The folding knife flipped between Lilith’s fingers. She quickly deciphered its mechanical structure, her fingertip brushing against a catch. With a sharp click, the Kwaiken ejected from the side of the handle.
“Ha!”
She let out a delighted cry, staring at the wickedly curved tip and the intricate, beautiful patterns of the Damascus steel. The more she looked at it, the more she loved it.
“It’s mine now!” she declared, possessing the knife with flagrant disregard for its original owner.
Wang Yue didn’t want to give it up. She tried to persuade her gently. “You shouldn’t give knives as gifts. They say it cuts the bonds of friendship.”
Lilith huffed, firing back a question of her own. “Is there even friendship between us?”
Wang Yue was stunned into silence.
She had a point. From the very first day of school, the two of them had been like fire and water. If they had actually managed to develop a friendship, it would have been a miracle.
Still, how had things ended up like this? What was their relationship now?
The cold, floral scent of Lilith’s thin lips still lingered on Wang Yue’s own. The wound inside her mouth was a mark Lilith had left behind; blood was still flowing, wetting her teeth with a metallic, rusty tang. The stinging pain served as a constant reminder that the surreal events of a few moments ago had actually happened. It felt like a dream.
Wang Yue raised her hand, her slender fingertips brushing against Lilith’s cheek. She traced the lips that had kissed her just minutes ago, marveling at the strange sensation—thin and cold, yet exceptionally soft.
Lilith’s eyes narrowed with sudden indignation, and she abruptly bit down on Wang Yue’s finger!
She bit down hard. A sharp pain shot through Wang Yue’s hand, and as expected, the skin broke.
Wang Yue’s arm muscles tensed instinctively, but she forced herself not to pull away. She slowly relaxed, allowing Lilith to suckle on her blood. She wasn’t angry; instead, an appreciative smile touched her lips.
Not bad, Lilith. Even when she was as weak as a newborn kitten, she still had enough fight in her to snap at anyone who offended her. Even after learning she would die in three days, she hadn’t shown a single flicker of fear or cowardice.
After struggling for a while longer, Lilith finally ran out of strength. she collapsed forward, mumbling “You’re mine” against Wang Yue’s shoulder. She shifted downward slightly, finding a comfortable spot against Wang Yue’s chest to rest her head. Her eyes drifted shut, and she soon fell fast asleep.
“So selfish,” Wang Yue sighed softly.
Lilith was comfortable, but Wang Yue certainly wasn’t. With the extra weight pressing down on her, she could feel every pebble and dried twig digging into her back. Furthermore, having dozens of pounds pressing against her chest was a lot for her current petite frame to handle; even breathing became a bit of a chore.
When Lilith had collapsed earlier, it had felt like a miniature flying shoulder tackle. The impact had knocked the wind out of Wang Yue, triggering a brief fit of coughing.
She could feel Lilith’s body heat pressing against her. Lilith’s scent was a deep, chilling fragrance that refreshed the lungs, mixed with the warmer, “sweet” scents she had picked up from living with her roommates. It was like a chaotic bouquet of late-summer flowers at night, dominated by the overpowering scent of a Ghost Epiphyllum.
It smelled wonderful…
Wang Yue closed her eyes, letting the sensation wash over her. The fragrance swirled in her nose, feeling like a cold Little Hand gently stroking the inside of her mind.
Suddenly, her heart gave a painful tug. she reached out to check Lilith’s breath. Finding that she was still breathing, Wang Yue let out a sigh of relief, but a deep sense of reluctance to let go remained.
She mentally connected with White Fish, inquiring about the “Lead-Scurf Disease” the school doctor had mentioned.
Wang Yue wasn’t the type to abandon her own judgment just because an “authority” had made a diagnosis. After all, wasn’t there a girl with no legs currently running around as if she were whole?
She realized that the key lay in the price. The cost of prosthetic limbs was far higher than tuition, and they would only last two or three years before the user outgrew them. Setting aside Prima’s foolishness—trading her limbs only to spend even more money to get them back—the faculty’s help to Prima had been superficial at best. The Hush-Name Witches didn’t seem particularly generous, at least not compared to Wang Yue herself.
The Hush-Name Witches certainly possessed vast resources; they simply didn’t want to play the role of the “Gingerbread Man.”
