Damn.

After all this scheming, she’d still driven Professor Agnes away.

Lenna scratched her inexplicably itchy right eye socket. "Professor, don’t rush off! It’s just a kiss—let’s do it now!"

As she spoke, Angela obediently leaned in, brushing Lenna’s lips with a dragonfly’s kiss.

Just as Lenna moved to reciprocate, a flash of golden light caught her eye—a petite figure standing nearby. A storm of emotions surged within her. Her lips froze.

*Why am I doing this?*

The question sprouted like bamboo after rain, haunting her mind like an unbreakable curse.

Rebirth was a blessing. And a curse.

A blessing to see her lost family and friends again. A curse that she couldn’t change their fates—only resort to underhanded tricks to keep others away, severing emotional ties before they formed.

*Why?*

So Lingling could grow up safe and sound. So she could one day break free from Lenna’s grasp and return to her Foxfolk kin.

Her original plan with Agnes had been simple: formalize Lingling’s adoption. Entrust the girl to Agnes after Lenna’s death. Find the Foxfolk tribe.

Lenna had planned it all.

While avenging the Hero, she’d safeguard the Falmore legacy. Even in death, those she loved would step out of the shadows and live freely.

That’s why she’d been cruel to Lingling.

Better to be harsh now than let bonds deepen. A clean cut hurt less than a slow tear. Let Lingling taste fate’s cruelty early—so their parting wouldn’t shatter her bones.

"You done kissing?"

Agnes still wore that amused smirk.

*When a beauty smiles, fate twists,* Lenna thought bitterly.

Agnes had already decided: Lenna and Angela weren’t even friends. Yesterday’s drama? Just a rich girl’s whim.

*Privileged heirs play by rules peasants can’t fathom,* Agnes mused. *Their kinks are beyond me.*

"Hurry up! I want to see real yuri fluff—the *new* kind I’ve never witnessed~" Agnes urged.

Lenna’s gaze darted away. She couldn’t face Agnes. Couldn’t meet Lingling’s innocent eyes. So she turned to the pure face before her.

*Our little idol is safest...*

Easy to tease. Easy to command. Never a complaint.

Her crisp black nun’s habit. Delicate feet in sheer white stockings and bow-adorned Mary Janes.

Angela radiated untouched sweetness—a blank page.

Yet last night’s fevered passion haunted them both. Lenna had stolen what Angela guarded for over a decade...

Now Angela stayed silent. Her once-bright eyes dulled by painful initiation. She obeyed Lenna’s every whim—a broken puppet.

"Just as I thought..." Agnes saw through it all.

A sigh escaped her. It lingered in the air.

...

Agnes was trustworthy.

A naturally gentle soul. Romantic. Empathetic.

In Lenna’s past life, Agnes never joined those persecuting the Falmore Family. Instead, she’d secretly gathered evidence to overturn the Empire’s false charges.

*She won’t abandon us now.*

"Thank you, Professor. I apologize again for my violence. I thought showing strength would make you submit—give me leverage in our deal. But you taught me that was wrong..."

Lenna left Agnes feeling lighter.

After half an hour of negotiation, Lingling’s safety was secured. Now Lenna could fight freely. Unburdened.

"Where’s Sister Angela?" Lingling asked innocently.

"Home sick," Lenna ruffled the girl’s golden wheat-like hair. "She’s resting today. You’ll sleep with me instead."

"Really?!"

"Of course."

A weight lifted from Lenna’s eyes. "Angela might be absent, but your homework isn’t. I’ll check it."

"I’ll finish it on time!" The little Fox Maiden raised her hand solemnly.

Lenna smiled, taking Lingling’s small hand as they walked toward the classroom building.

Heads turned as they passed. Curiosity and admiration turned to terror the moment they recognized Lenna.

"Don’t look at her—you want to die?!"

"Did you hear? Angela only sought Lenna because her purebred white dragon caught a nasty necromantic curse..."

"Oh! That explains everything!"

Whispers followed them. Only when Lenna was out of earshot did the chatter swell.

Camilla sat in the corner, absorbing every word. She didn’t stop their foolish gossip. Instead, she stood and walked out.

"Hey Camilla! Skipping the Imperial Princess’s party? The Empress herself approved it—this isn’t some freshman mixer!"

Her friend Owen’s shrill, street-rat voice cut through the chatter. "What’s gotten into you? You’ve changed overnight. Seriously, when will you—"

*Snap.*

The words died in his throat. Cold sweat slicked his back.

He didn’t move. A hidden blade pressed against his throat.

One flick would slit his windpipe. As easily as plucking a fruit.

"Calm down... calm down..." Owen trembled, inching away from the blade’s tip. He scrambled back—luckily, Camilla had no interest in his scrawny neck.

"You’re insane! That woman’s bewitched you!" Owen yelled from the doorway, looking like a mangy monkey.

"Who told you that? Did you *see* it?" Camilla’s gaze pinned him.

"The whole circle’s talking! Calling you a pussy-whipped coward! A disgrace to men everywhere!" Owen’s eyes crinkled smugly. "So the club unanimously revoked your membership, Camilla Godfrey. You’re banned from ‘The Withered Cucumber’ for life!"

He grinned, expecting his old friend to cave. They’d shared drinks at *The Pleasure Dome*, laughing over women’s curves on gilded floors.

But he’d misjudged Camilla again.

"Let them talk. Those drowning in pleasure end up hollow shells. That’s not the life I want..."

Camilla’s words left Owen baffled.

The hedonistic boy who’d faced death now carried something new in his eyes...

Lenna would’ve recognized it instantly.

Desire. Ambition. The mad, burning hunger of an ordinary soul chasing power. Bordering on obsession.