Chapter 42 : Resurrection? Cheating!!
Ailiya’s earth-shattering roundhouse kick plunged “Venus’s Secret” into an eerie silence.
The air froze, broken only by the pattering rain outside and the persistent tinkle of the crystal chandelier, swaying from the impact.
The bear-like thug, now a boneless heap, had smashed through three silk displays, lying unconscious amid lace and splinters.
All eyes—stunned thugs and incredulous noble girls—locked onto the petite figure landing gracefully.
Ailiya stood in the wreckage, shaking her numb right leg, hands on hips, sticking out her tongue at the red-eyed men. “Per—vert,” she spat, each word dripping with disdain.
The brief hush shattered as the thugs’ humiliated rage erupted.
“Brat! You’re dead!” a yellow-haired punk roared, charging with a fist the size of a pot.
Ailiya’s eyes sharpened, advancing instead of retreating.
She sidestepped fluidly, her body bending at an impossible angle, slipping under his arm.
In the split second they crossed, she snatched a mannequin’s smooth plastic arm from the debris, swinging it like a club to crack the punk’s skull.
Thud!
He collapsed without a sound, eyes rolling back.
Nice, another pricey display ruined. Debt up a thousand.
But this feels better than punching.
“Get her!” the scar-faced leader bellowed, sensing trouble.
Seven or eight thugs swarmed like hyenas from all directions.
Chaos erupted.
A thug lunged from the side. Ailiya timed it perfectly, kicking a fallen velvet sofa, which shot like a cannonball, knocking him and another goon into a tangled heap.
“Nice one, Ailiya!” Aurora called from the fitting room.
Ailiya glanced back. Aurora had slipped to a safer spot, her wand glowing faintly blue.
“[Grease]!” she chanted, a shimmer coating the marble floor under three charging thugs, turning it slicker than oil.
“Waaah!” They skidded, crashing like bowling pins, one slamming headfirst into a wall, out cold.
Ailiya seized the moment, sliding across the slick floor to a dagger-wielding thug.
Instead of clashing, she flung a silk robe from the floor over his face, blinding him.
As he clawed at it, she darted in, landing a crisp elbow to his stomach.
“Urgh…” He doubled over like a cooked shrimp, dagger clattering to the ground.
“Ailiya! Behind you!” Aurora warned.
The scar-faced leader had circled behind, kicking over a massive display cabinet that hurtled toward Ailiya’s back.
Noble girls screamed, some closing their eyes.
But the expected crunch of bones never came.
Without turning, Ailiya reached back, catching the cabinet just before it hit, her hands steady.
The sight was jarring—a petite girl effortlessly holding a cabinet larger than herself, as if it were a toy.
“Hey,” Ailiya said, voice thick with irritation, “is throwing heavy stuff all you guys know?”
With a grunt, she hurled the cabinet back at the leader.
His pupils shrank—he hadn’t dreamed she’d have such monstrous strength. He dove aside, rolling clumsily.
Boom!
The cabinet crashed, splintering, its costly contents scattered.
That was a limited-edition piece. Ten thousand gold coins, minimum. My heart’s bleeding…
As the thugs reeled, Ailiya and Aurora regrouped.
“This isn’t working,” Aurora panted, pale. “My mana’s running dry—the barrier’s siphoning ambient magic!”
“Then we end this fast!” Ailiya shot back.
They split again—one a ghostly assassin, the other a precise artillery, weaving a deadly dance through the chaos.
Minutes later, the last thug dangled upside-down from the chandelier, bound by a lace ribbon.
The shop fell quiet.
“Huff… huff…” Ailiya leaned on her knees, sweating, her white hair damp.
“It’s… over?” a trembling noble girl asked.
Aurora, slumped against a wall, nodded with a weary smile. “Over.”
Survivors erupted in sobs and cheers of relief.
But just as Ailiya thought the farce was done, a new horror emerged.
A black mist, far denser than before, erupted from the iron bracelets on the unconscious thugs’ wrists.
“Ugh…” The fallen men groaned, their bodies twisting unnaturally, bones cracking loudly.
Broken bones and smashed noses healed visibly, reforming in seconds.
“What’s happening?!” Aurora’s face blanched.
The curtain of a fitting room ripped open. The first thug Ailiya had knocked out staggered out, his caved-in face now pristine, his blood-red eyes even more menacing.
“Heh… hehehe…” The scar-faced leader rose, cracking his neck with a chilling sound. “Useless, girls. With the ‘Gift,’ we’re immortal!”
The thugs stood, their aura more feral, the raw malice chilling the shop’s air.
Ailiya and Aurora stood back-to-back, cornered.
Exhausted and mana-depleted, they faced undying monsters.
“We… might’ve overplayed this,” Ailiya said with a bitter laugh, vision blurring.
Without stopping their bizarre revival, victory was impossible.
Meanwhile, on the capital’s rain-slicked streets, night had fallen.
A lone figure walked under a black lace parasol, clutching a book thick enough to be a weapon. Her silver hair gleamed under the moonlight, untouched by the rain.
Liliane von Winter paused.
Her deep violet eyes fixed on “Venus’s Secret,” dark and silent, a “Closed” sign on the door.
Something was wrong.
She knew the shop should be open at this hour.
Folding her parasol, she let the rain soak her elegant dress, approaching the door.
Her slender fingers grazed the cold brass handle—
Buzz!
A powerful magical barrier repelled her.
Liliane stepped back, steadying herself, her parasol arcing into a puddle.
Her perpetually icy expression cracked.
A high-tier, malevolent sealing barrier blocked the shop.
Trouble inside.
Instantly, an ornate wand carved with roses and winter wolves materialized in her hand.
She aimed it at the shop, immense mana surging around her, glowing purple.
A gale rose, her silver hair whipping wildly, rain swirling upward in a vortex around her.
Her violet eyes blazed with cold fury.
“Targeting Winter family property? Bold move.”