123 The Night
Adele’s POV:
The cold and damp dungeon was filled with an unpleasant moldy smell.
The werewolves didn’t torture me and even gave me good food and shelter. However, this only made me despise their hypocrisy even more. They wanted to dig out my brain to see what was inside, so why did they have to pretend to be hypocritical and compassionate?
A group of uncivilized animals, the failed creation of the ancient witches, dared to claim to be civilized.
Lying on the hard bed, I stared into space as I killed time in boredom.
How long could I live?
I wondered.
I probably wouldn’t be able to provide helpful information to the werewolf for more than a week because of the blood curse in my head; I couldn’t say anything about Master.
A useless and dangerous captive would be the safest if she were dead, right?
I couldn’t wait for the werewolves to burn me to death so that my cruel master would only get a useless burnt corpse.
Even if he wanted to whip me, I wouldn’t feel any pain.
I didn’t know when I fell asleep in a daze. Not long after, someone suddenly opened the cell door. I opened my eyes and saw the little noble girl named Selma walk in with a water basin.
“Wash your face. Your face is covered in blood.” She placed the basin on the ground and retreated to the door.
“You don’t have to pretend to be innocent,” I said coldly. “What? Are you going to push me to the execution ground tomorrow? If you ask me, why don’t you dress me up a little more miserably so that your stupid people can see me as a more deterrent?”
Selma looked a little helpless and a little impatient. She suppressed her anger and said, “Are you sick in the head? Why do you like to create such a mess? It’s just a simple wash of your face, or do you have a hobby of being sloppy?”
We were in a deadlock; Selma was the first to give up.
“Alright, alright!” she raised her hand in surrender. “It’s up to you whether you want to wash or not. If you don’t want to wash, don’t regret it.”
After saying that, she left the cell.
After she had gone for quite some time, I cleaned myself up properly. It was not that I owed that little girl a favor, but it was just that it was too uncomfortable to be covered in blood and sweat. Nothing more.
I wiped off the blood on my body and fell into a bored daze again.
I didn’t know when I had fallen asleep.
The sound of noisy footsteps awoke me.
A group of fully armed guards opened the cell door and escorted me out.
“What’s wrong? Are you guys going to interrogate me again?” I yawned indifferently. “To be honest, I’m quite looking forward to it. After all, I can watch a new performance every time. Who was quarreling with whom this time? That bunch of weird old men and women and my great hero father? Or with your great Lycan King? Or are the two of them going to have internal strife?”
They didn’t respond to my provocation like before. They didn’t even tell me to shut up. They just coldly took me to a remote corner tower.
“Oh, so you are changing the interrogation to a good place this time, right?”
No one responded to me. I was pushed into a dark room, and they locked the door.
There was only a thin ray of moonlight through the skylight. I was stunned for a moment before I lay on the bed in the dark and curled up under the blanket.
Did I ever say that I was afraid of the dark?
Perhaps it was the strong vitality of a pure white witch. I had already developed consciousness when I was cut out of my mother’s stomach. The combination of a weak body and a clear consciousness was strange but also very attractive.
So, I was eaten. I was chewed up by the insects and birds who came after hearing the news.
But they all died later because they couldn’t digest my flesh.
Like that, my consciousness was divided into many parts and trapped in the dark stomachs of insects and birds. I endured endless loneliness and pain until they became nutrients for the land.
Then, my consciousness would be eaten by the next predator, falling into a repeated cycle.
The amazing thing was that I kept growing during this ridiculous process, from an embryo the size of a finger to a mature baby.
One day, someone pieced me together.
I couldn’t call him ‘father’ even though he always considered himself my father. I couldn’t disobey his orders because no one even told me what was ‘disobeying’.
He raised, educated, tortured, and transformed me until I awakened the pure white witch’s bloodline on the day of the magic outbreak.
He had never shown me such a kind and satisfied expression, and I only felt annoyed and afraid because his satisfaction was built on my pain.
As expected, he told me about my past this time and wanted me to swear on my bloodline to follow him forever and keep his secret forever.
What was there to keep a secret about? It was just an ambition that was extremely common in history, bland and mediocre to the point of madness.
But I still agreed because he was the only one who lit candles for me at night.
Because I was afraid of the dark.
The night made it difficult for me to sleep.
The corner tower was very high, so the skylight was tiny. I could see countless twinkling stars in the fingernail-sized square.
The stars told me that this girl was a little hungry.
