45 The Aloof Elf (Thanks to poorsen for becoming a Supreme Patron!)

Knock, knock.

"Is anyone home? Anyone... Oh, automatic doors."

Herbert knocked on the door. Before he could make another joke, the wooden door swung open by itself.

The room was not much brighter than the outside, relying solely on luminescent plants growing in various corners to cast a dim glow.

He stepped inside slowly, his gaze sweeping across the entire interior layout.

A massive table was covered with all sorts of jars and bottles filled with liquids of different colors, some containing unidentifiable biological organs floating within.

A giant eyestalk exuding a bizarre aura, withered and shriveled severed limbs, five red stomachs connected side by side, an eyeball with three pupils...

Logically speaking, upon seeing such a scene, Herbert should have felt his heart creep, goosebumps rise all over his skin, and perhaps even needed to roll for a sanity check.

Yet for some reason, not only did Herbert fail to feel afraid, but he even found the scene somewhat... satisfying?

Is this normal?

Just as Herbert began to doubt whether something was wrong with his sanity, the culprit behind it all happily jumped out.

["Mmm~ Her taste is really quite nice."]

"Oh, so it's because of you."

Right, mystery solved.

It's this damn thing interfering with my aesthetic sense.

["What? Don't you think these things are wonderful? These are all top-notch items! Besides, the preservation and preparation methods are extremely professional and exquisite!"]

"They're all top-notch..."

Herbert stared at the three-pupiled eyeball for a moment. Upon realizing that it was staring right back at him, the corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.

Fine, I guess I lack the refined taste to appreciate them.

He forcibly averted his gaze and continued observing the room's decorations.

Aside from the oversized research table that dominated the space, the room contained only a small round table and two chairs woven from vines.

One of them had clearly just been finished, as the tender green leaves were still fresh and untwaded.

Overall, it looked very much like a workspace that doubled as living quarters, yet there was a noticeable absence of any bed or place to rest.

Does she never sleep?

"You seem to have some doubts in your mind."

A slightly husky female voice sounded behind Herbert, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

When did she move there?

Just now, when he walked in, he had carefully scanned the surroundings and hadn't noticed her presence at all.

Herbert squinted and turned back, catching his first look at the Dark Elf Archmage.

"Oh? Archmage Sfvani?"

"Yes, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Warden Herbert."

In Herbert's stereotypical imagination, the appearance of Dark Elves should generally fall short of normal elves.

After all, he wasn't particularly fond of dark skin to begin with; the skin tone alone was an immediate deduction in his eyes.

Yet now, he realized he had been wrong.

What does skin color matter?

It wasn't a problem at all.

Striking beauty conquers all!

It wasn't that he didn't like dark skin, but rather that he simply hadn't encountered a dark-skinned beauty to his liking yet.

Sfvani looked to be about twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, having lost the raw greenness of youth, yet not quite reaching full maturity.

Her facial features were exceptionally refined, and even her slightly dusky complexion failed to ruin this aesthetic, instead lending her a unique and striking charm.

Her blue-purple hair was meticulously braided, golden ornaments hung from her earlobes, and golden patterns were delicately painted across her cheeks.

Among all the prisoners Herbert had seen so far, Sfvani was by far the most refined; she looked nothing like a captive trapped in a cage.

At the same time, she exuded a special aura—a chilling coldness born from the absolute extreme of intellect.

Even standing right before her, looking into those golden eyes, he felt a sense of distance as if she were not truly there.

An undisguised, keep-everyone-at-arms-length indifference.

Herbert locked gazes with Sfvani for a moment. Instead of cowering, he smiled and handed the skull over to her.

"Here, your express delivery."

Sfvani shook her head without accepting it, gesturing for him to place it on the wooden table instead. She sat down in the vine chair and said softly, "Lord Warden, please take a seat."

Herbert sat down and felt the vines of the chair twitch slightly, automatically contouring to his spine so he could sit in the most comfortable posture possible.

