Looking closely, Cyrene's complexion was indeed much better than when she was first rescued, and Baiheng's companionship and care were indispensable.
But that unease, stemming from the depths of her soul, still followed her like a shadow.
Madam Herta sighed inwardly.
"Cyrene," she said, her voice carrying that ethereal echo, but at this moment, she seemed to deliberately slow her pace and soften it slightly.
Cyrene subconsciously hugged her knees, like a child awaiting judgment, and softly replied, "...Madam Herta."
"Are you adapting well here?" Madam Herta asked, her gaze sweeping over the books and snacks.
"Mm... Baiheng is very good to me," Cyrene said softly, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes. "Thank you... for not stopping her from seeing me."
"No need to thank me. This is her own choice, and what you deserve."
Madam Herta said calmly, then changed the subject slightly, her purplish-black eyes looking directly at Cyrene, "But Cyrene, you should understand, this... is not a long-term solution."
Cyrene's body trembled slightly, but she said nothing.
"The shackles within you originate from the power of Rupert III, intertwined with the essence of your existence. Baiheng's warmth can temporarily soothe your soul, but it cannot sever those chains."
Madam Herta's voice was not loud, but every word clearly reached Cyrene's ears. "To truly gain freedom, to no longer suffer the pain of endless bondage... you need to make a choice."
Cyrene looked up, her azure eyes filled with confusion and struggle: "Choice... what?"
"Choose... to acknowledge me."
Madam Herta said slowly, her tone carrying a solemnity that was almost candid. "It's not to force you into submission, nor to deprive you of your will. Rather, I hope you can try to... trust me. Trust my path, and believe that the ultimate goal of everything I do is not enslavement or destruction."
She paused, seemingly choosing the appropriate words.
"I know this is difficult. The essence of my power, my way of existence, might seem no different from the former Iron Tomb to you, full of uncertainty. It's natural for you to fear me."
No emotion could be heard in Madam Herta's voice, but Cyrene vaguely sensed a faint trace of... weariness?...flitting across the depths of those purplish-black eyes.
"But Cyrene, this is one of the current ways to truly 'liberate' you, and to liberate other Golden Descendants in the future. I need your 'acknowledgment' as a key to unlock the conceptual shackles that bind you. This is not a transaction, but rather... a collaboration, or perhaps, a 'test of trust' that is crucial for both you and me."
Silence fell upon the space once more.
Cyrene lowered her head, her pink hair falling to obscure her expression.
Her heart was undergoing a fierce internal struggle.
Madam Herta saved her, that was a fact.
But the way she saved her, and the terrifying power emanating from her, instinctively filled Cyrene with fear.
The Madam Herta described by Baiheng seemed subtly different from the Madam Herta she had personally experienced and perceived.
Which one was real?
Trust an existence that once represented "destruction"?
To place freedom in the acknowledgment of the source of "bondage"?
This was too contradictory, too difficult.
Madam Herta floated there quietly, not rushing, just patiently waiting.
She knew what this decision meant for Cyrene.
It wasn't just a simple nod or shake of the head; it required her to overcome immense inner fear and embrace a future full of unknowns.
Madam Herta waited quietly, like the most patient hunter, or like a tranquil coast before a storm.
She knew this decision weighed heavily on Cyrene.
And all she could do was show sincerity, and then, wait.
Cyrene finally looked up.
The fear had not completely vanished from her azure eyes, but in their depths, a faint yet incredibly firm light had appeared.
She looked at Madam Herta, her voice very soft, yet clearly echoing in the space:
"I... I need time. But... I am willing... to try."
When Madam Herta left the System Space, her mood carried a subtle lightness.
Cyrene's willingness to try trusting was undoubtedly an important step.
However, the cheerful, rotating, and gaudily rainbow-glowing [Aha Brand Thumbs Up] emoji in her vision instantly diluted that lightness.
She expressionlessly made a mental note to "settle scores with Aha sooner or later (though she might not win)" and quietly appeared at the connection point of their exclusive carriage.
In the living room area, the system puppet sat upright in a high-backed chair, her modified purplish-red inverted cross eyes staring unblinkingly at Baiheng on the opposite sofa.
Baiheng's white fox ears were slightly stiff with nervousness, and her azure eyes were full of a bewildered "What's happening now?" expression.
The air was eerily quiet.
Seeing Madam Herta return, the system puppet was the first to turn her stiff neck, saying in her uninflected electronic voice, "Madam, it's time."
Madam Herta nodded, the slight softness that had appeared on her face due to Cyrene quickly receding, returning to her usual cold composure: "Then let's begin."
Baiheng instantly straightened her back, her fox ears perking up even higher, and nervously asked, "B-begin what? Is there an important operation?"
Images of various infiltrations, battles, or confronting terrifying enemies flashed through her mind.
Madam Herta glanced at her, and seeing her looking as if facing a formidable enemy, uncharacteristically offered no explanation, merely saying, "Something like that. Come with me."
Baiheng immediately stood up, took a deep breath, and prepared herself to face any challenge.
Then, she watched as Madam Herta and the system puppet walked towards... the closed door at the carriage connection leading to the main Astral Express area?
[Astral Express - (Late Night Mode)]
Meanwhile, at the other end of the Astral Express, Xing's abstract performance art was unfolding in March 7th's room.
"Ugh~~~"
A drawn-out, strange sound, attempting to mimic some kind of bubble sound, emanated from the throat of the gray-haired girl sprawled on March 7th's bed.
She lay spreadeagled, her eyes vacant, staring at the soft ceiling light, as if contemplating the mysteries of the universe, though this method of contemplation seemed a bit taxing on the throat.
"Hey! Xing! What are you doing acting crazy again!"
March 7th emerged from the bathroom, her pink hair still damp, wrapped in cute bunny pajamas, only to witness this scene of "playing dead" with sound effects, and couldn't help but palm her forehead.
Xing stopped her "bubble sound meditation," blinked, and looked at March 7th, her expression serious: "I'm trying a new type of... vocal exercise. They say it can strengthen core muscles, optimize breathing frequency, and elevate one's life level."
March 7th: "...Speak human."
Xing touched her forehead; a large bump that had been there before had subsided considerably, but she could still feel a slight swelling if she touched it carefully.
"Uh, it seems better," she said vaguely.
"What do you mean'seems'? Let me see!"
March 7th leaned closer, her cool fingers gently pressing on Xing's forehead, feeling it carefully. "Hmm... it's really gone down a lot, you can barely feel it unless you touch it closely. Seriously, how did you even manage that? How can you sleep in a corridor and wake up with such a big bump on your head?"
Xing sat up, looking innocent and confused: "I don't know either. I just remember sleeping very soundly that night, and woke up like this. Pom-Pom said maybe I wasn't still when I was sleeping on the cardboard and rolled off and hit it?"
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