The door rattled violently.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
Layana, as the Magic Dean of the Central Academy, naturally had the authority—and the ability—to blast this thin wooden door into splinters. She was shaking all over.
The knocking from outside hammered down, blow after blow, on the heart of the person inside.
“Prince Wendy! Open the door!”
“If you don’t open it, I really will resort to force!”
It’s over…
Laxana buried her face deep in Wendy’s chest. She could even imagine the scene when her mother—a woman who had been domineering her whole life—burst through the door and saw her like this.
Everything was over.
Not death, but a thousand times more terrifying than death…
He released one arm from around Laxana and gently patted her trembling back, his touch as tender as soothing a frightened kitten.
“Hehe~”
Wendy suddenly laughed.
“Don’t be afraid. Look, the game has only just reached its climax. How could it end here?”
Laxana looked up blankly, tears swimming in her eyes as she stared at him, uncomprehending.
At that moment, Astreia finally moved.
She stood up from the bed, those dreamlike long legs tapping out light sounds on the floor, and unhurriedly walked to the door.
But she did not open it.
Instead, she leaned her back against the door panel, turned to Wendy and Laxana, and revealed a smile that could only be called wicked.
“Please calm down a little.”
Astreia’s words rang out, not loud, but clearly piercing through the door.
The knocking stopped abruptly.
“Dean Layana.”
Little Shanna had indeed returned to normal, but remembering the mistake she had just made, her mind was simply a little dazed at the moment.
Astreia said this while mouthing to Wendy: continue.
Wendy understood instantly, his smile growing brighter as he supported the nearly collapsing Laxana and made her stand properly before the mirror again.
No, kneel properly.
Both knees on the ground, both hands pressed against the cold mirror surface, this position forced her to display everything behind her, without reservation, to those two pairs of eyes filled with “artistic appreciation.”
“Ugh…”
Laxana sobbed in despair, wanting to resist, but her body was as soft as a puddle of mud.
Outside the door, Layana was half-doubtful: “Just dazed? I clearly heard screaming! She’s in pain!”
“Of course she would be in pain.”
Astreia’s tone was utterly flat, as if stating the most ordinary thing in the world, “After all, her soul was nearly torn apart by a toy left behind by the Demon Race. If it were you, you would probably scream even louder, wouldn’t you?”
As the Witch spoke, she extended a slender finger and gave a gentle beckoning curl toward the Prince.
Wendy smiled, picked up the feather pen from the desk along with that bottle of still-wet ink, walked behind Laxana, and crouched down.
Feeling the movement behind her, Laxana’s entire body went rigid.
In the mirror, she could see the Prince’s face—so handsome it made her heart tremble—and the pen in his hand, dripping with ink.
What was he going to do now?
“I’m still not reassured. Can you let me come in and see her? Just one look!”
Layana’s words softened a little, but her worry had not diminished.
“Princess Astreia, I…”
“I’m afraid not.”
Astreia refused without even thinking, “She’s emotionally unstable right now, and… she’s somewhat improperly dressed.”
The Witch’s gaze fell to Wendy’s hand, where the tip of the pen was gently pressed against the full curve that the black fishnet had squeezed out on Laxana’s body.
The icy touch made Laxana shudder from head to toe.
“Shanna!”
Layana was clearly provoked by the words “improperly dressed,” her voice rising again, “What on earth is wrong with you? Say something to your mother!”
“That’s right, little Shanna.”
Astreia spoke in a low, quiet voice, this time at a volume only the people inside the room could hear, “Your mother wants you to say something to her.”
“If you can’t say it, tell her you’re fine.”
The Witch’s smile deepened.
“Then I’ll have Wendy use this pen to draw a map of the Central Academy on your body. How about that?”
“Starting from the front gate, stroke by stroke, all the way to your Dean’s Office.”
Boom!
Laxana’s mind completely exploded.
She jerked her head up, glaring death at the Witch in the mirror, whose smile was serene, her eyes filled with bloodshot veins and pleading.
Don’t…
Please, don’t…
“It seems she still doesn’t want to talk.”
Astreia shook her head with regret and lightly uttered a single word to Wendy:
“Draw.”
Wendy obeyed, his wrist moving slightly, the cold tip of the pen about to carve the first stroke of shame between the gaps of the fishnet, on that snow-white “canvas.”
“No—!”
Laxana finally broke, screaming with all the strength in her body:
“Mom!”
That cry was shrill, hoarse, filled with a sense of being shattered.
Inside and outside the door, an instant of dead silence.
Layana and Aurelia were both stunned.
The smile on Astreia’s face also faltered slightly.
Wendy stopped his pen, watching with keen interest the “artwork” in the mirror whose shoulders shook ceaselessly, tears pouring down like rain.
“Shanna… is that you? Are you really back to normal? How do you feel? Is anything wrong?”
Layana asked a string of questions, her voice trembling.
Laxana closed her eyes, two streams of clear tears sliding down her cheeks, cutting through two black ink trails.
She had lost.
Lost completely and utterly.
She drew a breath and, with the last of her dignity, made her words sound as steady as possible.
“Mom… I’m fine… I’m sorry.”
“I just… remembered what I did in the Dream Graveyard before, and it scared me.”
“Astreia and Wendy… are both taking care of me. I’m fine.”
Every word was like a knife cutting into her heart.
Every word made the shameful kneeling figure in the mirror clearer by a fraction.
Outside the door, silence lingered for a long time.
Finally, Aurelia’s relatively composed voice spoke up:
“Layana, since Shanna is fine, let’s not disturb her rest for now. Both Their Highnesses are here. There won’t be any problem.”
“Alright.”
Layana’s words were filled with exhaustion and compromise.
“Shanna, then rest well. Mom will come see you tomorrow morning.”
“Mm.”
Laxana forced a single syllable from her throat.
The sound of footsteps gradually faded.
The crisis was finally over.
In the room, the string stretched to its absolute limit finally snapped with a “crack.”
Laxana could no longer hold herself up. She slumped forward, collapsing onto the cold floor, barely breathing.
Wendy tossed down the pen, stood up, and looked at the “accomplice” who had been leaning by the door all along.
Astreia was looking at him too.
Those Magic Eyes burning with purple flame held no trace of the earlier mockery, replaced instead by an unprecedented light.
It was admiration.
It was approval.
It was, even more, the excitement of finding one’s own kind.
“My Prince.”
The Witch strode forward on her long legs, step by step, until she stood before Wendy. She reached out and gently stroked his cheek.
Her other hand traced along the Prince’s waistline, slowly downward.
“Now, it’s my turn to ‘punish’ you.”