The Leader was also known as the Faceless One. From the day one became the Leader, they had to abandon everything about themselves—their past name, appearance, identity records, and so on would cease to exist.

They would become the monarch’s personal guard, wearing a mask all day long and living like a shadow in the most conspicuous of places.

Bai Zhen’s master was just such a person.

They appeared utterly devoted to the royal family and the nation, but it was less loyalty and more that they were bound by the Tower.

Bai Zhen often felt that the Leader had no heart.

But even if she had no heart, it didn’t matter. The Leader was still her master, her benefactor, and her role model.

“Do you harbor improper thoughts toward Hua Mu?” the Leader, who dared to address anyone by their full name, had asked her. “Is your loyalty born from affection? Is your devotion a means to gain something in return?”

Bracing herself, Bai Zhen had answered no to each question.

“In that case, from this day forward, I will take you as my disciple. You will continue your other courses in the Tower, but I will teach you only two things: to be heartless, and to be faceless.”

To be heartless meant to have no personal desires. To be faceless meant to show no emotion.

Bai Zhen guessed that her master wanted her to become just like her.

“This is the most fundamental requirement for guarding the monarch—members of the royal family. Zhen, no matter what they do to you, you must not be swayed.”

Bai Zhen had always kept the Leader’s words etched in her heart, treating them as her guiding principle.

“Y-Your master is that… that masked Sentinel who’s always with my aunt?” Hua Mu vaguely remembered this person. Every time her aunt appeared, the Sentinel was certain to be there—no matter how private the occasion.

But that was the strange part. Even with a whole other person in the room, she could never quite focus on her, often forgetting her existence entirely. She only remembered that this Leader had long, black hair and wore a white mask, like a phantom.

She couldn’t even recall if the woman had ever spoken.

That had to be the Leader.

“Yes. She is our Leader.”

Hua Mu knew she was the Leader, of course. Only the Leader could serve as the Queen’s personal guard. But… but how could Bai Zhen be in love with her?

“But isn’t she your master? And-and she’s a Sentinel! She’s so much older than you, how could you be in love with her!”

No, even without all that, how could Bai Zhen… be in love with someone else?

Hua Mu’s heart shattered. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself onto the bed and burst into tears.

Bai Zhen pressed her lips together and said cautiously, “I’m an orphan. I have no other family. The Leader has shown me great kindness. I look up to her as an elder… Is-is that wrong?”

“An elder? Y-You like older women?”

The more Bai Zhen listened, the more she felt something was amiss. A voice inside her kept nagging at her, impossible to completely ignore no matter how hard she tried.

“Miss, what exactly are you talking about when you say… ‘in love’?”

She released Hua Mu’s foot, lowered her head, and asked softly.

Hua Mu was so angry it felt like a physical pain. “‘In love’? What other kind of ‘in love’ is there? Isn’t there any Guide you fancy?”

She had completely abandoned her composure, desperate to find out if the Sentinel’s heart already belonged to someone else.

Ah, so that’s the kind of love she meant. Bai Zhen understood now.

Romance was a distant concept not just for Bai Zhen, but for the other Sentinels and Guides in the Tower as well. It wasn’t that they had no emotional lives—on the contrary, nearly all bonded Sentinel and Guide pairs shared deep affection, mutual trust, and a life-or-death reliance on one another.

But as for “romance” or “love,” Bai Zhen rarely heard her comrades use such terms to describe the feelings between partners.

The feelings that developed from being classmates, then comrades-in-arms who faced life and death together, were often profound and developed naturally. They loved their partners as they loved themselves. Was that the kind of love the Miss was referring to?

If that was the kind of love she meant, then Bai Zhen had certainly never experienced it. Her master wanted her to be heartless.

“I… I haven’t…”

“You haven’t? You really haven’t?” Hua Mu was both shocked and overjoyed. The heart that had been lodged in her throat finally dropped back into place… only to leap right back up again. “How could you not have anyone you’re in love with?”

What about her? Did Bai Zhen not love her?

Bai Zhen kept her head down, looking utterly earnest.

“It’s true, Miss. I’ve never been in love with anyone.”

The Guide the Tower had introduced certainly didn’t count. The binding heat that time had been a mere accident. Any other feelings she’d had were friendship at most, definitely not the kind of love the Miss was talking about.

As for the Miss… as for her feelings for the Miss, they couldn’t possibly be love. Neither the royal family nor her master would ever allow a Sentinel harboring romantic feelings for the Miss to be placed by her side.

Hua Mu gave up, flopping back onto the bamboo bed.

She was tired. So, so tired. At least this blockhead wasn’t in love with someone else, which was… which was good for nothing! She was the one getting the short end of the stick here!

“Miss, what’s wrong?”

Hua Mu waved a hand dismissively. “I’m tired.”

“Then you should get some rest.”

Like I need you to tell me that! Just get over here!

Hua Mu stopped struggling futilely and beckoned. “Come here and hold me.”

