Ciel: <>
Voice of the World: <<>>
******
"Would you like to catch a glimpse of a discarded future?"
Rimuru's question struck Genevieve like a bolt from the blue. She blinked, caught completely off guard, her thoughts scrambling to make sense of what he'd just said. "A glimpse of a discarded future?" she echoed, eyes narrowing warily at the shimmering crystal orb he'd conjured in his palm. "What are you talking about?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," Rimuru said with a knowing smirk, effortlessly spinning the orb on the tip of his finger like a toy. "I can show you a life you could've lived. A future where Granbell never tried to have you killed. One where you remained the Princess Consort of the Rosso family, raising your daughter the way you always dreamed."
Her breath hitched. "That's... actually possible?" Genevieve asked, her voice low, almost disbelieving. The very idea that someone could command time like this sounded more like a myth than reality.
"It absolutely is. And I can make you experience it," Rimuru confirmed. But then his tone grew serious. "However, be warned, this isn't some fairytale. You might think life without that tragedy would be perfect, but I promise you, what you'll see will shatter your heart in ways the real world never could."
Genevieve stared at him, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. For a moment, she didn't speak. Then, slowly, she drew in a deep breath, and rather than weakening her resolve, his warning only forged it stronger.
"Lord Rimuru," she said, her voice firm and unwavering, "I want to see it, no matter how much it hurts." Her eyes flicked to her daughter, soft with love yet blazing with determination. She clenched her fist. 'Never again,' she swore silently. 'Never again will I let myself be caught off guard.'
Rimuru gave a small nod of approval. "Very well. I respect your resolve," he said, holding the orb out to her. "Are you ready?" Genevieve nodded silently, reaching out, and the moment her fingertips touched the surface of the orb, her world was consumed by a flood of brilliant white light.
******
When the light faded and her vision cleared, Genevieve found herself standing in a place that tugged at her heart with both warmth and sorrow.
"This... this is my house," she whispered, slowly turning in place as her eyes scanned the elegantly furnished room. It was unmistakably hers. Every piece of décor, every carefully placed trinket, and velvet curtain felt achingly familiar. Yet something was subtly different. The arrangement of the furniture, the scent in the air, the picture frames. The small, quiet changes that only someone who had once lived and breathed in this space could truly notice.
"Yes, it is," said a voice from behind.
She turned to see the translucent figure of Rimuru, casually leaning against the wall.
"Where are we?" Genevieve asked, glancing down at her own hands, only to realize she, too, was semi-transparent, just like the blue-haired man before her.
"We're exactly two years and six months into the future," Rimuru replied. "And I chose to show you this moment because it marks the beginning of a major turning point in your life."
Right on cue, the door creaked open, and Genevieve turned just as a familiar voice echoed through the room, light and carefree.
"Mama, look what Anna found for me!"
Little Mariabell came bounding in, her tiny feet pattering against the polished floor. She clutched a small, well-loved book in one hand, while the other was gently held by Anna, the ever-patient maid who walked beside her with a quiet smile.
Genevieve's breath caught in her throat. Her heart ached at the sight. Her daughter... her Bella, looked so full of life. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her eyes wide with wonder as she waved the book in the air.
Genevieve's knees weakened for a moment. She clenched her fists, her eyes fixed on her daughter's radiant smile. "She's grown..." she whispered, a mix of sorrow and awe in her voice as she remembered the events of earlier that day. She realized that, had Rimuru not intervened and saved both her and her daughter, she would never have lived to see her daughter like this. Without even realizing it, a quiet reverence and trust toward the Ruler of Monsters began to take root in her heart.
Just then, the curtain rustled gently, and from behind the changing screen, Genevieve's future self stepped into view, dressed in an elegant silk gown and a necklace of rare, twinkling gems resting against her collarbone.
"That's me..." the translucent Genevieve murmured, her eyes fixed on the woman before her. Her future counterpart looked much the same. There were no dramatic changes in her general appearance, except for a touch more softness in her face and around her waist that no one else could notice except for Genevieve herself.
Meanwhile, the future Genevieve stepped toward her daughter with a gentle smile and knelt slightly, bringing herself to her daughter's eye level. "That's lovely, Bella. Did you remember to thank Anna for the book?"
Mariabell paused, her eyes widening for a split second in realization. Then, with an adorably dramatic shake of her head, she spun around and threw her arms wide toward the maid. "Thank you, Anna! You're the best!" she declared, beaming from ear to ear.
