Caged with a Beast!

Allen Manor was a very safe place. Along its perimeter, several bodyguard teams hired from private security firms were tasked with defense and patrols. Inside the manor, practitioners of the family faith system led trusted youths from servant families to monitor every key area. Within the castle stood Old Anderson, Mike, and the others, alongside Alfred, who remained on practically the same floor as Karen at all times. Inside the study, defensive formations provided protection. Thus, without question, the study was the safest place in the entirety of Allen Manor. Yet every rule had an exception. That exception was the young royal girl before his eyes. She had openly entered the core grounds of Allen Manor alongside her grandfather, Prince York. Furthermore, she had not used the study's front door, but had scaled the walls instead. Most crucially of all, by virtue of bloodline, she bore the surname Gloria and had successfully awakened the ancestral family faith system belonging to Ancestor Allen, meaning the study's formations did not reject her and let her right in. Once inside, what had been the safest study instantly turned into the most perilous place imaginable for Karen. And he, for some inexplicable reason, had become the trapped turtle in the jar. Judia eating Prince Henry's severed hand as a snack right before him signified only one thing: she did not believe he would ever divulge her secret. And the most trustworthy, secret-keeping entity in the world was... a dead man. Karen understood all too clearly that this young girl had already slapped a "marked for death" label across his forehead. Yet he was powerless to resist. He was still merely a God's Servant. No matter how deep his foundation was, as Purr put it, he was still nothing more than a God's Servant. Most aggravating of all, because he had only just completed his purification, he had not yet had the chance to learn the basic spells of the Church of Order available to God's Servants. In other words, he was presently completely defenseless and utterly incapable of offering resistance before this young girl. Even holding a revolver rather than pastries would have elevated his combat prowess by an order of magnitude. But what he held was indeed a box of sandwich biscuits—chocolate-flavored, no less. Judia continued to admire the portrait of Count Rekar and the Queen while munching on her snack. Right then, she heard movement behind her. Turning her head, she saw Karen turn the visitor's chair around and sit down in it with absolute composure. Then, Karen slipped a small filled pastry into his mouth, chewed, and said with a faint smile, "Eating it like that is truly a waste of such fine ingredients." "Oh?" Judia looked at Karen with curiosity. "You ought to debone it first, being careful to preserve the cartilage, and then marinate it in seasoning for several hours to let the flavor soak in. Oh, and fresh lemon juice is indispensable—that's how you cut through the grease." Karen gave this royal maiden a culinary primer on making boneless chicken feet. Judia looked down at the snack in her hands and suddenly felt it did not seem quite as appetizing anymore. Karen shook his head with mild pity, a faint, mocking smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he remarked, "Alas, still so young." *** Inside the bedroom. "Is it like this?" Alfred gestured toward Kevin the golden retriever while flipping through Mr. Hoffen's notes. The golden retriever shook his head. "Oh, not that? Then how about this?" The golden retriever shook his head again. "Then it seems I misunderstood once more." Alfred had discovered that even if an evil god turned into a dog, it remained an evil god that had turned into a dog! Kevin might not grasp what Alfred was babbling and gesturing about, but he could instinctively nod or shake his head. Alfred treated this as a priceless treasure, moved to the brink of tears. During the young master's purification, a true god had descended to bestow blessings. And as a servant basking in the young master's reflected glory, Alfred actually had an evil god beside him acting as a mentor during his studies. Even if this evil god teacher could currently do no more than shake his canine head, the difference between "right and wrong" was already enough to spare Alfred countless detours and bolster his confidence in the correct choices. "Phew, time for a break." Alfred closed the notebook, stretched his arms, and rubbed his weary eyes. He stood up, walked to the windowsill, and saw Purr lying on the sill, engrossed in a notebook. "Is that the young master's notebook?" Alfred asked. "Mhm." "I believe browsing through the young master's notes without his permission is rather improper conduct." "Yesterday, after he told you to bring it over, he tossed it onto the windowsill himself. It's not like I deliberately peeked. I just happened to be lying on the windowsill, and a gentle breeze flipped the pages. "Oh, radio sprite, open the window for me, thank you." Alfred reached out and opened the window. A breeze drifted in, and Purr promptly pinned down the unfinished page with her paw. *Smack!