Chapter 36【VIP】
When the hunting day came, the whole of Furland became bustling with activity. People from all over the country were ready to go and rode their horses to the forest outside the city.
Opesa packed the last two items in her hand and looked outside.
Her shop was right near the city gate, and she could hear the sounds of the people surrounding the royal family not far away.
It was time to get ready. She glanced at the clock, stuffed her packed goods into the locker, grabbed her veil and hat to cover her face, and walked out of Whisper.
A few days ago, she specially customized a dress in a clothing store. The overall style is relatively loose, and for convenience, she added a skirt and pants design inside.
The rented stable was not far away, and because of the hunting party, the stable was rarely crowded with people.
Opesa struggled to squeeze forward, heading for the Ace stables.
But - Ace's stable was empty. She saw nothing except the hay and water added that morning.
She frowned slightly, squeezed into the crowd again, walked up to the boss and asked, "Sir, where is my horse?"
The boss was counting money, grinning from ear to ear, not even looking up: "What horse? What's its name?"
"Ace, the white horse!"
Upon hearing that it was a customer who had rented his stable for a week, the owner immediately looked up, put on an apologetic smile, and said, "Oh, it's you. Didn't you ask the girl in the shop to take the horse away earlier?"
Opesha was stunned: "Which girl? What does she look like?"
"The blonde one, very pretty but quiet."
Sinderel? Why did he take Ace away for no reason?
Opesa was puzzled. When she had asked Cinderel to prepare an extra carriage, he had brought back three more horses. She hadn't been home for a few days, and Cinderel had always used another horse to go into town. There was no reason for him to take Ace with him.
But Xindrel came to the store early these days, put down the new goods and left. She had to train horses in the morning, so they almost never met at different times.
She really couldn't figure out this moody girl.
Helpless, she asked the boss: "Are there any horses available for rent?"
The boss looked troubled. "This... was rented out a while ago. You know, today is the hunting party."
"Do you know where else in the city I can rent a horse?"
"Ma'am, it's not that I won't help you, but it's really hard to rent a horse anywhere today."
Opesa refused to believe it. After saying goodbye to her boss, she began asking around in stores big and small in the city, but all the answers she got were negative.
There was no choice but for Opesa to go back home.
Guarding the empty shop, Opesa felt extremely annoyed, but she couldn't find the murderer Sinderel who made her annoyed.
She could only watch the sun rise and then slowly set in the west. The ticking of the clock added to her distress.
When the old clock struck nine, a very lively sound came from the city gate - it seemed that the hunting party was over.
In the end, she failed to talk about investment, nor did she win the championship and get the opportunity to enter the royal ball in the evening.
Opesha closed the shop door and walked against the flow of people towards home.
Someone had put a note on the door, and Opesha tore it off without even looking at it - what else could it be? It must be someone from Pace Trading House coming to collect the interest.
She now earns quite a lot of money and is almost one of the richest businessmen in this territory. Despite this, after paying off the principal, she still has a large amount of interest to pay.
Pace Trading House knew where she lived, and she didn't want her relatively peaceful life to be ruined by anyone, so she endured the high interest rates of Pace Trading House and was so anxious to get the prince's investment.
Of course, there is also the selfish desire to connect them.
Just as she was about to reach out to open the door, she saw the water stains on the upper half of the door handle.
Someone is home.
But it was definitely not the fun-loving Dusula and Anastasia.
She pushed the door open and walked in. The hall was dim and no candles were lit, but she could smell the aroma of pumpkin porridge coming from the kitchen.
Since she said she wanted to drink porridge to warm her body in winter, Xindrell learned to make it according to her words, and she could drink various kinds of rice porridge every day when she returned home.
But today, she was not in the mood to taste the pumpkin porridge - even though it smelled sweet and delicious.
"Sinderel." She called out in the empty hall, putting her hat and veil on the table.
No response.
Opesa took off her cloak and hung it on the hanger. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a swaying, dim light leaking out of the door at the end of the spiral staircase.
The door is usually tightly closed, and no one can peek through it, but now it seems to be closed intentionally, deliberately announcing its existence.
