They are all characters I control.

"What was Isabelle's expression when you ran away from her?"

Claire looked at her but did not answer.

Ophelia laughed, tossed the towel back to the edge of the pool, and began to speak: "Then let me tell you, she's gone mad. She's searching the whole world for holy potions, saying she wants to 'lift the curse.' Her attendants have never seen her like that before, and neither have I."

Claire remained silent.

“You’re heartless.” Ophelia tilted her head. “They’ve taken care of you for so many years, and you ran away without even saying goodbye.”

Ophelia reached out, took a crystal glass from the shelf beside her, poured herself a glass of red wine, and took a sip.

"How long are you planning to keep up this act?" She raised an eyebrow and asked Claire, who had remained silent.

Claire tilted her head, but kept looking at Ophelia.

For some reason, Ophelia felt a little awkward being stared at by Claire.

The little boy in front of me doesn't look like a little boy.

“I said—” Ophelia put down her wine glass, crossed her arms and leaned forward, the water rippling slightly: “How long are you planning to keep pretending to be a child?”

Claire tilted her head and looked up at Ophelia's face.

“I added something to the beer the Empire sent.” Ophelia’s voice was soft, but every word was clear.

Seeing that Claire's expression finally changed slightly, she paused, a meaningful smile playing on her lips, "You look no different to me than you do under the lights, not to mention what's on your chest."

Claire leaned against the pool wall and remained silent for a moment.

Ophelia clearly didn't really want to take a bath; she probably came to the bathroom to check on his body.

Although the priestess acting on the precepts did not know how Claire escaped, the seal marks left on her body would not disappear.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Claire still denied.

"Is that so?" Ophelia wasn't in a hurry.

"I don't know how you became like this, nor do I know how you escaped from the dungeon."

Ophelia leaned against the pool wall, observing Claire with great interest. "But I know that you are the Evil God Emperor Claire."

She said the name in a calm tone, as if she were saying that the weather was nice today.

Claire stared at her for a long time.

Then he sighed.

"I am not the evil god emperor Claire, but I'd like to know how you intend to treat me?"

It's impossible for her to admit it, because even Ophelia can't be sure of his identity.

Even if he has a sacred seal, it doesn't necessarily mean that it was only used on the evil god emperor Claire; it could have been used on others as well.

At this point, Ophelia can only confirm that Claire escaped from Isabelle.

However, Ophelia's eyes lit up when she heard Claire's answer.

Even though the little boy in front of him doesn't admit that he is the Evil God Emperor, he clearly understands the current situation and intends to stay with him.

Now it's time to negotiate terms.

“What do you want from me?” Ophelia asked Claire.

Claire leaned against the pool wall, the water rippling gently between them.

“I don’t want to be locked in a dungeon again,” he said. “I don’t want to be underground anymore. Being able to see the sun, take a bath every day, and have a drink—that’s enough.”

Ophelia didn't speak, she just smiled without saying a word.

“If you have any other requests, I can consider them.” Claire looked into her eyes and said calmly, “Or, let’s take a gamble.”

Ophelia smiled brightly, as if she had heard a funny joke.

As the Acting Saint of Discipline, she controls the Inquisition, and since she took this position ten years ago, no one has dared to speak to her like this.

Now that the little boy in front of her had done it, Ophelia understood to some extent why Isabelle cared so much about this little boy, secretly taking food and wine to serve him every day.

“Very good.” Ophelia curled her lips and blinked. “I like your attitude, but you need to understand your place, and…”

But the next moment, her smile vanished, and her gaze sharpened.

"It depends on whether you can prove your worth. You have to prove you're qualified to talk to me like this."

The words had barely left his mouth—

"Pfft."

A section of the sword tip pierced through Claire's chest.

Claire looked down at the blade that had pierced her from behind and through her chest.

Blood dripped down the sword, blooming into dark red flowers in the clear pool water.

He looked up at Ophelia.

Ophelia was smiling at him, her face showing neither surprise nor remorse. Behind her, a Sister of Judgment had appeared by the pool, holding the sword in her hand.

“Sigh…” Claire’s lips moved, and she sighed.

“Not bad~” Ophelia reached out and touched his head, admiring the fatal wound on his chest, and then looked at Claire, who was still acting as if nothing had happened.

"You are indeed an amazing existence. You yourself are a fascinating thing. The fact that you can't die makes people curious about how you can die, Claire."

Claire looked into her eyes.

In those deep purple eyes, there was no malice, no kindness. Only a pure, naked curiosity.

She wanted to know if the evil god emperor's immortality was truly real.

“You’re a madman,” Claire said.

“Thank you.” Ophelia smiled. “Many people have said that.”

She reached out and pulled Claire out of the water, holding her in her arms.

“From today onwards, you will live here with me.”

Claire leaned against those two soft mounds, the wound in her chest still throbbing faintly.

“I won’t lock you up,” Ophelia’s voice came from above, “but I won’t let you go either. When I’ll let you see the sun depends on my mood.”

Claire didn't say anything.

Ophelia carried him out of the bath.

Chapter 29 Isabelle is getting anxious

By the time Ophelia carried Claire out of the bath, most of her wounds had healed.

