Mavis observed her surroundings from the limited perspective of her chest, wondering why everyone looked so happy. Huh, was this the happy ending she loved so much? Should she… smile along?
The girl forced out a bitter smile.
“Don’t worry, Curator,” Ashley said as she picked up a cotton ball soaked in alcohol with the tweezers and carefully wiped the blood from the girl’s cheeks. “This was a medical accident. Someone will pay for it. Though you suffered, you can make a fortune out of it.”
The girl pouted. She’d rather not make that money than have her head chopped off and reattached—it was too terrifying.
Since she didn’t share an airway or esophagus with Ashley, her mouth was just for show. She couldn’t speak or eat.
She really wanted to thank the blue-haired loli who had saved her, but she couldn’t express it. Feeling depressed, she planned to thank her properly once her body recovered.
Lost in thought about how to repay the favor, Mavis zoned out slightly.
Reporters were fast. The second wave to arrive on the scene consisted of field reporters from major newspapers, but only Chloe was allowed in for an interview.
“I see you’re always stirring up big news.”
Chloe wore a black velvet long-sleeved top with a white lace doll collar, and her fair fingers on her hips gave her an air of elegance. With her well-proportioned limbs and delicate features, she looked just like a ballerina.
“Isn’t that what you love?”
“Hmph, looks like I backed the right horse. The Trial Judge took a liking to you for your heroic rescue of the beauty and accepted you as her disciple. You’ll become a big shot someday—don’t forget me, your little lapdog then… And if you fall on hard times, I won’t mind. Come write your memoirs for my paper; I’ll pay you one pound per thousand words.” Chloe tilted her face up as she spoke.
Amber instinctively recoiled at this adult worldview and glared at Ashley, chiding her:
“Don’t hang out with such a snob!”
Moreover, her intuition told her that this reporter loli had designs on Ashley. Their rapport made her extremely wary.
“We’re partners, you know.”
Ashley ignored her and high-fived Chloe. The two had their own special handshake routine—fingers tapping and hooking in a dance-like motion. Amber narrowed her eyes in anger as she watched.
Then, the pair huddled together and whispered. Ashley instructed Chloe to report selectively and avoid mentioning the existence of the Angel’s Kiss Mark, completely ignoring Amber nearby.
“You can’t do this! You’re my… little dog.” Amber’s face flushed red at the last part.
“Got it, we know you’re Doggy Egg now—fragile, useless, always needing Ashley to clamp down tight to protect you. Heh heh heh.” Chloe covered her lips with her pretty fingers and let out an infuriating cackle, her eyes curving into crescents.
“You got it,” Ashley chimed in with a mocking tone.
With their teacher gone, Amber was no match for the duo of mischievous imps. But she refused to yield ground. Letting these two fools carry on shamelessly, she stood there stiffly like a utility pole, suppressing her embarrassment and sulking in silence.
Ashley wanted to get the Curator miss treated as soon as possible—it was inconvenient. Sleeping with that head pressing on her chest might lead to sleep paralysis.
No time like the present. They set off that very night for the Scripps Family manor at Danzhu Reservoir.
Danzhu Reservoir lay twenty kilometers outside the city, a large hydraulic facility. Nearby stood the major southeastern town of Safar.
It was the primary clean water source for Fountain City residents, supplying about sixty percent of daily water needs.
Named for the sunrise reflecting off the morning glow, the reservoir offered no such spectacle at dusk. The Shriek Devil Crow blended into the night sky, streaking through at high speed.
Soon, Ashley spotted the ancient-style buildings lining the reservoir’s north shore.
Clock towers and spires hidden in the twilight mist exuded mystery and beauty. Fountains sculptures, damp from recent rain, were exquisitely crafted. Crimson stained-glass windows dotted among them reflected cold light, like rubies inlaid in a crown.
More surprising than the rich historical aura and old-money vibe was the artificial river the family had diverted from the reservoir—a display of unspoken power.
