Sylas opened his mouth to call for help, but, thinking of the current predicament, he ultimately gave up.
"N-no... it's nothing."
Gwendolyn had poured all her passion into Mirabel.
Mirabel and Stonewold were her ideal and her life's meaning.
He didn't want to be the villain who destroyed her ideals.
Could he keep disappointing Gwendolyn?
His arms began to push against Mirabel, hoping she would leave.
But his body was already under the potion's control, weak and pliant.
Mirabel was particularly hateful, whispering into his ear.
"Byron, just say it loudly. Say I'm harassing you."
"It's fine, Byron, just say it.
Auntie Gwendolyn is already dissatisfied with me. If you make her sick with anger, I might as well just die with her."
"Byron, don't cover your own mouth. Here, let me help you say it." Mirabel reached out an arm, intending to knock on the door.
Sylas's mind was in chaos. He had only one thought now.
Endure it quickly.
He hurriedly grabbed Mirabel's arm, looking at her with tear-filled eyes.
"Not allowed to say it? Then shall we go to the bed? You say: 'I beg for Your Majesty's favor, please do not let the Chancellor know.' Say it. Quickly."
Sylas shook his head desperately.
He was already miserable enough; he didn't want this additional humiliation.
"Won't say it?" Mirabel's tone turned icy.
Seeing her prepare to tear off all pretenses again, Sylas finally said desolately, "I beg for Your Majesty's favor... please do not let the Lady know..."
"Hmph, so cheap. One moment seducing me, the next seducing Auntie Gwendolyn, and you even initiated the kiss!
Why don't you initiate a kiss with me?!" Mirabel was green with envy.
She dragged Sylas to the bed in the outer room and began to act recklessly.
She had just happened to see Sylas actively kissing Gwendolyn earlier.
It had driven her crazy with anger.
Even though she had promised during the day not to bother Sylas anymore,
she had now forgotten it completely.
As the saying goes, those in power must learn to be ruthless and merciless.
Going back on one's word was a necessary skill for a monarch.
Mirabel held immense respect for Gwendolyn. She felt it was normal for Sylas to serve Gwendolyn, even sharing her bed if needed.
But you couldn't do it right in front of her.
That was a provocation!
And so, she pressed down on him again.
In this process, she continuously humiliated the other party with her words.
He tightly shut his mouth, refusing to make a sound.
Because he was worried about being discovered by the people in the next room.
After the night, Mirabel left in high spirits.
She had obtained the dignity and pleasure she desired.
Sylas lay on the bed, staring at the closed window, lost in thought for a long time.
Then, he laughed at himself mockingly. Strangely, the pent-up depression in his heart had lessened considerably.
Perhaps he shouldn't have insisted on purity.
These women seemed to enjoy turning him into a plaything, and he coincidentally had little ability to resist.
Since that was the case, why should he fight against fate?
One must learn to rationalize and adapt to the environment.
If others already saw him as a despicable thing, why should he struggle so hard to prove his innocence?
It was just serving women.
As long as his vital essence wasn't plundered, he could just close his eyes and endure it.
Thinking this, Sylas had a sudden sense of enlightenment.
Fine. Anyway, now I only serve one Mirabel.
If I behave obediently, I won't suffer.
...
Sylas's mindset had changed.
Perhaps it was the potion, or perhaps he had simply accepted his fate.
He was no longer as agonized and anxious as before, living in constant fear.
Now, he simply attended to Gwendolyn diligently.
Serving someone he liked was a kind of enjoyment.
He could even steal a kiss occasionally.
Facing Mirabel, he also offered only half-hearted resistance.
Since he couldn't escape, why invite suffering?
Only, every time after Mirabel had her way, Sylas felt a sense of guilt when facing Gwendolyn.
But as he thought, he couldn't change anything.
Just be a good plaything.
Once Gwendolyn was cured, once Stonewold grew powerful, he could see his daughter. That would be enough.
"You're much more obedient now than before," Mirabel hugged Sylas, praising him happily.
Sylas didn't move. He sat at the desk; he should have been reviewing memorials, but was still being disturbed by Mirabel.
He didn't resist. Resistance was futile anyway.
The potion made him docile.
The price of disobedience was also something he couldn't afford.
He truly didn't want to be pressed against Gwendolyn's bedroom door and humiliated again.
He said flatly, "I must obey Your Majesty."
"Mmm, being good is so much better.
Tell me, what reward do you want? I'll give you anything." Mirabel laughed, satisfied.
She had finally subdued him. This feeling of control was wonderful.
She wasn't greedy; as long as she had this one obedient person, she was content.
Sylas raised his hand and looked at his wrist. A faint red line ran vertically down it.
It had appeared after he ingested the Puppet-Heart Potion.
Faintly visible, like poorly wiped rouge.
"Can you help me... never mind." Sylas started, then laughed at himself again.
Why bother with these pointless words?
How could Mirabel possibly help him remove the potion's influence?
He even believed that once enchanted by this potion, it could never be undone.
Mirabel giggled, lowered her head, and kissed his wrist. "So pretty. White with a hint of red."
"Ah, yes. Very pretty."
"Brother, am I clever?" Mirabel lay in his arms, looking up at him.
Sylas was utterly insincere: "Your Majesty is clever and quick-witted."
"And? And what else?" She asked eagerly.
In all her life, few people had praised her.
Those who flattered her, she looked down upon.
Sylas was highly competent. Having him praise her gave her a intense sense of satisfaction.
"Your Majesty is beautiful and adorable, knows people well and appoints them wisely..." Sylas said dejectedly, words that didn't reflect his true feelings.
"Brother, your praise makes me so happy. How about this: I'll appoint you as Left Chancellor. How about that?
Stonewold's first male Chancellor." Mirabel said excitedly.
"No need. The court officials won't agree."
Mirabel said impatiently, "It's fine! You're so capable. They all recognize your abilities. From now on, you can attend court with me.
Just... don't rush off after court. We can... talk in the royal study."
Talk?
Serve the bed, more like!
Sylas had little will left to resist. On second thought, if he could become an official and attend court, it might not be bad.
He just didn't know what Gwendolyn would think.
He didn't have to worry about that. After Mirabel wheedled and acted spoiled with Gwendolyn, Gwendolyn agreed.
After all, Sylas was from the Chancellor's Manor. Having him serve as Left Chancellor would allow
Gwendolyn to work closely with him.
Now, after finishing his work, Sylas would often stay alone in his room.
He didn't dare seek out Gwendolyn much.
Because Mirabel seemed to enjoy seeking thrills.
She particularly liked making her moves near Gwendolyn's bedroom.
Unable to bear the humiliation, Sylas stayed in his room, playing with the snow-white Luna.
The cat had grown quite a bit, living a life of luxury, eating well and sleeping well, completely oblivious to its owner's suffering.
"I'm being controlled. By a potion." Sylas held Luna, speaking lonelily to himself.
"Meow~~" Luna lay lazily in his arms, exposing its soft belly, wanting a massage.
"Ah, all of you, one after another, really know how to enjoy yourselves." He rubbed Luna.
Then, his thoughts began to drift.
To this day, Sylas still didn't know where Crystal had found this cat.