Chapter 19
It's snowing in Furland.
Fine snowflakes fluttered down, bringing a hint of chill. Opesa looked at the snow outside the window and gently exhaled a breath of warm air.
Every day since the time travel was smooth sailing. After a few days of rare rest, Opesa was full of energy and spirit.
Although she was resting, she did not forget the unresolved issues.
For example, investigating the matter of Sindriel and the Killer Association.
The disaster of death has come upon her, and she has to be on guard.
Holly's reason for killing her sounded reasonable: her family didn't want to offend Pace Trading House, so they wanted to kill her to pay off the debt, and there was also Holly's dead daughter who appeared inexplicably.
Holly's dead daughter might be the reason for her killing herself, but this again involves the Pace Trading House, which is very strange.
She simply owed money, yet the trading house demanded her life as payment, and the "divine master" wanted Holly to investigate something. All these factors indicated that her case was definitely more than just a debt.
Or perhaps their target wasn't her, but Sinderel, and she was just a convenient target.
She had to act today—she planned to steal Sinderel's dagger.
[Reminder! Please prepare to accept the task]
She was still in the room thinking about how to lure Sinderel out of the room when the system suddenly popped up and sounded a prompt.
Why do I suddenly have to accept the mission? Didn’t I lose any viciousness points in the past few days?
Could it be that he detected that she was deliberately trying to maintain the protagonist's favor, so he came here to suppress that little bit of favorability?
【Task Acceptance Completed】
[Mission: Please go to Sindriel's room, deny Sindriel, and make him angry]
Before I could figure out what was going on, the system task was released.
Belittling his skills made him angry? Opesha was speechless again.
Then who will make clothes for her and who will run her business?
There was no reply, the escape route had to be destroyed, and those who disobeyed would be eliminated. Opesa could only obey the system obediently, sighing at her own pity as she stepped onto the spiral staircase leading to the attic.
The weather was getting colder these days, so she specifically asked Sinderel to bring the design drafts and materials for making samples to her home, under the pretext of working from home, but in fact it was to prevent him from traveling so that she would have a chance to look for the dagger again.
Opesa knew that such a method could not control Sinderel. If Sinderel wanted to, he could know everything the family said and did without leaving the house.
The mice wandering in the dark are his spies.
The only clue she could use to investigate Sinderel was hidden on the dagger. This was the only foolish way she could use—but she wasn't completely defenseless. To keep rats at bay, she'd placed rat poison throughout the room. Any rat that dared enter would be doomed.
Fortunately, she didn't see a dead rat. Perhaps Sinderel didn't see her as a danger. Or perhaps, she had gained a little bit of his trust.
Opesa stood in front of the wooden door of the attic and knocked on it.
Now is the time to exploit that little bit of trust.
There was a slight sound of footsteps in the house, and then the door was opened. As usual, he only opened a small gap, with no intention of letting anyone in.
"Let me in." Opesa raised her eyebrows calmly. "I don't quite trust you. I think it's better for me to supervise you and see if you are lazy and whether you will delay my good opportunity to make money."
Across from her, the young man glanced away silently, opened the door, and turned away, tacitly acknowledging her visit.
The attic was still the same layout I remembered: a simple table, chair, and bed, all made of worn wooden furniture. The smell of decay lingered in the chilly air, accompanied by the occasional whistling sound outside the window, making the whole thing seem rather desolate.
Noticing that Sinderel's bed was still covered in a thin blanket and no quilt, Opesa began to feel sympathy and said sarcastically, "You look really pitiful. Holly's room is empty, so go get her bedding and use it. Don't get sick again, or I won't take care of you this time."
Her eyes kept drifting around the room, searching for the dagger, and finally, she saw the scattered manuscripts and the dagger on the table.
The place where the dagger was placed was too empty, and there was no way for her to take it away secretly. Opesa fell into deep thought, racking her brains to think of how to take the dagger away openly.
"How's it going?" She slowly walked to the table, her dark purple skirt sweeping across the old wooden floor. "Let me take a look at the manuscript and see if it's worth my time to wait."
Unfolding the blueprint with her fingertips, the black lines on the paper flowed like water. It was still a perfect design, flawless, even better than the one she'd made the last minute changes to the day before. Opesa silently gave it a thumbs-up, but her words were sharp: "No, this is a disgraceful design."
She glanced at a half-sewn sample garment on the table and took it and unfolded it, frowning and criticizing: "What is this? A beggar's clothes on the street? You use this to fool me..."
