Forced to Become the Protagonist of a Restricted Novel [Transmigration & Rebirth] - Chapter 9

The captain, who had been flipping through documents at the table, paused mid-motion and looked up in surprise.

Sasha froze for a second, then instead of getting angry, burst into wild laughter. “Seems like you’ve got firsthand experience, darling—”

The silver-haired youth dragged a fingertip across his cheek, then fixed her with a meaningful stare.

Su Cheng stiffened as his gesture reminded her of how she had once come into contact with someone’s pectorals.

Though the captain probably wouldn’t be mad.

Still, she felt a little embarrassed.

She instinctively turned her head—only to meet a pair of golden eyes brimming with astonishment.

Su Cheng: “…”

So awkward.

Su Cheng: “Sorry—”

She hastily apologized without waiting for Kai’s reaction, then whipped her head back to glare at the vampire.

“Next time, if we’re discussing the curse, I don’t want to hear anything unrelated until the topic is over.”

Suppressing her anger, she added coldly, “Otherwise, I don’t think you need to be here anymore. Agreed?”

At the same time, she felt her palm grow hot.

On her curled fingers, the dark mark of a God-favored quietly surfaced.

The room fell silent again.

Three men stared at her with varying expressions.

The girl standing by the table lifted her head, her clear amber eyes faintly glowing with vertical lines and triangular patterns—two symmetrical shapes, like the trays of a balance scale.

“Oh?”

Sasha raised an eyebrow, his gaze suddenly alight with intense interest.

If his actions before had been nothing but idle mischief—

Now, it was as if a starving beast had caught the scent of blood.

An eerie excitement flickered across his face as his crimson eyes locked onto the girl before him. “Is this a contract?”

He deliberately emphasized the word, as if savoring it, his pale lips curling. “Then I can agree—but you’ll have to accept some conditions from me too.”

Su Cheng didn’t respond.

The heat in her palm intensified.

The moment he mentioned a contract, she sensed a suppressed power spreading.

If she nodded, a true contract would form between them.

And as a God-favored of the God of Contract, any agreement she made—whether written or verbal—would carry terrifyingly binding force.

If either party broke it, the consequences would be dire.

No one had told her this, but based on the descriptions of God-favored powers in books and her own burgeoning instincts, she knew it had to be true.

“…Forget it,” Su Cheng snapped irritably. “I was just stating what I thought should be common courtesy in conversation.”

As she rejected his proposal, the heat in her palm vanished abruptly.

That strange, lingering sensation dissipated.

Sasha smiled at her, his interest in his eyes only growing. “Then I’ll remember that. Next time I’ll be more careful. My apologies.”

Su Cheng thought to herself, “Yeah, right,” but on the surface, she flashed an equally insincere smile before turning to the silent blond mage beside her.

Camus had also been staring at her for a few seconds earlier, but now his gaze returned to the girl’s back, as if pondering something.

“You said you don’t know the identity of the caster,” Camus spoke gravely. “To what extent do you mean ‘don’t know’?”

“Completely clueless,” Su Cheng spread her hands. “I can’t think of anyone suspicious, and I believe this happened before I had any memories.”

Camus gave a slight nod. “If you were cursed as an infant, it wouldn’t be strange for it to manifest around adulthood.”

His eyes flickered briefly over the exposed nape of the girl’s neck. “This is a composite blood curse.”

By definition, a blood curse is one that requires the target’s blood to cast, and such curses often flow through the target’s veins. In rare cases, they can even be passed down to descendants.

That’s why they’re usually difficult to remove.

“…But it probably isn’t the inheritable type. Composite curses are combinations of multiple curses, sometimes even original creations by the caster. This one has a prototype—the caster likely made some modifications.”

Camus mused, “You still haven’t answered me—how did you deal with it before?”

Su Cheng had initially planned to brush him off by saying she went out soliciting, but meeting those sharp blue eyes made her reconsider. Perhaps now was the time for honesty.

“Incubus blood.”

