The blade pierced through her heart.

Sari's face showed some confusion as she lowered her head to look at her heart, which had been punctured by the one she loved most. Blood spilled from her mouth, tears streaming down her face in sorrow.

"Moen… Why…? Did I… do something wrong?"

"No, Sari. You didn't do anything wrong."

Moen studied her carefully and sighed softly. His eyes swept across her delicate face, one that could pull at anyone's heartstrings; his idle hand gently placed itself on her bloodstained, pale cheek.

"If there’s any mistake here, it’s simply that you… never truly existed."

"Not… exist?"

Sari was still unable to comprehend Moen’s words. Not exist? I… I’m me, aren’t I?

But then, Moen’s hand reached out to the out-of-place black-framed glasses sitting awkwardly on her thin, oval-shaped face. And in that moment, with no hesitation, he… removed them.

In an instant—

The atmosphere shifted abruptly.

The candlelight quivered uncontrollably, its warmth vanishing and transforming into a ghostly chill.

The once-luxurious spread of food on the dining table lost its allure, revealing its hellish true form—grotesque entrails resembling monsters' innards, placed grotesquely on porcelain plates. Mouth-like appendages squirmed, while sinister, toxic-looking eyes darted about restlessly.

The seductive dining room morphed into a dark, eerie underworld in the blink of an eye.

Yet Moen ignored all of this. He kept his focus solely on Sari’s face.

Her delicate visage remained unchanged; not a single detail transformed with the removal of the glasses. However, her aura shifted entirely.

The innocence and cuteness had evaporated. Her makeup-free complexion now exuded an unparalleled, seductive allure.

And that kind of sensuality—so deep it seemed woven into her bone—Moen had seen it on only one other person.

"Long time no see, Miss Banshee."

Having stumbled upon an old acquaintance, Moen naturally greeted her with mock cordiality.

And with that, he twisted the short knife in his hand even harder.

"It seems you haven't been sleeping well lately. Is that correct?"

"…Moen Campbell."

At this moment, the once-affectionate gaze in her eyes turned icy cold, locking onto Moen as she spat out her question:

"When… did you figure it out?"

"When, you ask? I’d say it started back at the academy, when a certain lolicon teacher told me that the moon possesses the power to insinuate terrifying suggestions into humans' minds.

Since the moon has that ability, it would naturally make sense for its followers to possess it as well. With that idea in mind, a lot of the strange occurrences I couldn’t make sense of earlier suddenly became clear.

For example—"

Moen pulled out a slip of paper, bearing an address that was unmistakably familiar to the banshee.

"When you first invited me, all I had on my mind was my date with the senior. I’m not some walking harem protagonist; why would I ever accept an invitation to your address during such a crucial time?

Even if you’d forced it on me, looking back, there were at least a dozen ways I could have turned you down without a second thought, weren’t there?

And let’s not forget later—I somehow ended up at your family’s establishment during my date. Don’t you think that's just too coincidental? My memory may be faulty, but not so much that I’d forget your address during such a pivotal moment."

"Is that all it took?"

The banshee coughed up blood as she spoke.

"It wasn’t just that. My initial suspicion came from Sari’s sudden affection toward me. Don’t you think it was a bit… too abrupt? Abrupt enough to feel almost influenced by something external."

"You’re a duke’s son. Isn’t it normal for girls to chase after your power and status?"

"It is, indeed, very normal."

Moen sighed softly.

"But the feelings Sari displayed were far too genuine—so genuine they didn’t contain a trace of pretense. That level of sincerity? That kind of deep affection cannot be something born out of just a few chance encounters.

This isn’t one of those novels where characters rush into bed in three chapters and start baring their souls by the fifth chapter of smut."

"Ah, I see now."

A glimmer of realization flickered in the banshee’s eyes.

"It seems… I pushed too hard."

"What else could anyone expect from someone willing to infiltrate the academy and even implant suggestions into herself just to hide her identity?"