The words stopped abruptly. Sinderel suddenly pressed her shoulder, and the side mirror just happened to reflect the image of his pale fingers digging into the silk of her clothes.
Before she could react, a cold strip of something suddenly went around her neck, and a voice came from behind her: "Don't move."
The mirror was unclear, and the slowly tightening strip was around her neck. She suppressed her trembling, took a deep breath, and said, "What are you going to do?"
Exposed? Or did he realize something?
Impossible, how could she be exposed when she hasn't even started yet?
Did the words anger him?
Her thoughts were immediately disrupted by this sudden action. She stood there anxiously, her fingertips unconsciously pinching into the flesh.
The strip of paper stopped at my neck, and in my peripheral vision, I saw a hand holding a pen, writing something on a piece of paper. After the writing was completed, the restraint around my neck slowly disappeared.
What is this? Opesa squinted her eyes to glance at the handwriting on the paper, but before she could see clearly, a voice came from behind her again: "Raise your hand."
Opesa didn't understand what was going on, so she just raised her hand.
The strip passed across her chest, and she could finally see what it was.
"Tape measure?" She frowned. "Are you using me as a sample model?"
"Yes," Sindriel replied.
He was measuring her, why did he suddenly tie her neck? Wasn't that terrifying enough? She almost thought she was going to die here.
Opesa pretended to be angry and pulled out the measuring tape, throwing it at him. Then she picked up the dagger on the table and pointed it at him, saying viciously, "Chop off the dirty hand that touched me."
The tape measure was easily caught by the other party. Sinderel had a blank expression on his face, but his lips were slightly opening and closing, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself.
However, his hesitation was only for a moment. Soon, he calmly stretched out his hands.
Seeing that Opesha didn't say anything, he stretched out his index finger and pointed at each of them: "They are all touched."
Opesa nodded: "Okay." She took Sinderel's hand and placed it on the table, took off the sheath, raised the dagger high, and stabbed it quickly -
Sinderel closed his eyes.
Following a crisp sound, the expected pain of a broken finger did not come, but turned into a snap of the fingers on the forehead.
He didn't open his eyes. He only heard the woman laugh, followed by the sound of leather shoes hitting the floor. "How boring... Why do you think I can dirty my hands to finish you? Is this your struggle? Forget it, you are only worthy of doing hard labor under my control, and finally dying of exhaustion - this is your destination."
When he opened his eyes, the woman still looked so superior and dismissive, and he hated her so much that he wanted to kill her.
It should be like this.
But he couldn't do it, and he once again held on to that unfounded hope.
Both looking forward to and afraid of.
He was afraid that after she knew everything, she would send him into the abyss again.
His brain was completely unable to function and his whole body was frozen in place.
"Hurry up," the woman urged him. "Measure me, don't waste my time. I really can't stay in your room for another moment!"
Sinderel touched his forehead, then lowered his head slightly stiffly and mechanically bent down to pick up the tape measure that had fallen to the ground.
He held the measuring tape and moved it to his arms. It was the same hands that surrounded him during the rainstorm that day.
Then came the shoulders, not broad, but able to hold him up and walk step by step to the eaves.
The measuring tape was wrapped around her waist, snaking upwards like a silver snake. Her long, pale eyelashes trembled and drooped, her pupils fixed on that slender waist.
Thin. Soft.
Even like the winding ruler.
There was actually a wooden mannequin in the room, but for some reason, he only wanted to make the first piece of clothing on Opesha.
She's a total witch.
He half-knelt down to measure the length of the skirt. A light fragrance naturally emanated from her. He sniffed it, and his hand accidentally brushed against her ankle, causing a slight shudder.
The pointed leather shoes kicked his calf, and the woman took a step back unhappily: "Don't touch me..."
He stood up without any emotion, took the cloth, and began to cut and sew neatly.
His slender, pale fingers were very pleasing to the eyes, and every movement caught the eye. Opesa stared at them intently, forgetting the passage of time.
Soon, a modern and improved version of the □□ clothing was born from his hands.
Sinderel tried to put the sample clothes on the wooden mannequin in the corner, but the wooden doll was no match for Opesa's figure, and the result was flat and even a little ugly.
For the sake of effect and money, Opesha took the initiative to say, "Let me try and see if your craftsmanship can satisfy me."
