Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 98: Angela May Iondora

"A loyal... alchemist?" Angela’s tear-stained face shifted, her grey eyes narrowing with skepticism. "Wouldn’t that be like looking for an honest politician?"

"Girl, please," Cecilia scoffed. "I know an honest politician. I’m looking at her right now."

"Meeeee? Honest?" Angela’s eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. She threw her head back in a mocking arc, her long curtain of black hair swaying erratically with the motion. The sheer, theatrical sarcasm of it made a genuine giggle burst from Cecilia.

"Of course you are," Cecilia said, her smile softening. "Let me tell you a funny story. You remember Stormy? The werecat who runs our favorite inn?"

Angela nodded slowly, curiosity replacing the mockery. "Why?"

"When I checked in, I told him I was divorced. Just flat out. And you know what he did?" Cecilia’s smile turned wistful. "He accepted it. Immediately. No pity. No judgmental pause. He even tsked and said my ’previous husband’ sounded like ’no good’. It was so... normal."

She looked down at her own hands, then back up, her sea-glass eyes bright. "Do you know how I felt in that moment? When he didn’t even flinch?"

Angela’s grey eyes faltered.

"I felt... liberated," Cecilia whispered, clasping their hands together as if holding the feeling. "And it’s all thanks to you. Popularizing bondless marriages. You gave women like me a way out. A clean future."

"The idea that we could walk away and not be seen as broken or defiled. You made a gruff werecat innkeeper see a divorce as just... a fact of life. You gave us women... heh... an unflinching werecat. That’s your legacy," Cecilia said.

Oathran’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. He’d been there. He’d heard the exchange. He knew bondless marriage was an option, a modern, somewhat scandalous concept.

But he hadn’t known its architect was this formidable, weeping woman behind bars. The source of a societal shift was right here, in a dungeon.

Arkai, Eastiel, and Stevan were similarly stunned. To most beastmen, and men in general, the very idea of a bondless union was sacrilege. It stripped away the eternal, sacred core of mating, reducing it to a temporary contract. It was a defeat of purpose.

But listening to Cecilia... they saw the other side of the coin. For the vulnerable party, often the human woman in a mismatched power dynamic, it wasn’t at all a defeat. It was a life raft.

"Before you dared," Cecilia continued, her voice gaining strength, "divorce wasn’t even a concept for beast-human couples. It was ’till death’—and often, the death was hers. Now? Even some beast-beast couples are starting to adopt the idea. It’s... it’s the future of self-determination. Of choice."

"Only you in this world could ever see my vision so clearly," Angela said softly with a warm, sad smile. It was the smile of a revolutionary finally being understood.

"The power dynamic... it’s monstrously unfair. The male beast holds all the cards. Strength, lifespan, often political power. What happened to you, Cece... having your heart ripped out because it was the only way for him to be free... it’s a story written in blood a thousand times over."

She leaned closer to the bars. "That risk? That horrific, final price? You can avoid it entirely by never bonding your beating heart to him in the first place. Keep your soul your own."

Cecilia looked down, unshed tears glistening on her lashes. "I should have... I should have listened to you, Gigi."

The two women reached for each other again, their embrace through the bars now silent.

"Telling Stormy... it did feel liberating," Cecilia murmured into her friend’s shoulder. "But it also hurt. Because it meant everyone else could see the truth about Arzhen. That he was horrible. That I shouldn’t have bound my soul to him. Even a stranger who’d never met him could see it. Only I was blind."

"He’d curse him a thousand times more if he knew you’d actually bonded," Angela said, holding her tighter. "But you know why it’s not your fault?"

"Why?" Cecilia asked, the word small.

"Because it isn’t. No grand reason. No psychological flaw." Angela’s voice was firm, absolving. "You just loved him. So much that the warning signs turned into fog. Now you know the outer limit of your own heart’s capacity. That’s not a failure, bestie. That’s a fucking achievement. Got it?"

If a princess like Angela had never championed this radical idea, the world would still see divorce as an impossibility. And divorce, for all its pain and ugliness, was important. Everyone deserved a way out of a cage, even one they’d walked into with love in their hearts. Not just women. Everyone.

Cecilia pulled back from the embrace. Her teary eyes locked with Angela’s luminous grey ones. Then, with a sudden, mock-scornful sob, she said, "You should’ve been born a prince, Gigi. If you were, I would’ve married you in a heartbeat..."

"Pause," Eastiel’s voice cut through, firm and alarmed.

Angela scoffed, fresh tears streaming down her face. "Dumbass, you’re the one who should’ve been born a man... and been my pretty boy toy. Screw a certain warden, you’d be way more fun."

"Excuse me...?" Stevan protested, but like Eastiel, he was ignored.

"Fair point," Cecilia scowled playfully. "You probably would’ve been part of the problem if you were a man. I should’ve been the man instead."

"Cece," Arkai called from the sidelines, a subtle panic in his voice. "Look at me. I’m your husband, and I’m not part of the problem. Look at me?"

"Damn right," Angela smiled through her tears, her gaze only for Cecilia. "I love you, bestie..."

"Saintess, wait—" Oathran’s voice had that hint of panic in it too. "Brothers, I don’t think our combined efforts would survive competing against her if she were one of the Saintess’ mates..."

"I love you too..." Cecilia whispered back, her focus entirely on Angela.

It was in that moment that Cecilia’s hand, seemingly absently, brushed against the cell door’s keyhole.

There was a soft, precise click-clack of metal. Not the sound of a key turning. The sound of intricate lock tumblers twisting and shifting by themselves, manipulated by a thread of telekinetic mana.

The heavy bolt slid back with a final, ominous thunk.

"WAIT!"

The horrified protest erupted in unison from all four men in the corridor. Their dread spilled over as the door to the most dangerous woman in the empire began to swing open on its own.

But Angela herself... just blinked.

"Oh, so that’s how you opened the other door without the keys."