Anna let out a soft chuckle, clearly touched. "It's my honor to serve you, little Lady," she replied warmly, leaning down to gently pat the child's head.
Genevieve, watching from the sidelines in her ghostlike form, felt her heart stir once more. This vision of the future, so gentle, so full of warmth and love, awakened something deep within her. A longing... a quiet, aching desire to one day live this kind of life with her daughter.
"What a sweet, warm, and heartfelt scene," Rimuru remarked dryly, examining his nails with exaggerated disinterest. "It's just a shame that moments like these are usually nothing more than calm junctions between the storms."
Genevieve's eyes snapped toward him at those words, confusion and unease flickering across her face. But Rimuru simply shook his head and gestured subtly toward Mariabell, silently urging her to keep a close eye on her daughter.
Meanwhile, the peaceful scene continued. Mariabell sat on the bed, quietly reading her book, while Anna stood behind Genevieve, gently combing her hair. A soft knock came at the door, and a moment later, another maid entered, pushing a trolley of food. Without a word, she left the trolley behind and exited the room.
Once Anna finished, she carefully set the brush aside.
Genevieve rose from her seat and turned to face her. "Anna, I'll be stepping out for a while," she said with composed grace. "There are some matters I need to tend to. While I'm gone, please help Bella with her lunch."
"Of course, my Lady," Anna replied with a respectful dip of her head. "Leave everything to me."
"Of course, my Lady. Leave it to me," Anna replied with a respectful nod as Genevieve leaned down and kissed Mariabell's forehead before quietly leaving the room.
However, at that very moment, neither Anna nor Genevieve noticed the sudden change in Mariabell. Her soft violet eyes darkened, and the innocent expression she wore faded, replaced by a flicker of confusion. Then, her gaze sharpened, scanning the room with an unnaturally keen awareness before a slow, unsettling smile crept across her lips, looking deeply unnatural, especially on the face of a two-year-old child.
The translucent Genevieve, however, saw it all clearly. Alarm gripped her heart as she turned sharply toward Rimuru, panic rising in her voice. "What's happening to my child? Why did she change so suddenly?"
"Remember what I told you before?" Rimuru said calmly. "Mariabell is the reincarnation of Maria, your mother-in-law. This is the moment her consciousness fully awakens... when she begins to recall her past lives," he explained and glanced toward the little girl, who now sat perfectly still. The once-beloved book lay forgotten in her lap, and that eerie smile had vanished, replaced by a thoughtful, almost calculating expression that seemed far too mature for her age.
Meanwhile, Anna finished arranging a plate of lunch and walked it over to the bed, where Mariabell still sat with the book resting on her lap. "Come now, Little Lady," she said gently, in a warm and coaxing tone. "Put the book down for now. It's time for lunch." She set the plate carefully in front of the blonde-haired child
Mariabell barely glanced at the food before her nose wrinkled in displeasure. Her violet eyes narrowed. "There are carrots in the soup. I don't like them," she said in a blunt, flat voice. Then, in a tone far too cold for a child her age, she added, "Throw this out and bring me something else. And this time, make sure there are no carrots."
Anna blinked, visibly taken aback, not just by the rudeness, but by the sudden clarity in the child's speech. Mariabell's words were fluent, commanding... and disturbingly adult. For a moment, Anna stood frozen, unsure of how to respond.
But she quickly recovered, straightening with the quiet authority that came from years of experience. Her brow furrowed as she spoke firmly, in a stern voice, "Young Lady, that is not how we speak to others. It's perfectly fine to dislike something, but being rude and demanding is unacceptable. You should—"
"Did I ask for a lecture, maid?" Mariabell snapped, looking up at her with a sudden glare that sent a chill down Anna's spine, making her instinctively take a step back. "I told you to change the soup. So stop running your mouth and do as you're told. Or have you forgotten your place?"
For a brief moment, silence filled the room.
Anna's lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She stood there, stunned, unable to comprehend how such venom could've come from the mouth of the sweet, smiling child she'd been caring for just moments ago.
