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"Mr. Shen…"
Euphemia's eyes shimmered with a watery hue, her lips trembling as she hesitated to speak.
She still didn't know Shen He's true identity—not as a mere rebel or benefactor—but as one of the core strategists of Chaldea, an organization that had now openly begun dismantling the power structure of the world, starting with the British Empire's reign.
"Master," Lelouch said solemnly, avoiding Euphemia's gaze. "For the time being… could you allow Euphy to stay here with you? Let her accompany Nanaly. I don't want them involved too deeply in what's coming."
It deviated from their original timeline and battle doctrine.
And it also meant Shen He would have to burn another dimensional traversal slot from the Chaldea Gate.
Still, Shen He weighed the request with a shrug. The cost wasn't significant—the current iteration of the interdimensional lottery system offered travel tokens even on low-level rolls. They weren't exactly rare anymore.
He nodded. "Alright."
But then his tone shifted. As if a switch had been flipped, he exuded the majesty of a commanding general. "Lelouch, I'm leaving the military deployment to you. I want results. When I return, this war should be over."
The British Empire—once the supreme force of this alternate Earth—was no longer worthy of Chaldea's attention. Not when Chaldea had already dismantled tyrannies across timelines, confronted Inhuman warlords from Attilan, fought AIM insurgents in Tokyo, and even faced Memory Protocols designed by Maximus in the New World Archive.
This was just another domino.
Lelouch, however, still desired vengeance. And Shen He, knowing this, granted him autonomy.
"I understand," Lelouch said, securing his redesigned helmet—now enhanced with minor AI integration, a gift from Jeanne and Dr. Gutai after their collaboration in the Wakandan tech exchange. He steeled his heart.
He had to become zero—again.
"Lelouch…" Euphemia's voice was brittle. Her lips parted with difficulty. "You still hate our father, don't you?"
"Yes." Lelouch didn't even blink. "If you intend to persuade me, it won't work. Besides my personal grudge, this is an order from Master Shen. His command is law for this rebellion."
Shen He nearly tripped at that, a visible black line forming on his forehead.
"What the hell, kid," he muttered internally. "When did I become the villain in this family drama?"
But the scapegoat role had already been hung on his back.
Euphemia's gaze locked on Shen He again. Deep and unwavering.
She made a decision in that moment: she would stop her siblings from fighting, no matter what.
Shen He could feel her eyes drilling into his soul and awkwardly reached into his gear pouch, pulling out a standard-issue Chaldean civilian anesthetic dart gun—disguised as a sleek brooch.
A faint pop.
Euphemia collapsed mid-thought, unconscious before she hit the floor. Jeanne d'Arc was already moving, catching her smoothly in her arms.
"We'll take her to the auxiliary ward," Shen He said briskly, then looked at Lelouch. "What about Nanaly? What's her stance?"
"Same as Euphy's." Lelouch offered an apologetic smile. "After they reunited, I couldn't keep the truth from her. She tried to talk me down, so I… redirected the blame."
"To me?" Shen He grunted.
"Yes."
Shen He was emotionally wounded.
Cute girls everywhere—Yufimia, Nanaly—even Violet once gave him side-eye when he teased Jeanne too hard.
He sighed dramatically and, with a single flourish, activated the spatial access matrix embedded in the castle's gate. The heavy iron doors creaked open, glowing with faint blue glyphs—traces of an ancient sigil system borrowed from Chaldea's fusion with Mage's Association archives.
This world—this version of Code Geass—had been added to Chaldea's protection protocol under the World Reconstruction Project, same as Earth-114B and the shattered remnants of Attilan.
Helping Lelouch was a mission directive—but also a personal investment.
Once Euphemia was stabilized, Shen He, Jeanne d'Arc, and Violet made their way toward the castle's infirmary, the automated marble corridors adjusting their trajectory thanks to Chaldea's mobile environmental AI, Merlin Root: Model 5.
Dr. Gutai had completed Nanaly's ocular restoration, working with specialized tech salvaged from the ruins of an Academy City lab.
