Chapter 89: Desire

In the morning, Freya woke up early. Seeing that Lyra was still asleep, she washed up herself, then sat in a chair and read a book.

Lyra was sleeping deeply.

But not peacefully.

In the dim light, her brows were tightly knit, her lips slightly pursed, and the small wolf tooth that usually only faintly showed was now completely hidden away.

Her fingers gripped the corner of the blanket, her knuckles white, as if she was experiencing something in her dream.

Freya sat at the desk, flipping through the Starry Sky Legacy.

Hearing the faint movement behind her, she turned her head.

In the dim yellow lamplight, Lyra’s face was scrunched up, fine beads of sweat dotted her forehead, and her white eyelashes trembled restlessly.

“Lyra?”

No response.

Freya put down the book, stood up, walked over to the floor bedding, and crouched down.

She reached out and gently touched Lyra’s forehead.

It was a little cold.

But those tightly closed eyes were trembling violently, as if she was seeing something terrifying in her dream.

Freya’s brows furrowed slightly.

She hesitated for a moment, then reached out and gently grasped Lyra’s hand that was clutching the blanket.

That hand was tight.

Very cold.

“Lyra—”

She called softly.

“Wake up.”

In the dream, Lyra stood in a space of darkness.

So dark.

Dark like that place deep in her memory that she could never escape.

There was no light, no sound, no warmth there. Only endless darkness and endless loneliness.

She had once grown accustomed to that darkness.

Accustomed to it since childhood.

But now—

Now she felt cold.

That coldness didn’t come from the outside, but seeped out from within her heart.

As if something was slowly hollowing out the originally warm places inside her body.

Why?

She hadn’t felt cold in a long time.

Ever since meeting the boss, she had never felt cold again.

The boss’s bed was warm, the boss’s hands were warm, the boss’s gaze was warm too.

But now, why was she cold again?

She stood in place, looking around blankly.

The darkness was boundless.

Then—

In the darkness, a point of light suddenly appeared.

That light was weak, far away, but in this dead silent darkness, it was particularly glaring.

Within the light, there was a human figure.

That figure drew closer and closer.

Becoming clearer and clearer.

Finally, it stopped three steps away from her.

Lyra’s pupils contracted sharply.

It was a face identical to her own.

The same eyes and brows, the same contours, the same red eyes.

But not entirely the same.

That person was taller than her.

More upright than her.

More—

Much more gorgeous.

Her figure was excellent, curvaceous and shapely.

She wore a long black robe, its hem embroidered with intricate golden patterns, making her appear noble and mysterious.

Her long hair was also white, but much longer than Lyra’s, hanging down to her waist, shimmering with a faint glow in the darkness.

Those red eyes were deeper, darker than Lyra’s, as if filled with endless secrets.

She looked at Lyra, the corner of her lips slightly raised.

That smile was very gentle.

So gentle it made one want to draw near.

“Come here.”

She extended her hand.

That hand was pale and slender, with distinct knuckles, the fingertips glowing with a lustrous light.

“Embrace me.”

Her voice was also gentle, like a mother’s call, or a lover’s whisper.

“Then you can become me.”

Lyra looked at her.

Looked at that face identical to her own, looked into those deep red eyes, looked at that hand extended toward her.

Silence.

Three seconds.

Then she reached out her hand—

And grasped that hand.

The smile on that face deepened.

But the next second, the smile froze.

Because Lyra did not embrace her.

Instead, she yanked her forward violently.

Her other hand viciously grabbed her neck.

“So what?”

Lyra’s voice was very calm, so calm it didn’t sound like an accusation, more like stating a fact.

“After I embrace you, what do you plan to do?”

She leaned in closer, her red eyes staring straight into those eyes identical to her own.

“Eat me?”

The gentleness and temptation in those eyes instantly shattered, replaced by disbelief and shock.

“How is this possible…”

Her voice became hoarse and broken.

“You…

How could you…

Facing the temptation of power…

Still be so resolute…”

Lyra looked at her.

Looked at her shocked face.

Then, she disdainfully raised an eyebrow.

That expression was completely different from her usual silly appearance—

Cold, sharp, carrying a kind of lofty disdain.

“What do you take me for?”

Her voice was very soft.

“I’m not that easily satisfied.”

Those eyes widened even more.

Then—

That woman’s body began to melt.

Like a candle burned by flame, starting from the fingertips, bit by bit turning into purple smoke.

That smoke drifted apart, spreading around Lyra, enveloping her entire person.

Countless voices surged from all directions.

Those voices intertwined, some low, some sharp, some aged, some childish, yet saying the same thing—

“So that’s it…”

“So your desire…”

“Is not this…”

The purple smoke grew thicker and thicker, completely swallowing Lyra.

“Lyra!”

A voice pierced through that dense fog.

Familiar.

Warm.

Reassuring.

Lyra’s eyes snapped open.

