of them!
"...Remember to use protection."
He finally blurted out that sentence. A flash of silver, and he was gone. The wind blew from that direction, carrying a trace of lingering, not-yet-dissipated annoyance.
"After all, I am the elder..."
But clearly, the two paid him no mind. Only Wanda's face grew even redder.
"Don't listen to his nonsense," she said softly, not daring to look at Green, her eyes shyly lowered.
"Oh."
"I thought you'd follow up on what he said, say something gross."
"With you, it's not necessary."
Wanda was taken aback for a moment, a sly look in her eyes.
"Oh ho~ Is that so?"
She playfully tilted her head, leaning into the crook of his arm, the back of her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder, looking up at him.
Those eyes reflected the clear blue of the sky and scattered shadows of clouds. Deep in her pupils, something sparkled brightly.
She felt it... that restless big hand on her butt...
"Hey, Green."
"Hmm?"
"Does my scent smell better, or that woman's from just now?"
She stared at him unblinkingly.
"There's no comparison between the two of you."
"Hmph! Cunning Green."
Wanda laughed happily, rose on her toes, leaned in, and pressed her lips to his Adam's apple, giving it a light bite.
Her teeth sank into his skin, then quickly released, leaving a small, damp mark.
She let go of him, her body sliding out of his embrace. As her feet touched the ground, her knees bent slightly. Then she straightened up, shoved her hands into her pockets, looking cocky with her chin slightly raised.
"So you came here just to satisfy your animalistic desires?"
"Yes, and I got caught," Green shrugged, his expression innocently punchable.
"Then, for me, could you restrain yourself for a moment?"
Wanda's expression suddenly turned serious.
She looked up at him, her gaze earnest, looking at this man chosen by her heart.
Green looked at her, silent for a few seconds.
The wind blew from the direction of the bay, sweeping strands of her hair onto her cheeks. She didn't brush them away.
"I haven't explored this island yet."
"Pfft—"
The corner of Wanda's mouth lifted, then she couldn't hold back, letting out a laugh.
She raised her eyes to look at him. Her beautiful eyes held a certain meaning—on the surface, it was slyness and triumph; hidden deeper was something else, deep and unfathomable.
"Me neither, Mr. Green."
"Then let's go, Miss Wanda."
"Mhm! Okay!"
In the distance,
Pietro was hiding behind an ice cream truck, peeking out with half his head.
One hand gripped the edge of the truck's body, the other held a strawberry sundae—freshly snatched from a little boy nearby.
He was frantically licking the sundae, his tongue scooping up a large blob of pink cream, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster's.
His eyes were fixed on the two figures in the distance, holding hands and strolling leisurely. His pupils reflected their gradually receding backs.
"Weren't we looking for a book? How did you end up getting taken away instead!!"
"Nooo! Wanda! Remember to make sure he handles you with care!"
He wailed to himself, his expression mournful, his voice muffled by the mouthful of ice cream, indistinct.
"Just going off with him so casually? Then what about me?"
Pietro felt anxious and insecure. He licked the sundae faster and faster, as if trying to fill some indescribable void with sugar.
Beside him, the little boy whose sundae had been stolen was sniffling, red-eyed, glaring angrily at Pietro.
His lips trembled. After holding it in for a long time, he finally managed to say,
"When I grow up... I'll become a supervillain... and steal your ice cream..."
Having said that, he started crying himself. Tears plopped down, his nose tip red, snot bubbles inflating and deflating with each breath.
Pietro paused his sulking to glance at him.
"Waaah... you little brat!"
He mimicked the boy's crying face, then immediately reverted to his usual self, rolling his eyes. His tongue swept over the sundae, taking two more big licks, cream smeared all around his mouth.
"Mmm~~ This... this is so delicious!"
He deliberately smacked his lips a couple of times, provocatively shook the sundae in his hand, then turned and hopped away. His retreating figure carried a Unexplained sense of loneliness.
Elsewhere,
Thor had been locked in a cell for over twelve hours.