Moen looked at her with sarcastic amusement. "If you’d simply acted the part, I might’ve actually fallen for your tricks. But who would’ve thought you’d go as far as to invent a personality that genuinely loves me?

Moen Campbell—the reputation that name holds, I’m well aware of. For someone like you to suddenly latch onto me so desperately, how could I not become suspicious?

And then, when you later met me using your real identity, pretending to be an old acquaintance… Well, I’ve met only a handful of girls at the academy. Eliminating the possibilities wouldn’t take much effort.

Your act was clever, but not clever enough."

"So you've been guarding yourself against my imply all along?"

The banshee gave a weak smile.

"Truly, Moen Campbell, you’re nothing like the rumors say you are."

Her face grew paler, her breath fainter; it was clear she was already nearing death's door.

"The same can be said of you. Facing someone like you—snake-like and venomous—why would I ever let my guard down?"

"…Cough, cough… I originally wanted to watch you die helplessly, but now… I’ve ended up making myself look so incompetent instead."

"So, how about you hurry up and just die—wouldn’t that be better?"

The short blade in Moen’s hand twisted further, almost completing a full rotation. Holy light surged forth from it, pungent and burning, and one could only imagine banshee's heart had been reduced to unrecognizable shreds by both the blade and its radiant energy.

Such a lethal injury—surely even the Beast Tamer from before would've died for ten times.

And yet—

Suddenly, a haunting smile curled at the banshee’s lips.

"Perhaps, what you should have severed was…"

Before she could finish her sentence, a flash of cold brilliance swept across.

The smile froze on her face. No further words escaped, only the sheer sensation of her world spinning and turning upside down.

A severed head fell to the ground, her eyes still holding a trace of helpless confusion and resentment.

Moen, with his other hand gripping a pristine white short blade, flicked away the fresh blood staining it. His face remained expressionless as he spoke:

"I was ready for this—all along."

With that, he casually pushed aside the now lifeless, headless corpse whose heart had been utterly obliterated, stepping over banshee’s severed head as he continued forward.

And at that moment—perhaps because the illusion surrounding the area lost its source of power—everything changed again.

The narrow dining room vanished completely, transforming back into the eerie streets of Lower City District. A torrential downpour drenched everything, and the oppressive, sinister aura in the distance grew closer and closer.

Moen’s heartbeat quickened violently. His instincts told him one thing: He was getting closer—very close—to his senior.

The banshee was dead now. All that remained was—

"Goodness, must you interrupt me before I finish speaking?"

A ghastly wind surged forth suddenly, blowing Moen’s hat far away. Yet, Moen spared no effort retrieving the hat, his pupils contracting as his rapidly beating heart nearly skipped a beat.

He froze in his tracks, hands tightening their grip on Elizabeth, veins bulging on the back of his hand.

That voice…

How could it be possible?

Head severed. Heart destroyed. In what universe could any creature recover from injuries this deadly and walk away alive?

"Ahaha…"

Yet, the banshee’s seductive laughter rang out still, clear and undeniable.

Moen turned expressionlessly to face her, watching in stunned disbelief as the banshee nonchalantly placed her head back upon her neck, giving it an impish little twist.

"What a shame, Moen Campbell. If only you hadn’t rushed so much to silence me—you would’ve learned what I meant when I said—

You should have severed my head… not my neck."

Though similar words, their meaning was worlds apart. Because—

The banshee smiled coyly, pointing to her head before chuckling as she casually tore open her own garment.

Moen didn’t spare a thought for the breathtaking view that could turn mouths dry, because in the next moment, just as casually as she removed her clothing, the banshee ripped open her own abdomen.

Flesh split apart. Ribcage exposed. Revealing… nothing.

There was no heart inside. Her abdomen held utterly no internal organs at all!

Banshee giggled, her voice tinged with amusement.

"Because… aside from the brain, I’ve offered all of me… to the great moon."