After the Black Moonlight’s "Death Escape" Failed [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 28.2

Chapter 28.2: The Wolf and the Whip-Wielder

Noticing Jiao Qingyin watching her, Al looked up with a smile and repeated, “Thank you. I really like it.”

“…” Hearing her say “like,” Jiao Qingyin opened her mouth but couldn’t bring herself to say anything stinging.

Fine, as long as the protagonist likes it. She was just a cannon-fodder passerby; there was no point in arguing with her.

…No, she should start calling her Al from now on.

After silently updating how she addressed the protagonist, Jiao Qingyin still felt a bit awkward. She wasn’t quite adjusted to the fact that the girl shared a name with her puppy.

Maybe I should change the puppy’s name when I get back…

Having achieved a staged victory, Al wanted to bridge the distance between them further. But just as she was about to speak, an uninvited guest appeared in her field of vision.

It was the Head Maid of this palace. She stood at the entrance pushing a small cart piled high with invitations from various factions. Seeing her, Jiao Qingyin remembered her business.

There were quite a few side quests she needed to do over the next few days. One of the more important ones was taking the protagonist to the Masquerade Ball hosted by Duke Lism.

This ball was the first private party the original owner took the protagonist to after entering the palace. All attendees were required to wear masks provided by the Duke’s estate before entering. These masks served as simple Disguise Masks, capable of altering facial features, hair color, and even voices.

The masks ensured that participants couldn’t recognize one another. With their true identities hidden, the nobles exposed their true natures even more recklessly. The description of this ball in the original novel was so explicit that any random paragraph of it would likely be censored.

When the protagonist was taken to the ball in the original plot, her injuries hadn’t fully healed, and her misery doubled by the time it ended. However, the script in Jiao Qingyin’s hand was strictly from the original owner’s perspective; it didn’t record what exactly the protagonist—who was separated from her right at the start—had actually endured.

But… Jiao Qingyin recalled the ferocious glint that occasionally appeared in Al’s eyes. She didn’t think this girl was the type to suffer a loss. If Al disappeared for a while at the ball, the ones in trouble would surely be the others.

Though Jiao Qingyin didn’t know how much magic Al had learned, her intuition was usually spot on.

“We’re going to the Lism ball,” Jiao Qingyin picked the target from the mountain of invitations and instructed the Head Maid. “No need for an escort. I’ll take…”

Seeing the wheelchair beneath Al, Jiao Qingyin paused. How should she handle this? Asking a person who couldn’t walk to attend a ball was a bit much.

While side quests were optional, skipping them meant giving up the point rewards. To Jiao Qingyin, who valued points above all else, this was hard to accept. With the system gone, she didn’t even have anyone to consult.

But Al seemed to sense her hesitation and proactively suggested: “Are you taking me? Don’t worry, once we’re inside, I’ll find a place to wait for you.”

She looked very obedient, her eyes clear and innocent—completely different from her previous soul-stirring seductress act. Jiao Qingyin knew she was faking it, yet had to admit she was a sucker for this routine.

“Don’t drink alcohol, drink juice… no, don’t even drink juice. Don’t eat anything. Find a place where no one is around and stay there. No, you—”

After blurting out a string of instructions, Jiao Qingyin realized what she was doing and abruptly stopped. This concern was entirely unnecessary; she shouldn’t let personal emotions interfere with the mission anymore.

“Take her to have her wounds treated, then change her clothes,” Jiao Qingyin turned her head away, looking at the Head Maid. “Find me in my room once it’s done.”

Al waited for a moment. Seeing that Jiao Qingyin truly had no intention of saying more to her, she felt a slight pang of disappointment but nodded obediently. “I’ve remembered everything you said.”

Jiao Qingyin’s gaze lingered on her neck for a moment. Without the veil, Al’s collar was exposed. Inside the ball, appearances would be hidden by the masks, but outfits would remain the same. If anyone saw Al’s neck, they would know she was a slave.

Jiao Qingyin hesitated, but in the end, she let it go and walked away.

