After the Black Moonlight’s "Death Escape" Failed [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 31.1

Chapter 31.1: The Wolf and the Whip-Wielder

◎ Yes, I am not her. ◎

A silence so long it made one’s skin crawl stretched between the two for an eternity.

The longer Al remained silent, the more spells Jiao Qingyin recited in her mind. In her left hand—the one Al wasn’t holding—she gripped a dagger with white-knuckled intensity.

She felt no immediate hostility from Al, but the fact that the girl was taking so long to find an excuse suggested that whatever she was hiding was significant. Perhaps… she was planning to feign submission and offer her body as a ruse for an assassination.

These precautions were for safety, but in her heart, Jiao Qingyin truly hoped she was misjudging Al. Though she was loath to admit it, Al’s weight in her heart was growing heavier by the day.

Finally, after the clock had ticked a countless number of times, Al moved.

Jiao Qingyin’s nerves snapped taut. Her body entered a combat stance, spells and the dagger’s edge ready to be unleashed at the slightest sign of a threat.

Instead, she was met with a warm embrace.

When her cheek was brushed by Al’s soft hair, Jiao Qingyin blanked. She had been ready for a life-or-death struggle; what was this? She almost wanted to push Al away and tell her to “be serious.” I’ve never seen anyone so clingy!

Jiao Qingyin’s expression, already dark, now carried a hint of exasperation. But before she could scold her, Al spoke in a muffled voice:

“I know you aren’t her.”

These words were like a bolt from the blue. The dagger in Jiao Qingyin’s hand nearly slipped. If a host’s identity is discovered by a resident of the mission world, their persona points drop to zero. In severe cases, they might even be obliterated on the spot—

But the System’s announcement didn’t come.

Jiao Qingyin remembered the System was away, barely pulling herself back from the edge of a panicked reaction. In that split second, she had already plotted exactly how to make Al shut up forever before she could finish that sentence.

Her heart hammered like a drum, but her face remained a mask of calm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Al, however, began to laugh.

“Your Highness, every time you lie, you unconsciously twitch your index finger joint. Have you never noticed?”

If it were anyone else being called out, they might have reflexively twitched as Al described. But Jiao Qingyin only sneered. “That’s because you’re holding it too tight—let go.”

This time, Jiao Qingyin successfully wrenched her hand away. Yet, once their fingers were no longer interlaced, she felt a strange hollowness in her chest.

Al immediately sensed the other’s intention to play dumb to the end. She gritted her teeth; the hand Jiao Qingyin had thrown away clenched into a fist, then relaxed.

Jiao Qingyin’s repeated indulgence today had brought Al joy, but also a profound sense of unease. Her intuition was usually sharp. Though she didn’t know why, she felt this was the last chance for her and Jiao Qingyin to be honest with each other. If she didn’t lay everything out now, she might lose something incredibly important.

So, despite knowing the timing wasn’t perfect, Al asked the question she had been holding for a long time:

“Is ‘she’ still there? If I speak to you, can ‘she’ hear me?”

“‘She’?”

Jiao Qingyin’s brow twitched. The vague but clearly targeted phrasing made her first instinct think of the System, but she quickly dismissed it. Even with soul power as strong as hers, she had only glimpsed a corner of the higher dimensions when she was on the brink of death. Al wasn’t strong enough yet to know about the System.

Then who was “she”?

Jiao Qingyin suspected Al meant the original owner. To avoid alerting her, she didn’t answer but asked back, “What do you think?”

Another long silence followed, but Jiao Qingyin’s mindset was now entirely different. She realized Al was smarter and knew more than she had imagined. And… aside from defenseless trust and a steady stream of warmth, she felt nothing else coming from the girl.

“‘She’ isn’t here right now, otherwise you would have stopped me directly,” Al said. Her voice sounded thick with suppressed rage. “Sometimes, you do things you clearly don’t want to do. ‘She’ forces you, doesn’t she?”

Jiao Qingyin’s breath hitched. She almost thought Al had seen through everything.

Back at the manor, she did occasionally receive side missions like “oppress the servants” or “mistreat the slaves.” She usually handled them by summoning the targets and then… wearing a cold face, she’d make them solve elementary-level Olympiad math problems.

Being unable to solve a problem given by a hated teacher, only to be mocked in public and compared to other students—how humiliating! Especially since Jiao Qingyin’s tongue, when playing Odelia, was one of the sharpest in the empire. Few in the manor hadn’t been moved to tears by her while doing math.

