When the plot-skips players into the game world

And at that time, the sound next door was completely blocked off.

Miss Beyard slapped Aiwass hard on her buttocks.

Smack!

"...Uh!"

Aiwass stopped pretending to sleep, and instead, holding her buttocks, winced as she got up.

She opened her eyes and looked at Beyard with a fragile yet calm gaze, free of horror, "What do you want to do?"

"You indeed recognize this ritual," Beyard said, crossing her arms, her tone even, "What did you just do to me?"

She was still unsettled by the frenzied state she had found herself in just before.

If it had been a normal Son of the Moon, they wouldn't care about such a thing. They would smoothly consider it a treasured fortune they stumbled upon—but Beyard was an exception.

She was quite confident in her unyielding rationality.

It was the superior self she had cultivated through overcoming various adversities in her human era, able to face all sorts of temptations, joyous yet not decadent, pleasuring yet not indulging, maintaining her humanity.

Not even the instincts of a Son of the Moon could influence her.

—And precisely because of this, when her rationality was shattered for the first time, when exceptions appeared in her cognition... she felt a profound unease.

This was her first time coming to a private room, so she didn't know it was designed this way. Thankfully, she had been a Ritualist while she was human, and therefore inherited some professional rank. At least she could still perform such simple rituals.

This child... was just too tempting.

So tempting that she had even bitten her own tongue on the road, using the pain to regain her rationality and composure.

—Because she suspected it was a well-laid trap by her enemies for her.

Perhaps it was bait to lure her into corruption, or maybe it was to add a weakness to her. It was also possible that her blood contained a slow poison or a concoction that would make Beyard addicted.

A myriad of possibilities swirled in her head.

The world was in unparalleled chaos.

Alchemists and artists clashed fiercely, but at the same time, they began to rapidly seize resources. By the time the Demon Scholars and Necromancers realized, they were already marginalized.

It was then that the powerful Sons of the Moon settled in the Imperial Capital.

They were truly immortal beings—capable of resurrection even after death, only to be sealed or assimilated. Their most terrifying trait was the ability to manipulate others' minds and desires at will. They couldn't even be certain if their thoughts were their own, or illusions instilled or charmed by someone else.

These Sons of the Moon struck deals with alchemists and artists.

They generously offered their friendships, inviting those renowned Alchemists and great artists to their decadent banquets. In the end, those eminent figures either became one of them or their nourishment.

In this situation, they had no choice.

The influence of the Sons of the Moon swelled like a snowball, and even Beyard herself was once rolled over by this madly expanding snowball.

—But as things stood, she too had become a part of the Sons of the Moon.

Even so, she still didn't want to fall completely. It might be the pride in her heart, or perhaps a subtle unease... which made her take over and soothe the chaos of her "long lost" organization as if it was nothing, thereafter rarely interacting with other Sons of the Moon.

Until she met "Number 14."

She was like a piece of candy that caught her eye.

Looking at Number 14, she saw her past self—the one who hadn't been required by her parents to engage in grueling ritual training, still naive and innocent.

Back then she was neither a Curse Ritual Magician nor a Witch. She was not the head of a syndicate, nor was she an orphan. Explore more stories at My Virtual Library Empire

She was merely an ordinary noble young lady... a fragile human.

...and as she watched her, Miss Beyard felt a growing, irrepressible evil desire blossom within her heart.

She wanted to taint the other, to attack her, tear her apart, just like she tore apart her own past. The Path of Love would not give rise to evil thoughts out of thin air, so this must be a manifestation of some notion within her own heart. Miss Beyard wanted to precisely capture what that thought that made her lose her composure was, which was why she kept choosing number 14 to keep her company.

But today, she lost control.

Just a little more—if she wasn't careful and sucked her dry, she would fall into becoming a true Son of the Moon.

—A bloodthirsty magical beast, a fallen monster.

Miss Beyard's thoughts raced in her mind, as she sized up the girl on the bed, thinking deeply.

From this point of view, number 14 might not know anything. After all, this conspiracy required the sacrifice of her own life, and she clearly hoped that Miss Beyard would take her away.

...Perhaps she is just a stepping stone? A key to shake me, to make me less resolute? After all, even the strongest fortresses have their weaknesses, they might just want to create one.

Or perhaps the master of Crescent Moon Manor is showing favor towards me, hence picking a girl to my liking.

That's right...they still owe me some money. They borrowed it from me to build Crescent Moon Manor last year, and there's still a debt of over three hundred thousand Gold Coins unpaid. A mere three hundred thousand shouldn't be enough to harm me...is it because of cash flow problems, so they want to delay the payment?

And at that moment, number 14 suddenly began unfastening her buttons.

Miss Beyard frowned tightly, pressing her hand directly, kneeling between her legs, "What are you doing, Number 14?"

"You unfastened your own buttons... I just wanted to be like you..."

Number 14 said in a crestfallen tone, making Miss Beyard's heart soften, as if she had said something wrong.

...Wait.

"—No! You know full well it's part of the ritual—"

Miss Beyard suddenly realized.

She was immediately annoyed—but because of the suspicion, murderous intent, and ferocity in her heart, she felt her own desires being pried open.

Forget it.

If I can't endure, then I won't.

Her other hand clutched Aiwass's neck, her thumb lifting up the head of the lying Aiwass, "What exactly do you want to do, what do you want, just say it—then pay the price."

Her pupils were gradually dyed by a crimson halo, and her canines began to sharpen.

But Aiwass just looked at her intently, silent.

Just then, a third person's sigh sounded in the room.

"She wants to force me out, make me clarify things."

Miss Beyard suddenly felt an intense sense of crisis.

Her body disintegrated into many bats in an instant, but she was far too close to Aiwass—she ended up sprawled entirely on top of Aiwass, putting them in zero distance contact.

At this distance, not a single bat could escape the prison of shadows.

Numerous slender threads of shadow stabbed out from the shadows beneath Aiwass, shuttling back and forth in the room, skewering those bats and pinning them in mid-air.

Aiwass's face, flushed with satisfaction, showed a pleased smile as she lay casually on the bed.

The shadows beneath her and in the crevices of the bed spread out like liquid, slithering and spreading across the bed like snakes.

Like a girl lying on the grass looking at the stars, or perhaps just wanting an embrace—she stretched out her arms toward the heavens, reaching out for something.

"You've been kidnapped by us, Miss Beyard."

Number 14 said with a sweet smile.