The heels of her long boots clicked against the floor with a firm, cold sound. Al watched Jiao Qingyin as she slowly walked out of sight, the twilight sky casting a dim glow over her retreating figure.

Once Jiao Qingyin was far away, Al smelled the metallic scent of blood. She wiped her face and felt a sticky texture. The wound from earlier had reopened slightly.

The Head Maid was busy ordering someone to find a new wheelchair, but when she turned back and saw Al’s face and hands covered in blood, she was startled. She had seen how the Prince treated this slave—with an unbelievable level of calm. The clothes and accessories alone proved her status was extraordinary. The Head Maid dared not neglect her and immediately called for a royal apothecary.

For a while, everyone around Al was busy. No one noticed her expression slowly darkening.

She was remembering the moment she fell from the chair. Her two crippled legs were nothing but a burden; no matter what she did, she felt nothing. Their only purpose was to remind her she was a “waste.”

Since they’re useless anyway, I might as well try something dangerous… no matter how bad it gets, it can’t be worse than now.

Al circulated the elemental power within her body, forcibly mobilizing it. Moving against the flow of her blood, she compressed the energy straight down toward her legs.

The intense pain almost caused her to crush the armrests of her wheelchair. After just a few seconds of trying, Al’s back was drenched in cold sweat.

It works.

Though brief, she had truly felt the existence of her legs.

This should have made her spirits soar, but Jiao Qingyin’s mocking expression from earlier flickered before her eyes again. Al released her clenched fists and tightened them again. After repeating this several times, she broke into a smile.

The smile pulled at the wounds on her face and the scars left by her previous disfigurement. Combined with the large amount of blood, the effect was utterly terrifying.

Jiao Qingyin stood before the mirror, several maids standing behind her in hushed silence. She frowned as she surveyed the layered, heavy gown she was wearing. She wasn’t happy.

The hem was too long and heavy, with far too many cumbersome decorations. It hindered movement and offered no protection. Its only merit was that it was good for hiding things… it was exactly the type of clothing she almost never wore.

The maids had brought a corset and a petticoat, but Jiao Qingyin refused them. She felt that if someone charged at her with a knife, she wouldn’t even be able to dodge in this gear.

No wonder those nobles at the ball start looking for a place to strip and “play” after dancing for just a bit. Wearing this for even a second is torture.

“Tch,” despite her distaste, she accepted reality for the sake of the mission. “This will do.”

The maids exchanged glances. Finally, the youngest one was pushed forward.

“What?” Jiao Qingyin caught her eye through the mirror.

The little maid, nearly tripping, paled and stuttered for a while before managing a full sentence. “Your Highness, there are still accessories…”

Jiao Qingyin had no interest in the table full of jewels. The only jewelry she currently wore was the Ring of the Full Moon she had bought at the auction. She had originally planned to melt the ring down and turn the gemstone into a gift for Al (the puppy), but unfortunately, the ring had a formation inside that would cause the gem to shatter if removed.

Later, she added several trigger-based spells she had learned into the ring, and she occasionally wore it on her right middle finger as an emergency weapon.

“No need…” Jiao Qingyin started to say, but then noticed a dagger nearly buried under the jewelry. She picked it up. “Where did this come from?”

The little maid whispered, “It’s a ceremonial dagger that’s been in storage. Some nobles like to carry them, a-and then…”

“And then?”

“If they are in a bad mood… they can use it to vent. It draws blood easier than a whip…”

Jiao Qingyin froze. It took her a few seconds to process the maid’s meaning. Normal people carry weapons to protect themselves; these nobles carried them for “fun” and to vent their rage.

Jiao Qingyin couldn’t find words to describe her feelings. Every time she thought she had adjusted to this world, something would break her bottom line again. She pushed aside the glittering pile of accessories and pulled out the dagger.

The sheath was made of smooth, deep black leather, inlaid with a massive pigeon-blood ruby. Compared to the original owner’s other possessions, the style was much simpler. Jiao Qingyin unsheathed it, checked the sharpness of the blade, and was satisfied.

