Ophelia was drinking porridge when the commotion startled her, causing her hand to shake and a bit of white porridge to splash out, instantly leaving a red mark on her fair skin.
"Princess," Taylor cried out in alarm at the sight. He hurriedly used the corner of his animal-skin skirt to wipe her hand.
With the two of them standing very close, Ophelia's peripheral vision caught sight of the capital beneath Taylor's animal-skin skirt.
"Ahem, early in the morning and full of vitality—quite capable." Having recovered her modern memories, Ophelia was free of shackles, unleashing her nature as someone obsessed with good looks and lust.
Though Loki had hurt her, she still believed in love and enjoyed the feeling of being loved, and in this lifetime, she wanted plenty of it.
If we break up, we break up; goodbye is goodbye. The next one will be a much better boy.
"Ah, Ophelia, what are you two doing?" The sharp voice of a little female rang out in the room.
Ophelia furrowed her brows in displeasure; her good morning mood was gone.
"Are you blind? I got scalded, and Taylor is wiping the water off for me."
Michelle stepped forward, feigning concern. "Oh, it's so red. Guardian Taylor is certainly so attentive."
"Loki, you should take a good lesson from this. After all, Ophelia is your little female, and taking care of her is your responsibility." As Michelle looked at that flawless, jade-white hand stained with red, her eyes turned red with jealousy.
She usually paid attention to taking care of her own hands, but they ultimately couldn't compare to the beauty of Ophelia, the Golden Dragon Clan princess who had been pampered since childhood.
A flash of jealousy crossed the depths of Michelle's eyes, though she quickly concealed it.
"Ophelia, did you have Taylor go to the shaman to get the Blood Crystal Stone? The whole tribe is spreading rumors right now that you're going to dissolve your mate bond with Loki. If you're angry because of me, I can explain. Loki and I are innocent; he hasn't done anything to betray you."
Ophelia didn't give her a pleasant look, her face carrying a sneer. "Hasn't he, or didn't he dare?"
A male who had contracted a sole mate would burst and die upon mating with another little female, and of course, the same applied to the little female.
"Naturally he hasn't. The one Loki has always liked is you, while as for me, that's already in the past with him." Hearing the end of this, Michelle's expression turned somewhat desolate.
Seeing her like this, Loki felt a pang in his heart and wanted to pull her into his arms to comfort her.
"I was the one who wanted to take her to the Wishing Pool. I was in the wrong on this matter, so don't give her a hard time."
Ophelia let out a cold laugh and took out the Blood Crystal Stone from beside the bed.
The blood-red crystal gleamed in the sunlight, seeming to ripple with mysterious power inside.
At the sight of the Blood Crystal Stone, Michelle's breath hitched, and joy surged into her heart.
Yet she quickly calmed down again; Loki had not yet ascended to the position of patriarch, and they could not dissolve their mate bond just yet.
Loki suppressed the anger in his heart and softened his tone. "Ophelia, stop making a fuss. I've been rather busy lately and neglected you; that was my fault. Once I become patriarch, I'll make it up to you properly, alright?" This was a critical moment for him in competing for the patriarch's position, and he could not afford to let bad influences stem from his mate bond.
In the past, no matter how big the issue was, he only had to lower his head slightly to gain forgiveness, and he assumed this time would be no different.
Yet when he met a pair of icy blue eyes, his heart suddenly tightened.
"I'm not making a fuss; I'm serious." To show her determination, Ophelia bit her finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the Blood Crystal Stone.
Loki's expression chilled somewhat. "Must you make such a fuss? I've already explained it to you, what more do you want?"
Ophelia tossed the Blood Crystal Stone into his lap and said impatiently, "I've already dripped the blood, do as you see fit. If the time limit passes, I will forcibly dissolve the mate bond."
"What?" Michelle cried out in alarm. "Ophelia, don't be rash! Forcibly dissolving a sole mate bond not only causes you to lose half a year of your lifespan, but it will also affect Loki's strength."
"No matter how much resentment you hold against Loki, you can't do this. The patriarch tournament is in a month, and his strength cannot be impaired, or he will lose his life."
Loki was equally furious.
At that moment, the cries of a little female cub rang out, and a little blonde female cub was seen scrambling in panic through the doorway.
The little female cub was entirely red, and her face was covered in small red bumps.
Anyone who knew would understand that she was having an allergic reaction.
"Wuwu, Mother, it's itchy, my face is so itchy."
Amy had been physically frail since childhood, with sensitive skin that was allergic to most pollen. Just the slightest contact would cause her whole body to become inflamed and break out in red rashes.
Therefore, upon learning that her daughter wanted to go to the Wishing Pool to make a wish, she had specifically gone deep into the forest to gather flowers that Amy was not allergic to. Who could have imagined that she would arrive at the Wishing Pool in a disheveled state, only to overhear her daughter uttering those remarks?
That the flowers Amy had been holding yesterday—which Michelle had casually plucked by the roadside—would trigger an allergic reaction was entirely within her expectations.
"Wuwu, Mother..."
"Amy, what's wrong with you?" Michelle crouched down with concern, then looked up as if she had suddenly figured something out.
"Ophelia, no matter how much you resent Amy for liking me as her aunt, you shouldn't use a method like this to punish Amy. She is your little female cub, after all."
Loki's expression changed drastically. He stepped forward, grabbed Ophelia's wrist, and said through gritted teeth, "Ophelia, how can you be so vicious? No wonder Amy doesn't like you, you brought this entirely on yourself."
Ophelia ignored him, lowering her gaze to look calmly at Amy. "Amy, is this state of yours really caused by me?"
Amy was already four years old and clever from a young age, so she naturally knew what was wrong with her.
"I... I..."
Michelle pulled her into her arms to comfort her. "Amy, be bold and speak up. With me and your father here, she won't dare do anything to you. If something like this happens once, there will be a second time. You have to speak up bravely so there won't be a next time."
Amy looked somewhat at a loss, her eyes flustered. "Mother, it's itchy."
Ophelia said nothing, merely watching her quietly.
A child was ultimately a child with little patience. Twiddling her fingers, she whispered, "It has nothing to do with Mother. She didn't punish me, I'm just allergic to the flowers used at the Wishing Pool yesterday."
Michelle's expression stiffened, feeling as though her fierce questioning just moments ago was like a joke.
Loki was also stunned, never expecting the truth to be as it was, yet he was unwilling to lose face. "Since you knew Amy was allergic to pollen, why didn't you prepare in advance, leaving her to suffer like this?"
Ophelia let out a cold snort, glancing at the withered flowers on the wooden table that had lost their moisture.
"Was it that I didn't prepare in advance, or that the three of you were too impatient, ditching me and heading to the Wishing Pool first?"
Loki: "..."
He remembered that yesterday this little female had repeatedly instructed them to wait until she returned before going to the Wishing Pool together; it was because Amy and Michelle had been far too impatient that...
Seeing the flowers on the table, Amy felt a twinge of guilt. "Mother, it's so itchy, apply the medicine for me first."
"Right, right, right, let's apply the medicine for Amy first, otherwise she's going to scratch her face to pieces at this rate." Michelle changed the subject.
All three of them looked at her with hopeful anticipation.
The corners of Ophelia's lips curved into a smile. "I'm sorry, I've run out of medicine."
"Then go pick some quickly, I'm about to itch to death."
Ophelia's face was calm and her expression detached. "Don't you want Aunt Michelle to be your mother? Go have her pick the medicine for you."
"Besides, you don't like me as a mother anyway, and you certainly wouldn't want to use medicine I picked, right?" With that, she even blinked.
Michelle, Loki, Amy: "..."