Until this moment, Bai Ya could no longer hold on. Grabbing her wrist, she screamed in agony, feeling like if she kept it in any longer, she would literally die from the pain.
She toppled off the unconscious Shadow Spider onto the ground. Her white hair stuck to her forehead from sweat, her complexion flushed unnaturally red from intense suffering, saliva dribbling from her mouth, and her body convulsing as if she were on the verge of death.
Bai Ya’s screams gradually weakened, until finally, with a last roar like a dying flash of light, her eyes rolled back, her legs stiffened, and her body fell motionless, appearing truly dead.
As the final trace of movement disappeared, the empty street lay silent. Scattered were mangled corpses, severely damaged buildings, and street lamps flickering due to broken supports. Black clouds shrouded the moon, turning the place into a land of death. The wind howled like the mournful cries of wandering spirits.
The silence lasted only a few minutes before a faint sound of footsteps broke through—the land of death still held a living soul.
From a dark alley emerged a little girl.
She wore pink butterfly ribbons tying her peach-colored twin tails, her heterochromatic eyes—one sapphire blue, the other emerald green—gleaming with caution. Her doll-like delicate face was round and soft. She donned a pink Gothic Lolita dress, black over-the-knee stockings beneath, and small black leather shoes on her feet.
Cradling a doll missing one eye, she bit her lip as she stared at Bai Ya, who looked as dead as one could be, silently vowing that if Bai Ya moved even an inch, she would run away immediately.
This slave was truly terrifying. Bai Ya’s fierce expression as she fought tooth and nail to knock out the Shadow Spider had planted deep fear in the little girl’s heart.
She was the adopted daughter of Arthur Amidale, the second prince of Amidale, and also his slave girl—one of three slave girls aboard this slave transport ship.
She addressed Arthur as “Father,” and not long ago, he had ordered her to bring back the Shadow Spider who had wreaked havoc at the Treasure Market.
Father’s orders were absolute. If the Shadow Spider disobeyed, even though she herself was Father’s slave girl, the little girl would use every method to bring her back. Even if in the process she lost two or three legs, or four or five hands, Father would forgive her.
Her Father, Arthur, had made the little girl remember: she was the slave girl [Cursed Doll], slave number 066. She was his daughter, and exclusively his slave girl—a pawn in the fight for the Amidale throne.
She couldn’t have her original name, and thus it was unnecessary, for in her eyes the world was black and white. The only person who called her “daughter” was the one who gave color to her world.
Names were redundant.
Even her own life—if Father needed it, the Cursed Doll could kill herself without hesitation. She had always thought the thing she feared most was losing her value and being discarded by Father.
Now there was one more: the escaped slave on the wanted list, Bai Ya Ifeir Clorom. She had undeniably stirred a fearful feeling deep in the little girl’s heart.
This slave seemed to possess some strange power. How to describe it? She hardly seemed like a slave at all. That relentless courage to charge forward—so terrifying…
The little girl’s complex gaze fixed on Bai Ya’s corpse. She suddenly felt a flicker of curiosity toward her. Too bad she was already dead, or else she could have taken her to the small black room for a slow interrogation, extracting the answers she sought from her lips.
The fear Bai Ya instilled in her made her reluctant to approach. She was terrified that the dead slave might suddenly scream and jump up, grabbing her neck to kill her. If that really happened, her attacks would be useless! Even if her hands and feet were burned off, leaving her crawling like a seal, the little girl sensed Bai Ya would still fiercely use her body to knock her down, pin her down in a mounted position, and bite her to death if necessary.
So terrifying. The little girl’s face turned pale as the shadow of Bai Ya’s brutal fight with the Shadow Spider planted itself deep within her heart, watered by growing fear.
If she could, the little girl wouldn’t approach Bai Ya at all. This slave was becoming her nightmare. But Father’s orders were clear: bring back the Shadow Spider. And now the Shadow Spider lay unconscious beside Bai Ya. To wake her, she had to get close to Bai Ya.
That seemed nearly impossible.
After much inner struggle, the little girl began regretting killing the man who disturbed Father’s mood. To prevent his corpse from tainting Father’s sight, she used her racial talent to burn him to ashes. If not for that, she could have used the ability to incinerate Bai Ya’s body and wouldn’t be so afraid to get close.
But that ability could only be used again after the doll she held was fully restored—about half a day. Father’s patience lasted five minutes. If she exceeded that, she would be punished by Father himself. Even as his daughter, no mercy would be shown—only the executor would be Father himself.
What should she do? Tears welled in the little girl’s eyes, and she looked on the verge of crying.
She was trapped in a contradiction: unwilling to approach the slave who haunted her mind, but unwilling to defy Father’s order to bring back the Shadow Spider within the time limit.
After much hesitation, she finally gave in, closing her eyes tightly, one arm clutching the doll, the other groping for direction as she staggered toward where the Shadow Spider lay.
She estimated the distance between herself and Bai Ya’s corpse. With every step closer, her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest. Even pressing the doll tightly against her flat chest did nothing to calm her.
Finally reaching Bai Ya’s side, her nerves reached a breaking point. Her lips trembled involuntarily, her eyes opening just a sliver, mentally preparing to flee at any moment. If the dead slave really sprang up to attack, she would surely die of fright.
She exhaled in relief. Before her lay nothing but a pool of blood. That terrifying slave had disappeared~~
Disappeared…
The little girl’s relaxed smile froze.
At the same time, a horrifying voice, as if dragged from the depths of hell, whispered in her ear.
“So it’s you, dithering and mumbling over there, making me wait so long.”
The little girl’s pupils contracted. Reflexively, she turned her head, only to have a small fist rapidly fill her entire field of vision.
“General.”
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