Then, she placed one foot on a nearby stool and hiked up her skirt entirely. Her reckless action startled the maids; they all buried their heads, not daring to look.

Jiao Qingyin hiked the skirt all the way to her upper thigh, unbuckled the strap on her garter, attached the dagger, and secured it. Her professional habits made her feel uneasy without a weapon on her person.

“Let’s go…” Just as Jiao Qingyin spoke, her peripheral vision caught a razor-thin black shadow in the mirror.

A snake?

Jiao Qingyin’s pupils shrank. She grabbed a random gemstone and threw it in that direction. The sound of the gem shattering and a maid’s short scream rang out simultaneously, but when Jiao Qingyin looked closer, there was nothing there.

An illusion…? No, I’m certain I saw it…

Jiao Qingyin walked cautiously to the gemstone fragments and covertly cast a detection spell. A few seconds later, a slight elemental reaction appeared on the floor, proving that something had indeed been there.

Night.

Jiao Qingyin fought against the crowd, dodging countless swaying waists and ambiguous sounds, finally finding a place to rest. She yanked up her hem and sat on a somewhat cold chair, finally letting out a long breath.

From entering the ball and intentionally ditching Al to hiding in this corner, she had rejected dozens of invitations, struck five or six nobles who tried to force themselves on her, and kicked away countless others whose mental states were clearly compromised. Even when she used to cut through swarms of zombies, she hadn’t been this tired.

After resting for a bit, Jiao Qingyin began to wipe her sleeves with disgust; someone had somehow left several lipstick marks there.

The system was away, but mission progress was automatic. Bringing Al to this ball only counted as half the mission; the other half would be completed when she reunited with Al after the ball ended.

She has trouble moving; I wonder how she’s doing.

Thinking of Al made Jiao Qingyin a bit irritable. She leaned back, watching the tangled crowd from afar, planning to pass the time with meditation.

“Are you alone?”

A soft, gentle voice disrupted Jiao Qingyin’s plans. Having only just entered a meditative state, she opened her eyes to face the girl before her. The girl had blonde hair and green eyes, wearing standard, appropriate attire with few accessories. Her masked face was delicate and bright—she looked like a young noble of minor rank.

Compared to everyone else at the ball, she already stood out just by the fact that she was still fully clothed.

With a hint of annoyance at being disturbed, Jiao Qingyin said with a frost-cold expression: “Get away from me.”

Her rejection was obvious, but the girl acted as if she didn’t understand. With a slight smile, her arms reached out like water snakes to coil around Jiao Qingyin. Jiao Qingyin stood up quickly, dodging her. When she spoke again, her hostility was blatant: “—Get lost.”

The girl put on a wronged expression, looking as if she were about to cry. Jiao Qingyin had no patience for this; she ignored her and walked deeper into the shadows.

The girl left behind stood still for a moment. About thirty seconds later, the expression on her face vanished like a receding tide, replaced by the wooden numbness of a doll. Then her body convulsed once, and she collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

A drop of black liquid seeped from her forehead and vanished into the air.

Jiao Qingyin didn’t know what happened behind her. This time, she found a more comfortable spot—quiet, dark, far from the center of the banquet, with a softer chair. Behind her was a massive stained-glass window. The sacred image on it contrasted sharply with the chaotic, decadent scenes before her.

Does this world have gods? Jiao Qingyin leaned back, looking at the lifelike drawing on the window.

The long-haired woman, separated into pieces by the glass, held her hands to her heart with her eyes closed. Countless branches and leaves spread from her body to the earth. Her face wasn’t detailed; she was entirely pure white, while the branches around her were pitch black. The two extreme colors were surrounded by vibrant glass, looking both abrupt and harmonious.

The window seemed to have a magical quality, drawing Jiao Qingyin into a long gaze. When she snapped out of it, she was stunned to see through another window that the full moon had reached the center of the sky.

The passage of time made Jiao Qingyin realize something was wrong. She stood up to leave, only to find a figure blocking her path.