As Shen He stepped inside, he noticed the two Ryougi Shikis—both Original and Alter—conversing quietly beside the hospital bed, where Nanaly was now awake.
Her eyes were open. Clear, luminous lavender.
"Is she… healed?" Shen He asked, cautiously hopeful.
"Brother Shen He," Nanaly said sweetly, her voice gentle but steady, "and Sister Jeanne, Sister Violet…"
Though her sight had returned only moments ago, her gaze was lively and curious, not unlike Violet's own in her more lucid moments. That same springtime color gleamed in her irises.
"Yes. Fully healed," Shiki Alter confirmed with a nod. "Dr. Gutai did more than expected."
Shen He dragged a chair beside the bed and sat down, smiling.
"Nanaly, you'll be staying here for a bit longer. Lelouch will visit often."
"I understand," Nanaly said, her hands folded properly on her lap. "Thank you."
Shen He was about to offer more words of comfort when Violet tugged gently on his sleeve.
"Can I share a story with her?"
He blinked. "You want to… read to her?"
Violet nodded, her silver hair framing her delicate features as her violet eyes blinked slowly.
This was rare. Violet almost never initiated interactions unless ordered.
But this was a sign—a beautiful one—that she was becoming more than just a precision-guided war doll. That she was finding herself.
"Of course," he said, warmly.
Violet brightened, running off to fetch a thick, ornately bound storybook. But instead of reading it herself, she handed it to Shen He, her small hands cradling it like a relic.
Her eyes told him everything: You read it.
He sighed with affection. "Alright then," he said, cracking open the book. "This is the story of a brother and sister who depended on each other to survive."
The evening deepened.
The infirmary lights dimmed softly, and the quiet settled over them like a blanket. Only Shen He's gentle storytelling filled the space.
The two Ryougis had meant to leave—but they lingered in the doorway, unmoving.
Early the next morning.
Euphemia opened her eyes slowly.
She didn't recognize the ceiling above her.
Memories of yesterday trickled back into her consciousness—she had been abducted by Lelouch's allies. However, if this was captivity, it was the most elegant and refined imprisonment she could imagine.
The room she found herself in was anything but harsh. A bed large enough for seven or eight people, velvet-soft bedding that welcomed her weight like clouds, and a lingering trace of sandalwood fragrance teased her nose. Even by imperial standards—by her standards as a princess of Britannia—this level of luxury bordered on regal indulgence.
Knock, knock, knock.
Three soft raps on the door were followed by it swinging open.
A small team of girls entered, all dressed in sharp, pristine black-and-white maid uniforms, their postures formal, eyes forward.
"Guest, these are your clothes for the day."
"Guest, your breakfast has been prepared."
"Guest, the host is already awaiting you."
The precision and politeness of their speech made Euphemia instinctively sit straighter. These weren't ordinary attendants. Their poise, synchronization, and subtly hidden vigilance told her one thing—this wasn't a simple faction she was dealing with.
She suddenly realized this "kidnapping" might have much larger implications.
The maids helped her change into a lavish, comfortable dress. Before she knew it, Euphemia was being led through a labyrinthine castle filled with opulent tapestries, enchanted lanterns, and architecture that blended modern sleekness with archaic grandeur—something she guessed was a mix of Chaldean and Inhuman design, judging by the mana engravings and adaptive tech she'd read about in Black Bolt's dossier.
When she entered the grand dining hall, she was struck by its vibrant atmosphere—completely contradicting the gravity she had anticipated.
A long table was filled with steaming plates. Two twin girls—who she later recognized as the mutant-enhanced Homura Sisters from the Chaldea file—were bickering as they fought over a plate of dumplings. A silver-haired boy, unmistakably Qi Mu Nanxiong, calmly ate while transferring select food into a silver lunchbox, likely preparing a care package for Mikoto Misaka, as rumors of their bond had spread across the base. At the far end, Jeanne d'Arc sat serenely as Shen He sliced cake and served it to Misaka Mikoto Alter with deliberate tenderness.