“Hmm,” Camus didn’t seem surprised. “An effective solution. Do you still have any stored?”

Su Cheng hesitated. “Yes, but it gets used up quickly. I wanted to stock up more. I heard there’s an underground black market in Golden Amber City that sells all sorts of forbidden… materials and tools. I was thinking of trying my luck there?”

Camus neither agreed nor disagreed. “Hard to say. The Holy See has been cracking down hard recently.”

Hearing their teammate mention the Holy See, Sasha let out a soft scoff from the side.

His beautiful face still wore a smile, but his expression now carried a hint of disdain. “Why not just go and see? If all else fails, catch one on the spot.”

Su Cheng: “…”

He made it sound like catching a mouse on the street.

Those were high-level demons.

An ordinary adult Incubus could probably take on a hundred-man squadron of Holy Knights single-handedly.

During the war eras of the past, such creatures reportedly had to be dealt with by the lower deities of the God of Light’s faction.

The one whose blood she’d drunk before—even with a restraint collar around its neck—could come and go without a trace.

“Setting that aside for now,” Su Cheng’s eyes gleamed, “do you know where to catch an Incubus?”

“Maybe,” Sasha looked at her with keen interest. “If I tell you, what will you give me in return?”

Su Cheng narrowed her eyes. “You’re very eager to make a deal with me?”

He blinked meaningfully. “Aren’t you here to make deals with us, darling? I very much enjoy dealing with people like you.”

“People like me?” Su Cheng repeated. “What kind is that?”

“Have you heard a certain song?”

Sasha answered as if changing the subject, then began humming a cheerful tune.

“That was a vow forged of adamant, a solemn oath carved in stone, yet they buried traps within the clauses of the contract, making flowers of honesty and trust bear the poisonous fruit of betrayal. Ah, look at your faithful devotees—you call them keepers of promises, yet all I see—”

His melodious voice suddenly soared, the pitch rising sharply.

“…are sophists and swindlers offering you tribute.”

The final line trailed off in a descending tone, the seemingly cheerful rhythm turning somber before abruptly cutting to silence.

Su Cheng stared at him wide-eyed. “Huh?”

What kind of nonsense was this?

Was this some godforsaken opera world? Why did he suddenly start singing!

“Not surprising, since you’re still a human fledgling,” the Blood Clan youth hummed a similar melody. “But speaking of blood, I should go get something to eat.”

He turned to leave without ceremony. Su Cheng hesitated to stop him, fearing he might press close again, and remained motionless for a moment.

The conference room door clicked shut.

Recalling the lyrics, Su Cheng felt an intensely peculiar sensation rising within her.

The other two men remained perfectly calm, apparently accustomed to their teammate’s habit of bursting into song or leaving at will.

Camus was still staring at her back.

Kai continued examining the scroll on the table, occasionally picking up a pen to jot down a few words.

“Gentlemen, excuse me,” Su Cheng raised her hand, “what song was he just singing?”

The mage seemed deaf to her question, but the team leader looked up and answered earnestly: “That was ‘The Dirge of Thetia.'”

Su Cheng’s expression turned profoundly confused.

“An ancient folk ballad,” Kai mused. “A bard’s tale about the ancient city-state of Thetia—said to be under the God of Contract’s protection, where all citizens were God-favored. Most were honest merchants until a stranger arrived. He taught them to conceal contract terms with illusions, trick others into signing, play word games with verbal promises to distort transaction terms. The God-favored began reaping greater profits, even harvesting souls.”

Su Cheng froze at the first few sentences. “What happened then?”

“Then the city-state fell. Two powerful God-favored deceived each other into breaching vows, invoking divine retribution. The entire Thetia became ruins amidst thunder.”

Su Cheng’s mouth fell open. “That’s the whole song? And the lyrics mentioned ‘your faithful devotees’—is ‘you’ referring to the God of Contract?”

Kai nodded slightly.

After two seconds of silence, Su Cheng asked, “Was that stranger… the God of Contract himself?”