"No... there's something wrong with you!" Anna said, taking a step back, her voice shaking with disbelief. "The Little Lady I know would never act like this!" She turned toward the door, heart pounding. "I have to inform My Lady—"
"No, you're not going to do anything of the sort," Mariabell interrupted coldly. Her eyes began to glow, and in the next moment, a swirl of purple energy erupted around Anna, engulfing her like a sudden storm. Her body froze mid-step. Her eyes went wide and then blank. For a terrifying moment, all the light seemed to drain from her gaze, and she just stood there, unmoving, like a marionette with its strings cut.
Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the energy vanished, and as consciousness returned to Anna, something was different... something was wrong.
She turned to face Mariabell slowly, her entire posture shifting. Her usual calm had been replaced by something dark and twisted. Her eyes, once filled with care and loyalty, now burned with fury.
"How dare a brat like you speak to me that way?" she hissed, storming across the room. Her movements were sharp, aggressive, unlike anything Genevieve had ever seen from her, and before Mariabell could even react, Anna's hand shot out and grabbed the child by the neck. "I've served your mother loyally for years," she growled, voice thick with resentment, "and this is how her daughter repays me? No. I won't tolerate this!"
Blinded by rage, she squeezed tighter, her entire body trembling as if barely containing years of buried emotion. But Mariabell didn't flinch, scream, or cry. She simply smirked, unbothered and almost amused. Her eyes shimmered with a demonic glint that didn't belong on the face of any child. It was the smile of someone who had expected this all along and who was waiting... patiently...for something. Or someone.
Then, without warning, Mariabell's expression shifted. The unsettling smirk vanished, replaced by the wide, tear-filled eyes of a helpless child. Her lips quivered, and her small hands weakly clawed at Anna's arm, as though desperate and afraid. At that exact moment, the door burst open with a slam, and standing in the doorway was none other than Gran Rosso, the head of the house. Behind him came Genevieve, breathless, her eyes scanning the room, only to land on a sight that turned her blood cold. Anna, her closest friend and most trusted handmaid, had her fingers wrapped tightly around her little Bella's neck, strangling her daughter.
"Anna! What the hell are you doing?!" Genevieve's scream tore through the air as she rushed forward in a panic, yanking Mariabell out of Anna's grasp and cradling her protectively. "What's wrong with you?! How could you do this to our little Bell?!"
But Anna didn't back down. She didn't even blink. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes wild and bloodshot as she stared past Genevieve at the child now trembling in her arms. "I'm doing what all of you should've done long ago!" she shouted. "And if you hadn't interrupted, I would have—"
Before she could finish her words, in a single, fluid motion, Gran Rosso drew his blade and struck. The slash was silent, but the aftermath was not.
In the blink of an eye, blood poured from her neck. She staggered, clutching her throat as her knees buckled beneath her. Darkness closed in fast, her senses fading. And the last thing she saw... was the cruel smile lurking beneath Mariabell's innocent face, before everything went black.
"No one lays a hand on my family and lives to tell the tale," Granbell said coldly as he wiped his blade clean and sheathed his sword. Without sparing another glance at the body on the floor, he stepped forward and gently lifted Mariabell into his arms. The little girl clung to him silently, burying her head in his chest. "I'm taking her with me for now. You won't need to worry about her for a while. Just see to it that the mess is cleaned up before nightfall."
With that, Granbell turned on his heel and strode out of the room, with the child held securely against his chest.
Genevieve, on the other hand, stood frozen for a breathless moment with her thoughts refusing to settle and her body too shocked to move. Then the numbness gave way to pain, and she dropped to her knees beside Anna's lifeless body.
Tears welled in her eyes and spilled freely down her cheeks as she stared at the woman who had once been her most trusted friend. "Why...?" she whispered, her voice trembling as she reached out with shaking hands to gently close Anna's eyes. "Why did you do this?" she asked again, her words hanging in the still air, unanswered. No explanation came, only silence... and the weight of a grief that would stay with her for the rest of her life.
******
Meanwhile, the translucent Genevieve stood paralyzed, a cold dread twisting in her chest. The scene she had just witnessed played over and over in her mind, haunting her with the images of her sweet, innocent little girl morphing into something unrecognizable. Mariabell hadn't simply changed... she had orchestrated everything. Manipulated the moment. Let it all unfold like a cruel performance, watching her beloved friend die without even the faintest flicker of remorse.
Genevieve's breath hitched, her translucent hands trembling at her sides as she couldn't make sense of it. This couldn't be her child... her little girl who laughed and played and looked up at her with vulnerable, innocent eyes.
