“Agathe!” Darian's voice suddenly shot up, her previous playful grin vanishing instantly.
She struggled desperately beneath Wu Yao, like a snake whose tail had been stepped on. Her voice carried a sharp, pushed-to-the-brink edge. “Why are you kneeling?! Get up! Who told you to kneel?!”
Her thrashing caused Wu Yao's sitting posture to sway slightly.
Wu Yao looked down at her, then raised her head to look at the woman kneeling on the ground.
【St. Mary's Tavern Owner: Agathe】
【Age: 46】
【Affection: -30/100】
【HP: 60/80】
【Skills: Cooking Lv. 14, Sewing Lv. 8, Management Lv. 7...】
Agathe did not get up.
She knelt on the ground, her forehead almost touching the dirt floor, her spine arched into a humble bridge.
Behind her, several others also knelt. No one spoke; they simply knelt in silence.
Darian turned her head back, looking up at Wu Yao.
Pinned down by Wu Yao, surrounded by the people who cared about her most, and having all her disguises stripped away by a woman kneeling to beg for her, she no longer had any desire to play-act.
“Just tell me what you want. I was outmaneuvered, and I accept my defeat. Just don't hurt them.”
Wu Yao got up with a swift, clean motion, then squatted down to look at Darian, who was still sprawled on the ground.
“Give me everything you took from the Mage Association, and then explain this whole situation clearly. Understood?”
Darian was about to get up. Her chest heaved violently, her chapped lips parted slightly, and her eyes darted around, instinctively searching for a way to escape.
Wu Yao leaned in close.
The distance was excessively close.
Darian could feel the draft of the other woman's breath brushing against her cheekbones. She could clearly see her own reflection in those black eyes, along with the absolute, unwavering calm within them.
“You know,” Wu Yao's voice was very soft, as if sharing a secret only the two of them knew, “I can tell the difference between truth and lies.”
Darian stared blankly into Wu Yao's black eyes, her energy draining away.
She slowly pushed herself up from the ground, sat cross-legged, wiped the dust off the tip of her nose with the back of her hand, and then looked up to ask a question completely unrelated to the current situation.
“You're a witch, aren't you?”
Wu Yao raised an eyebrow. Instead of denying it, she asked back with interest, “I thought you would call me a sorceress?”
Darian seemed to regain her playful demeanor, her lips curling upward. “The mages' scam isn't enough to fool everyone.”
Wu Yao squatted in front of her, tilting her head to study her.
“You know a lot?”
Darian raised a hand to point at herself with her thumb, a half-self-deprecating, half-boastful smile appearing on her face.
“Don't look at me like this,” she said with a hint of pride. “I'm already a Mid-Tier Mage.”
Wu Yao also sat down cross-legged, facing her, and said nonchalantly, “Mages are very weak.”
The smile on Darian's face froze for a split second. As if anything isn't weak in front of you.
Wu Yao turned her head to look at Agathe, who was still kneeling to the side.
The middle-aged woman remained motionless in her kowtow posture. The others in the basement were also silent, but their eyes remained tightly locked on Wu Yao, like a pack of mother wolves protecting their cubs.
“You should sit up too,” Wu Yao said to Agathe, her tone softening slightly. “I don't like seeing people kneel.”
Agathe carefully raised her head to confirm that Wu Yao was being sincere.
Only then did she slowly push herself off the ground to straighten her upper body. She took two steps back and shrank back into the crowd, her elbow supported by a young girl.
Darian took in this scene.
After Agathe retreated into the crowd, Darian withdrew her gaze, letting it fall upon her clasped hands resting on her lap.
Wu Yao waited for her to continue.
Darian didn't waste any more words.
She reached into her hair, groped around near the back of her neck, and pulled out a thin thread that was several times thicker than a normal strand of hair.
The thin thread was hidden in her messy, cropped short hair, blending almost perfectly with her dark brown hair color. It would have been nearly impossible to find by searching her hair.
She placed the thread in her palm. Her lips moved soundlessly as she muttered a very short, quiet incantation.
A silver-gray glow surged from the thread, rapidly expanding an inch above her palm.
Within a few breaths, a palm-sized casket appeared out of thin air in her hand.
The casket was dark gray all over, its material indistinguishable. There were no decorative patterns on its surface, only a thin line of silver runes tracing a loop along the edge of the lid.
Darian handed the casket to her.
Her movement was very slow, as if she were handing over something of immense importance. Her fingertips lingered on the surface of the casket for a moment before she finally let go.
Before Wu Yao could open the casket to take a closer look, she heard a dull thud in front of her.
Darian had knelt.
Her knees were pressed together on the ground, her spine held perfectly straight.
All the slipperiness and cunning on her face had faded, like foam blown away by the wind, revealing her true, raw colors beneath.
She looked up to stare directly into Wu Yao's eyes, the light of the oil lamp dancing in her pupils like two ignited glass beads.
“My Lady, please save Ken Territory.”
She bowed her head slightly. “From this moment on, I am willing to serve you.”
Wu Yao's gaze fell upon the crown of her head.
That messy, short hair was not only thick but also quite stiff and wiry, sticking out in all directions just like her personality, giving off the illusion that it would prick anyone who touched it.
Wu Yao raised her hand and placed it on the crown of her head.
It was unexpectedly soft.
Those seemingly stiff strands of hair pressed against her palm, dense and gentle, submissively brushing through her fingers.
Wu Yao's fingertips slid from the crown of her head toward the side of her ear, finally giving her earlobe a gentle pinch.
“Okay.”
Darian whipped her head up.
She stared into Wu Yao's eyes, making sure those words didn't hide any traps she couldn't detect, any conditions she had missed, or any sarcasm buried beneath the light tone.
A moment later, Darian let out a relaxed laugh.
She sat back on her knees, her tense spine relaxing. Tilting her head, she teased Wu Yao with the words she had just spoken earlier.
“I thought you would say, 'I don't like seeing people kneel.'”
Wu Yao rested her chin in her hand, looking at her with a beaming smile. The light of the oil lamp flickered in her eyes, casting a warm hue over her dark pupils.
“You're different.”
Darian's heart skipped a beat.
She instinctively wanted to say something witty to gloss over the moment, but though her lips parted several times, not a single word came out.
She bit her lower lip to change the subject, her gaze drifting toward Agathe. “I've already given you the things. Let Agathe tell you what you want to know.”
Agathe looked up in surprise and glanced at Darian, who nodded at her.
Then she looked at Wu Yao again. Wu Yao had no intention of stopping her, and even tilted her head slightly at her, as if saying, “Go ahead.”
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