Camus glanced at her.

Kai nodded calmly. “…Judging by the lyrics, yes.”

“So,” Su Cheng inexplicably felt relieved, “this is just song lyrics? Not real history?”

Kai didn’t answer immediately. After consideration, he said, “Perhaps. For events none witnessed, who can claim absolute truth?”

For a moment, Su Cheng suddenly felt her God-favored mark grow uncomfortably hot—not literally, but as a psychological weight.

She knew that the deities of this world were hardly good people.

Or rather, from the perspective of human logic and universal moral standards, they all had an “evil” aspect—it was just expressed differently.

Being chosen as a God-favored one naturally brought her joy, as it was at least some form of security, but it also came with corresponding worries.

This power symbolized her connection to the deities.

And that in itself could bring destruction.

The meeting room fell silent once more.

Su Cheng sank into thought while the other two busied themselves with their own matters.

A few minutes later, Camus slowly removed the glove from his right hand, his dark blue eyes fixed on her. “I can’t guarantee complete removal of the curse, but I’d like to try.”

Su Cheng nodded. “Alright.”

She was also worried that differences between her and Lin Yun’s constitutions might cause adverse effects.

“I need to conduct some experiments to determine the ratios of certain materials,” the blond man said unhurriedly. “If you don’t trust me, we can sign a formal contract.”

Su Cheng had been considering this as well. “Fine. I’ll draft the liability waiver. Let’s keep this payment separate—I can compensate you for this. The task with your mercenary group won’t be mixed up with this, right?”

Camus didn’t object. “If this ensures your full cooperation, then go ahead and write it.”

Su Cheng: “…”

This guy wasn’t helping out of kindness—he was treating her as an experimental subject. She was well aware of that.

They were strangers who had met by chance; under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t fully trust him either.

In fact, if she weren’t a God-favored one of the God of Contract, the binding power of this agreement would be significantly weakened—at best, it would only serve as evidence in a lawsuit.

But if he really ended up killing her, what would any of that matter?

Su Cheng leaned over the table, swiftly drafting the document.

Camus took the initial draft, skimmed through it briefly, and without raising any objections, signed his name without hesitation.

Su Cheng could feel the constraints taking effect.

It was a subtle sensation, something others might not comprehend—but this was likely a unique ability of the God-favored.

Last time, after signing the contract with Murong Yue, she had just become a God-favored one and was immediately swept up in the shocking appearance of the deities.

Only now could she carefully perceive the changes.

“Well,” Su Cheng said with mixed emotions, “it’s settled then.”

No matter what special identities these people had, at this stage, they couldn’t possibly rival the power of the deities, could they? Otherwise, they wouldn’t need to post notices seeking collaborators.

She hadn’t included any tricks in the contract—it was all for her own safety.

For instance, if during the testing or treatment process, he harbored any ill intentions—whether to harm her, control her, or maliciously use her as experimental material—

Even if he hadn’t yet acted on it, merely entertaining the idea or planning to do so, he would be finished.

Camus handed the contract back to her. “All good?”

As he spoke, he curled his fingers and lightly tapped the table, issuing an unquestionable command: “Turn around.”

Su Cheng turned her back to him. “It won’t hurt too much, will it?”

The mage behind her remained silent, only using his fingers to push aside the delicate strap clinging to her shoulder blade, exposing her snow-white back entirely.

His fingers paused for a moment. “…Your hair.”

Su Cheng tilted her head slightly and swept a hand behind her neck, brushing a few stray strands aside.

Soon, his fingertips landed on her back.

It felt like an ice pick and a branding iron simultaneously piercing her skin—the pain wasn’t unbearable yet, but the stark contrast in temperature was particularly vivid.

She couldn’t help but shiver again.

The alternating sensations of cold and heat continued to roam across her body. Su Cheng silently traced the path in her mind, gradually piecing together the shape of the curse’s sigil.

She focused on these thoughts to distract herself.

