Chapter 75 : The Source of Tenderness
The magical cat doll Ailiya gifted was no ordinary trinket. Its core, woven from rare “emotion-absorbing fibers,” wasn’t just a vessel for life magic responding to touch. Like a sponge, it silently soaked up the room’s magic and emotions. Over time, it would evolve from a warm, animated toy into a magical creature with its own personality and consciousness.
Now, it rested by Liliane’s pillow, greedily drinking in the increasingly potent, peculiar atmosphere.
Midnight fell, silence reigning. Cold moonlight streamed through the grand window, casting geometric patches of light, deepening the room’s shadows.
The bedroom door opened soundlessly, a figure blending into the darkness. Clara entered, carrying a silver tray of precise medical devices, her steps light and silent, the hallmark of a seasoned maid. Her expression was calm, professional, her gold-rimmed glasses glinting with cool rationality in the dim light. Per the physician’s orders, she needed to check Liliane’s condition at midnight, when the magical tide was lowest, to ensure the fever wouldn’t relapse.
Approaching the bed, Clara’s eyes caught the unfamiliar black-and-white cat doll by Liliane’s pillow. Her brow furrowed slightly, puzzled.
Liliane stirred, her violet eyes opening slowly. Showing no irritation at the disturbance, she turned and offered Clara a flawless, almost too-perfect gentle smile.
“My apologies, Lady Liliane,” Clara whispered, bowing. “I must perform a final check, as per the physician’s instructions.”
“It’s fine, Clara,” Liliane replied softly, her voice like a feather. “Thank you for your trouble.”
Clara’s gaze flicked to the doll. “My lady, this is…?”
Liliane’s hand gently stroked the doll’s head, her eyes brimming with a tenderness Clara had never seen. “A gift from Ailiya,” she said. “Isn’t it adorable?”
“From Miss Ailiya?” Clara’s mind registered a flicker of confusion. Lady Liliane keeping a doll by her pillow?
Suppressing her surprise, she began the check. But unease grew. Liliane’s smile never wavered—not when the cold probe touched her wrist, nor when Clara brushed aside her silver bangs to check her forehead. Her tone was excessively gentle, unlike her usual reserved demeanor.
Clara’s conclusion was absurd yet logical: Did the fever… damage her mind?
As she straightened to leave, her peripheral vision caught the grand mirror on the dressing table. Her blood froze.
The mirror reflected the bed, but the “Liliane” smiling gently wasn’t human. It was a writhing, dense mass of black mist, exuding a chilling, malevolent aura.
Clara’s pupils contracted behind her glasses, but her face remained impassive. Years of training kept her from gasping or flinching. Her body tensed, muscles primed for action. She continued packing the tray, feigning ignorance, but her left hand gripped tightly behind her back.
What is that?! Black mist… like Ailiya mentioned! It’s taken over Lady Liliane! She had to subdue it.
As she turned, back to the bed, Clara flicked her wrist, a short silver wand appearing. Without hesitation, she spun, aiming at the smiling “Liliane,” chanting swiftly, her voice cold and sharp. “Lux Catenis!” (Chains of Light!)
Dozens of radiant light chains shot from the wand, snaking toward the figure. But “Liliane’s” smile didn’t falter. She raised her hand gracefully, a dense black mist erupting from her palm like a miniature abyss.
The holy chains vanished into the mist, absorbed without a ripple. The binding spell failed.
“Clara,” the figure tilted its head, voice innocent yet cruel. “Why the reaction? I just want to get along.”
Cold sweat beaded on Clara’s forehead, her eyes heavy with dread. The figure’s nonchalance was terrifying. She retreated toward the door, preparing a stronger spell, but found it sealed with intricate black magical runes—an impenetrable barrier.
“What are you?!” Clara pressed against the door, wand raised, voice trembling with fury and tension.
“I’m Liliane von Winter,” the imposter replied, rising from the bed, stepping barefoot onto the carpet, approaching with perfect grace. Her saintly expression was chilling. “I’m trying to be gentle, approachable, to make friends, escape endless loneliness, and shed those crushing burdens… Isn’t that what you all want?”
Don’t fall for its lies! Clara screamed inwardly. It’s mimicking her deepest desires! I must expel it before it fully adapts to her body!
Maintaining her stance, Clara channeled all her magic into her wand’s crystal, which blazed brightly. As the imposter paused, revealing a fleeting opening, Clara struck. “Judicium Sanctum!” (Holy Judgment!)
A condensed holy light bolt arced past the defensive mist, striking “Liliane’s” abdomen. The figure’s smile broke into shock, her body flying back, crashing into the bedframe.
The door’s runes flickered and shattered like glass. Clara didn’t hesitate, wrenching open the heavy door and bolting into the corridor.
She’d done it!
But as she steadied herself, her body froze. A few steps away, under pale moonlight, stood another figure—identical silk nightdress, silver hair, flawless face. Another Liliane.
This Liliane raised her head, offering Clara the same gentle, despairing smile. Clara’s pupils reflected that face as darkness swallowed her consciousness, her body collapsing softly.