Audio version
"Oh, right, Earl, you reminded me, indeed, I cannot just arbitrarily execute an Earl at the moment, the necessary procedures must be followed, so—"
Anselm raised his right hand, and the snake-head ring on his thumb began to reflect flames as if they were blood.
"By the command of Feastflame, I, Anselm Hydra, declare the opening of a temporary imperial court here."
Above the snake ring, a circular emblem of blood-red flames was projected with a hum, the central pattern depicting a strange beast that resembled a lion and a wolf, devouring a mass of blood-red flames.
This was the emblem of the Feastflame royal family, which no one on the entire continent dared to forge.
Anselm, leaning on his cane with one hand, announced joyfully:
"I, Anselm Hydra, will serve as the presiding judge, trial judge, clerk, prosecutor, bailiff, jury member, and executioner—um... wait."
He suddenly turned around and beckoned to the beauty he had caressed several times.
"Beautiful lady, please come here for a moment."
After a full three seconds of hesitation, she tremblingly approached Anselm.
Before she could fully approach, the smiling young nobleman pulled her directly into his embrace.
He wrapped his arm around her trembling slender waist and took her hand with his right hand, gently caressing it.
"Apart from your graceful neck, your hands too are exquisite—long, slender, and imbued with a surprising strength. Hmm... Earl, your taste is quite good."
Anselm whispered into the woman's ear like a lover: "What is your name?"
"Y-Yura... Yura Nanaga."
The woman curled herself into a ball, her voice barely audible.
"Miss Nanaga, you were once a pianist, weren't you?"
Yura's body stiffened; in her extreme fear, she never imagined Anselm would say such a thing—and he was right.
"It appears my intuition was correct," Anselm chuckled. "Ah... pardon my impertinence, but these hands are indeed a marvel. To not have them grace the keys of a piano would be a blasphemy against the divine."
Then, he hummed a lively and nimble tune in Yura's ear, while Yura, clutching her exposed dress, involuntarily exclaimed: "Spring, the Spring Concerto..."
"Don't you think this piece suits you to play?"
Anselm's fingers lightly tapped Yura's slender waist, as if he were truly playing the piano, whispering in her ear: "Envision yourself in a formal gown, your hair elegantly styled, that sculptural, snow-white neck illuminated beneath the Imperial Theater's lights, shimmering with the ethereal glow of angelic wings."
"Your hands... as they lift the piano lid, will captivate everyone's gaze."
Yura fell into chaos amidst Anselm's murmurs; she could feel it, feel the dark, chilling, viscous horror that once again enveloped her, caressing and licking her entire being. Yet, despite this, she was utterly, uncontrollably ensnared, as if drowning in the young man's slightly raspy whispers.
—Even if she were strangled to death now, she could not escape from that warm thread in the darkness.
"—But, that's all an illusion."
Yura's heart stopped beating for a moment.
The young man still whispered in her ear, but that ambiguous, warm voice carried a suffocating compassion.
"You know, Miss Nanaga, that's an illusion—that day will never come. Since your capture by the Earl and your imprisonment here, molded into a plaything for individuals like myself, that beautiful dream has long since slipped from your grasp."
"...Gulp, ugh, ah—"
First her fingertips, then her palms, arms, and finally spreading throughout her body, poor Miss Yura trembled violently, clutching Anselm's collar, her eyes filled with uncontrollable tears, her mouth emitting meaningless short syllables.
When she first saw Anselm, she might have been relieved, as a "plaything," to give her most important first time to such a handsome young man.
But now? What did she feel? Fear? Despair? Yura didn't know, she no longer knew what she was thinking, after the brief and intoxicating warmth of the malicious, merciless poison that pierced her heart and tore her self into lowly fragments.
Anselm tenderly stroked her hair: "I truly feel sad for you, Miss Nanaga. Yet, I am aware that this much cannot offer you solace."
He cupped Yura's face with one hand, gazing into her murky eyes that could no longer express any complete emotion.
"Do you know what these beautiful hands of yours can still be used for?"
Anselm whispered in her ear:
"For firing a gun, they are perfect."
"...Fire... a gun?"
"Ah, exactly," the young man nodded in response, "Fire a gun, it's simple, grip the handle, aim at the enemy, pull the trigger."
In the woman's bewildered and shattered gaze, Anselm smiled, and the snake-head cane lightly tapped the ground.
The next second, the solemn and cold cane transformed into a massive... black hand cannon, accompanied by the melodious concerto of mechanisms turning, steel grinding, and parts interlocking!
Anselm aimed the pitch-dark "muzzle" at the Scarletfrost Earl, and declared expressionlessly:
"Earl Cantrell Scarletfrost, the prosecutor will charge you with embezzlement, tax evasion, tax fraud, illegal taxation, malicious hoarding of food, market disruption, smuggling of state reserve resources, murder, large-scale looting, human trafficking, and a total of thirty-two charges."