* "Sigh, the wind is not nearly gentle enough sometimes. It could easily ruin the pages, meow." Alfred leaned his head closer and said, "You should still put it back." "Mmm, this isn't a diary." "Even if it isn't a diary, secretly reading—" "Come now. If the believers throughout history hadn't secretly peeked at and recorded the writings and words of true gods, how could so many scriptures have survived to this day? "*Light of Order*, *Records of Principles*, *Era of Light*, and the rest—if the believers back then hadn't read and recorded them just as we are doing now, would those scriptures have ever endured? "Besides, would a true god not know? It's surely just like Karen here: leaving it right there for you to secretly look at." Alfred frowned slightly. "I think you are talking nonsense, yet somehow it sounds rather reasonable." "Look here. I truly didn't expect Karen to record so many intriguing things. In this passage, he used the incident with Mrs. Hughes as an example, analyzing Mrs. Hughes's personality... or rather, analyzing the personality of the aberrant demon possessing Mrs. Hughes, evaluating its behavioral patterns." "As expected of our great young master. His grasp of the human heart is truly astonishing." "However, in the concluding remarks, he offered a very poor assessment of the aberrant demon possessing Mrs. Hughes, judging that it was not a true artist." "Indeed. Those who can catch the young master's eye are bound to be exceedingly rare." "Then, right beneath that, he wrote a new analysis, examining how its behavior should be assessed if the aberrant demon possessing Mrs. Hughes could elevate itself in every aspect." "I suddenly feel an urge to keep reading." "Karen wrote that the baseline of psychology is human nature, yet both the upper and lower limits of psychology transcend the boundaries of human nature. "Beneath human nature lies bestiality. Bestiality holds no aesthetic value and is rarely called upon; even when it surfaces, there is no need to analyze it. "Above human nature lies the realm of mystery and the unknown. Because it has transitioned through human nature, when analyzing their behavior, one can naturally apply analytical methods rooted in humanity." "Oh heavens, I believe what the young master is analyzing is clearly divinity!" Purr pointed a paw at a passage before her. "Karen posed a scenario: if you encountered a true artist superior to Mrs. Hughes in an enclosed space, how should you face her?" "What a fascinating scenario design. It must be because the young master has always been so safe himself, so he felt his theory could only be properly extended within a specific spatial enclosure and environment, right?" Purr continued, "Karen noted that the aesthetic of such an artist has entirely transcended the realm of human beings. Concretely, she no longer regards her hunting targets as beings equal to herself. "This does not mean she ceases to consider her targets human; rather, she considers herself no longer human. In her perspective, humans are low-tier creatures on par with cats and dogs... "Ah, despicable, meow!" Enraged, Purr slapped the windowsill with her paw. "Woof!" Kevin the golden retriever barked as well, propping his forepaws against the sill and poking his snout forward to read along. Alfred said excitedly, "Is that not the perspective of a god looking down upon mortals?" Purr pouted her lips and continued reading: "'So, within such an enclosed environment, how does one keep oneself from being relegated to the status of a pig or dog?' "Whew, that's much better, meow." Purr glanced at the golden retriever beside her. The retriever furrowed his brows deeply. Alfred translated for himself, "How do you keep a god from viewing you as a pig or dog?" "'This is divided into three stages,'" Purr read. "As expected of the young master, breaking it down into such detail even here." "Woof!" "'The lowest stage is... being interesting.'" "Oh, the young master's descriptor is indeed interesting." "Woof!" "'It is like a person who has just eaten a steak paired with salad and a glass of wine at a restaurant. Upon stepping outside, you spot an