The Miss needed her as a pillow, and she would naturally oblige.

Bai Zhen climbed onto the bed, lay down beside Hua Mu, and gently gathered her into her arms.

That kind of love… perhaps she might experience it after bonding with someone. Or perhaps she would go her entire life without ever understanding it.

What had happened with the Miss didn’t mean their relationship would change. Her master had warned her never to be swayed, no matter the circumstances.

This was a deserted island, an island with only the two of them. There was no civilization, no rules, and seemingly no future. The Miss might not understand the psychological changes a person could undergo in such an isolated environment, but Bai Zhen knew them all too well.

Cut off from the outside world, with only each other to rely on, it was far too easy to develop delusions. For an ordinary, untrained person, this psychological shift was nearly impossible to escape. It was remarkable that the Miss had held out this long.

But she was different. She had not only undergone the most rigorous training but also had the most exceptional master. She could neither disappoint her master nor bring shame upon the royal family. And she certainly could not take advantage of someone in a vulnerable position.

The Miss would return home one day. Bai Zhen would make sure of it. So, even if this was just a deserted island, and even if some things that happened here could be forgotten or undone, there were other things that must never happen at all.

Does this Sentinel really not understand anything?

Hua Mu couldn’t help but cry out in her heart. For the past two days, all they had done was train Luna. And though they slept in each other’s arms at night, Bai Zhen never made a single forward move.

That’s right. The only one who would take liberties with her, get worked up over her, and treat her with passion was the Sentinel in the throes of binding heat.

And it wasn’t just that. Hua Mu felt that Bai Zhen had been even more proper and deferential these past few days, as if a shadow of her old self had returned.

A robot with no expression and no feelings.

Why? Was it because of what had happened between them? Had it truly only happened because of the binding heat?

She didn’t believe it… No, she refused to believe it. Even if Bai Zhen had truly forgotten the past, even if she had never truly liked her before, what about now?

Stranded on this island, so much had happened between them. She had felt they were closer than ever—they had even done that—so why was she still the only one who felt anything?

Was the person she loved really just a block of wood? So back then, had Bai Zhen only saved her on a whim because she happened to be able to resist her ability?

Hua Mu sank into a deep pit of self-doubt. Their physical relationship hadn’t brought them closer; instead, it had created an insurmountable chasm between them.

“Miss, perhaps you should rest for a while?”

Hua Mu’s training wasn’t going well. For one, manifesting her spirit animal was too draining for her in her current state. For another, her mind was in turmoil, making it impossible to concentrate, so Luna couldn’t properly receive her commands.

“Rest for what? Luna can’t even ‘Blink’ yet.”

The so-called ‘Blink’ was actually the visual effect created in real space when a spirit animal submerged into the mental landscape at one point and re-emerged at another. Since Guides needed to perform long-range psychic attacks, having their spirit animal master this skill was essential.

Hua Mu was discouraged. Unlucky in love, and now failing at training. She had always prided herself on her intelligence, yet after two days of practice, she had made no progress at all.

“This isn’t something that can be rushed. Guides spend half a year learning this skill. Please don’t be anxious.”

“I see you can do it. How long did it take you?”

“Er… I took the same course, of course.”

“I’m not asking about the course. Just this technique—how long did it take you to master it?”

“Well…”

“Don’t you dare lie to me! Are you looking down on me?”

In truth, Hua Mu didn’t care that much about the outcome of her training. It was just pathetic to think about why she had been so eager to train just a few days ago. And to make matters worse, she couldn’t even learn the skill.

She could only vent her frustration on Bai Zhen; otherwise, the feeling would be unbearable.

“Two hours… But Miss, I had already taken other courses before that. I wasn’t a novice. You’re just…”

“I’m just what? I’m eighteen years old, and you were only twelve back then, weren’t you? Stupid is stupid. I don’t need your pity.”

The environment Hua Mu grew up in had forged a proud and unyielding streak in her personality. But that same personality made it difficult for her to swallow her pride and confess her true feelings.

Faced with this impervious Sentinel, she felt she had already made her intentions obvious enough. Anything more would be tantamount to wishful thinking.

No, perhaps it really was just wishful thinking on her part. Then and now, the Sentinel’s feelings for her were nothing more than those of a servant for her master. Any loss of control beyond that was simply due to Guide-hormone, to the fact that one was a Sentinel and the other a Guide, to Bai Zhen’s Little White Pills running out, and to her own stubborn refusal to give up.

Bai Zhen could clearly sense Hua Mu’s agitation.

“Miss, I just think you’re in too much of a hurry. Luna hasn’t been growing, and being out of sync with her host’s mental age can cause many problems. Training isn’t something that can be accomplished overnight…”

Hua Mu understood all of that. She just didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop talking!” she couldn’t help but shout. The sound of her own voice stunned her.

Losing her temper over something like this was so undignified. Hua Mu felt tears welling up.

“I’m going for a walk. Don’t you dare follow me.”

She didn’t want Bai Zhen to see her like this. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.