Yet the pain in her back grew increasingly intense, as if her entire layer of skin was being scorched or frozen to the point of decay.

Gritting her teeth, she began breathing heavily, instinctively trying to twist away—only for his other hand to clamp down on her waist.

“Try to stay still,” Camus said in a low voice. “I need to assess how deeply it’s fused with your body. Bear with it a little longer.”

He began chanting an unfamiliar incantation under his breath.

Su Cheng couldn’t quite understand it—clearly, this went beyond the knowledge of an ordinary Elemental Mage.

Tilting her head back with clenched teeth, she gasped, “I’m really not trying to be uncooperative, I just—”

“I know,” Camus murmured. “Stop moving.”

Sweat poured down Su Cheng’s face as her fingers dug into the edge of the table. “Sorry—I really am trying to endure, damn it, I can’t take it anymore! Maybe we should do this tomorrow!”

The golden-haired man fell silent for two seconds before suddenly stepping forward, pressing against the slender, trembling frame of the girl.

His solid chest pinned her arched shoulder blades in place.

His knee wedged between her shaking thighs, preventing any further attempts to squirm away.

As the rhythm of his chanting slowed, the girl’s fragmented whimpers grew louder.

Su Cheng’s composure shattered.

—This was too much pain!

Her spine throbbed with wave after wave of agony, each more excruciating than the last. It felt as though her entire body was being split in half, her skull hammered by a mallet.

Stars nearly danced in her vision as her hands scrambled wildly across the table, scattering scrolls and sending draft papers flying into the air.

The Blood Mage behind her gritted his teeth and seized her wrist. “Stop—”

His gaze dropped, and the words died in his throat.

The undulating curve of her waist resembled white-capped waves surging with the tide.

Now swaying in sync with the flow of magic, her tailbone occasionally bumped against the intricate buckle of his belt.

The girl’s weakened arms barely supported her weight against the table. Tears and sweat dripped onto the surface, her pinned fingers turning white from the strain.

“……”

They abruptly separated.

Su Cheng collapsed onto the table like a puppet with its strings cut.

Her mind buzzed chaotically—thoughts of God-favored ones, curses, and plotlines swirling—but she somehow managed to stay conscious.

She wanted to wail a little longer, only to realize the pain had already begun to fade.

Pulling a small mirror from her pocket, she checked her back and noticed the curse sigil had lightened slightly.

Su Cheng: “…Huh? Miracle worker!”

Camus leaned against the table, breathing slightly labored. “No, I merely delayed the next flare-up. Assuming no complications arise.”

His usually pale complexion now carried a faint flush, beads of sweat dampening the curls at his temples.

“It’s indeed complex. We’ll start with potions—let me list the required ingredients.”

Muttering to himself, he bent to retrieve several blank scrolls and a stack of draft paper from the drawer.

The golden-haired mage wiped his brow with a silk handkerchief before beginning to scribble furiously.

After a while, he slapped a sheet onto the table. “Go purchase these first.”

The dark-haired man across from him rose to his feet.

He picked up the heavy sword leaning against the wall and slotted it into the scabbard on his back, his sharp golden eyes turning to regard her.

“I’ll take you to the underground market to gather materials. We can also check if there’s any Incubus blood for sale as a backup.”

Su Cheng readily agreed.

She picked up her clothes from the table, “…Thank you. And thank you too, Mr. Camus.”

Though it had been quite painful earlier, the discomfort had faded quickly. Besides, a certain Blood Mage seemed to have expended quite a bit of energy himself.

Camus appeared still absorbed in his research, only turning his head after a few seconds, “?”

Su Cheng took a couple of steps closer, leaning down to his ear and deliberately speaking loudly, “I said thank you!”

Camus blinked, his gaze sweeping over her face before skimming past the sweat-dampened front of her tank top, the thin fabric half-translucent against her skin.

He turned away, his tone indifferent, “No need for thanks.”

With that, he adjusted his coat, crossed his legs, and leaned back in his chair, no longer looking at her.