Alyssa heard the Silverhaired Maiden’s reply. She cried out in deep distress,

“Oh no, no… Vier, you really have androphobia! That golden-haired brat did this to you!”

“What? Don’t jump to conclusions like that! And stop pitying me!”

Verlith nearly broke down hearing Alyssa’s self-assured verdict.

“Vier, I’ve only read about this in mythological medical texts. It might… might be incurable!!”

Alyssa looked remorseful, tenderly holding Verlith’s small hand.

“Seriously, I’m not sick!”

Verlith’s lips twitched slightly.

The Silverhaired Maiden felt staying with Alyssa longer would drive her mad.

Brainwashing her into accepting men’s advances? That should never happen to her.

Unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable!

It sent chills down her spine.

Her situation was unclear due to missing information, but she wouldn’t stop searching for the truth behind her transformation.

Like when a prisoner captured by her former subordinates died innocently in jail—she always dug for the cause.

This relentless persistence meant no emotional entanglements until she found answers.

Call it avoidance, but she refused to discuss it further.

She ignored the girl’s cry behind her: “Ah, Vier, wait!”

Excusing herself to get air, she dashed out of the tent.

“I just need quiet. Don’t worry.”

The open space outside brought strange relief, especially after half a day of mental torment.

A gentle breeze blew. A Silver Moon hung in the night sky, stars twinkling beside its crescent.

The mesmerizing view purified her soul, melting worries away.

Verlith’s mood lifted instantly.

She took a sharp breath of cool air and shivered.

“Brr, it’s cold. I wonder how Ansal’s doing…”

The Silverhaired Maiden hugged her arms, rubbing them absentmindedly.

Truthfully, this body wasn’t sensitive to cold—but to seem human, she mimicked normal gestures.

Verlith decided to check on Ansal.

First, she approached the mercenaries’ supply wagon and asked the guard for food.

Whether her stunning beauty swayed him or he simply didn’t care, the mercenary handed it over freely.

Verlith accepted without hesitation.

“Thanks. You mercenaries are tough, right? Uncle, where’ve you traveled? Tell me?” she asked casually.

“Places? Why ask that!” The burly middle-aged mercenary eyed her warily.

“Just curious. Can’t answer? Or haven’t you been anywhere?” She stared; he looked away.

“Food’s yours. Stop prying. Sleep early—we leave at dawn.” He waved her off.

“Hmm?” Mercenaries loved boasting about adventures. This one was odd.

“Then, about me—what did you do with that brat who bullied me this afternoon?”

She also inquired about Ansal.

“Beat him. Tied him up.”

Hearing the kid was tightly bound and dragged back, Verlith smiled inwardly.

“Where’s he held?”

“North camp. A huge tree blocks the sky. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks, Uncle!”

Before leaving, the Silverhaired Maiden gave the mercenary a meaningful glance.

Minutes later, she found Ansal.

He was trussed to the tree like a bundle, face bruised and swollen, clothes torn to filthy rags.

Noticing footsteps, Ansal lifted his puffy eyelids; his nasal voice trembled.

Recognizing her, his eyes lit up—his clean-dressed friend looked even more beautiful.

But remembering the beating, he lost all admiration. Snorting heavily, he puffed his swollen cheeks and turned away.

“Go! We’re not friends anymore!”

His wounded expression tugged at heartstrings.

Verlith chuckled gleefully.

“Quiet, why act like this? I struggled to find an excuse to visit! Seeing you like this, I’ve forgiven you. Let’s stay friends.”

“What ‘Quiet’?” Ansal frowned.

“Ah, because of you, I need quiet time now. What a pain!”

Verlith sighed, trapped in this persecuted maiden role.

“Tch.” Ansal clicked his tongue, utterly unimpressed.

“How’d you fool those mercenaries? If they knew you’re a man, they’d beat you for two hours like me!”

Verlith laughed harder at his blunt complaint.

“Poor Ansal, I wish I could tell everyone I’m not a woman—but who’d believe me?”

“Fine, fine! I surrender. Free me, and we’re still friends!” Ansal snapped.

Unable to endure more, he gave in.

“Alright, alright—who am I to refuse my best friend?”

Verlith grabbed a sharp stone and sliced the ropes.

Untying them jostled Ansal’s wounds; he wailed nonstop.

“Gently! It hurts, hurts, hurts!!”

“Such minor injuries—stop whining.”

She slapped his back hard, making the weakened boy stagger.