Slowly, she turned to Rimuru. Her voice caught in her throat, unable to form the questions burning within her. Her expression said it all... a shattered disbelief, desperate confusion, and a silent, urgent plea for answers from the only one who might know the truth.
Rimuru let out a slow sigh, his eyes softening with sympathy as he watched Genevieve struggle to make sense of the horror she had just witnessed. The tremble in her shoulders, the haunted look on her face, it was the kind of devastation no parent should ever have to endure. And yet, he knew all too well that what came next would be even harder for her.
Still, he stepped forward and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, as he began to explain.
"When Mariabell's consciousness first awakened, she was disoriented and unsettled by the unfamiliarity of her new life. So when Anna, a maid, tried to correct or discipline her, it struck a nerve. This, combined with Mariabell's deeply ingrained pride and entitlement from her past life and the emotional volatility of a toddler's body, made her lash out. Deep down, Mariabell still saw herself as a queen, not a little girl, and from her perspective, Anna was nothing more than a servant daring to challenge her authority."
Rimuru paused briefly before continuing. "But Maria quickly realized she couldn't afford to break character. She couldn't risk exposing herself as anyone other than Mariabell without fully understanding the circumstances she was in. Since her outburst was already suspicious, she needed a way to neutralize Anna quietly. So, she used her unique skill [Greed] to forcibly dominate and rewire Anna's mind. She amplified Anna's suppressed desire for respect, twisting it until Anna lost control and lashed out in rage. Maria also counted on the fact that Granbell's unique skill [Threat Sense] would detect the danger and bring him running to 'rescue' her, which is exactly what happened."
He stepped away, giving Genevieve space as his voice dropped to a softer, almost regretful tone. "In the end... it was just Anna's misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
******
As translucent Genevieve struggled to process Rimuru's words, the world around them began to shift once again. The room blurred, its edges dissolving like mist on a breeze, and when the scene came back into focus, they were standing in the same space, but time had clearly moved forward. Now, a slightly older Mariabell, perhaps four or five years old, sat primly on the same cushion where she had once orchestrated Anna's demise. With an eerie calm, the child quietly turned the pages of a thick, ancient-looking book, unmistakably beyond what any child should be capable of comprehending.
Just then, the door creaked open and Genevieve entered the room, looking visibly older and worn. Her beauty remained, but anyone who truly knew her could see that something vital had dimmed. The sparkle in her eyes, once bright with hope and maternal warmth was gone, replaced by the hollow gaze of someone weighed down by grief.
As she stepped inside, her gaze swept the room before settling on the small figure seated near the window. "Bella," she said softly, her voice lined with fatigue. "Reading again?"
"Yes, Mother," Mariabell replied without looking up, her tone flat and detached as she flipped another page with practiced fingers.
Genevieve's brow furrowed as she stepped closer. "That book... it looks older than anything in the royal archives. Where did you even get it?"
Mariabell's lips curled into a faint, challenging smile, the first hint of emotion she'd shown in hours. "I asked one of the librarians. He didn't think it was suitable for me, but I reminded him it wasn't his place to decide what I should or shouldn't read."
A flicker of irritation crossed Genevieve's face, not directed at her daughter, but at the helpless ache twisting inside her. "You're only four, Bella," she said gently, trying to keep her voice even. "You shouldn't be spending all day indoors poring over ancient philosophy and political treatises. You should be outside, playing. Running. Laughing with the other children. That's what childhood is for."
Mariabell finally lifted her gaze, her small hands folding neatly in her lap as her violet eyes locked onto Genevieve's. "I don't see the point," she said plainly. "What value is there in running around aimlessly when I could be expanding my mind? These books contain the insights of kings and emperors, the thoughts of those who shaped entire nations. Why would I waste my time chasing butterflies like those other small-minded idiots?"
The words struck Genevieve like a slap. Her posture stiffened as she drew in a sharp breath, her lips parting in disbelief. "Bella..." she said, the name barely more than a whisper. "Don't speak about others like that. They're not idiots. They're children, just like you. And children deserve to laugh and play and live without the weight of the world on their shoulders. You may not understand it now, but one day you will learn how precious this time really is."
Mariabell's smile faded, her expression cooling in an instant. A flicker of irritation and offense passed across her young face. "I see," she said slowly, her tone smooth but laced with disdain. "You think I'm pretending. That because this body is small, I'm supposed to laugh and dance and forget who I really am." Her voice remained measured, but a quiet venom threaded through it, seeping into the room like frost. Genevieve felt it settle into her bones, a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.
