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

"Something fun?"

Hela’s eyes lit up immediately—this was exactly the kind of thing she looked forward to. She jogged after Lorien, craning her neck.

"What is it?"

"Uh... some kind of automatic cooking machine?" Lorien recalled the description of the Perverted Fridge. "Pretty much that, though... it might be a little weird."

He wasn’t too sure himself.

So he brought the three—no, now five—women of the house to the kitchen.

After checking the available space, he finally settled on a spot against the left wall.

"Here will do."

With a wave of his hand, a red refrigerator materialized in place.

Everyone gathered around to inspect it, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first glance.

Lorien leaned in and looked at the display panel.

It was filled with options—Chinese, Western, Italian, Japanese, French, and countless more. Every cooking method was available. It could prepare almost any dish imaginable.

He reached out and swiped across the screen.

Clack!

The moment he touched it, the refrigerator doors swung open.

Several tentacles shot out, writhing in the air as a flirtatious voice purred:

"Ah~ such a strong Master! Come, fill me up! Hurry!"

"....."

Snap~

Lorien snapped his fingers, and instantly all the tentacles froze mid-air, halting right beside him.

The Perverted Fridge seemed momentarily stunned, then squealed even louder.

"Oh! Master likes this kind of play? Abandonment play? I love it!"

Lorien inhaled sharply and took a few careful steps back.

Gwen stared at the fridge, then turned toward him.

"This... is really a cooking robot?"

"Uh..." Lorien hesitated. "Well, the interface says it can cook anything."

"Yes! I can do anything! Punish me, Master!"

"Shut up!"

"Ah~ yes! Scold me more!"

"....."

Lorien rubbed his forehead helplessly.

Why was a refrigerator this... indecent?

It was just a refrigerator!

First two robots, now even a fridge was acting like this. What the hell was going on?

Wanda stared in disbelief.

"She’s too... too... much."

She thought for a long while but could only settle on that one word.

Honestly, this fridge was even more outrageous than her fallen witch clone.

That witch had only been a little corrupted.

This thing? This thing was on a whole other level.

And it sounded... very hard to deal with.

No, scratch that—it sounded impossible to deal with.

At least Lorien felt a little relieved. Thank goodness he hadn’t turned it into a Transformer. That would’ve been catastrophic.

Hela, on the other hand, seemed thrilled.

"She’s so funny!" she said, eyes sparkling.

The fridge apparently picked up on her words. After glancing at Lorien’s group, it squealed again, voice dripping with mock surprise.

"Oh~! A loli, a young maiden, a mature lady, and robots! You really take them all, Master. So many... ports we can try!"

"Stop. Just stop."

Lorien couldn’t stand the absurdly high yellow rating of this fridge any longer.

He snapped his fingers again.

"Rule one: The fridge’s tentacles are forbidden from intentionally touching people.

Rule two: Tone down the dirty talk. If you don’t, I’ll scrap you and ship you to Cybertron for recycling."

The fridge instantly responded.

"Scrap me? Oh Master, so you’re into that kind of play! How rare! Painful, but... for you, I’ll endure it!"

"..."

Lorien exhaled slowly. "You can say nine more things today."

Silence.

Then the fridge’s tone shifted suddenly.

"So, what would you like to eat, Master? I can make anything~~"

Lorien waved dismissively, utterly drained.

"You two figure it out," he told Wanda and Gwen. "I’ve already ordered it—those tentacles can’t touch people."

With that, he collapsed onto the sofa.

Wanda, Gwen, and Hela stayed behind to experiment with the machine and see if it could cook dinner.

The Ballerina Twins, however, turned and followed Lorien out.

When he slumped onto the couch, they stood silently at his sides, left and right, waiting.

They lived for Lorien, and as Transformers, their bodies no longer needed rest. They stood upright with their hands folded behind their backs, perfectly poised and elegant.

Lorien switched on the TV, trying to relax. Out of habit, he wanted to cross his legs like he did at the office when slacking off, but there wasn’t a proper place to rest them here.

He shifted his legs a little, then stopped.

But the Ballerina Twins noticed.

They exchanged a glance.

Then Aria stepped forward gracefully, half-kneeled beside Lorien, and asked...

"Master, would you like Aria to use her body as a footrest?"

Hiss—

Lorien turned his head toward Aria. She was half-squatting, her graceful curves outlined perfectly. Her long golden hair draped forward, practically inviting him to reach out and touch it.

