Marvel: The Psychologist Who Stole Wanda and Gwen's Hearts!

Although it wasn’t the nicest thing to say, Lorien still couldn’t help thinking that Hela’s tears had a certain charm to them.

But that wasn’t what mattered right now.

What mattered was that Hela, clutching at the skin on his waist, muttered in a muffled, sulky voice,

"I wasn’t crying. I am Hela, the Goddess of Death. How could I possibly cry?"

Lorien first pried her small hands off his waist before replying,

"You’re right."

Hela crying was something he truly hadn’t expected. He had guessed she might laugh, or maybe just take one look and walk away. After all, her previous reactions had always been more on the irreverent, outrageous side.

After a while, Hela slowly composed herself. She stepped out of his arms, wiped her tears, and said,

"Your stomach isn’t soft at all."

Lorien gave a helpless smile.

"And you’re not as pretty as the most beautiful little girl in the world."

"Nonsense!" Hela immediately shot back. "I am the most beautiful in the world!"

"Then you’re right."

Lorien didn’t bother arguing any further. Sometimes it’s just easier to agree—like when someone tells you that TikTok is ruining kids’ work ethic. The smart move is to nod and say, "You’re right," or "Sure," and move on. No sense wasting time on pointless arguments.

But their bigger problem right now was... what to do about Asgard.

Hela turned to look at the shattered realm again, falling silent.

After a long pause, she suddenly asked,

"Can you see how Asgard was destroyed?"

"I can," Lorien replied after a moment’s thought.

The process was simple—he just had to turn the rewound images of time into a playback. He didn’t even need to alter reality. For him, this was trivial.

He waved his hand, and a glowing screen appeared before them. Then he began rewinding time.

From the moment Hela stepped out of his arms...

From when they first arrived in Asgard...

From the ruins bursting outward...

From the ruins reassembling into their original form...

From a fire giant driving his sword into the ground in fury...

From the Asgardians fleeing for their lives...

From the golden temple shattering and collapsing...

From Odin flying out of the Bifröst...

...

Finally, Lorien stopped the rewind, setting the scene at the moment Odin entered the Bifröst passage.

"We’ll start from here."

They began to watch the playback together, Hela pressing herself nervously into Lorien’s chest, his arms wrapping around her as they watched.

The image sped up—

[Odin, fully armed, entered the Bifröst!]

[Odin was struck by two bursts of energy and sent crashing into the golden temple!]

[The golden temple collapsed under the blasts!]

[A towering fire giant rose from the rubble of the golden temple!]

[Odin flew out again to battle the fire giant!]

[The Asgardians began their desperate escape!]

[Odin was run through by the fire giant’s sword!]

[The flaming sword pierced through Asgard itself!]

[The fleeing greatships departed!]

[Asgard crumbled into nothingness!]

The playback continued until only a night of void remained... followed by their arrival.

Lorien ended the time reversal and with a flick of his hand, the light screen vanished.

Hela’s grip on his hand tightened.

After a moment, she said in a low, steady voice,

"It’s Ragnarok."

"Are you sure?" Lorien offered her another possibility. "Maybe I had a hand in it, indirectly. I secretly boosted Stephen’s power, Dormammu diverted his attack, Odin smashed the treasury in the temple, which woke Surtur and led to Asgard’s destruction."

It was true—if you traced the chain of events far enough back, Lorien did bear some responsibility. He might even have been the initial spark.

"No!" Hela’s voice was unusually firm. "It was Ragnarok. If you really want to start from the beginning, then it’s my fault—because that night I attacked you while you were driving home. In the end, it still comes back to me."

And she wasn’t wrong. If you kept going back, the blame would eventually land on her. But in the end, all of it—every cause, every twist—was simply Ragnarok.

Lorien reached out, running his fingers through her hair, and asked,

"Then what do you want to do?"

Lorien had thought Hela would hesitate, maybe take a moment to think it over.

Instead, she answered without a shred of doubt.

"Stay by your side, get stronger—and then kill the fire giant Surtur with my own hands!"

Asgard was her home. Surtur had razed it to the ground. How could he be anything but her mortal enemy?