Genevieve stepped forward, instinctively. "That's not what I—!" she began, her voice cracking slightly. But she froze. The look Mariabell gave her was not one of childish defiance. It was colder and sharper than it had any right to be. The words shriveled in her throat, replaced by a creeping unease that tightened her chest.
"I'll remember that," Mariabell said quietly, almost to herself, as she shut the book with a sharp clack. which echoed in the heavy silence. She stood, dusted off the hem of her dress with meticulous care, and offered Genevieve a glance so brief it might as well have been a dismissal. "Thank you for the advice, Mother. I'll be sure to keep it in mind the next time I decide to roll in the dirt with the stable boys."
Then Mariabell turned and walked past her mother, while Genevieve just stood there frozen, unsure what to say, and could only watch silently as her daughter walked out of the room without ever giving her a look, knowing deep within her heart that something precious was slipping further and further from her grasp.
******
The world shifted again, this time not into a single memory, but a cascade of flickering scenes, like a storm of images unraveling in rapid succession.
In one flash, Genevieve stood before her vanity, knuckles white as they gripped the carved wooden edge. Her breath came shallow. A sheen of sweat glistened at her temples, sliding down her neck. Her reflection stared back at her, confused, anxious... but also unmistakably resolute. Whatever she was wrestling with, the decision had already been made.
In the next, he was tucked in the shadows of a dimly lit corridor, speaking in hushed tones to a noblewoman whose face was unfamiliar but whose posture matched Genevieve's own, tight with tension, eyes darting to every corner, watching the darkness for listening ears. Their words couldn't be heard, but their expressions said enough.
Then, she was at her writing desk, pen in hand, drafting letters she had no business writing. Letters that questioned Granbell's authority. That sowed seeds of quiet dissent. That suggested alliances beyond the family's reach.
Through it all, her face remained strained but resolute, like someone who had convinced herself she was doing the right thing, not just for her daughter... but for the future of them all.
And behind it all, unseen but unmistakable, loomed the guiding hand of Mariabell.
The girl would speak in soft tones during their quiet moments alone, her voice delicate, almost melodic. Each word floated on the air like a lullaby. Sweet, gentle, wrapped in the innocence of a child's affection... but threaded with a subtle, poisonous intent.
"Don't you think Grandfather is a little too controlling?" she'd murmur, curling into Genevieve's lap with the practiced ease of a loving daughter. Her fingers would toy with the lace trim of Genevieve's gown as her eyes, wide and guileless, looked up into her mother's face. "You're the consort, Mother. Shouldn't you have more say in what happens in our home?"
On another day, nestled close beside her on the chaise, Mariabell's voice would drop to a near-whisper. "Granbell said we couldn't expand the garden," she'd say with a small pout, as if the thought genuinely pained her. "But why not? Isn't this your home too? Wouldn't a real head of the house care about what we want too?"
They were just questions. Soft, harmless questions. But they clung to Genevieve's thoughts long after the child had gone. Little seeds, planted carefully, lovingly. Each one sown with just enough truth to feel reasonable... even right.
And Genevieve, grieving, guilt-ridden, and quietly aching for a sense of purpose, began to tend those seeds without even realizing it. She watered them with affection, shaded them with trust, and fed them with the kind of love only a mother can give. She never saw the roots winding around her heart. Never noticed how that love, so genuine and tender, was being reshaped and twisted slowly, skillfully into a weapon.
******
The scene shifted again, this time to a courtroom. But not a public one. This was no grand hall of justice, only a cold, dim chamber buried deep within the Rosso family estate.
Genevieve stood at the center, her wrists bound in iron shackles, head bowed and eyes fixed on the polished marble floor beneath her feet.
At the far end sat Granbell behind an austere desk, his face devoid of emotion. No rage. No sorrow. Just that same mask of impassive authority he had worn for years. "You stand accused of treason against the Rosso bloodline," he said. "Your crimes include conspiracy, subversion of authority, and soliciting outside agents to orchestrate a coup. Do you deny the charges?"
Genevieve didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Because she knew it wouldn't change anything.