The iron door was tightly shut. The walls were cold, gray alloy panels, without even a single window.
The fluorescent light tube overhead emitted a low, buzzing hum. The pale white light illuminated the entire room like an upturned coffin.
Thor walked to the door, grabbed the iron door with both hands, and pulled back hard.
"Hey—!! Is there any god... I mean, human rights here?! I'm your colleague!!"
"If you won't give me food, at least bring me a beer!!"
"My brother is Green Morgan, you sour radish bitches!!"
"BANG—!!"
The entire iron door was ripped right off its frame by him. The hinges snapped. The door wobbled in his hands, absurdly heavy, but he held it up as if it were a piece of cardboard.
Alarms blared abruptly. Red warning lights flashed, dyeing the entire corridor in alternating bright and dark shades of blood-red.
"Used a bit too much force..."
Thor stood there holding the door, stunned.
He looked down at the door in his hands, then up at the empty door frame, blinking.
"They're not going to make me pay for this, are they?"
Finally, he sighed, slowly placed the door back in its original position, standing it upright. He even patted the top of the door frame to make sure it wouldn't fall over.
Then he turned around and silently retreated back to the corner.
"Green will come for me. Yeah! He definitely will..."
Chapter 145: The eye of enchantment: This Master is Good, Too Good
Evening,
Having spent the day honestly and mostly in silence, the two of them sat on a high rock, feeling the sea breeze and gazing at the Sun that refused to set.
In Norway's summer, the Arctic Circle tilts persistently towards the Sun.
That round disk hung slanted above the sea's horizon, stubbornly refusing to sink, its orange-red light spilling across the entire sky.
It wouldn't set, just hung there, like a guest who overstays their welcome.
So, theoretically, today was only daylight.
Wanda sat on the rock, her legs stretched out, her slender, jade-like feet resting on Green's thighs.
Her shoes were tossed aside, lying haphazardly together as if flung off after a tiring walk.
Green bowed his head, his palm cupping her ankle, his thumb starting from her heel and pushing forward inch by inch along the arch's curve.
The pressure wasn't heavy, just enough to knead away the soreness accumulated from a day of walking. Her toes curled slightly in his palm, then slowly relaxed.
Wanda watched his hand, watched how that fine-looking hand enveloped her entire foot, the corner of her mouth lifting.
"A day without night, it doesn't really count as passing, does it?"
"Maybe. I prefer the night."
"You're ruining the mood." Wanda pouted, adorably resting her chin in her hand, her cheeks slightly puffed.
"When you're spending time with a beautiful lady like me, just humor me a little."
"Am I not demonstrating my gentlemanly manners right now?" Green lifted an eyelid.
"Oh~~ Then you better serve me well, Green..." Wanda put on a stern face, dragging out the last syllable, but the corners of her mouth were already twitching.
"Pfft— Gentleman!"
She couldn't hold back, laughing first. Her laughter scattered in the wind, breaking into fragments like silver bells, falling on the rock and the sea surface.
Her gaze lifted, landing on the Sun lying on the horizon like an egg yolk pie. The orange-red light reflected on her face, softening her contours.
"Hmm~~ It hasn't been a bad day, after all."
Her voice softened, carrying a lazy, satisfied lilt.
A few seconds of silence passed.
"Tell me, if we had died in that nuclear explosion back then, would we have gone to heaven or..."
She turned her head to look at Green, stopping mid-sentence.
Green was lowering his head, lifting her foot to just in front of his nose, his nostrils flaring slightly as he sniffed with a somewhat puzzled expression.
Then he raised his eyes, looking at her strangely, his lips parting slightly as if preparing to say something.
"So you're swea—"
"Shut up!!"
Without a moment's hesitation!
Wanda's foot shot out of Green's hand. Her legs kicked out in a flurry, one foot after another hitting his mouth, like a rabbit whose tail had been stepped on, madly kicking with its hind legs.
She forcefully shut up this utterly clueless guy with this series of flying kicks.