But Surtur was no longer the foe Thor could casually smash to pieces. He had absorbed the Eternal Flame, becoming a god of the Nine Realms—specifically, the ruling god of Muspelheim.

To kill him now would take, at the very least, the full might of a Sky Father. To be truly safe, it would require power beyond even that.

Lorien patted Hela on the head.

"Then you have a long road ahead. Going from zero to Sky Father–level isn’t easy."

She knew that. But she was stubborn.

"Sooner or later, I’ll kill him."

Hela’s revenge could wait a thousand years if it had to. He destroyed her home—she’d take his life for it.

Hearing that, Lorien found himself liking her personality even more.

"Not bad. I like you, little Hela."

"I want you to like me~!"

She grabbed his hand and gave it a few gentle bites.

She hadn’t expected him to turn his hand over and pinch her head in retaliation.

"Mmph Wha’re you doin’?!"

After that brief punishment, Lorien let go.

"Remember—no teeth on me, ever."

Once her head was free, she flicked her tongue twice before muttering,

"Got it."

They took one last look at the ruins.

"Let’s go," Hela said. "There’s nothing left here."

"Mm." Lorien nodded.

Snap.

In an instant, they were back on the top floor of the northern tower.

A glance at the clock—8:01 a.m.

With nothing to do at home, Lorien decided, for once, to go in to work early. He was already notorious for cutting it close; maybe, just this once, he could show a little conscience and arrive ahead of time. Even if all he did there was play games—it was the thought that counted.

He nodded to himself, ready to make this rare "early arrival" happen.

"Thud~"

Just as he was about to leave, something hit the floor behind him.

Turning, he saw Hela—empty-handed—glance his way before heading toward the bathroom.

"I’m going to take a shower!"

She stopped at the wall and turned back.

"Don’t you dare come over here!"

Then she disappeared inside, leaving Lorien frozen on the spot.

He remembered his own rule about literal meaning versus true meaning. If "no" could mean "yes," then a warning like that was basically an invitation.

Still... looking at her now, he felt a twinge of guilt.

But she was legal. And if someone handed you cake, would you really refuse to eat it?

No choice.

He slipped off the shoes he’d just put on, quickened his step, and followed.

"I... I told you not to come!"

"It’s fine, I understand."

"Who asked you to understand? I said I don’t want you!"

"It’s fine. You can say whatever you want—I’ll just play along."

"Wait! Too long!"

...

8:59 a.m.

Lorien opened the office door and slipped into his chair with only seconds to spare.

"Phew..." He exhaled heavily, a wave of guilt washing over him.

First, because he had failed in his goal. He’d promised himself he’d get in early. And the result? Almost late. So pathetic. After all this time, he’d finally resolved to be early—and he’d blown it.

"Ugh..."

He sighed, grabbed a bottle of iced milk tea from the fridge, and took several gulps.

He’d been too busy just now—even putting on his pants had left no time for water. Thinking about it made him feel even guiltier.

She was still just a little girl, cough cough...

That was the second source of guilt—her.

Hela, so small her head barely reached his chest when standing, while he was nearly at her stomach level. Was that something a decent person would do?

"Ton, ton, ton~"

He took another drink, silently condemning himself. Too sinful. This might just be the most shameless thing he’d ever done.

Yes, she’d smelled sweet—but next time, no. He had to hold back. Even if he wasn’t sure he could, the flag had to be planted.

"Hold back! At the very least, take it easy!"

She had just started leveling up again—he couldn’t treat her the same way he treated Gwen. No bullying low-level players.

After downing two bottles of milk tea and berating himself several more times, he finally felt calmer. Still sinful, though. He’d have to do something good, maybe donate some money, to make up for it.

"Knock, knock~"

A rap on the office door broke the quiet.

"Come in."

He lowered his legs and looked up as the door opened—it was Tony.

Familiar as always, Tony strolled in, pulled out a chair, and sat down. His gaze fell on the two empty milk tea bottles, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Milk binge first thing in the morning?"

"..." Lorien sighed, gathering the bottles and setting them aside.