The evidence had already been laid out in damning detail. The letters she barely remembered writing. The whispered conversations in hidden corridors. The suspicious financial discrepancies. And worst of all... the testimony of her own daughter, delivered in calm, measured tones, as 'proof' of her mother's attempt to 'liberate' her from Granbell's control.
Her current predicament was both tragic and twisted beyond recognition. And yet... she had done those things. The letters. The secret meetings. The quiet, defiant steps that had led her here. She remembered them all, but what haunted her was the terrifying truth that she couldn't trace where it had all begun. She didn't know when the first seed had been planted, or why she had started down that path in the first place. Her thoughts spiraled in frantic circles, searching for a reason, a justification, anything that could explain how she ended up here. Because deep down, she was certain of one thing: she had never wanted this... she never wanted any of this.
Still, Genevieve lifted her head one final time and looked across the room, at her daughter Mariabell, who sat silently in Granbell's lap, with her small hands folded neatly in her lap, looking straight back at her.
A wave of emotion surged through Genevieve, catching in her throat as memories tumbled through her mind. The warmth of holding her daughter for the very first time. Her first words, her first steps. The way she used to reach out for her with that innocent, trusting gaze. And then... the incident with Anna happened, and her life... her world changed.
Mariabell began to grow cold and distant, until suddenly, without warning, she turned affectionate again, too affectionate. Clinging to her, whispering soft venom about Granbell, drawing her into shadows she hadn't even realized she was stepping into... until it was too late. Until now. Until this.
So much had changed. So much had gone wrong.
There were a thousand things Genevieve wanted to say. A thousand questions she still needed to ask. How did this happen? Why did you do it? Were any of those smiles real? Did you ever really love me? But in the end, she said nothing. The words caught in her throat, too heavy to speak. Instead, she managed only a small, broken smile. A final, fragile expression of acceptance or perhaps surrender. Maybe, deep down, she truly believed this was her fault. That somewhere along the way, she had failed. Failed to protect her daughter. Failed to guide her. Failed to see the warning signs in time. And this... this quiet, humiliating end was the gods' way of passing judgment, a divine punishment for failing as a mother.
Mariabell on the other end did not flinch. Her expression was a flawless mask of sorrow, a picture of grief so convincing it could have fooled anyone. Anyone but Genevieve. Because her eyes... those violet eyes told a different story. One that only a mother and daughter knew.
"May the gods forgive you, Mother," Mariabell said softly.
And those were the last words Genevieve ever heard before a smile flickered across her face just before Granbell rose from his seat and executed her without ceremony, ending her story quietly, in that discarded future.
******
A moment later, the vision ended, and the room returned to stillness as Rimuru and Genevieve emerged from the world of memories. As soon as her hand slipped away from the orb, Genevieve collapsed onto the nearby couch. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her eyes wide and vacant, still locked on the glowing sphere as if her mind hadn't fully returned.
"My Lady, what's wrong?" Anna rushed to her side, kneeling beside her and grasping her hand with gentle urgency.
The sound of a familiar voice cut through the fog in Genevieve's mind as she slowly turned her head toward Anna... and froze. Her gaze lingered there for a heartbeat before she flung herself into Anna's arms, clutching her like a lifeline as the dam finally broke. At first, her sobs were quiet, trembling—but they quickly grew harder, shaking her shoulders as tears streamed freely down her cheeks.
Startled by the sudden outburst, Anna instinctively held her, cradling her with quiet strength. She looked over to Rimuru, eyes wide, silently asking what in the world he had shown her to provoke such raw, unfiltered grief.
Rimuru however, shook his head slowly. "I don't think now's the right time for questions," he said quietly. "Just take her back to your room. Let her rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."
Anna nodded without hesitation, realizing her Lady was far too shaken for any sort of conversation. So she quietly stood and carefully gathered Mariabell into one arm and supported Genevieve with the other, helping her stand. Then, after offering a respectful bow to both Rimuru and Shizu, she gently guided her mistress out of the room, one step at a time.
Meanwhile, Shizu, who had been silently watching the entire scene unfold, turned to her husband. "Rimuru... what was that?" she asked softly. "What did you show her to leave a strong, determined woman like that in tears?"
"What I showed her, Shizu, was something no mother should ever have to see," Rimuru sighed and glanced toward the crib where little Mariabell had slept not long ago.
To be continued...
******
Please check out my other fic, One Piece: Randomizer! new chapter 34. The Devil Essence!