The System was very lenient regarding Jiao Qingyin’s loopholes; it only cared about the result, not the process. She hadn’t expected Al to notice. Everyone else thought the Prince had simply developed a new perverted hobby, but Al had seen the truth behind the act.

Even though Jiao Qingyin only lost her composure for a moment, it was enough for Al to judge many things.

Odelia Hughes—!

Her theory confirmed, Al could barely contain her erupting fury. The person she hated most wasn’t dead; she was even threatening the person she cared about. Al’s hatred for Hughes reached an unprecedented peak; the flames of revenge burned in her mind, occupying her entire spirit.

At this point, Jiao Qingyin also understood: the girl had mistaken her for the original owner’s… second personality?

There was no term for “dissociative identity disorder” in this world, but the concept of “two souls in one body” existed. Regardless of what Al misunderstood her as, as long as she didn’t see her as an outsider from another world, it wasn’t the worst-case scenario.

Jiao Qingyin sighed in relief. When she spoke again, she didn’t deny Al’s guess. Instead, she asked, “Does anyone else know?”

She realized after saying it that it sounded like a prelude to a silencing murder. But Al, seemingly oblivious, simply shook her head.

Jiao Qingyin: “…” I’m not afraid the protagonist will kill me now; I’m afraid the protagonist is too stupid and will get killed by someone else.

Since things had come to this, Jiao Qingyin sighed, sat up, and lit the lamp by the bed.

The sudden light made Al want to close her eyes, but Jiao Qingyin’s soft palm covered her eyelids. Al froze. When she regained her senses, the other had looked away from the brass clock and said calmly:

“Yes, I am not her.”

Surprise replaced her fury. Al immediately sat up in bed—the movement was both practiced and fast, earning her another glare from Jiao Qingyin.

Having been caught faking her weakness, Al gave a sheepish smile. She didn’t bother making an excuse and asked hurriedly, “Then what is your name?”

She didn’t even use “Your Highness” or “You” (formal) anymore; the urgency in her heart was palpable.

Originally, Jiao Qingyin hadn’t planned on telling Al her real name. But when she saw those beautiful, clear blue eyes, her many concerns became less important.

“…Jiao Qingyin.”

“What?” The completely foreign syllables made Al pause. She immediately asked for clarification.

“…Jiao,” Jiao Qingyin didn’t say her full name the second time, only using her surname. “Call me whatever you want, but you cannot let anyone else know.”

She paused, her tone turning fierce and threatening. “Even if you go out and talk nonsense, no one will believe you. In the end, you’ll be the only one who suffers.”

Al shook her head rapidly, swearing, “I won’t tell anyone. If you’re worried, we can sign a blood contract.”

On the surface, she was offering a suggestion, but in her heart, she had other ideas. Once a blood contract was signed, an unbreakable link would be established. As long as neither broke the agreement, it would exist forever until one died.

Jiao Qingyin saw through her ulterior motives. She couldn’t help but curl her finger and flick Al’s forehead.

“!” Al instinctively covered her head, so Jiao Qingyin’s finger only hit the back of her hand.

Jiao Qingyin narrowed her eyes, her tone dangerous. “You’re not letting me hit you?”

Al thought for only a second before lowering her hand.

Smack. A red mark immediately appeared on Al’s fair skin.

“It hurts…” Al pouted, making a pitiful sound.

Jiao Qingyin pretended not to hear. She straightened her nightgown, pushed Al (and her blanket) to the side, and said, “Anything else? If not, I’m turning off the light.”

Al’s eyes were wide and round. Upon hearing this, she immediately grabbed Jiao Qingyin’s sleeve and said pleadingly, “Your name… I didn’t catch the last two syllables. Can you say them again?”

The way the girl was deliberately acting cute hit Jiao Qingyin right in the heart. But when she spoke, she was heartless: “No.”

She had only said her full name in a moment of impulse. Now that she had cooled down, she naturally wouldn’t repeat it. In a magical world, a name isn’t just for divination; if a mage is powerful enough, they can lock onto a target from thousands of miles away and cast a curse using only a name. This was knowledge Jiao Qingyin had recently acquired, and her ingrained survival instincts made her hold back.

Her expectation thwarted, Al’s sparkling eyes seemed to cloud over with disappointment. Jiao Qingyin looked away immediately, or she might have wavered.

Al was still unwilling to give up. She shook Jiao Qingyin’s sleeve and muttered softly, “Others don’t know who you are, so they call you ‘Your Highness.’ I know you’re different, so I want a different way to call you. Say it one more time, and this time I definitely…”

Jiao Qingyin never knew the normally quiet Al could be so talkative. She endured it for a while but couldn’t take it anymore. When Al tried to play the emotional card again, Jiao Qingyin opened the bedside drawer, pulled out a piece of candy, and stuffed it directly into the girl’s mouth.