Opesha frowned, pretending to be deaf?
She climbed the stairs with her skirt lifted, deliberately hitting the wooden stairs with her heels to express her dissatisfaction and approach.
When I reached the top, the door in front of me was ajar, with only a ray of light leaking in.
, walked into the door with a gloomy face.
"Approaching, "You took Ace away."
Stretch out a hand in front of the candlelight, and the hand's eyes will be filled with meaning.
Slender, pale, with distinct joints, there was a fresh bloodstain on the fingertips, and blood was flowing down through the fingers and blending into the hemp rope clamped between his fingers, leaving mottled marks.
He glanced away, then turned his gaze back and continued to look down at the rope in his hand.
"Will hunting be fun?" he asked, his voice lower than usual.
Opesha frowned, "You know better than me whether I went or not."
"Oh." He hummed softly, "Isn't he..." He suddenly smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching only half an inch, "very kind."
Opesa's pupils shrank slightly: "Are you following me?"
"You like him?" He seemed oblivious.
"I just happened to meet him while training."
Boom——
He slammed his fist down on the wooden table, causing it to crack with a crisp sound, and spiderweb-like cracks appeared on the surface.
Even the flame on the candlestick was shaken to one side, and finally, without a support column, it fell onto the table. Flames immediately spread along with the spilled wax, instantly igniting the paper and cloth on the table.
“!”
Seeing this, Opesa quickly picked up a robe from her side and rushed over to put out the fire.
However, her wrist was grabbed.
"Answer me—"
She met his unblinking eyes. The flames dyed his clear pupils red, dancing in the depths of his pupils, as if burning his sanity. "Do you like him?"
"Let go!" Opesa pulled her hand away and glared back, "I just want to attract investment!"
"Does attracting investment require you to be so close to him?" The hemp rope twisted into a knot between his fingers. "Does it require him to touch your hand? Do it require—" He suddenly took two steps closer, his shadow covering her. "Why are you smiling like that?"
The air was filled with the unpleasant smell of burning objects, the entire table was on fire, and the burning wooden table made crackling sounds.
The entire attic is made of wood, and if the fire is not put out, the whole house may be affected.
Opesa clenched her back teeth and stepped hard on Sinderel's instep.
Sindriel relaxed for a second in pain - Opesa knew that he reacted quickly, so she seized this opportunity, dug the wound on Sindriel's fingertips, twisted his arm, pressed him to the ground with her weight, and used her free hand to pull out the hemp rope in his other hand and quickly tied his hands behind his back.
She used all her strength to control Sinderel, her hands quickly wrapping around him and tying him into a tight knot.
After restraining Sinderel, she kicked him in the abdomen, briefly controlling his movements, and quickly went to the leaking corner at the door to get a basin, which she poured forcefully onto the burning table.
With the sound of water splashing, the fire was put out.
The moment was short, but terrifying enough. Opesa gasped for breath, and the basin in her hand fell to the ground.
The table was burnt black, but fortunately, nothing else was affected.
Sindriel slowly stood up from the ground, his face pale from the shock he had just experienced. His blond hair was disheveled, and his emerald eyes stared at Opessa.
"You might as well let me burn to death." His voice was as cold as if it were dipped in ice water, "Otherwise, that person will die."
There was no way to communicate. Opesa glared at him and didn't want to say a word.
She squatted down and took Sinderel's hand. "Treat the wound first." She pressed her fingertips to the bloody mark on his palm. "Don't get tetanus."
"You don't care." He interrupted her, staring into her purple eyes. "You only care about your business and your hometown." He paused. "You don't even know where I usually go or whether I eat."
Opesha was stunned.
Sinderel had always been a man of few worldly concerns. He could stay in his workshop for three days straight, and even subsist on a glass of cold water under the pressure of the original owner.
She never thought that this stepdaughter who always kept her eyes down, never spoke or smiled, and always buried her head in work would be angry because of being ignored.
"I'll take you out for turkey tomorrow." She softened her voice. "Is that okay?"
"No." He refused coldly, propping himself up and saying, "I don't eat meat."
Opesha suddenly felt a sense of frustration.