An ergonomic chair?

Living vine chairs are truly the pinnacle of comfort.

Herbert leaned back contentedly, completely devoid of the awkwardness one might feel in a stranger's home, and asked casually, "So, who was this person?"

"A member of my kin, likely a suicide squad member sent by one of the factions to deliver a message to me."

Sfvani lightly pinched the space above the skull with her fingertips, and a palm-tall illusory soul was directly extracted from it.

The soul was dim, though one could vaguely discern that it had belonged to an eighteen or nineteen-year-old Dark Elf maiden. Her lips kept moving as if anxiously trying to convey some message to Sfvani.

Yet Sfvani's expression remained completely unchanged from start to finish. She listened quietly for a moment, then reached out and clenched her fist, crushing the remnant soul directly in her palm.

Herbert raised an eyebrow, asking curiously, "I mean, she came all this way to find you, and you treat her like that?"

Discarding the tool after the work is done?

So ruthless?

Sfvani shook her head and slowly said, "I am granting her release."

"She had already died long ago, surviving only by borrowing the power of a taboo existence. Her soul had been thoroughly defiled by [Desire]."

"Now that her task is complete, if I hadn't done this, her only remaining fate would have been to become a plaything for that deity."

Upon hearing the honorific of Desire, Herbert finally understood, realizing why that fish-head guy had ended up in such a state.

"Ah, so it was because of Him."

[The God of Desire], one of the most powerful evil deities in this world, ruling over all forms of depravity, sin, and lust.

Compared to Nienasha—an erratic deity of unknown origin and unfathomable strength—this one was a genuine, card-carrying mad evil god, the purely insane kind.

Becoming His follower granted forbidden and mighty power, but one could never escape His grasp.

His greatest specialty was driving mortals to moral corruption, and His favorite pastime was turning His believers into drooling madmen who cared for nothing but copulation—regardless of how many partners there were, or whether they were even human.

"And her task was to deliver a message to me."

"My younger sister assassinated our grandmother to become the new family head. Certain clan elders are dissatisfied with this and plan to send people to rescue me, hoping I will actively cooperate when the time comes."

Sfvani recounted this with utter detachment, as if she were talking about the affairs of complete strangers.

Herbert:?

"Wait, you're just telling me this intelligence like it's nothing? Is that really okay?"

He felt a bit bizarre and asked with a bemused smile, "I'm your warden, you know. At least show a little respect for my profession."

Aren't you afraid I'll report this?

"It's fine. As for those people, you may dispose of them however you please."

Sfvani toyed with the weak remnant of the soul in her palm, saying indifferently, "Because I have no intention of accepting their rescue whatsoever."

"Oh? You don't want to leave this place?" Herbert blinked.

Now that was rare.

Which prisoner in their right mind wouldn't want to escape prison?

Could it be because the people here are pleasant conversationalists and absolute talents?

Sfvani calmly replied, "I have no interest in power. Since I can continue my research here, I have no reason to leave. Returning to the family would only mean being disturbed by them."

That was her reason?

Listening to it, it actually sounded quite reasonable.

"Come to think of it, you're much more conversational than I expected."

Sfvani calmly shook her head, a hint of disdain in her voice: "I simply refuse to converse with vulgar people; that does not mean I lack the ability to communicate with others."

"Ah, is that so!"

Herbert sighed with emotion, a playful grin tugging at the corner of the young man's lips as he said slowly, "Well, since you're so talkative... show a little sincerity and don't be so cold."

"When are you going to stop using an avatar and come see me in person?"

He flicked a leaf he had been rolling between his fingers toward Sfvani—the soft leaf passed right through her body and landed on the floor behind her.

Herbert smiled and blinked at the Dark Elf, leaning back fully against the back of the chair, crossing his legs, and asking leisurely,

"How about it?"

"Arch-mage~ Heh."