"As the evidence is conclusive, the jury member, trial judge, and presiding judge hereby declare the charges immediately established, you will be stripped of your Earl title, all your property will be confiscated, and you will be executed on the spot."
"The method of execution, a gunshot."
"The executioners, Anselm Hydra, and... Yura Nanaga."
After such an announcement, Anselm placed the black hand cannon into Yura's palm.
"Fear not, Miss Nanaga."
He gently pressed against Yura's cheek, his hand covering the back of hers, helping her place her fingers on the trigger.
Ah... that warmth, enveloping her, deceiving her, redeeming her... the dark warmth.
"I said, you're very suitable for firing a gun."
At this moment, that almost suffocating darkness returned.
But for some reason, Yura almost... no longer feared it.
Her ears were filled with that person's voice.
"You're suitable for playing the piano, and for firing a gun. Since the Earl has deprived you of your right to play the piano, then... what should you give in return to the Earl?"
"I..."
Yura stared at the Scarletfrost Earl lying below, the man who had filled her with fear and hatred every day and night, now strangely immobilized like a dead pig.
"I want..." the shattered self of the woman murmured softly, "I want..."
"Want to fire a gun, right?" The voice that seemed to come from the abyss enveloped her, but she had never felt so safe, so fulfilled, so... free.
"Want to shoot the person who killed your dream, your future, your life, right?"
"...Yes."
The oversized hand cannon in Yura's hand no longer trembled, and in her eyes that seemed to be shattered, something seemed to be reassembling.
Something incredibly dark.
"I want... to fire a gun!"
Yura Nanaga, who had seen the sights of hell, uttered pure hatred from her throat.
Anselm satisfiedly kissed her earlobe:
"Then go ahead, my good girl."
In this instant, Yura felt that darkness enveloping her completely.
She pulled the trigger, without hesitation.
"BANG!!!"
The exaggerated roar echoed in the banquet hall, the woman's slender fingers, pale face, splattered with crimson petals.
The most prominent, undoubtedly, was the one that splashed into her eyes.
Those... completely dark, lifeless, yet eerily animate, feverishly passionate eyes.
Yura felt herself falling, felt herself suffocating, felt as if her internal organs were being pulled out.
But none of this brought her any pain, only joy, unparalleled joy.
She wanted to be strangled, wanted those gentle fingers to wrap around her neck now, tighten, wanted her body to truly experience that moment of bliss.
She collapsed into Anselm's arms, even without feeling the pain of a broken wrist, convulsing as she experienced the peak of happiness.
"Congratulations, Miss Nanaga,"
The source of darkness said contentedly:
"You are free."
The next second, before Anselm could announce the end of the execution, he was directly kissed by the still unsatisfied Miss Nanaga, who grabbed Anselm's hand and placed it on her neck, pressing herself against him intensely as if she wanted to merge into his body.
And Anselm did not push her away, gently holding Miss Nanaga's waist as if calming a restless and impetuous young lady at a ball, with infinite tenderness embracing her passion and madness.
Calming the woman who had regained her freedom, Anselm glanced at the pitiful corpse with its shattered head, the boundary of those beautiful and holy azure eyes...
Burning with the colors from the abyss.
*
When Anselm hung the headless corpse of the Scarletfrost Earl on the rack, the sudden halt of the snowstorm and the sun's emergence through the clouds appeared to be in response to the ecstatic cheers of the common people.
The sunlight shone on the tall and straight young nobleman, his proud smile like that of a brave soldier who had fulfilled his promise, performing a great deed, bathed in the light of justice.
But no one knew, whether it was the cheering crowd, Anselm's servant Savile, or Anselm's father, who now held the power of Imperial hunting, even the old and senile Empress who could still intimidate the world and kill everything—Cantrell Scarletfrost was supposed to die four years later, at the hands of a "protagonist" destined to become a hero.
A protagonist destined to destroy the Empire, to destroy Hydra.
But now, that protagonist, as a gift sent by the Scarletfrost Earl, was staying in Anselm's temporary manor, and the hero who was now bathed in all the cheers and praise was none other than Anselm Hydra.
A perfect genius praised by the nobles of the empire, a cruel hound with the blood of madness, a trusted confidant of the emperor, a singularity of world variation that devoured a transmigrator from the moment of his birth.
A malefactor trying to destroy the Protagonists, a madman who dreams of killing fate.
Author's Notes:
ps1: The original title of the book was "The Antagonist Who Defeated the Transmigrator Wants to Corrupt the Protagonists," but "corrupt" is a sensitive word that couldn't pass.
ps2: New author, new book, seeking collections and votes. There are still many areas I'm unfamiliar with, and I'm learning as I write, consulting friends. If there are any issues, I hope my dear readers will be understanding, and I also hope to receive some valuable suggestions. I will not fade away, please guide me.
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