"Give me a hand, Euphemia."
Startled, Euphemia turned and found herself face-to-face with Shen He—the host, and one of the leaders of the Chaldea-Inhuman alliance—alongside Jeanne, whose gentle aura made her seem like the mistress of this unconventional house.
They carried over a large bamboo steamer and placed it delicately on the table. When the lid was lifted, fragrant steam burst into the air.
"Ta-da! Freshly made meat buns," Shen He declared with a sly grin. "Jean and I spent the whole night perfecting the seasoning."
Before he could finish, four or five little hands darted into the steamer in unison. Even the advanced AI maids didn't have access to Shen He's "forbidden-level" kitchen techniques, but his hand-cooked dishes still triumphed.
"Euphemia, have one quickly, or they'll vanish," Jeanne prompted kindly.
"Oh—thank you." Euphemia blushed, flustered. "This is... very generous."
Her heart was already overwhelmed by the surreal warmth of it all.
She had seen extravagant palaces, but never such a joyful domestic scene—this fusion of camaraderie, elegance, and found-family energy stirred something unfamiliar inside her.
But then, biting into the delicate meat bun, Euphemia felt a sudden pang of sorrow.
These people weren't villains.
Yet, they were preparing to challenge Britannia—her homeland. Had things really fallen so far?
"Youphimia," Shen He said, placing three buns, a glass of warm milk, and a bowl of millet porridge in front of her. "Take these when you go see Nanali. Also, I need to ask you for a favor."
"Please, Mr. Shen, just call me Euphy," she murmured, her worry surfacing again.
She was afraid—afraid this favor might involve harming Britannia further.
"Youfei," Shen He said gently, accepting the nickname with a smile, "I only ask that you don't tell Nanali what we're doing with Lelouch. She's like you—kind, too kind for what's coming. Some things can't be solved with kindness alone. I don't want her hurt... and I know you don't either."
Euphemia blinked.
Then nodded, slowly understanding. "I understand. Yufie understands."
Her earlier fears now felt petty. This man—calm, composed, and deeply humane—was among the gentlest she had ever met.
And even he could no longer tolerate Britannia.
Her heart was in turmoil.
Throughout breakfast, Euphemia wanted to say something—anything—to Shen He. But words evaded her.
It wasn't until she was escorted to the infirmary by a maid that she finally steadied her thoughts. The anticipation of seeing Nanali after all these years made her footsteps lighter, her pace quicker.
They had been apart for far too long.
"Sister Euphemia?" Nanali gasped as soon as she saw her.
Her eyes welled up with tears, barely believing what she saw.
"Nanali!"
Euphemia rushed forward, grasping Nanali's hands tightly. "It's really you. It's really you..."
Lelouch hadn't lied—Nanali's eyesight had been restored, her legs were healing. Euphemia could barely contain her joy.
But what she didn't notice was the subtle flicker in Nanali's gaze when their hands clasped. A ripple of disbelief, guilt, and something unreadable crossed her face. Then, just as swiftly, it vanished.
There was too much to say—too much to catch up on.
---
Meanwhile, Shen He had returned to the Marvel World.
Although his mission in Lelouch's world hadn't yielded any material rewards via the traversal card, he felt fulfilled.
He had helped complete Lelouch's final wish, reshaped a piece of history, and erased at least one lingering regret from another universe.
And truly, Nanali was remarkable.
Euphemia, too, had turned out to be sweet and admirable. If not for his self-control, he might've teased her far too much.
Luckily, he'd behaved.
"Coulson," he called as he strolled into his sleek, glass-panel office, stretching casually. "Anything unsolvable lately?"
With the chaos of the multiverse quiet for once, Shen He figured it was time to take care of backlog issues—maybe even sneak in a nap or two.
Coulson stepped in with his usual calm.
"Sir, everything's quiet. Hydra remains disbanded, the escaped alien clans haven't made any new moves, and I've redirected our agents toward long-term infrastructure and development."
Shen He blinked.
"So... I can salt the fish now?"
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