Chapter Forty-Eight

In a secluded and shadowy villa, a woman in a crimson dress stood by the window, gazing out into the pitch-black night. Her slender fingers, adorned with bright red nail polish, gripped her phone tightly. Her already somber complexion had grown even darker from the long wait. Her long, tapered nails pressed so hard into the phone it seemed they might pierce through it.

At last, the call connected. On the other end, a man's impatient voice carried a hint of pleasure, and in the background, the sultry tones of a woman's laughter could be faintly heard.

“What is it?”

One of her scarlet nails, under the strain, cracked with a hissing sound, like a cobra flicking its tongue in the night—unnerving and sinister.

Her patience exhausted by the wait, her tone was cutting and sharp, stripped of any pretense of civility. “How useless are you? You couldn’t seize such a golden opportunity—are you a fool?”

The man’s temper flared instantly at her tirade. He shoved away the woman entwined around him and cursed furiously.

“Stupid wench! You’re calling to blame me? Do you know how much this cost me? Two of my elite men—gone! Do you have any idea how long it takes to train one of them? Now I’ve lost two at once, and you didn’t even get the job done. Are you going to compensate me?”

He hurled the phone aside in his rage, then pulled his companion back to him, resuming where he left off.

On the other end, the woman’s face flushed with fury and paled with rage in turns. She was about to shout back when she heard the licentious sounds coming through the phone. At last, with a sharp crack, all five scarlet nails on her right hand splintered.

Her lips, bitten hard enough to bleed, sent a rivulet of crimson tracing down the elegant line of her chin—vivid, seductive, and eerie.

Only after some time did the man, satisfied and calmer, rise to his feet, don a robe, and light a cigar. He walked to the window, opened it, and let the cool night breeze sweep away some of the room’s lingering debauchery.

“If you still want to work with me, then this time, leaking information alone won’t be enough to cover your dues. To ensure success, you should be prepared to do more,” he said, a cold smile curling his lips.

The woman bit her wounded lips again, splitting the half-healed cut and drawing fresh blood.

“Name your price. All I can offer is money and certain conveniences, but,” her voice was icy, “I will not involve myself directly.”

He snorted derisively—playing the saint after selling her soul.

“Fine. I won’t make it hard for you if you don’t make it hard for me.” He took a slow, pleasurable drag of his cigar, exhaling a ring of smoke.

Ending the call, the woman’s crimson lips twisted into a vicious, sinister smile.

Xiahou Yu received a call from Shadow Moon after her disappearance. He learned she was now staying at Lilith Castle with Arthur. He was surprised, but not entirely unprepared, so he said little about it.

But Yuwen Xi was another matter entirely.

He had waited in Rome for days without a word from Shadow Moon, nearly going mad with worry. Only now did he discover she had been safely staying by another man’s side all along. Yuwen Xi could not even describe what he felt—only a bitter ache that he could not swallow.

——— Author’s Note ———

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