“Good evening,” the figure said softly, sitting in another chair with her back to Jiao Qingyin.

Jiao Qingyin’s vigilance spiked to the maximum. She confirmed the status of her ring and dagger but didn’t respond. It was too dark; she could only tell the person was female. All other features were hidden under a large robe and hood.

However, under the effect of the mask, appearances and voices were all disguised. The face under the hood wasn’t necessarily real.

The person didn’t seem to mind the cold reception and asked on her own: “Why aren’t you dancing with them?”

Jiao Qingyin’s detection spell hadn’t found anything useful, which meant the other person was stronger than her. Under uncertain circumstances, she decided to cooperate temporarily to figure out the person’s goal.

“Too noisy,” Jiao Qingyin deliberately adopted Otillia Hughes’s tone, then threw the topic back. “Why aren’t you going?”

The figure’s voice sounded troubled. “Because I’m not very popular.”

Jiao Qingyin was stumped. What kind of reason was that? Unless the person had some obvious defect—like a missing limb—why would she be ostracized at a ball where no one knew each other? But looking at her robed form, she clearly didn’t fit that description.

“You don’t believe me?” The shadow tilted her head. Jiao Qingyin still couldn’t see her face, but she felt the person was watching her.

“It has nothing to do with me,” Jiao Qingyin said dismissively.

The other side was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice: “Legend has it that under the radiance of the Creator God, no one can tell a lie.”

The Creator God? Jiao Qingyin was startled, then understood what the stained-glass window depicted. No wonder she felt bewitched earlier; if the image was the Creator God of this world, it made sense.

But she wasn’t a native of this world. She had no faith in the gods and no fear of them, so she didn’t care about telling a few lies. However, she didn’t mind following the topic, so she said casually: “Then I don’t believe it.”

The mysterious person was silent for even longer this time. Jiao Qingyin didn’t want to stay under the window any longer. Seeing that the other person wasn’t speaking, she started to walk out.

“What is your name?” Just as Jiao Qingyin was about to pass her, the mysterious person suddenly spoke.

“Is it important?” Jiao Qingyin looked down at her, noticing a few strands of hair peeking out from the hood were black.

This discovery made her curious; after all, since coming to this world, the only person she had seen with black hair was herself. However, on a night where everyone wore masks, hair color meant nothing.

The shadow nodded. “Yes, very important—can you tell me?”

Her wording was gentle, even pleading, but her tone was the opposite—it felt as though Jiao Qingyin wouldn’t be able to leave if she didn’t answer.

Jiao Qingyin’s gaze turned cold. “No.” She refused without leaving any room for negotiation. Her personality was strong; she disliked following orders. The person’s attitude annoyed her.

Hearing her words, the shadow coughed twice—a raspy sound, as if she were enduring pain. Jiao Qingyin’s eyebrows twitched, but before she could speak, the shadow asked between coughs:

“Do you… like men or women?”

Hearing this bizarre question, Jiao Qingyin nearly tripped over her own feet. She gave a curt “I don’t like either” and didn’t stay any longer.

The coughing behind her continued, but Jiao Qingyin acted as if she didn’t hear it. She walked straight out, leaving that uncomfortable area. (Though no other part of the banquet was much more comfortable.)

The pale moonlight filtered through the stained glass, casting colored shadows on the floor. The person in the chair watched the moon and slowly removed her hood.

A pair of non-human pointed ears popped up. Because they had been squashed under the hood, the white fur on them was a bit messy. If Jiao Qingyin were still there, she would have discovered that the mysterious person was much younger than she imagined.

“She doesn’t like blonde hair, doesn’t like black hair… doesn’t like the weak, and doesn’t like the strong… doesn’t like men, and doesn’t like women…” The wolf-eared girl’s expression shifted repeatedly, as if she were adjusting her personality.

After several changes, her expression finally settled on a dark, gloomy arc. She looked up at the massive stained-glass window, where the Creator God sat with eyes half-open, shrouded in a soft light of pity.