A message came back from White Fish: No records found of such a disease.
Wang Yue’s brow furrowed. It seemed the library wasn’t omnipotent; for there to be no record at all… something was wrong. She felt a subtle sense of dissonance.
Wang Yue happened to know about Fishmouth Town. It was very far from the academy. The closest settlement was Crowsnest Town, with several other towns in between. Why would they bypass the closer ones for a town so far away?
Even more suspicious was the “terminal” diagnosis. They diagnosed her on the spot and just… let Lilith leave? By any logical standard, they should have provided palliative care, observation, or at least some psychological counseling.
Wang Yue formed a bold hypothesis—this was a psychometric assessment. The school was testing Lilith’s character, wanting to see how she would react in the face of total despair.
Her wandering gaze refocused on Lilith’s sleeping face. A new question arose—did Lilith realize it?
If Lilith knew this was a test and chose not to expose it, but instead engaged in a battle of wits with Headmaster Gwendolyn…
Wang Yue suddenly noticed a faint, mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of the sleeping blonde girl’s lips.
This… this brat! She did it on purpose!
Lilith had intentionally leaked the news through Prima to lure Wang Yue to this desolate, abandoned garden. She had posed beautifully in the dirt of the flowerbed specifically to exploit Wang Yue’s sympathy, and then… she had succeeded!
In the end, was I the one who got played?
No, that felt too much like a conspiracy theory. Lilith’s information channels weren’t as comprehensive as Wang Yue’s; she didn’t have the means to cross-reference and debunk the “diagnosis.” Therefore, the girl was likely still in the dark.
It seemed Headmaster Gwendolyn was the one pulling the strings behind everything. It was a cruel way to behave; the Headmaster must have been exactly like Lilith when she was younger.
With a heavy heart, Wang Yue stood up. She carried Lilith back to their dormitory, removed her shoes and coat, and laid her on the communal bed. She reached the door, then turned back to tuck a thin blanket around her.
Then, Wang Yue headed straight for the Headmaster’s office.
***
Wang Yue pushed the door open. Gwendolyn was hunched over her desk, working.
Seeing Wang Yue enter, Gwendolyn paused her spiral-patterned glass pen. She raised her calm, deep eyes to look at the doorway.
Wang Yue closed the door behind her and faced the Headmaster. This was the first time she had dealt with the woman one-on-one. Based on the information she had gathered, the Headmaster was a quintessential witch—her sense of morality was blurred, she brooked no dissent, and she possessed an absolute need for dominance. She was not an easy person to get along with.
“Headmaster, I’m here to ask about Lilith,” Wang Yue said, getting straight to the point.
“You figured it out?” Gwendolyn asked, her eyes fixed on Wang Yue’s face.
She was even more familiar with Wang Yue than she was with Lilith. On the very first day, Wang Yue had triggered a miracle during the Black Mass. Her subsequent performance had been equally striking, earning her a spot on the school’s “special interest” watch list.
Wang Yue gave a helpless smile. Based on the Headmaster’s tone, her suspicions were correct.
The good news was that Lilith wasn’t going to die. Wang Yue felt a wave of relief. It would have been devastating if the girl who had just kissed her vanished from the world in three days.
“I’m curious. Why go through with such an assessment? Can’t you see her character clearly enough already?”
“You are clever, but this wasn’t a psychometric test…”
The Headmaster set down her glass pen and began to explain the phenomenon of “Personality Loss” that occurred after becoming a Hush-Name Witch.
Wang Yue listened intently. By the time the explanation was over, she found herself taking a deep, shaky breath. The revelation was staggering.
Did obtaining power beyond humanity mean losing one’s humanity entirely?
On second thought, it made sense. Human emotions—joy, anger, sorrow—were just neural impulses. Upon becoming a completely different lifeform, one would naturally lose the ability to experience those original feelings. Superhuman power and human form were contradictory; one had to choose.
“So, before the personality is lost, one must gain as much ‘humanity’ as possible…” Wang Yue mused for a moment, then looked up sharply. “What happens if their humanity isn’t enough?”
“Then,” Headmaster Gwendolyn replied calmly, “they are nothing more than a pathetic monster.”