“Mmph!”

Any candy kept in the Prince’s palace was sweet enough to rot one’s teeth. Almost the moment it entered her mouth, the sugar coating melted into a sweet syrup that flowed down Al’s throat. Then she bit into the soft center, and an even sweeter flavor exploded, filling her entire mouth.

Al didn’t usually like sweets, but as she chewed, a small smile unconsciously appeared on her face. Her cheeks puffed out as she ate, making her look like a small animal. Jiao Qingyin watched from the corner of her eye and thought: How silly.

But one candy wasn’t enough to keep Al quiet. Seeing her swallow and prepare to speak again, Jiao Qingyin spoke first:

“If you don’t want to call me Your Highness, you can call me ‘Master’.”

Al looked as if she were choking.

The reaction satisfied Jiao Qingyin’s mischievous streak. She slid down from her upright position to level her gaze with Al’s. Her tone was teasing. “Let me hear it?”

Al became a silent gourd. Not only did she say nothing, she buried her head.

Jiao Qingyin was even happier. If she didn’t want to make Al angry, she would have laughed out loud. But her slightly trembling hand betrayed her. When Al looked up, she saw the laughter in the other’s eyes and the emergence of that tiny dimple she had only seen once.

Al blanked for a second, and then an awkward flush slowly rose to her cheeks. Why does she have to look so good when she smiles…

Al lowered her head, hiding her expression behind her long hair. She often played the weak role in front of Jiao Qingyin, but that was mostly acting. She didn’t mind acting spoiled or obedient to achieve a goal, but she was deeply ashamed of showing her real emotions—like now.

She could feel her heart beating so fast it threatened to burst from her chest, while her face felt tingly and hot. If the person in front of her were Odelia Hughes, Al would wish her disfigurement were even more complete—horrifying like a demon, enough to make anyone recoil.

But now, facing the person whose name she wanted to know, whom she wanted to get closer to, whom she… she couldn’t help but care about her appearance and how the other person saw her.

Jiao Qingyin’s past words suddenly echoed in her ears: “You’re so ugly it makes me sick.”

Al dazed for a moment. Her hand gripping the blanket tightened, blue veins popping on the back of her hand. She was about to lie down and hide her face when she heard Jiao Qingyin’s clear voice: “What’s wrong?”

Jiao Qingyin’s face was calm, but she was actually worried she had made Al angry. The girl had a traumatic past; perhaps her joke was poorly timed. Thinking this, Jiao Qingyin pursed her lips and spoke again: “Actually, I…”

Al kept her head down, her expression seemingly unchanged as she diverted Jiao Qingyin’s attention:

“Do you and she coexist constantly? When did you gain self-awareness, or when did you take control of this body?”

The sudden topic shift made Jiao Qingyin pause before following Al’s lead. “On the day she beat you into critical condition, I gained awareness and was able to use the body.”

It wasn’t a total lie. Hearing this, Al’s face turned even paler, despite having expected it. …So the person who truly hates my face is indeed the person in front of me.

That day, when Hughes was beating her, she had changed whips several times. Toward the end, she even coated the tip in poison. The final few lashes with the poison were what had caused the disfigurement and disability. Al didn’t know the ingredients of the poison, but she could clearly feel that the areas hit by the poisoned whip healed much slower than the others.

Compared to her paralyzed legs, the facial wounds weren’t as bad. Though the scars wouldn’t fade, there were at least no lingering physical effects, only an impact on her looks. In the past, Al hadn’t cared about the scars, but now, thinking of the disgust Jiao Qingyin had shown…

Jiao Qingyin didn’t know what Al was thinking. She looked at the clock again; with only an hour left, her heart sank. She misunderstood Al’s silence as sulking over the name issue. After a few seconds of hesitation, she said:

“As long as no one else hears, ‘Prince’, ‘Highness’, ‘Friend’, ‘Sister’… whatever you want. If you want to call me ‘Hey,’ I don’t care.”

Even though Jiao Qingyin was sure Al wasn’t infected with a virus and had simply misunderstood the “two souls” situation, the final judgment rested with the System. If Al didn’t pass the check, she would never see her again. This panicked worry made Jiao Qingyin exceptionally lenient.

However, Al’s focus was clearly elsewhere. “Sister?”

The surprise in her tone made Jiao Qingyin reflect: such a title was indeed out of place in a world with such rigid class structures. Besides… their relationship wasn’t that good.

