???
Yifia listened to Amelia’s words, turned around in confusion—and froze. Several towering soldiers stood at the doorway, faces stern, eyes locked on them.
Clearly, they’d arrived with Amelia the moment Yifia fell.
They’d witnessed everything.
In an instant, Yifia tasted the sharp sting of social death. *Thrilling.*
Clutching the mantra *“If I’m not embarrassed, the embarrassment belongs to others…”*, she stood firm, feigning calm. Beside her, fangirl Jesina hurried over, eyes glowing with pure adoration at Amelia’s back—practically sparkling with pink hearts.
Alas, Amelia didn’t spare her a glance. At her command, soldiers swiftly hauled up Medeni, who convulsed on the floor as if seized.
Medeni, who’d been pleading moments ago, now fell eerily silent. Only her trembling worsened.
Once the soldiers secured her, Yifia cautiously asked, “Ah… Lady Barron, may I ask what crime Medeni committed?”
She nearly slipped and said “Amelia,” but Jesina’s sudden, fierce glare made her catch herself just in time.
*Sigh.* She couldn’t claim closeness outright. Their friendship hadn’t been made public—it felt like a secret romance.
“Yifia. Call me by my name.”
While Yifia inwardly sighed, Amelia showed zero hesitation. Hearing “Lady Barron,” her brows twitched. Ignoring Jesina’s stunned expression, she stated plainly their bond was far from distant. Then she turned, took Yifia’s hand with unyielding grace—no room for refusal.
Her violet eyes, dazzling as polished gems, held a bewitching pull. One glance left resistance impossible.
“Alright… Amelia. I’m curious what happened.”
Yifia surrendered instantly to that breathtaking beauty. Guiltily averting her gaze from Jesina’s laser-like stare, she pressed on.
Amelia’s hand was soft. Her scent, sweet. Yifia didn’t mind the closeness. Back when she was the pampered young master of a wealthy third-gen family, girl classmates did everything together—holding hands? Normal. Even restroom trips were group outings.
“Recently, witch divination spread through the capital, Darva,” Amelia explained calmly. “Nobles sought Medeni’s ‘treatments,’ but healthy bodies developed palpitations, insomnia, confusion. Some even self-harmed repeatedly.”
“A noble I know suffered this. After she asked for help, I went to the Imperial Police.”
“Their investigation showed Medeni was discharged from Darva Mental Sanatorium three years ago. What happened next is unclear—but she opened this divination shop.”
“Normally, police would handle it. But an undercover officer reported two Pris Academy students entered the shop… Yifia, you mentioned shopping on Corifine Street yesterday. Medeni’s shop is here. Worried, I came straight away with soldiers.”
“Thankfully, in time.”
Amelia’s clear account left Yifia and Jesina stunned.
So… just an unlicensed operation by someone with psychiatric history.
Jesina shuddered with relief. Recalling Medeni’s eerie behavior, she was glad she’d dragged Yifia along. Alone? She’d have been in real danger.
Yifia felt speechless. *Not demonic possession?* Right—this was just an ordinary medieval-style world. No fantasy elements. No gods. No demons.
Otherwise, why bother with missions? Just lie flat and wait to die. A mortal vs. a demon? Zero chance.
Still… the System hadn’t exactly lied. With Medeni’s history, even murder could be excused as insanity—while *they’d* be blamed for self-defense. But if it hadn’t lied… why stay silent?
Unseen, the System exhaled in relief. It feared exposure—making Yifia doubt the world’s normalcy, spiral into despair, abandon the mission. Yet the Villainess Heiress smoothly covered it all. *Truly the hidden boss.*
Yifia and Jesina, ordinary humans, saw nothing strange. But the System witnessed everything. When demon-possessed Medeni lunged at Yifia, the System scrambled for a rescue—only to realize the Villainess Heiress had left a marked object. That smooth pearl from their first meeting? Yifia treasured it in a tiny sachet around her neck. It terrified the demon, inflicted soul-deep agony, and—having absorbed demonic traces—alerted the Villainess Heiress instantly.
She arrived with soldiers and wove a flawless explanation. As a duke’s daughter, branding Medeni mentally ill was effortless. Even claiming she was male would be “arranged”—a minor surgical procedure for “physical alteration.” Even a sharp Yifia wouldn’t suspect a thing. The psychiatric label perfectly explained every oddity.
The System watched, pitying the demon possessing Medeni—erased by the Villainess Heiress’s magic without a plea, vanishing into nothing. Its own processes froze for a heartbeat. *That could be me…*
*System nearly crashed from terror!*
After the demon vanished, Medeni regained consciousness. Facing Amelia, her eyes widened. An unnaturally sharp sixth sense screamed—endless black mist pressing down, stealing her breath. Desperate, she crushed a clay figurine at her waist. A silver pendant shaped like a standard longsword emerged.
The black mist receded slightly. Fear eased.
Amelia glanced sideways, eyebrow lifting in mild surprise.
*Things just got interesting.*
“DEMON! YOU ARE A DEMON! I SHALL PURGE THIS FILTH IN THE NAME OF THE DIVINE! DARKNESS SHALL NOT EXIST IN THIS WORLD!”
Emboldened by the pendant, Medeni shrieked—and hurled the silver longsword straight at Amelia!