The immortality worked faster than he expected; in just that short time, the bleeding stopped, the skin and flesh healed, and not even a scar was left.

Ophelia was not surprised by this and placed him with great interest on a chaise lounge covered with black velvet.

“From now on, you belong to me, the Saintess of Discipline. You are not allowed to run around anymore, understand?” After giving these instructions, Ophelia turned and walked towards the cabinet.

Simply saying it is useless; there's no need to even ask.

Before Claire could reply, he saw Ophelia take something out of the cabinet.

It was a collar.

Black leather, about two fingers wide, lined with soft velvet on the inside.

A dark red gem was set in the center of the collar, somewhat similar to the crystal Ophelia had used to track him.

The gemstone was engraved with intricate runes, runes that Claire had never seen before.

"What is this?" Claire asked, somewhat reluctantly avoiding Ophelia's approaching figure with the collar in her hand.

This crazy woman, is she trying to treat him like a pet from the start?

A scholar can be killed but not humiliated; being collared like a cat or dog is something he doesn't want.

Even if the body is that of a cute little boy, I don't want to be treated like a personal pet.

"Don't move." Ophelia's voice came from above, carrying an unquestionable tone.

Ignoring Claire's refusal, she stepped forward and pinned him down with her thigh.

Seeing Claire struggling, she sneered and pressed her upper body down on Claire's face.

Claire, feeling suffocated, quickly tried to push Ophelia off his head with his hands, but regardless of whether he was in the form of a little boy, the divine seal had sealed his power as well.

Therefore, Claire's strength at this moment was indeed as weak as that of a little boy; even with all her might, she could barely maintain the space to breathe.

Ophelia only felt more excited, while Claire's struggles only brought her more pleasure.

After all, if Isabelle saw her 'treasure' that she had painstakingly hidden away being treated like this, she would definitely be very jealous, right?

Ophelia couldn't help but groan at the thought of Isabelle's rather unpleasant expression.

Naturally, Ophelia's work did not stop.

With Claire unable to resist, the cool leather of the collar naturally pressed against his neck. Ophelia's fingers gently traced along the side of his neck, fastening the collar tightly.

It's not tight; it fits the skin perfectly and won't feel uncomfortable.

“This won’t restrict your movements.” Ophelia stood up from Claire with satisfaction, looking at Claire who was breathing heavily, and a playful smile curled her lips.

"But it will tell me where you are. No matter how far you run or how deep you hide, I can find you."

"The same tricks you used on Isabelle won't work on me."

"Also, I need to remind you that although this won't restrict your movements, it will be a small punishment. If you leave this room, I don't mind giving you a proper beating. Want to try?"

Claire touched the collar around her neck.

The leather feels very soft, and the inner velvet fabric is comfortable against the skin.

Looking at the woman in front of him, who had lifted his chin and was looking down at him with a condescending and manipulative attitude, he knew that the "little punishment" she was talking about was not so simple.

“What if you forcibly tear it down?” he asked, with a hint of defiance.

Ophelia smiled. "You can try."

Claire glanced at her but didn't reply.

His question was just a defiant retort in annoyance; no one would really doubt whether the things held by the Acting Saintess of Discipline, the master of the Inquisition, were secure enough.

This collar was kept in the room of the saintess who was in charge of administering the precepts, so its sturdiness was probably about the same as someone else's life.

Some people die without ever removing the collar around their neck.

"Sigh..." Claire sighed.

Seeing Claire's dejected appearance, Ophelia was in a very good mood.

However, her good mood didn't last long.

The nun in black robes knocked on the door, and the report she gave made Ophelia click her tongue in annoyance.

"Isabeth has gone mad? She's supposed to be a prayer agent saint, shouldn't she always maintain a dignified and holy demeanor?"

"She is the face of the 'Holy City,' and now she's throwing a tantrum like a little girl who lost her favorite toy?"

"This is ridiculous! Has she lost her mind? Isn't she afraid the archbishop and the others will smell it?"

To put it bluntly, they've fallen out.

What should have been a quiet affair, resolved discreetly to avoid leaks, was instead turned into a scene where Isabelle flipped the table and made a scene as if she didn't care at all that others knew.

For Ophelia, the master of the Inquisition, such a conspicuous act was out of character.

Ophelia walked to the window with a furrowed brow and saw the figures of nuns in white robes walking through the street, several times more than usual, their steps hurried, as if they were searching for something.

The nuns in white robes were all Isabelle's people, and there was no doubt that they were serious.

Claire also leaned against the window frame, her gaze fixed on the nuns in white robes.

They went door to door asking questions, leaving no alleyway unchecked and abandoned warehouses untouched. Some were crying, some were shouting, some were praying; the entire holy city was now in turmoil.

"Tell me, is it for the identity of the Evil God Emperor, or for something else?" Ophelia walked to his side, leaned against the window frame, and looked at him sideways.

Claire was silent for a moment. "Identity, perhaps."

"Really?" Ophelia laughed. "I have a feeling that she's after 'that person she likes who brings her food every day, listens to her complaints, and has been fed by her for over a decade'?"