Her smooth metallic face was featureless, yet it still made him want to run his fingers across it.

And the way she said those words...

Lorien couldn’t help but imagine what it would look like if Aria crouched or lay down to serve as his footrest. Would it feel real? Maybe.

Ahem.

But no—that wouldn’t do. That would look ridiculous.

So instead, he glanced at the small table nearby.

"Bring that over as a footrest."

Aria turned her head, looked at it, and nodded. "Yes."

She rose gracefully and went to fetch the table.

Even from behind, her figure was striking—the elegant curve of her waist, the smooth line of her back, and the way her hips shifted as she moved.

She carried the table back and set it in front of Lorien, perfectly positioned for him to rest his legs.

Lorien intended to knock off his slippers with a tap of his feet, but before he could, Aria gently took hold of his foot with both hands, slipped off the slipper, and set it neatly aside. Then she did the same with the other.

Once both feet were comfortably placed on the table, she aligned the slippers carefully off to the side, so he could slip them back on easily later.

Only after finishing did Aria stand, nod politely to Lorien, and return to her position behind him, hands folded elegantly behind her back.

Lorien let out a long breath.

Unbeatable.

If a robot like this went on the market back home—mass-produced, no purchase limit—even at 500,000 apiece, people would fight each other to get one.

Who wouldn’t want to bring one home as a wife? Sleepless nights guaranteed.

...

"Lorien, this fridge can do so many things!"

Wanda leaned halfway out of the kitchen, excitement in her voice.

"What do you want for dinner? It looks like she can cook anything, as long as she has the ingredients and utensils!"

Anything?

Lorien thought for a moment.

"I feel like egg tarts. Have her make me some."

"Alright~!"

Not long after, Gwen walked over carrying a plate with twelve golden egg tarts. She sat down beside him.

"Try one. The fridge said the taste is unmatched. Once you’ve had it, you’ll never want to be without her again."

Lorien frowned. "She’s slipping innuendo in again?"

"Really?" Gwen blinked, confused. "I didn’t hear anything."

Of course. The fridge’s more suggestive remarks only came across if you caught the nuance. Innocent ears wouldn’t even notice.

Lorien picked up an egg tart and took a bite.

The flavor hit him instantly—his eyes lit up.

"This is actually really good. Try one."

"Really? Then I’ll try."

Gwen immediately grabbed one and bit in.

"Mmm~~~"

As expected, she found it delicious too.

The quality of egg tarts depended on their texture—crispy edges, tender filling, the balance of richness. Perfect timing and heat were essential.

And this fridge had nailed it. Perfect execution.

"I underestimated her," Lorien admitted as he finished his tart. "Didn’t think she could actually cook this well, on top of... everything else."

"Almost makes me wonder if I should still scrap her and ship her to Cybertron for reprocessing."

Gwen licked the crumbs from her fingers.

"The cooking really is great. She’s making Wanda’s dish now—I’ll go check."

She carried the plate back to the kitchen.

Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on ɴovᴇl(ꜰ)ir(e).nᴇt

Meanwhile, Hela was just playing around, fascinated by how this fridge could cook so well—and equally fascinated by how much nonsense it kept spouting.

About half an hour later, Wanda and Gwen emerged with several dishes.

Steak, salad, French cuisine, Chinese dishes—four different types in total, six plates altogether, plus the egg tarts.

Lorien stood, walked over to the table, and examined the spread.

And honestly, there wasn’t a single flaw he could point out.

So he went into the kitchen and offered praise instead.

"Well done. I can’t even find something to criticize."

He thought the fridge would be pleased.

Instead, it let out a long, regretful moan.

"Ah~~~"

"How could you! I wanted you to scold me, whip me, tell me I’d done something wrong~!"

Ah...

Lorien took a deep breath.

"You really are shameless."

"Yes~! I’m shameless, and I love it when Master tortures me!"

Alright, fine. Can’t win against that logic. Time to bail.

Lorien turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Behind him, the fridge called out regretfully, "Don’t go~ come back in..."

Honestly, this thing was way too good at being lewd. If he ever turned her into a Transformer, who could handle it? She’d practically become a succubus—squeezing every drop out of you.

...

Leaving the kitchen, Lorien sat down at the table.

The Ballerina Twins followed but, once he was seated, moved to stand on the other side of the table so they wouldn’t block his view.

