Time rewinds to the present.
Beatrice and Aurora were still quarreling in midair.
Whenever something like this happened, Aurora would always want to interfere. Even though doing so would bring her immense pain, she just couldn’t help but involve herself. Beatrice had never understood that.
“Do you think you’re some kind of saint, Aurora? Do you have to stick your nose into every matter of life and death?” Beatrice shouted at her in anger.
She recalled the town she had destroyed—since she had erased the memories of all witnesses with magic, the kingdom had eventually concluded it was the work of a cult. She had never told Aurora the truth. If possible, she hoped Aurora would never find out.
What she had done was far worse than the actions of any cult. If the truth were ever revealed, she would be hunted not by mere guards, but by the knight orders of every kingdom, and the trouble that would cause would be immeasurable.
“Please, Beatrice. I don’t want more people to suffer because of the cult.”
“You don’t need to trouble yourself—I’ll handle them. I can take care of them myself!”
Suddenly, the chain around her neck tightened. A sharp pain spread from her neck to the rest of her body.
Her face was yanked closer to Beatrice’s.
‘Let me handle it myself’—those words only made Beatrice’s mood worse. She knew Aurora didn’t have the strength to deal with cultists, and yet the girl was still foolish enough to charge in on her own. Beatrice never wanted to see, with her own eyes again, Aurora being sliced open and dying in agony like last time.
“Listen to me, Aurora. Before, I failed to keep you in check and let you do one stupid thing after another. But now, you’re my familiar, bound by my chains. I won’t let you do anything dangerous ever again!”
“Bei—mmph…”
Aurora tried to speak, but her mouth suddenly felt sewn shut, and the next moment, her body was completely bound by chains.
It was a special magic unique to the master-familiar bond. With just a thought, the master could silence the familiar and render them immobile.
After returning to the mansion, Beatrice tossed her roughly onto the bed in her room. Then, she bit her own fingertip, letting her blood pool in her mouth.
“Open your mouth.”
It was a command, and Aurora’s body responded involuntarily, slowly opening her mouth.
A violet magic circle shimmered faintly on her tongue—a sign that a command spell had been forcibly activated.
Beatrice slowly extended her blood-coated tongue into Aurora’s mouth.
The warmth of it touched Aurora’s lips, followed by the spreading taste of iron.
A burning sensation followed. Aurora could feel that something was changing with the familiar contract etched into her body.
The chain around her neck loosened for a moment—then shrank, straightened, and finally reformed into a new, shorter length.
Beatrice had reconstructed the contract. The red chain binding them as master and familiar had been shortened from its original hundred meters to just ten meters. That meant, if Aurora moved more than ten meters away from her, she would be forcibly pulled back to Beatrice’s side.
“From now on, everything you do must have my permission. Even looking at someone for more than ten seconds needs my approval!”
Aurora was still clutching her mouth in agony. The burning sensation wasn’t limited to her tongue—it was spreading downward, engulfing her entire body in pain like she was being consumed by flames.
It was as if she had been thrown into molten lava. She writhed uncontrollably on the bed, scalding steam rising from her skin.
She pleaded with Beatrice for mercy, but her mouth was still under a silencing curse. Though she could breathe, she couldn’t speak a word. All she could do was stare at Beatrice with those big, tear-filled eyes, looking utterly pitiful.
The pristine bedsheets were crumpled tightly in her grip. Her maid heels had long since been kicked off, revealing her bare feet, which restlessly rubbed against the blankets. Hot, humid breaths kept escaping from her mouth, and the unending pain brought tears streaming down her face.
Beatrice swallowed hard at the sight. The desire buried deep within her began to stir again.
She wanted to take Aurora then and there.
But now wasn’t the time. She couldn’t—yet. Not until all the troublesome matters were settled. Only then could she let go of every restraint, indulge herself freely, and claim her completely.
Still, until that time came, she needed to release some of her desire through acts that didn’t cross that final line.
Without showing a hint of emotion, she silently cast ice magic on herself. Her body temperature dropped steadily. To an ordinary person, her skin would now feel like ice—but for Aurora, that cold was a salvation.
To her, Beatrice had become a spring of dew in a parched desert.
The heat in her mouth was the most unbearable. The moment her lips brushed against Beatrice’s chilled skin, she instinctively pressed closer, until her entire body was wrapped around her.
After a long while, once the burning sensation finally subsided, the two slowly pulled apart.
Their breathing was ragged, and Aurora kept her eyes downcast, palms pressed against her tear-drenched face, not daring to meet Beatrice’s gaze. When their breaths collided again, what kissed their cheeks was the warmth of each other’s exhale.
*****
Deep in the forest—
A flash of golden light streaked through the thick trees, slamming straight into a massive trunk.
Thud!
“Ow—!”
Avila let out a pained yelp as she crashed into the tree and tumbled down.
Branches snapped and scattered in all directions. Just as her head was about to slam into the ground, a vine suddenly wrapped around her body, halting her fall just two feet above the forest floor. Then—snap!—the vine broke, and Avila landed on the ground with a plop.
Thankfully, the vine had cushioned the impact. If not for that, her neck might’ve snapped.
“Owww… that hurts…”
She got up from the ground, clutching the lump on her head. A few drops of red seemed to splatter on the dirt. She looked down at her palm, which had been holding her head, and found it stained with fresh blood.
A new wound had opened on her already bandaged head. If she added one more bandage, it might obstruct her vision. With no other choice, she quickly wiped away the blood and pressed a strip of gauze over the wound.
Ever since she’d been laughed at by a passing student for practicing uninscribed flight at the academy, Aivira had made a habit of coming to this forest outside the school grounds to practice after class. The forest was dense with trees—falling from the air here at least offered some cushioning. For a beginner like her, it was the ideal training spot.
“Alright, one more time!”
She slapped her own cheeks for motivation—but seemed to forget they, too, were covered in cuts and bruises.
“Ouch! Ow ow ow…”
Ding-a-ling…
Just as she was about to take off again, a faint bell rang out from the depths of the forest.
Her chant abruptly halted. She turned curiously toward the direction of the sound.
A figure in a black robe was standing there, holding a red bell in his hand. With every shake, the unsettling chime echoed toward Aivira’s ears.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Aivira called out to the robed figure.
When he gave no reply, she prepared to fly off.
“Young witch… Is there something you wish to accomplish? Someone you wish would acknowledge you? Someone you long to take revenge on? Something you desperately want…”
A raspy voice suddenly emerged, each word laced with an eerie magical power that seemed to magnify every hidden desire in Aivira’s heart.