After the Black Moonlight’s "Death Escape" Failed [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 24

Chapter 24: The Wolf and the Whip-Wielder

◎ She had never seen her look so cold before ◎

Nameless was fuming with rage, yet she couldn’t stop obsessing over the slip-up Jiao Qingyin had shown earlier. She was torn: she wanted to end this self-inflicted torture immediately, but she also wanted to observe the woman meticulously to dig out her hidden secrets.

Jiao Qingyin was on the verge of laughing out loud. Her expression was much softer than usual; had Nameless’s mind not been a tangled mess, she would have noticed it long ago.

However, one shouldn’t tease too much. Jiao Qingyin knew when to stop, though she couldn’t resist a final verbal jab: “I really can’t do anything with you. We’ll leave it at this for now, but next time, you can’t use your hands.”

Nameless nearly crushed her teeth. Next time?

If that woman dared to make such a request again, she certainly wouldn’t use her hands—she’d find a saw and slowly saw this person’s head off.

But no matter how angry she was inside, Nameless struggled to maintain her act of obedience. While murmuring a “yes,” she picked up a towel, wrapped a section of Jiao Qingyin’s hair, and began to rub.

And then… Jiao Qingyin fell into a stunned silence as she felt the sheer force of the rubbing.

The girl’s movements weren’t so much drying hair as they were scrubbing laundry. Seeing her hair about to be tangled into a giant knot, Jiao Qingyin couldn’t take it anymore and barked: “Stop.”

Nameless paused and looked up at her, her eyes filled with apparent confusion. Jiao Qingyin couldn’t tell for a moment if she was doing it on purpose or if she truly didn’t know how to dry hair.

Nameless blinked, looking even more innocent. “Your Highness?”

Meeting those eyes, Jiao Qingyin felt a wave of helplessness. Despite the lingering sting on her scalp, she couldn’t bring herself to stay angry.

“No need to dry it,” Jiao Qingyin sat up. “Let’s call it a day…”

Nameless’s hand reached out, grabbing Jiao Qingyin’s sleeve. With a face full of sweetness, she blocked Jiao Qingyin’s pending dismissal. “Your Highness, let me give you that massage.”

The protagonist is being a bit too proactive now… Jiao Qingyin felt a bit strange. Before she could think of a way to refuse, Nameless pressed her hands onto her shoulders and gave her a gentle push.

Curiosity got the better of Jiao Qingyin. Wanting to see what the girl actually planned to do, she went with the flow and lay back down.

“Your Highness, please close your eyes first.”

Jiao Qingyin found Nameless quite interesting. She had already become proficient at using the formal “You” to address her, yet her other words weren’t respectful at all—she didn’t even use the word “please.” Had Jiao Qingyin actually cared about the girl’s attitude, this performance of submission wouldn’t have fooled anyone.

Jiao Qingyin closed her eyes and soon felt Nameless’s fingers touch her forehead. Her body temperature is still a bit low, Jiao Qingyin thought. Is the fire in the fireplace not big enough?

Nameless had never studied massage, but based on common sense, she felt that as long as the pressure was gentle, kneading any part of the body should be comfortable. Holding this thought, she restrained her impulses and didn’t intentionally act up like she had with the hair-drying. The resulting massage was actually quite decent.

Jiao Qingyin was initially full of vigilance, ready at any moment to seize the girl and counterattack. Once her required plot points were finished, the protagonist could mess with her however she liked, but until then, she had to stay alive. Even the protagonist couldn’t be allowed to obstruct her plan to push the main storyline.

But accompanied by the howling west wind outside, the crackling of branches in the fireplace, and Nameless’s steady breathing, she unconsciously relaxed during the massage. Her eyelids grew heavy. The Sleep Formation on the pile of pillows was triggered, beginning to operate silently.

Nameless took in Jiao Qingyin’s changes and snorted heavily in her mind: This person looks much more bearable when she’s asleep.

She waited a bit longer. Seeing that Jiao Qingyin seemed truly asleep, her hand movements shifted. Her fingertips traced down the woman’s jawline. She stroked Jiao Qingyin’s cheek, then her chin, her calloused finger pads rubbing inch by inch as if playing with a piece of art.

The drowsy Jiao Qingyin was jolted awake by the touch.

What does the protagonist want…? Jiao Qingyin felt extremely uncomfortable; goosebumps rose on her arms. There was a huge difference between a massage and a caress. Had she not known the protagonist’s personality and been curious about her goal, she would have kicked the girl away already.

Nothing… still nothing… Nameless meticulously felt every spot. She was looking for a seam in the skin of Jiao Qingyin’s face.

She had a gut feeling that the soul inside this person had been replaced, but she couldn’t be sure due to a lack of evidence. Today, she finally found an opportunity—no matter how exquisite a disguise was, it would leave traces on the skin. If she could find one, it would prove her suspicion correct.

Nameless desperately wanted to prove that this person wasn’t Otillia Hughes. She knew the idea was naive, even absurd, but what if… what if it really wasn’t her?

Nameless knew it was impossible for the person to be using magic to disguise her appearance. The land beneath this manor had a massive formation engraved by court mages that could see through almost any magical disguise and automatically protect the owner. It was common knowledge that an assassin once tried to infiltrate as a servant, only to be detected at the gate and beheaded by Hughes for public display.

Therefore, to replace Hughes undetected, one could only use primitive physical disguises.

But Nameless couldn’t find what she was looking for. She pursed her lips and checked repeatedly. Still nothing.

The facts were before her, and Nameless’s heart slowly grew cold. Images of the various humiliations Otillia Hughes had inflicted upon her surfaced. Crimson memories replayed. She already hated the woman to the core, and now, recalling the details, her killing intent began to leak out uncontrollably.

Suddenly, Jiao Qingyin snapped her eyes open. She grabbed Nameless’s hand, which had unconsciously drifted toward her temple.

Nameless tried to break free, but Jiao Qingyin grabbed the collar around her neck. With a yank of her finger, she pulled the girl down onto her. The two were suddenly so close their breaths mingled.

“Don’t move,” Jiao Qingyin said.

She stared straight at Nameless. Her expression was devoid of emotion, and her voice was calm, yet it exerted an immense pressure. Nameless’s intuition screamed danger; her physical instincts signaled a frantic warning, yet she couldn’t escape Jiao Qingyin’s seemingly casual control.

“I…”

“Hmm?”

It was strange. Jiao Qingyin only made a small sound, but Nameless felt a wave of danger wash over her, and she instinctively shut her mouth. She suppressed the churning emotions in her heart and slightly turned her head. Her silver-white hair slid down her cheek, making her look quite pitiful.

This was the method Nameless had concluded was best for dealing with Jiao Qingyin. Through observation, she found the woman was “soft-hearted but not hard-headed.” Every time she played weak, she could get the woman to relent.

Surely this time…

“What were you trying to do just now?” Jiao Qingyin asked coldly.

She could tolerate many of Nameless’s behaviors and didn’t care if the girl planned to harm her, but all of that was predicated on not affecting the plot.

—Otillia Hughes must die on April 15th, two years from now, at exactly 5:05 AM. Not a minute earlier, not a minute later.

Nameless had never seen Jiao Qingyin look so cold before.

While Jiao Qingyin was often expressionless and aloof in the past, seeming easily angered, only now did Nameless realize how mild the woman’s usual state actually was.

But Nameless didn’t look away. She maintained eye contact, her eyelashes fluttering only twice. Her posture was candid, with a hint of grievance. “I did nothing.”