Looking at the spread of food, Lorien had to admit—the fridge was useful. Convenient, and the food tasted great.

"Right." Lorien suddenly remembered something. "Hela, from now on you just have to bring the plates over. The fridge will do the washing."

At his words, Hela’s eyes went wide.

"That’s awesome~!"

Seeing her excitement, Lorien could tell—she almost wanted to become sworn sisters with the fridge.

"Come on, eat before it gets cold."

At his word, everyone began eating.

The dishes really were delicious.

Wanda sighed after a few bites. "Then won’t my cooking seem embarrassing from now on?"

"It’s fine," Lorien said casually. "You still need to buy the ingredients and decide the menu. Just leave the final step to the fridge if you want. Either way works."

Wanda thought about it and nodded. That made sense. This kind of thing was only for when you were too lazy to cook yourself.

After all, the whole point of technological progress was to let people be lazy—development came second.

...

Dinner ended. Gwen checked the time and realized she had to head home.

"I don’t even know how many days George plans to take me around schools. I hope it ends soon..."

While clearing dishes, Wanda suggested, "Why not just ask George to show you New York’s universities first? Then you can decide right away."

Gwen considered it and found it reasonable. "I’ll bring it up tonight!"

With that, she left.

...

Lorien wandered into the flower fields of the Little Universe to get some fresh air.

As always, the Ballerina Twins followed.

After a moment, Lorien turned to them.

"It’s fine for you to stay by my side when we’re outside, but at home it’s not necessary."

"You’re not the same as before. Back then you were intelligent robots—capable of thought, but without independent will."

"Now you’re new-type Transformers. You have souls. I know you have self-awareness."

"So, when you’re at home, I’m giving you Level-1 Highest Freedom Authorization. You can do whatever you like—watch TV, go online, rest, plant flowers, go sightseeing—whatever. Live like normal people."

"When we’re in the office or outside, then you resume your Ballerina Twins protocol."

"Put simply—separate work and life. Got it?"

It wasn’t complicated. He just didn’t want them keeping up their rigid work state at home—it felt too strange. Like Pepper in Iron Man 2–3, who couldn’t relax at home because she was still managing Stark’s armors. It would only make things uncomfortable.

The Ballerina Twins understood and nodded. "Yes, Master."

Lorien waved them off. "Go do what you’re interested in."

They exchanged a glance, then turned and left together.

With no one shadowing him, Lorien felt much more at ease. He stretched out on a lounge chair in the Little Universe, enjoying the evening breeze.

Just then, Bella walked over.

"Master, the Transformers army on Cybertron, along with the Collector, has set out again."

"Hm?" Lorien kept his eyes closed, savoring the wind. "Why?"

Bella replied, "To gather resources, and to search for other Infinity Stones and various extraordinary energy sources."

Collecting resources was fine. But hunting Infinity Stones? Wasn’t that Thanos’ job? Now the Transformers were stealing his business.

Well, whatever. Lorien liked watching the chaos.

He waved a hand. "Don’t interfere. Just keep recording the chronicles."

"Yes, Master."

Bella left.

...

Not long after, Wanda returned from putting the dishes into the fridge.

Lorien patted his thigh. Wanda came over, sat on his lap, and leaned against him.

"I saw the Ballerinas moving around freely," she said.

"Yes," Lorien nodded. "Feels too weird having them follow us at home."

"I agree." Wanda took a deep breath, then after a pause asked, "Are the Ballerinas really strong? Compared to other Transformers?"

Lorien answered without hesitation.

"They’re stronger."

"Why?"

"With equal battle power, the smaller the body, the greater the combat efficiency. The more handsome or beautiful the appearance, the higher the fighting strength. And besides, the Ballerinas were already stronger to begin with."

Wanda blinked. "There’s really such a thing?"

"Of course." Lorien opened his eyes. "Haven’t you heard the saying—’looks are justice’? You’re beautiful, so of course you’re powerful."

Wanda smiled, pleased. She leaned in and kissed him.

"Then you’re so handsome—you must be really strong too."

"Of course."

"Narcissist."

"What? You dare call me that?" Lorien rolled over, switching positions with her.

Wanda gasped, quickly glancing at the door. "Not here, we’re still outside."

"This is my Little Universe. It’s just us." Lorien snapped his fingers, and the doors of the Little Universe sealed shut.

"Now, I’ll show you what it means to be taken up and down."