Before she could take it back, Al looked up at her with pure confusion. “How old are you?”

Jiao Qingyin blinked, not expecting that. The original owner was twenty-five. She had died at twenty-three and worked for over seventy years since then… she didn’t remember the exact number, but added together, she was nearly a hundred.

So, Jiao Qingyin said confidently, “Older than you, anyway.”

Al was silent for a second, then said, “Not necessarily.”

Jiao Qingyin: “?”

Jiao Qingyin stared into Al’s eyes, trying to find a hint of a joke, but found nothing. The girl was serious. Jiao Qingyin found it unbelievable. Looking at her, Al looked barely an adult. “How old are you? Give me a number.”

Al’s confident look vanished. She stammered for a bit, then under the pressure of Jiao Qingyin’s gaze, whispered, “Anyway… at least over twenty.”

Jiao Qingyin went silent. Al’s guilt was so obvious she couldn’t miss it. She’s not even an adult yet, is she? She instinctively moved a bit further away from Al.

Seeing Jiao Qingyin’s expression, Al quickly added, “I don’t have a family, so no one knows my age, but I am definitely an adult—”

A soft spot in Jiao Qingyin’s heart was poked, but she intentionally said, “I see. Go to sleep, little kid.”

Al’s ears burned at “little kid,” but then she puffed her cheeks and emphasized, “Really!”

But Jiao Qingyin was already lying down. “Little kids grow taller if they sleep early.”

Al was choked up. Before she could retort, Jiao Qingyin couldn’t help but roast her: “How did you have the nerve to say you were older than me just now?”

“That’s because…” Al hesitated. She truly felt that her age should be older than Jiao Qingyin’s. It was a subtle feeling, as if she had existed for centuries or longer, but she had no idea why she felt that way.

Seeing she had nothing else to say, Jiao Qingyin skipped the conversation. “If you don’t sleep, it’ll be dawn.” She turned off the light, pulled up the blanket, and slept with her back to Al.

Al was stunned. Just like that? There were so many things unsaid. She still didn’t know the state of coexistence between Hughes and this person. She wanted to help Jiao Qingyin get rid of Hughes’ soul, because the final end of “two souls” was always one devouring the other, and Al could only accept this person as the winner.

Seeing Jiao Qingyin truly intended to sleep, Al got desperate and blurted out: “Jiao-Jiao.”

Jiao Qingyin’s ears burned as if scorched by fire. Her whole body trembled. Al didn’t know Chinese; the syllables she mimicked from memory were strange and a bit clingy, giving Jiao Qingyin the feeling of… a lover’s whisper.

But Al’s next fierce sentence snapped her back to reality.

“I can help you kill her.”

Jiao Qingyin didn’t need to ask who “she” was. Al believed she was under the original owner’s oppression, forced to act like her and follow her orders, so she wanted to kill the original owner for her.

In reality, Jiao Qingyin knew her actions were voluntary—she had taken the mission for points, come to this world, and pushed the plot as chosen. She wasn’t as innocent as Al imagined.

Jiao Qingyin opened her mouth, not asking how Al planned to do it. Instead, as the girl tried to continue, she turned over and covered Al’s mouth. Al was startled and instinctively wanted to close her lips, but froze the moment her lips brushed Jiao Qingyin’s palm.

Once Al stopped moving, Jiao Qingyin spoke slowly: “One hour and twenty-nine minutes.”

She glanced at the faint light in the sky, then turned back to Al and withdrew her hand.

“…What?” Al didn’t understand.

Jiao Qingyin sighed softly and made a decision.

“It is coming back. When the time is up, pretend our conversation today never happened. Do not mention my name. Our relationship goes back to how it was before we came to the palace.”

Jiao Qingyin spoke quickly, as if afraid she’d regret it if she didn’t finish. She should have used more… aggressive means, like the forbidden spell she’d seen in the manor’s library to forcibly wipe this memory at the cost of damaging Al’s nervous system. Or she could insist to the System that Al was a problem and demand a thorough investigation—a host’s judgment was a key reference for the Bureau. If she didn’t back down, the System would likely cancel the mission and move her to the next world until Al was “fixed.”

Jiao Qingyin knew those were the measures she should take. But she didn’t—even though the risk of mission failure would skyrocket. She didn’t want to hurt Al.

The “It” Jiao Qingyin referred to was the System, but Al took it to mean Odelia Hughes. Rage immediately flooded her face.

“She—”

“Enough. It’s really time to sleep. We have things to do this afternoon.”

With that, Jiao Qingyin ignored Al, letting her ask many frantic questions without saying another word.