"I was just saying, it's not like I mind." Green's voice came out in fits and starts between kicks.
"You're still talking!" Wanda stood up, stepping on his firm, hot thigh.
She bent over, her head pressing against his, glaring down at him from above, the stray hairs on her forehead brushing against his brow.
Her hand reached out, her fingers pinching his lips like clamping an unruly bird's beak, squeezing hard.
Green's expression was somewhat resigned, his eyelids drooping, the corner of his mouth deformed by the pinch, looking like a fish with its mouth held shut.
From Wanda's angle, looking at him against the light, his face appeared lean. The shadows on his cheekbones and eye sockets gave his whole face a kind of hardened, weary look, as if carved by time.
"This jerk... clearly so young and quite handsome, yet he has this uncle-like aura."
She blinked, somewhat entranced.
"It doesn't actually smell bad..." Green, his mouth still pinched, tried to explain, his words muffled.
Wanda's expression, which had just softened, tightened again.
She lowered her head, her two rows of white teeth biting into Green's lips. She glared at him fiercely, her eyes wide and round, her pupils reflecting his face, caught between laughter and tears.
"Officer Wanda, you win."
Green raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Hmph!"
Wanda withdrew her mouth, her cheeks still puffed, her lips pouting high, looking like she hadn't cooled off, but the tips of her ears were already red.
It was then she noticed she wasn't stepping on his thigh...
Inside, she covered her face with both hands, screaming silently.
But the real Wanda remained unperturbed.
She slowly withdrew her foot, her expression completely unchanged, as if nothing had happened.
Then she naturally settled into his lap, grabbed his hand, and brought it to her nose to sniff.
"Told you there wasn't." Green's voice was innocent. "Why such a big reaction?"
"Even if... even if there was, you're not allowed to mind." Wanda stiffened her neck.
"I wouldn't mind."
"Hmph! It's good you know your place."
Wanda pressed the top of her head against his chest, pushing forcefully, like an insistent little lamb.
Her toes pinched at his trouser leg.
Seems like... he likes it... otherwise he wouldn't have...
That thought surfaced. She didn't let it finish.
"Ahem! So, what are you planning to do next?"
She extinguished the chaotic thoughts in her mind, her voice deliberately casual, as if asking offhandedly. Her gaze fell on the distant sea surface, not looking at him.
"Go mooch a meal at a few ladies' houses. The ones from the park encounter."
"They might not have made a portion for you."
"Theirs is mine."
"Then what will they eat?"
"I *am* their dinner."
A scene suddenly unfolded in Wanda's mind.
A long dining table, covered with a white tablecloth, silver candlesticks with flickering flames.
The hostess sat at the head of the table, posture proper, back straight, elegantly picking up food, a fitting smile on her lips.
A friend beside her leaned in, chatting happily, occasionally covering her mouth with a light laugh.
The perspective shifted under the table. A pack of large ocean dogs, their faces upturned, piled around Green's legs, waiting to be fed.
Big ones, small ones, dark-furred, light-furred, crowded together, tongues lolling between teeth, wet noses twitching, sniffing the aroma of meat.
They looked up, their gazes burning as they stared at the chew stick in Green's hand. Their strange tails wagged silently beneath the tablecloth. Occasionally, one or two couldn't help but let out low, pleading whimpers.
"Get lost!"
The scene shattered.
Wanda blinked, driving that inappropriate fantasy out of her mind.
A suspicion arose in her heart. She glanced at Green.
"What's going on?" Wanda felt her whole being thrown into disarray.
Especially when she thought of Green surrounded by those shameless women, a surge of intense, violent emotion rose from within her, burning away her rationality bit by bit.
"Just why?"
She touched her neck, as if something had come alive on her skin. A necklace shimmered briefly with faint light before disappearing into her fair complexion.
And Green's routinely spaced-out brain didn't detect any malice.
Yes, the eye of enchantment had chosen a better host for itself.
For Wanda, it was simple. She had suddenly been curious about what was in his pocket. A mental probe, and she discovered it. One more retrieval, and she possessed it.
