The surroundings returned to silence, and the breeze blew again, leaving only Lyr and Yilu.
Yilu maintained her position, leaning over to look down at Lyr, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Her silver hair cascaded down, covering half of her face, making her expression mysterious and hard to read.
“Go on, tell me. I’m letting you rack your brain.”
Her eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Lyr, her gaze like a beast lurking in the shadows, waiting for the prey’s next move to decide how to act.
Lyr sucked in a cold breath. It was the first time he felt such pressure from Yilu, barely able to breathe.
His gaze shifted to the side, searching for something.
“Don’t bother looking. There’s only the two of us here. At least for now.” Yilu saw through him.
That guy was just trying to see if anyone else was around to avoid answering her question—a cheap trick.
Forced to withdraw his gaze, facing Yilu’s inexplicable pressure, Lyr swallowed. “You seem a bit different.”
If he had to put it, she was more assertive, and there was a witch-like obsession lurking at the edge of distortion.
“Yes.” Yilu answered bluntly. She too knew her own change.
Inside her, a vast surge of magic power was flowing—a feeling she had never experienced before.
As if she could do anything she wanted, even the things she had once wished for.
Earlier, she had countless times imagined what she would do once she became stronger.
Like every nouveau riche, her first thought was to put into practice what she had wanted to do but couldn’t.
Now, she had other ideas.
Whether it was her conversation with Tif or the earlier reminder from her ancestor, she wanted an answer.
“First, let me answer your earlier question. I’m in the state I was before—everything before me looks bizarre and bloody, but you’re still intact.”
Having responded to Lyr’s question, it was his turn to answer hers.
“What about you?”
“I… I’m fine.”
“Didn’t you say your curse lets you hear people’s malice toward you? So, what am I thinking right now?” Yilu continued. “Am I still saying I hate you?”
“It doesn’t seem like it.” Lyr stammered. Yilu’s words seemed to carry some hidden meaning.
After the power of the Thunder Spirit Sword returned, his curse had been controlled again.
Even with Yilu so close in front of him now, there was no sound at all.
He had regained his calm, but Yilu before him had not.
Or perhaps it was more appropriate to call her the Nightmare Witch now?
Yilu pressed her lips together and nodded, her expression stern, carrying a hint of displeasure at not getting a satisfying answer.
Clearly, Lyr’s answer wasn’t what she wanted, and he hadn’t understood what she was asking.
“Then let me ask again—how do you see me?”
Lyr didn’t understand why Yilu kept asking this question. “Does this matter to you?”
Meeting Yilu’s eyes, Lyr froze. He finally sensed something different.
“I’ve answered your question honestly. Now you should answer mine instead of asking me questions!”
Yilu’s voice dropped a notch, but the emotion within it was hard to hide.
First being polite, then forceful—she had answered Lyr’s question honestly so he wouldn’t waste words.
Lyr wanted to shift back, but Yilu’s pressure made him uncomfortable.
He instinctively thought she was affected by the curse.
“Hm?”
As soon as Lyr moved, Yilu’s knee, which was on the ground, shifted forward and pressed directly against his thigh.
This made Lyr feel very uneasy. This was no longer just interrogation—it felt like she might act any second.
“Answer me. Don’t make me say it again.”
Yilu’s eyes glowed, a flicker of black light dispersing—it was the power of a witch.
“How I see you…”
He had just regained calm from that situation, and now suddenly had to answer this question. The shift was too fast; his tired mind couldn’t keep up.
Seeing Lyr hesitate, Yilu’s eyelids twitched constantly, unable to suppress her emotions.
Before, she would have thought to ignore this guy, out of sight, out of mind.
The witch’s power brought not just a surge of magic, but also the negative emotions of the curse. She wanted to vent them now, not avoid them like before.
“Are you thinking of me as just your friend’s little sister again, feeling obligated to help?”
“…”
As Yilu said, for a moment Lyr wanted to say that. His survival instinct made him hold back, which was why he hesitated.
Yilu’s expression tightened, her brows furrowed, the black aura in her cold gaze growing clearer.
She bit her lower lip, her chest heaving slightly, on the verge of losing control.
“Again, again!” she murmured, anger flaring in her eyes. “You’ve never seen me as an equal.”
“Huh?”
To Lyr, it sounded like he was the one doing something wrong.
“Fine, okay!”
Yilu reached out and grabbed Lyr’s collar tightly.
His already tattered shirt was nearly torn off. Her immense force pulled the shoulder seam out of shape as she yanked him closer.
The breath that hit him was warm, carrying her venting anger.
“Then I’ll tell you how I see you!”
She had been seeking how he saw her, just as she had always wanted recognition from others.
She finally realized it was too tiring.
Now she didn’t want so much. Why should she be so passive!
She didn’t care anymore how he saw her—whatever, let it be. But she would tell him how she saw him.
It definitely wasn’t like Tif said, a hand he could reach out to when he needed help, nor like her ancestor said, maintaining an attitude of using him.
With this posture, Lyr thought Yilu was about to hit him, just like she always said she wanted to punch him.
With no way to dodge, he narrowed his eyes. But the next second, his lips were blocked by a softness.
Realizing what was happening, Lyr opened his eyes wide and instinctively tried to struggle.
Sensing his movement, Yilu increased her grip strength. It was no longer just pulling his collar; she was practically trying to tear it apart.
Full of rage, this forceful kiss landed with extra weight.
She pressed her lips tightly against his, fierce and domineering, urgent and irritable, with no technique at all—just a pent-up fury, her breath carrying a burning heat.
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