adorable stray dog. Seeing you, it runs up of its own accord and acts cute.' "'You think it is adorable. You smile at it, and you cannot resist petting it. If you see that it is injured, your heart aches for it, and you condemn those who abandoned and harmed the dog. You feel that you are different, that you are merciful and compassionate.' "'Even though you have just consumed steak, vegetable salad, and grape juice—cows feel pain, vegetables feel pain, and grapes weep.' "'Therefore, yours is not true kindness; you merely consider it an amusing, interesting kindness. If that stray dog were filthy from head to toe, covered in fleas, and instead of acting cute, barked wildly at you and lunged to bite you...' "'You would no longer think it was adorable. You would hurry away to escape that mad dog.'" "So profound." The scene of that night when Old Master Diss took the young master out to kill flashed through Alfred's mind. On the road, he had carried the radio and danced to the rhythm alongside the young master. *Oh, so that was it? That was being 'interesting'?* Alfred suddenly felt a surge of relief—relief that he had consistently maintained his own style before the young master rather than becoming a flat, paper cutout of a servant. Kevin sat with his mouth open, grinning incessantly. He had always been adorable! Purr, on the other hand, felt slightly puzzled: *So my young-miss temperament is just 'interesting' in his eyes, too?* "Go on," Alfred urged Purr. "'The highest stage is to become completely identical to them, fully integrating into their stance, achieving assimilation under their shared perspective. "'Namely: The sky and the earth are not kind; they treat all things as dogs woven from straw.' "What on earth does that sentence mean?" Purr looked at Alfred. Alfred shook his head. Purr looked at the golden retriever. Kevin shook his head as well. Purr fell into contemplation. *Could Karen truly be writing church scripture?* "Go on," Alfred urged. "'The lowest stage is too simple; it completely throws oneself out there regardless of consequences. The highest stage is too difficult and unrealistic. Therefore, the middle stage offers the highest practical feasibility.' "'Namely:' "'Within that enclosed space,' "'strive,' "'to pretend,' "'that you share the exact same aesthetic as them.'" *** "Is it truly delicious eaten like that?" Judia walked toward Karen. "Indeed." "You say I am too young?" Judia continued stepping closer. Karen drew a clean, white handkerchief from his breast pocket—originally placed there as a decorative accessory to clean his lenses—and reached out toward Judia of his own accord. Without much gentleness, using a bit of force, he wiped the bloodstains from Judia's face. Once finished, Karen even smiled and pinched the young girl's cheeks twice. "You are indeed still just a young little darling." Far from becoming angry, Judia broke into a smile. She pressed her body against Karen and raised both hands, asking for a hug. Karen leaned down slightly, allowing the young girl to wrap her arms around his neck. A faint scent of expensive perfume drifted from her, smelling rather pleasant. Karen tried hard to construct a mental image that he was embracing a cute little girl rather than a vicious beast that had just devoured raw flesh. Judia blew a gentle breath into Karen's ear. Karen chuckled, doing his utmost to keep his voice from trembling. "Hehe, that tickles." "Handsome big brother of the Allen family, do you know? From the moment I climbed through the window and saw you, I was thinking: such a good-looking big brother must be exceedingly delicious, hehehe." "Heh." Karen chuckled. Perhaps only his undershirt, now thoroughly drenched in sweat, could reflect just how tense he truly was. Yet he still reached out and delivered a sharp swat to her rear. *Smack!* "Ouch..." "You truly are a fool. A young, ignorant fool. Do you have any idea? Speaking with you, interacting with you, is practically pure torture to my patience. "You idiot. "You imbecilic simpleton. "You low-class defective mongrel spawned from the incestuous breeding of the Gloria family." With every insult, Karen's own heart trembled in turn, because every single phrase carried the potential consequence of having his neck snapped clean off by this little girl's jaws. Yet at the same time, with every insult, the young girl's body trembled as well. "Remember this: do not measure true spectacle by your low-class taste. It only makes you look like the horse dung you personally stuffed into your brother's mouth." "I..." Karen placed his hand against the back of Judia's head, pressing down firmly, gripping