Ceiling.

Familiar dormitory.

And—

Freya’s face.

She was crouched by the bedside, one hand holding Lyra’s hand, those pale purple eyes filled with a rare concern.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Lyra looked at her.

Looked at her face that appeared especially soft in the sunlight, looked at those eyes that were now focused on her.

She was silent for a long time.

Then she grinned.

That small wolf tooth sparkled in the sunlight.

“Boss.”

“Hmm.”

“I just dreamed of a bad woman.”

Freya didn’t speak, just looked at her.

Lyra continued, her voice carrying a hint of proud boasting.

“She tried to trick me, and I choked her.”

Freya’s brow moved slightly.

“And then?”

“Then she melted.”

Lyra gestured with her hands.

“Turned into smoke and drifted away.”

Freya was silent for a moment.

She looked at Lyra.

Looked at her bright, sparkling red eyes, looked at her silly smiling face, looked at that small wolf tooth completely exposed due to her pride.

“It’s fine as long as you’re okay.”

She let go of Lyra’s hand and stood up.

“Go back to sleep.”

Lyra nodded, shrinking back under the covers.

But she didn’t close her eyes.

She watched Freya’s back as she walked back to the desk, watched her side profile as she reopened the book.

“Boss.”

“Hmm.”

“That bad woman said that I was so resolute even when faced with the temptation of power.”

She paused.

“What does that mean?”

Freya’s pen tip paused.

She didn’t turn around.

She was silent for a long time.

Then she spoke.

“It means—”

She paused.

“You’re amazing.”

Lyra blinked.

Then she smiled, her eyes curving into two crescent moons.

“Of course! I’m the boss’s Lyra!”

She buried her face in the blanket, closed her eyes contentedly.

Freya didn’t turn around.

But that faint curve at the corner of her lips lingered for a long time.

After reading for an hour, Freya felt her eyes were a bit sore.

She turned her head.

On the floor bedding, Lyra was still asleep.

But this time, her sleeping posture was different from last night—

No longer curled into a ball, but stretched out, limbs splayed, occupying most of the bedding.

The blanket had been kicked aside, only covering half of one leg. Her white hair was scattered on the pillow, messy like a nest of weeds.

The corner of her mouth was slightly upturned, as if she was dreaming of something good.

Freya watched her for a while.

Then she got out of bed, walked over, picked up the kicked-off blanket, and gently covered her with it.

Lyra turned over, mumbled something, and continued sleeping.

Freya didn’t disturb her.

Half an hour later, Lyra was already sitting up.

She rubbed her eyes, her white hair even messier than before, like a little bird that had just crawled out of its nest.

“Morning, boss…”

Her voice was hoarse and slurred.

Freya glanced at her.

“Go wash up. Eat breakfast.”

Lyra nodded, swaying as she stood up, and walked toward the washroom.

Soon, the sound of splashing water came from inside.

Freya stood in place, looking at the half-open door.

Desire.

Is not this.

What exactly did that “Another Lyra” in the dream want to tell her?

In the Academy Canteen, Anke was already waiting there.

Seeing them enter, she waved vigorously.

“Freya! Over here!”

Freya and Lyra carried their trays over and sat down opposite her.

Anke leaned in, lowering her voice.

“I heard something this morning.”

Her eyes sparkled, filled with “big gossip.”

Freya didn’t speak, just slowly drank her tea.

Anke didn’t mind her aloofness and continued on her own.

“The Crown Prince was summoned to the palace last night.

He only returned this morning.”

Freya’s movements paused slightly.

Anke noticed, her smile deepening.

“And I heard, when he came back, his face looked especially awful.

A few people who were with him said he almost got into an argument with someone on the way.”

She paused.

“Guess who he argued with?”

Freya didn’t guess.

Lyra chimed in from the side.

“Who?”

Anke lowered her voice mysteriously.

“Serar.”

Freya’s eyelashes fluttered slightly.

Anke continued.

“Don’t know exactly what they argued about, but I heard they ran into each other at the School Gate, exchanged a few words, and then started arguing.

The Crown Prince’s face was livid, Serar was all smiles, but that kind of smile…”

She thought for a moment, finding a suitable description.

“It’s the kind that, even though he’s smiling, makes you really want to punch him.”

Lyra nodded vigorously.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! That’s exactly the kind of smile he has!”

Anke looked at her and couldn’t help but laugh.

“You think so too?”

“Of course! I’ve punched him! That’s exactly how he smiles!”

Anke laughed so hard she rocked back and forth.

Freya didn’t speak.

But she lowered her gaze, hiding the flicker of contemplation in her eyes.

Ross was summoned to the palace.

Came back and argued with Serar.

Could these two things be related?

After finishing the meal, the three of them walked out of the canteen.

The sunlight was good, warm on their bodies.

Anke had to go to class. She waved at them and hurried off into the distance.