Clothes are meant to fit customers of all shapes and sizes, and there might be some with plump figures similar to hers, so having an extra template to modify would be helpful. Opesa thought so as she approached the wooden man.
The clothes were taken away by Opesha in an instant. She pointed at Sinderel and ordered, "Get out!"
Sinderel had been planning to go out straight away. He closed the door and took a few more steps forward. He stopped only after making sure that he was far enough away so that he could no longer smell the strange fragrance.
After a moment, Opesha's voice came from inside: "...Come in! I don't understand your accessories!"
Sinderel walked back again, and as soon as he turned the handle, his eyes focused on Opesha in front of the mirror.
It was a dress similar to the ones worn by dancers in flower kilns, but completely different, a style he had no idea about. No matter how hard he looked in his study, he couldn't find anything like it.
He didn't have much of a reaction when the design was on the drawing, but when it was worn on a woman, he felt that this dress was even more revealing than those worn by the women in the flower kiln.
Even though the woman was pinching the high slit and protecting her chest with one hand, he still felt difficulty breathing. A strong emotion that seemed to be called tension suddenly filled his whole body.
He was playing the role of "daughter." Sindriel tried hard to push away the tension.
He approached slowly with his eyes downcast, until Opesha urged him on, then he took two slightly larger steps and stopped beside her.
He straightened her clothes, the black satin flowing down her fair shoulders like a waterfall cascading into the night. In the mirror, he fastened the chain around her waist, an unidentified dark current surging in the depths of his pupils.
For some reason, sweat broke out on his palms.
After taking the last chain, Sinderel turned around.
Behind him, the woman twisted her body as if no one was around, commenting on her clothes: "Hmm... It looks a bit good, but not quite enough. It just means I have such a good figure. Even beggar's clothes look perfect on me... Maybe some pearls here would be better, and some gauze here to create a hazy feeling..."
After finishing speaking, Opesa looked at Sinderel in the mirror, who had his back to her, and called out, "Hey, do you hear me?"
"Um."
"How do you know if you didn't even look? Are you just trying to fool me?"
"……I know."
"Oh, I see, are you shy?" Opesa chuckled.
Hit the nail on the head, Sinderel fell silent.
His heart was boiling with inexplicable irritation, and he felt his ears burning, his face numb, and then he wanted to escape as quickly as possible.
He tried hard to find what he had read in the book and found a similar word to explain his current situation - "angry out of shame".
Was this anger? Perhaps, but right now he just wanted to leave quickly.
The woman called out to him several times, but he didn't hear her at all. Finally, Opesa got annoyed and clicked her tongue, "Tsk. Forget it, you can do the alterations. Remember to make a few more sizes. I'm going to change my clothes. I'm out now."
"..." The person behind him paused, "I'm leaving." As soon as the voice fell, he quickly left the room without even a spare glance at Opesa.
【Hint: Mission Completed】
Opesha blinked in confusion.
She thought the mission was going to fail. After all, she had been using a provocative tone and there was no prompt sound indicating that the mission was completed.
Did something touch his sore spot?
Opesa reviewed the situation briefly but still couldn't find the trigger, but since the mission was completed, she was too lazy to think about it anymore.
After all—she looked at the dagger on the table.
This dagger is the reason why she came here today.
The dagger could not be taken away, so she could only look for any special features on the dagger that would be useful as clues for her investigation. She picked up the dagger and examined it carefully, but found nothing.
She put down the dagger regretfully and glanced at the red-covered Bible beside her.
Perhaps there are clues in the books he often reads? Opesa opened the Bible while thinking.
Sure enough, on the homepage, she saw a hand-painted five-pointed star with wings on both sides.
Opesa immediately pulled out a piece of white paper from the table excitedly and planned to write it down, but because she was moving too fast, several pieces of paper fell to the ground.
Oopsah hurriedly squatted down to pick it up, but unexpectedly touched a very rough piece of paper.
After removing the covering paper, a crumpled piece of paper with countless wrinkles appeared before my eyes.
That piece of paper was smaller than any other piece here, with broken edges, as if it had been torn from somewhere. It felt rough, and there were many pieces of loose paper, which was obviously the result of being soaked in water and then dried.
The original words on the paper should have been blurred by the water, but someone deliberately copied the blurred words stroke by stroke, reproducing the content completely, and then blacked them all out with wild and disordered black lines.
The only clear sentence on the paper read:
"'She' is not Lady Opesha."
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