and rubbing it. "Stuffing horse dung into your brother's mouth is something only a base creature like you would do. You should have chosen a clean pair of underwear to cram into his jaws. "Only then would you achieve true mockery against him; "and indeed, true mockery against the entire Gloria line! "That is true artistic impact. When people smell horse dung, they can simply pinch their noses. But upon witnessing a spectacle like that, those outside the royal Gloria family would be unable to stifle their snickers, while every member of the Gloria royal house would burn with rage and shame, as though the filthiest corner of their soul had been peeled open and put on display before the world. "Oh, and by the way, that underwear would best be taken from your great-grandmother, Her Majesty the Queen. "Only then would the artistic atmosphere be brought to its absolute zenith. "Wouldn't you agree?" After finishing these words, Karen felt his brain bordering on severe oxygen deprivation. Fortunately, the window was open, allowing the chilly wind to blow in continuously so the cold sweat on his face would not run down in drops. Karen felt Judia begin to sob in his arms. Her tear ducts seemed remarkably well-developed, soaking his clothes with her tears. "Big brother... you're so right..." Judia pulled her head back and looked up at Karen. "So... is there any way...?" Karen looked at her and said, "Eating me might be of some help to you." Judia reached up, wiped her tears, and offered a somewhat shy smile. The meaning behind that smile was: she had actually thought the exact same thing. Karen reached out, pinched her lips, and slowly applied force, dragging them downward. She did not pull her head away, letting Karen pull at her lips. "Because for trash like you, the finest path to improvement is raw and violent. That is your lowly destiny." Judia resumed sobbing. When she wept, her eyes truly brimmed with tears, silver beads falling one after another. "I... I... I understand how lowly I am..." As she spoke, Karen noticed a new emotion brewing deep within her eyes. Her personal self-awareness was waking up. After all, in the eyes of outsiders, her status was exceedingly noble; and her realm... Though Karen did not know what rank she held in her family faith system, it was enough to justify her arrogance. It was just like when a person was being deceived: at a certain sudden instant, once your self-awareness awakened, you would break free from the atmosphere crafted by those maneuvers and rhetoric. The most direct and simple example was how anyone, male or female, after spending a prolonged period drowning in self-moved infatuation as a groveling admirer, would suddenly snap out of it one day, longing to slap themselves across the face: *Why was I being so pathetic?* A deception took shape largely because the victim wished it were true; a game continued only because the participant wanted to join in and play. Take the scene just now: Karen did not believe it was because his methods were exceptionally brilliant, but merely because he had piqued her interest and given her a sense of immersion, prompting her to actively participate and push the game forward. Yet the moment she found it dull or had vented enough, she would choose to end the game—and, simultaneously, end the life of him, her "playmate." Therefore, Karen immediately pointed toward the portrait of Count Rekar, saying, "Last night, when I went to converse with Count Rekar, he was being intimate with Queen Gloria III. Seeing me arrive, he shoved the Queen straight to the floor, tossed a black pearl to her, and smiled at me, saying: "'A true pirate never stiffs a whore on her fee.' "I can take you "to meet Count Rekar." Judia parted her mouth slightly, looking at Karen in mild bewilderment. "Perhaps this is an opportunity granted to you by the sea; "and the only way you can alter your lowly destiny and the filthy Gloria blood running through your veins." Judia slowly stood up. She was no longer crying. Instead, she studied Karen with grave intent. Within her eyes lay a maturity unbefitting her age; even a faint layer of azure ripples seemed to stir softly across them. At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, shattering the stillness of this enclosed space and bringing ripples potent enough to overturn everything here. Not a hint of panic appeared on Karen's face, even though his heart was practically lodged in his throat from that knock. He merely tugged with apparent distaste at the sodden patch on his chest where she had cried, and then said to Judia with utter impatience, "Go ring the desk bell. I need to change."