It was hers now. A gift Green was about to give her. Yes, that's right. And, Green was hers too!
So why could those women wantonly enjoy what was hers without paying any price?
Shyness was peeling away, revealing a naked possessiveness that soaked her entire being.
A flash of crimson, almost scarlet in its intensity, couldn't help but pass through her eyes.
She felt she had figured it out.
"What's wrong?" Green suddenly sensed that Wanda in his arms had been silent for a long time, and then something had changed. Or seemed to have changed, yet seemed unchanged.
"When I'm around from now on, your body is not allowed to carry the scent of those playthings." Wanda spoke.
Her voice made a flicker of surprise pass through Green's eyes.
It had gained a few more notes of a captivating, mature magnetic quality—low, lazy, like the tremor rolling from the throat of a feline stretching after waking up.
Green looked at her. After a few seconds, he regained his composure.
"No." He refused directly, very simply.
He didn't like the feeling of being restrained. Not from anyone.
Wanda stared fixedly at him, a hint of severity pursing the corners of her mouth, but her brow and eyes were soft.
"Fine~~ You have the final say." Her voice suddenly softened.
"Who makes me care about you so much."
She raised her hand, her fingertips trailing from his neck. Then she hugged him tightly, her arms encircling his waist, her face buried in his chest.
Green paused. His hand lifted, hovered in the air for a moment, then descended, pulling her into his embrace.
What he didn't see was Wanda's face, buried in his chest, her lips moving silently, reciting something.
[Hugging medium, established.]
The voice didn't come from her mouth, but sounded simultaneously from the air, from the light, from every floating particle of dust—overlapping, multiple, as if countless Wandas spoke in the same second.
[Except for those loved by Green Morgan, any who seek to derive pleasure from his vessel shall fall into a boundless abyss of desire. The weak shall become soil for hell, the strong shall become vessels of flesh.]
Formless magic power surged from within her, flooding over Green's body like a tide—invisible, intangible, and harmless.
[This is—the word of Wanda Django Maximoff!]
The instant the last syllable fell, Wanda's body suddenly dissolved into a crimson, shimmering mirage, scattering from Green's embrace.
At the same time, a crisp shattering sound, mixed with a woman's scream, exploded from the void.
The eye of enchantment had liberated Wanda's nature, and in that same instant, it had been elevated to a height it could never have imagined.
The magic Wanda's boiling power unleashed was too potent, causing the very thing that changed her to bear the backlash of karma. This force surged back along the connection between it and Wanda.
In this moment, it finally understood the treachery of fate.
But it didn't completely perish, because Wanda ate it. A thorough, more fundamental "consumption."
Her magic power enveloped, dissolved, and absorbed it, making it a part of her.
And its vessel, that serpent-eye necklace, truly became a gift—an empty, clean gift.
Though it hadn't gained any benefit, to put it another way, Wanda was strengthened, and she had ended up consuming it instead. A kind of biological chain restraint.
The moment Green's embrace emptied, a system prompt also popped up.
[The eye of enchantment has been destroyed.]
[Scarlet Blessing — Unwarranted Lust (Bound)]
[You will automatically ascend to the [Demon King] rank in 36,237 Earth days.]
[Supplementary Note: Any form of desire energy infusion has a probability of shortening the ascension cycle, accelerating rank leap.]
"Huh?"
Green was bewildered. Green checked his pockets. Green understood.
"Well now, a jewelry thief too."
He shook his head with a wry smile, accepting the fact that a divine artifact had been destroyed in less than a second.
It was just an external object. Gone was gone. He'd just find another.
Then he suddenly thought of something.
His hand speed abruptly increased as he hastily felt for another pocket—the hidden inner one in his trouser pocket. His fingers probed inside, touching the familiar metal casing.
Green breathed a sigh of relief.
He pulled the cigarette case from his pocket, flicked open the lid with his thumb, took out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, lit it, and took a deep drag.
"Good thing she didn't take my lighter."