"Milk binge, my ass. I just hadn’t thrown out yesterday’s."

Tony shrugged.

"Ow..."

He’d moved too fast, and his sunglasses had pressed against the bruise around his eye. He removed them, revealing a clear black-and-blue mark.

Lorien smirked.

"What happened? You get turned into a panda?"

Tony set his sunglasses down like nothing had happened.

"I fell."

"Ah, right." Lorien nodded. "And you just happened to fall face-first into a fist, huh?"

Tony gave a lopsided grin.

"You could say that."

Men knew when to let things slide. No one liked having their beatdown rubbed in their face.

But Tony clearly wasn’t here to talk about that. He reached into his collar, pulled out a business card, and handed it straight to Lorien.

"I’m planning to buy a nature reserve and live there with Pepper.

So I probably won’t be in the city much anymore.

This is the address where I’m planning to build a log cabin myself. I circled it because it’s in the general area—if you need to find me, just head there. You should be able to spot the cabin.

Our milk tea project has already gone into large-scale production, and in a few days it’ll be on sale across the United States.

The profits will be automatically transferred to your account every year. If there’s any problem, you can come straight to me.

Hmm... let me think if there’s anything I haven’t mentioned yet."

Tony paused, thinking for a moment, then gave a firm nod.

"That’s it. Nothing else to settle."

Lorien took the business card and glanced at the address.

Good grief—Tony had actually bought an entire nature reserve.

The purchase itself might not serve much purpose, but for Tony, it had to be his. And all he planned to do there was build a cabin—maybe add a few basements. That was it.

No problem there.

"Alright." Lorien put the card away in a safe he never used and asked, "So you’ve decided to retire?"

"Phew..." Tony let out a long breath before nodding. "Yeah. Ever since the first time we talked, I’ve been thinking about it.

Now that things have come to this point, I think taking my family and leaving is the best choice. I’ve been too busy, too chaotic these past few years. I never really took Pepper’s feelings into account.

So I want to spend the rest of my time making it up to her."

Lorien nodded, satisfied.

"Not a bad choice. At least from now on, Pepper can have real happiness."

After a moment of silence, Tony added, "But if a truly major crisis hit, I think I’d still step in."

He still had that ember of resolve—when faced with disaster, he’d feel compelled to act.

Lorien studied him for a moment, then asked, "And what if you had children?

If you had a daughter, or a son—would you still make the same choice?

Would you still think the way you do now?"

Tony froze.

When he’d come here to settle these matters, the thought of children hadn’t crossed his mind. All he’d been focused on was the idea of retreating from the world.

Children...

He found himself picturing what they might look like.

But then came the question Lorien had posed—if you had children, would you still think the same way?

The answer was...

"I don’t know."

He thought for a moment, then answered honestly.

"I can’t make that kind of emotional decision right now.

If a child were just data, maybe I could decide. But—"

"But children aren’t data," Lorien cut in.

"...Right. They’re not." Tony drew in a long breath. "That’s why I can’t decide. People change. What I say now might not be what I do then, and it’ll be the same when that time comes."

When it came to children, Tony’s brain felt like it was overheating. This wasn’t about workload or overclocking—it was about feelings, and choices. And right now, he couldn’t make that call.

Lorien didn’t press him. Seeing Tony rub his face in frustration, he shrugged.

"It’s fine if you can’t answer now. But this is something you’ll have to face sooner or later. I’m just giving you a heads-up so you can start getting used to the idea."

Tony nodded, still covering his face.

"Thanks... but you just dropped a ton of pressure on me."

"That’s not a bad thing. Pressure is motivation." Lorien handed him a bottle of milk tea. "Here, drink this and cheer up."

Tony took it and drained it in one go.

"Nope, I’ve gotta go. That question of yours is making it hard to breathe."

Lorien chuckled. "Take care."

Tony came quickly, and left just as fast.

Lorien stretched, then took an envelope and pen from the side to begin writing a letter.

Since Wanda still hadn’t returned, he would write it as usual.

Of course, he was very much looking forward to her coming back.

Because, well... he still hadn’t tried Wanda’s Tiger Talisman yet. Ahem.