The river wound through several key buildings in the manor before emptying into an artificial lake.
From above, colorful amusement facilities and elegant waterside villas connected by walkways encircled a crystal-clear lake like a string of pearls.
Ashley felt a pang of bitterness. Tsk tsk, look at other families—renowned, esteemed, living in grand mansions. Then look at her own: street rats everyone wanted to beat, their old nest a dilapidated building in a cold, damp swamp that had been destroyed.
The Great Raven landed at the manor’s main gate.
A burly guard in uniform stood in the sentry box. A vicious scar slashed diagonally across his cheek and lip, making him look intimidating.
Ashley stated their purpose. The man eyed the strange double-headed loli warily while dialing the internal line.
“Sorry, Miss Yinsu Helin is not at the manor. Please leave.”
The trained polite phrasing sounded bizarre coming from that fierce face, like a monster clumsily imitating human speech.
It seemed the Little Doctor held no high status in the family. Ashley realized this immediately—if she were a pampered princess, the three of them plus the head would have been ushered into a warm gatehouse with tea and snacks.
“Try again. Say the Trial Judge’s two disciples have come to visit.”
The guard hesitated, spoke into the phone, then showed a terrified expression. He hurried to the wrought-iron gate and opened it, welcoming the lolis inside.
Led by the butler, Ashley walked up a zigzag gentle slope, her eyes scanning the Gothic-style architecture of the manor.
Layered eaves and pediments, symmetrical volutes and roundels in Latin cross patterns, lifelike plaster roses and pendants, floral decorative tiles and wrought-iron railings radiating ordered beauty… Every tiny detail exuded luxury and artistry.
But the wine-red glass windows and blood-red crystal ornaments resembled congealed blood, lending a somber, faintly sinister air. Crimson aurora ribbons danced in the night sky above the buildings, mysterious and eerie.
The main building was church-like, flanked by two soaring Gothic spires with a palace in between.
The palace facade rose in a triangle, its load-bearing columns and gables echoing in skeletal, angular accumulations. All sharp edges converged upward along slender vertical windows. Gazing up from below evoked a mysterious, melancholic emotion flowing from the soul, ascending the walls into the sky.
A long rectangular courtyard garden lay before the palace entrance. The fountain was off, and in the dim light, twelve beast statues stood in two rows, serene and solemn.
At that moment, on a second-floor window, two masked figures conversed.
The masks were blank white human faces, but behind them lurked two grotesque beast heads.
One head bore two spiraling horns curved in a demonic arc, with orange-red slit pupils visible through the mask’s eyes.
The other head was covered in crow feathers, its eyes pitch-black and pupilless.
Both wore similar long robes pieced from intricate white silk strips. Silver collars and shoulder capes were studded with oval gems like solidified blood, though details like collar styles and patterns differed.
“Mr. Crow, among the Twelve Branches, our two families have reached the end of iteration. If this generation fails to produce a pure ‘Container,’ the Blood King will not grant the ‘Primordial Blood.’ The Pilgrimage Road is severed, and we lack means to breach the Necrotic Mantle of the Turbid depths…” The goat-horned one murmured.
“But she refuses to follow the family’s arrangements. We’re persuading her to face reality and accept her fate—as every Scripps must.”
“More than persuasion, she must understand the unbearable consequences of defiance.”
“Let’s end it here, Mr. Goat. Some little guests have arrived…”
Outside the window, the three lolis had reached the courtyard garden on the first platform.
Though a garden, flowers and trees were mere accents. Black-and-white checkered floors lined corridors flanked by twelve plaster beast sculptures, their eye sockets inlaid with variously shaped red gems.
Ashley examined them curiously. Were they the zodiac animals? She was soon disappointed—the beasts were bizarre, unrecognizable as any real creatures.
But her observation was keen. She noted each statue featured a distinct trait: horns, feathers, scales, shells, and so on—twelve in total.
