Nightingale seemed to pause for a moment at Mephia’s words.
Then, she let out a playful and provocative laugh.
“Interesting. Then tell me, how do you plan to catch me?”
Mephia took one small step forward.
The aura of Magic Power within the first-floor hall of the Old Library changed instantly, and countless hidden Magic Runes began to hover in the air around them.
Her voice was soft, yet it carried a power that could pierce through the soul.
“The body can be fake, but the consciousness cannot be.”
Hearing this, the smile froze on Nightingale’s face.
Without a second thought, she turned to flee toward the main entrance, but an invisible pulling force suddenly clamped onto her, leaving her frozen in place and unable to move.
Seeing this, a faint smile tugged at the corner of Mephia’s lips.
“Celeste, my target has always been you!”
As her voice fell, the Magic Runes on the walls of the Old Library burst into a blinding, scorching light, instantly swallowing both Mephia and Nightingale…
—
As if suddenly breaking free from a bottomless, icy lake, Celeste snapped her eyes open using the Power of Consciousness.
What met her eyes was not the dilapidated ceiling of the Old Library, but a towering, ancient, and jet-black throne that radiated an overwhelming pressure of Magic Power. And she was currently sitting upon that throne.
She was no longer wearing her usual black dress.
Instead, she wore a luxurious Witch Robe that seemed to be woven from the night sky and the stars.
The Magic Power within it was so dense that it took physical form, flowing like dark purple radiance.
On her head sat a crown inlaid with a massive violet gemstone, a symbol of identity, status, and power.
However…
“Where is this?”
She asked herself in a low voice, her words echoing through the incredibly hollow hall.
A rare flash of vacancy appeared deep within her blood-red pupils, only to be replaced by a deeper confusion.
‘Who… am I?’
The moment that thought arose, a tsunami of memories and knowledge was forced into her consciousness…
She remembered!
Her name was Celeste.
She was the supreme existence who ruled over Night and Secrecy, the World’s Strongest and Greatest Witch!
Her Magic Power was as vast as an abyss, and her supreme authority reached every shadowed corner of the world.
There was no one in this era who could stand as her equal!
Everything she saw, everywhere she stepped, and everything within her sight was her domain to look down upon, an extension of her will.
She was the absolute ruler of this world!
A surge of power and awareness that felt innate washed away her previous confusion, causing her gaze to quickly become sharp and profound.
She tilted her chin up slightly, looking down at everything outside the hall below her throne.
“My King.”
Just then, a soft yet incredibly familiar voice came from beside the throne.
“The hour is late. We should begin our journey back to the palace.”
Celeste turned her gaze and saw Mephia standing quietly at the side of the throne.
She was still wearing that black-and-white maid uniform, but the material seemed more exquisite.
Every movement she made radiated a cold charm unique to her.
However, when she raised her eyes, the calmness and depth within them evoked a strange sense of familiarity deep within Celeste’s heart.
Yet, for a moment, Celeste could not remember where she had seen those eyes before.
“Mephia?”
As Celeste uttered the name, the memories of the “Strongest Witch” told her that this was her most trusted Maid Chief.
“Yes, my King,” Mephia replied.
Celeste leaned against the armrest of the throne, her fingertips lightly tapping the cold surface.
In a scrutinizing and somewhat reminiscent tone, she asked, “How long has it been since you became my maid?”
“To answer Your Majesty, it has been exactly twenty years.”
“Twenty years…”
Celeste murmured the repetition.
The number gave her a strange sense of detachment, as if it were a long time, yet also just a fleeting moment.
A Witch’s long life made her concept of time somewhat blurred.
“So, it has been that long.”
She suddenly stood up from the throne and walked step by step toward Mephia.
As their eyes met, Celeste suddenly reached out.
One hand rested lightly on the pillar behind Mephia, while the other tilted Mephia’s chin up.
Kabedon!
Celeste leaned in very close, their breaths almost mingling.
Unlike her former self, she now stared intently at the familiar yet slightly different face before her.
The wantonness and desire for conquest belonging to the “Strongest Witch” flickered in her eyes.
At this moment, she was like a beast, full of aggressive desire.
Mephia’s body stiffened for an imperceptible second.
Her long eyelashes trembled, and while her voice remained steady, it carried a hint of subtle tension.
“King, what are you doing?”
Celeste tilted her head, a wicked curve pulling at the corner of her lips.
Her tone was filled with a natural arrogance.
“Can’t you tell? My Mephia… I suddenly feel like the light and atmosphere here are quite nice. I want to get intimate with you here for a while.”
Her fingertips slid gently along Mephia’s jawline down to the side of her neck, feeling the warm pulse beneath the skin.
Mephia tilted her head to avoid further touch.
Her voice maintained its respectful tone as she reminded her, though with a bit more insistence, “King, it is truly late. If we do not set out to return now… they will worry.”
“They?”
Following the word Mephia emphasized, Celeste subconsciously looked back toward the non-corporeal gates at the front of the hall.
Her gaze pierced through the illusory barrier, and she saw a familiar sight.
It was the Earl Harris Manor, located in the north of Hela City. It was her true home.
After all, before she became the strongest Witch, that manor was the place where she grew up.
With just one look, an invisible attraction was born in the depths of her heart, as if calling to her, inducing her to return—to return to that manor.
When she looked back, she noticed that Mephia was also following her gaze toward the north of the City of Haila.
However, unlike her, Mephia’s gaze was not focused on that manor.
It made sense; Mephia could not possibly know that she came from the Earl Harris Manor.
Soon, the lust burning in her heart suppressed that mysterious attraction.
Celeste frowned and said, “I am the greatest Witch of this age! Do they need to worry about me? Hmph, to be honest, I can’t be bothered to care what they think. The one I care about more is you!”
She pulled her attention back to the Mephia before her, her slight displeasure quickly replaced by a more burning desire.
“Mephia, forget about all that. Let’s continue…”
As she spoke, she reached out somewhat urgently and grabbed the collar of Mephia’s maid uniform, pulling with a bit of force.
*Riiiip—*
The fabric let out a soft groan of protest as the collar was torn open a little, revealing a small patch of fair skin and a delicate collarbone underneath.
Mephia took a shallow breath.
This time, her voice carried a trace of genuine panic and resistance, even though it was kept very low.
“King… doing this here… isn’t right, is it? This is the Administrative Hall…”
“What is there to fear? This is my hall. No one else would dare to enter!”
Celeste dismissed the concern.
Her other hand already circled Mephia’s waist, pressing her more tightly against herself.
Then, she leaned into Mephia’s ear, her warm, moist breath blowing against the shell of the other’s ear as she displayed her possessiveness.
“Besides, as my maid, you belong to me from head to toe, inside and out. Don’t forget that, Mephia.”
Mephia’s body trembled slightly in her arms.
Then, she bit her lip, tilted her face up, and summoned the courage to reach out and gently stroke Celeste’s cheek.
With a hint of pleading and temptation, she said, “But, but this is my first time, King. I hope… it can be done more formally, in a more suitable place…”
“So… take me back to the place where you first grew up, alright?”
A faint blush stained her cheeks, and her eyes were full of longing for Celeste.
However, what no one could see was that hidden beneath that longing was a coldness and mockery like a frozen pond.