— Ah, dear Oswell—your mind was such a treasure. A pity you couldn't see the potential of my work.

A cold chuckle escapes her lips, the memory of that young man's fleeting brilliance still prickling at her fingertips.

— You lacked conviction. You wanted your name etched into textbooks... while I carved divinity.

Her gaze drifts upward, as if tracing the fungal tendrils creeping across the cavern ceiling.

"But you left a seed behind. Your funding... your resources..."

A sly smile.

"They've borne such delightful fruit. Heisenberg's ego. Dimitrescu's theatrics..."

She pauses, as if savoring the taste of her own vindication.

— In a way, you've been instrumental. Your cowardicе, fleeing with your tail between your legs, it only pushed me to cultivate the Cadou into something... more. Into them."

She gestures sharply toward the mountain peak where the Four Lord's lairs stand sentinel over the valley, their jagged spires visible even at this distance.

— They may curse your name, little scholar. But I?"

Her laugh is low, almost tender.

— I remember you with affection."