Yes, Sinderel can talk to animals and has long regarded them as friends, so he definitely doesn't eat meat.
"Then what do you want to eat--" She just opened her mouth, but found that Xindrel had broken free from the rope at some point, and his arms were on her sides, trapping her in a small space.
There was no firelight in the room, only the moonlight filtering through a small window.
Dark, but enough to see the other person's face clearly.
He was so close that she could see the fine dust on his eyelashes and smell the faint scent of blood on him.
Xindrel's fingers touched the hem of her skirt. "The skirt I wore today." He paused at the folds of the skirt. "Did he give it to me?"
The feeling that she had previously thought was an illusion came back to her mind - Opesa lost consciousness again.
Sinderel is becoming more and more like a man.
Opesa nervously pulled her legs away, creating some distance. "It's custom-made."
However, Sinderel leaned forward to close the distance, "There's more to the way he looks at you than meets the eye."
Opesa was certainly not stupid, but she couldn't say that this was the effect she wanted, so she could only lie: "It must be a misunderstanding."
She turned her head to look ahead. The person next to her looked for an unknown amount of time before slowly returning to her original position: "Yeah."
The air was frozen for a few seconds. Opesa felt the atmosphere was awkward, so she changed the subject: "Tell me first, what happened to your hand?"
“…” Sinderel looked at the scratches on his fingertips.
It was a prop that was intended to lure her in and strangle her.
"Testing out a new tool." He lied, looking at the hemp rope spread out on the ground. "I need to make sure it won't chafe the skin when it's tightened."
Opesa stared at the piece of hemp rope and reached out to touch the texture of the rope.
When the blood-stained white fingers touched the red that belonged to him, his Adam's apple rolled uncontrollably.
The hand seemed to be directly touching his blood vessels and veins, constantly entwining and merging with him.
"So this is a new sample?" Her eyes blinked, and she suddenly grabbed his wrist, twisted it hard, and then restrained him. "We need to test it. Since we've developed it, we have to test its comfort."
Xindrel's breathing became disordered for a moment, but he did not struggle. He just lowered his eyes and watched her tie his hands.
"Let go." He warned in a low voice, with a strange tremor in his voice.
"Afraid of pain?" Opesa tied it and left a little longer to lead it along. "You're not such a delicate person."
Sindriel was forcibly taken to Opesha's room, the other end of the rope tied somewhere seemingly out of reach. He stared at the curtains above his head, listening to the sound of her adjusting the pillow beside him, and couldn't help but say, "Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?"
"I'm afraid." Opesa extinguished the candle, her voice shrouded in weariness in the darkness. "But I'm even more afraid that you'll go crazy and burn the house down."
The bed sagged on one side.
Xindrel could hear her even breathing and feel the itch of her hair brushing against the back of his hand.
He slowly turned over and curled up with his back to her, still holding the blood-stained hemp rope in his palm - this time, he carefully straightened the knot.
The moon outside the window finally lifted the veil of thin clouds.
He heard his own whisper, almost drowned out by his breath: "...Don't go."
Opesa wasn't asleep. Even without their backs touching, she could feel the tension behind her—he never relaxed.
She recalled how he looked when she first saw him: kneeling in front of her, covered in scars and stubborn, with no light in his eyes, only hatred.
"I'll make you our dish tomorrow, called Mapo Tofu." She suddenly said.
The person behind him froze: "...It's cold, don't."
"It'll be hot when it's cold." Opesa turned over to face him, only his vague outline could be seen in the darkness.
"Now..." She reached out and touched the curly hair on the top of his head, "sleep."
Sinderel didn't move. After a long time, so long that Opesa thought he was asleep, she heard his voice muffled in the pillow: "If you go with Henry..."
He was silent for a moment and said, "I will burn down his palace."
Opesha laughed out loud, "Hey, I might have to go to his palace to discuss business."
"Burn them together," he said. "You're going with him anyway."
"Go to sleep." She tucked the corner of the quilt for him. "We still have to be busy tomorrow."
Sinderel didn't respond and shrank into the quilt.
At this moment, he could hear Opesa's heartbeat, beat by beat, overlapping with his own.
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