"Now you’re telling me you feel unsafe? What’s unsafe about Hamlet? Ambition is ambition, I feel ashamed for you just hearing that."

Sofia, pushed away, froze, overwhelmed by an indescribable emotion, so much so that she forgot it was called shame.

"Do you feel that other people’s emotions are fake? Have you ever considered that this might be your own doing?

Emotions are reciprocal; when you treat them with insincerity, don’t expect sincerity in return.

Do you know where you went wrong?"

Lance’s words brought Sofia back to her senses. The moment she looked into his eyes, she felt like an ant gazing up at a giant, a sense of insignificance and humility overwhelming her, and she nodded involuntarily.

"Then drop the facade and sincerely confess your sins to me." Lance opened his arms slightly, his expression turning neither sad nor happy, like that of a statue.

The words from his mouth seemed to carry an irresistible power. Sofia, lost in a trance, suddenly lost control and knelt before Lance, crying bitterly.

This was not the small-scale drama of shedding two tears with gritted teeth but a true loss of control.

Grabbing Lance’s pant leg, her face contorted as tears gushed uncontrolled, mixed with incoherent cries of emotional release.

"Wah-wah! I was wrong... I was wrong..."

Lance showed little reaction, his peace almost seeming indifferent as he watched her.

Lance was certain that Sofia’s goal was to control Hamlet, using a silent method to hide behind him.

But it wasn’t him she was enchanting; it was power and strength.

But... who are you trying to control, sister?

Lance wielded the "Enchanting Voice," using it only on enemies and non-human entities like wolves, never to control others.

Because Lance had experienced that feeling firsthand; one moment, you’re a mermaid, and the next, a hideous siren. That kind of impact means when enchantment fails, it leaves a void.

Moreover, he didn’t need to use such means to obtain loyalty.

Yet Sofia still insisted on running into his hands, forcing him to act.

It’s said that attacking a city is less skilled than attacking the heart; killing is the lowest way to solve problems, implying you can’t control the situation.

But from the beginning, when she stepped into the room, Lance had already completely controlled the situation.

The enchanting voice continuously affected her in an undetectable way; otherwise, how could someone so guarded reveal those truths to him?

Several times she tried to evade, but Lance blocked her each time, and her little tricks seemed ridiculous to him.

Her rationality was eroded step by step, and now she completely surrendered, bowing at his feet.

You see everyone as toys to be used, but have you ever thought that you might be my toy?

Finally, Lance’s face showed a merciful expression. He leaned down to wipe away her tears, his voice calm yet steady in her ear.

"In Hamlet, you will find redemption."

Sofia instinctively grabbed Lance’s outstretched hand as if clutching a lifeline, sobbing her fears.

"I’m so scared, they’re going to catch me, they’re going to kill me..."

Lance didn’t avoid her this time, comforting her instead.

"I understand, I understand... But it’s all over now. You’re safe here..."

Under Lance’s reassuring words, Sofia’s sobs gradually lessened until only faint sniffles remained, as she cried herself into exhaustion and fell asleep.

Lance wasn’t going to let her keep crying; he didn’t have time to play her games, so he used a small trick to put her to sleep.

Picking her up, he couldn’t deny Sofia’s figure was quite striking even through the thin fabric of her clothing, feeling smooth and soft to the touch.

Her bosom might not surpass Amanda’s, but it was full and round, still damp from tears, sticking to her clothes and drawing the eye.

After crying with the appearance of pear blossoms in the rain, she seemed to possess a different allure, piquing Lance’s interest.

What does a princess taste like...

But Lance quickly suppressed that thought, placing her back on the chair.

It was after work hours—no chance for overtime.

More importantly, Sofia’s hypnosis was still incomplete, and he wouldn’t let a moment’s impulse ruin his plan.

Lance kept Sofia for a significant reason: he wanted to acquire the path of the Perfumer from her.

He wanted Sofia to willingly, personally hand it to him, which would eliminate many troubles, as Lance knew how peculiar those Transcendent inheritances could be.

No one knew if she had mixed in some bizarre curse or altered the ritual.

This was part of the plan.

"Boudica!"

Lance called out, and the sound from outside was evident. Soon, the door was pushed open, and Boudica peeked in, not daring to enter directly.

"Hehe, boss, you called me..."

"What are you doing loitering outside instead of sleeping at night?" Lance chuckled at her behavior, realizing Sofia’s loud crying must have alerted her, and wondered why she was crouching in a corner.

"It’s all her ghostly wailing that woke me up, so I thought to check it out." Boudica, seeing that Lance wasn’t angry, brazenly dumped the blame on Sofia.

But she quickly noticed the bottles on the table and briskly approached.

"Why didn’t you invite me for drinks, boss? You can’t hog it all to yourself!"

"I didn’t touch a drop; she drank it." Lance was speechless. "Besides, I was working. Why did I call you here?"

"This guy is lousy!" Boudica glanced at the disheveled Sofia, who had screamed so loudly earlier. Was that business?

"Boss, I can give you a push!"

"Get out!" Lance’s blood pressure spiked, and her remark broke his composure despite all the mental battling he did with Sofia.

"Fine, I’ll go." Boudica pouted, grabbed a bottle, and darted out.

Leaving wasn’t enough; she had to grab that bottle.

Lance was already smoldering with anger, and now it was stoked further.

Sometimes greed comes at a price.

"Like pushing, do you? I’ll show you who’s really lousy." Lance strolled out of the room, determined that tonight, someone was going to have a bad time.

......

The port of Hamlet was already bustling, lit by torches reflecting the returning fishermen from the sea.

Recently, the sea had been calm, and the superstitious sailors were jubilant as the indescribable demon no longer troubled them.

They also revered the Lord even more.

For it was the Lord who drove those monsters away, and during disasters, they didn’t fall into despair, thanks to the Lord’s supportive policies.

Otherwise, as in years past, debt collectors would have taken everything, and selling children wouldn’t be surprising.

If gods were illusions, then the Lord was the true "god" who provided tangible Sanctuary.

The image of Susan appeared at the dock market, though she seemed a bit weary.

The reason? Let’s just say, the night’s eruptions didn’t allow for a restful sleep.

But work had to be done, and before dawn, Susan began preparing ingredients to make breakfast for the Lord.

To know if Lance was in town, perhaps no one was more informed than these fishermen.

When the Lord was around, Susan, the Butler, would purchase more ingredients, creating a curious scene at the docks.

"Mine’s the biggest!"

"Mine’s the fattest!"

"Mine’s the liveliest!"

Originally, these were bought for their relative cheapness, but somehow it was rumored the Lord relished crabs and shrimp.

The fishermen all knew that November was the peak time to eat crabs, each one full and meaty, and they all wanted to offer the plumpest sea crabs to the Lord.