Chapter 32: Ivy’s Final Counterattack

Ivy’s head hung low, her usually expressive pale gold eyes dimmed, losing every trace of light.

Only crystalline tears slowly welled up from her eyes, dropping onto the ground.

Ivy was helpless, confused, and lost.

She didn’t know where she was looking, for before her was a vast darkness.

She had lost her goal, lost her direction.

What exactly was she supposed to do? What could she still do…

Who could come to help me…

Anyone would do, please save me, I beg you, save me…

Ivy didn’t know to whom she was praying.

She had no faith, no one to pray to, and no one to rely on.

Countless faces flashed through her mind—some who had once helped her, some friends she had made.

But these people only stayed in Ivy’s life for a short while before eventually drifting away, each walking their own path.

The figures before Ivy grew fewer and fewer until, in the end, only one remained.

Ivy’s gaze finally settled on that single remaining face.

It was her own.

The only one Ivy could pray to was herself.

This extreme emotional collapse made Ivy’s mind increasingly unstable.

Amidst the breakdown and pain, another emotion quietly began to emerge.

A sense of irritation.

It was the same irritation she had fought against earlier when her sight and hearing were sealed, trapped in an endless ringing in her ears.

Back then, the irritation was only directed inward, as Ivy wanted to hurt herself.

But now, fueled by sorrow and pain, that irritation ripened rapidly, spreading with unimaginable speed.

Before Ivy’s eyes, her own figure gradually faded, replaced by another.

That person was Flossi—the one who had brought her so much pain.

Ivy’s weak body suddenly felt as if injected with a powerful tonic, an inexplicable strength rising from within.

Her fists clenched slightly but quickly relaxed again.

Her once dull pale gold eyes brightened anew, as if flickering with a mysterious flame that illuminated the tears overflowing from her eyes.

The ever-crying Ivy gradually quieted.

Her emotions slowly stabilized, her sobbing diminished, until it disappeared entirely.

Ivy sniffled; she felt the sadness slowly ebbing away from her.

She had made her decision.

Ivy no longer wanted to continue like this.

She no longer wanted to live this way.

Rather than endure such a painful existence, Ivy was willing to choose a different path: to fight to the death.

To, in the last moments of her life, tear pieces of flesh from Flossi.

This was her final counterattack, and since arriving in this world, the only counterattack she had ever launched against Flossi.

In the past, Ivy had done many things against her will—things that caused her pain and drove her to madness—all in a desperate attempt to escape and survive in this world.

She had buried this pain deep within her and suppressed the madness in her heart, unable to release it.

Every day, she wore the mask of a happy, innocent fool, only to lower Flossi’s guard.

She kept cheering herself on, fighting to live, preparing to escape.

She had worked so hard—so hard that she had even managed to make contact with another vampire prince, holding on to a sliver of hope.

But all of it was cut off by Flossi’s own hands.

Ivy no longer wished to endure.

She was, by nature, an extreme person—extreme in her treatment of herself. She would sacrifice everything for survival, including dignity and pride.

But if she no longer wished to do so, she would still fight with her life.

Even if it was just to inflict some damage on the one who hurt her, even if it was just a trivial wound.

Ivy thought like this.

…

Flossi, standing nearby, sighed lightly as she watched Ivy’s emotions gradually calm.

A strange feeling stirred in her heart—an emotion she could not explain or understand.

But she knew one thing clearly: she had softened.

Flossi untied the magical ropes binding Ivy.

Ivy immediately fell from midair, but Flossi caught her steadily in her arms.

Ivy lay quietly in Flossi’s embrace, completely still, as if she had fainted.

If Flossi hadn’t seen Ivy’s eyes blinking, she would have thought Ivy had truly passed out.

However, Flossi paid no mind to Ivy’s unusually calm state and instead chose to take her to bathe.

After all, the smell in that little dark room was indeed unpleasant by now, and Flossi herself was dirty and in urgent need of cleansing.

With that in mind, Flossi’s feet traced out a Teleportation Array beneath her, and in the blink of an eye, the two arrived in front of the bathhouse.

Flossi ordered a maid to prepare fresh clothes, then carried Ivy inside.

The maid quickly prepared the clothes under Flossi’s instructions.

This time, the maid was not Leah but a less experienced younger servant.

Flossi frowned slightly as she looked at the clothes the maid brought.

The young maid seemed unfamiliar with protocol and had brought two sets of Flossi’s own clothes.

This reminded Flossi of Leah, who never made such small mistakes.

Flossi said nothing, waved the maid away, and swiftly removed the dirty clothes from both herself and Ivy.

She then carried Ivy into the pool.

Once in the water, Flossi gently placed Ivy down, allowing her some freedom to move.

But Flossi had clearly overestimated Ivy’s abilities in her blinded state.

Without sight, Ivy struggled to control her direction.

With no support and no vision, even standing was a difficult task.

Flossi watched as Ivy flailed helplessly in the water.

Though the water was shallow, it reached Ivy’s chest and could easily drown her.

Flossi sighed in helplessness, scooped the struggling Ivy out of the water, and held her close once more.

Ivy’s head drooped on Flossi’s shoulder, her whole body hanging like a sloth.

Their skin pressed closely together, the contact strangely affecting the usually cold Flossi.

She could clearly feel Ivy’s heartbeat and warmth.

When was the last time she had bathed with someone else?

Probably back in her childhood—a long time ago she barely remembered.

Though bringing Ivy to bathe was a casual decision for Flossi, at that moment, it stirred unusual feelings within her.

Her body stiffened slightly. In truth, her anger had already mostly subsided after seeing Ivy’s breakdown and tears.

The cold expression she maintained afterward was more out of unwillingness to let Ivy off so easily.

Flossi knew exactly what kind of person Ivy was.

“You can forget the pain once the wound heals”—this was Ivy’s nature.

If Flossi couldn’t crush Ivy completely in one go, this girl would sooner or later stab her in the back.

Only by making Ivy truly feel pain and fear could Flossi secure her loyalty.

Originally, Flossi planned to continue tormenting Ivy’s mind and body, but now she suddenly changed her mind.

She pulled Ivy closer in her arms and considered whether she should just let Ivy go.

While thinking, Flossi continued washing Ivy’s body, noticing the many wounds on her once fair and delicate skin.

Most of those wounds were inflicted by Flossi herself, while a few were self-inflicted by Ivy.

The most prominent mark was a large bruise on Ivy’s abdomen—a bruise caused by a kick from Flossi.

Flossi sighed silently.

Her punishment had served its purpose; Ivy should be more obedient now.

If not, there was always the next time to punish her again.

This punishment would end here.

That was Flossi’s resolve.

But just then, Flossi suddenly felt a sharp pain on her shoulder.

Blood dyed the crystal-clear water of the pool a deep red.