The pain of being stabbed through the chest was no joke. Wenwu’s face twisted in agony, but he couldn’t make a sound. He felt his blood seeping from his chest—not gushing out as he’d imagined.
"Don’t worry," Amia said, redressing in her evening gown as she approached him. "That guy said you can’t die too quickly. Out of our past friendship, I won’t torture you. This dagger’s specially designed—your wound will bleed until you die. I avoided vital spots, so you’ll just bleed out." She searched his body, pulling out his coin purse. "Thanks for the treat," she added, shaking the purse deliberately.
"One last piece of advice: a woman’s kiss can be poison. But you won’t get to use it." As she left, she hung a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door.
"Amia..."
"Ah!" The sudden voice startled her. Out of habit, she struck the newcomer’s neck with a karate chop.
"...Miss?" the figure choked out.
"Miss Felice? What are you doing here?"
"Uh..." Felice pointed at the hand still on her neck.
"Ah... sorry, sorry." Amia withdrew her hand awkwardly.
"Done with your transaction?"
"Well... pretty much."
"Huh? That was fast." Felice knew men in this line were usually skilled—only thirty minutes had passed since Wenwu went upstairs.
Amia was surprised Felice knew so much. "By the way, Miss Felice, what brings you here?" She shifted the topic quickly.
"Ah... I’m taking refuge. Let me hide inside." Felice reached for the door handle.
"No... you can’t!" Amia blocked it.
"Why not?"
"Well... we just... he’s naked, and it’s dark. If he mistakes you for me, it’d be a huge mistake." Amia fumbled the excuse.
"It’s fine—I won’t see him. Did you not drain him dry? I don’t believe it. Step aside, Miss Amia. Those annoying nobles are coming."
Amia thought, *How does this noble miss know so much?* "It’s me who couldn’t handle it!" she blurted.
"Huh?" Felice paused.
"Actually, he was too strong—I begged to leave. If you go in, he’ll think I’m back and will definitely..." Amia used professional terms. Felice blushed deeply.
"Ah, Miss Felice! Please accept my toast!" Young noblemen appeared, grinning.
"Ugh... they’re here so soon." Felice lifted her skirt and dashed around the corner. The nobles followed.
Alone, Amia sighed in relief. She pulled a hairpin, fiddled with the lock, and secured the door from inside before leaving.
Wenwu lay paralyzed, feeling only chest pain and blood loss. He’d heard every word between Amia and Felice—he’d wanted to call out, but couldn’t. Time blurred. He didn’t know how much blood he’d lost. Recalling his talk with the Elf Queen and his jinx about not dying, he mocked himself: "I just said I wouldn’t die... now I’m really kicking the bucket."
His blood kept flowing, yet no dizziness or coldness came—only pain. *Could my powerful Essence Energy be making blood faster than I’m losing it?* Was he trapped forever—unable to die, unable to move? Nothing felt worse.
Knock knock knock.
"Master, Master."
Wenwu heard Silver’s shouts and saw his shadow through the curtain. He tried to respond but couldn’t. Silver vanished from the window.
For the first time, Wenwu felt true despair—a despair deeper than the dungeon’s.
