CHAPTER 485: NOT THE SAME WOMAN

The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting delicate patterns across the vanity mirror. The light filtering through woke Clara up as soon as they graced her face. She opened her sleepy eyes and then got out of bed groggily, shuffling toward her vanity mirror. Subconsciously, she was still basking in the satisfaction of yesterday’s transformation. But the moment her eyes landed on the reflection, a bone-chilling scream tore through the room.

"No... no, no, no!"

Clara’s trembling fingers reached up, touching the face staring back at her. This was bad! What the hell was that? Her face was creased, sunken, and impossibly worse than before. Deep lines carved down her cheeks, her under-eyes looked puffy and dark, and her lips had shrivelled like dried fruit. Her skin had the texture of worn parchment, even her hair looked thinner, greyer.

"T-his... this can’t be happening!" she rasped.

Clara backed away in horror, knocking a perfume bottle to the floor with a sharp crash, but for once, she did not care about that.

"Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!!"

Whatever that bitch had given her, hadn’t granted youth. It had taken what she had away from her. It had cursed her with ’decay’ tenfold. She had begged for beauty, and now she looked like a husk.

A soft, mocking chuckle echoed in the back of her mind, but she was too livid to hear this.

Angela was woken up by this and rushed into the room, just as Clara screamed out her name:

"ANGELAAAAAA!!!!!!!"

Still breathing heavily, Clara scrambled for her phone and jabbed at the screen with unsteady fingers, dialling Aliya’s number at the same time,

’The number you have dialled cannot be reached at this mome----’

"AAAHHHHHHHHH!"

"Angela!" she barked, offloading her frustration onto Angela, but her voice frayed with panic.

Moments later, soft footsteps echoed hesitantly down the hallway and into the room. This was one of the few days that Clara had woken up on her own, but Angela was still wary, given what she had seen the night before. She was terrified of whatever witchcraft that Clara had dabbled in. So, despite Clara’s frantic shouts, Angela peeked into the bedroom, her brows furrowed in confusion and sleep.

"Madam Clara...?" she ventured cautiously. "You called me?"

Clara whipped around, eyes wild. "You!"

"Ahhh!! Madam Clara, what is -"

Angela stopped short, gasping as her heart lurched. She lowered her eyes so that she did not have to look directly at Clara. The difference from the night before vs the morning was too startling!

Angela opened her mouth and then closed it again. She was too shocked that she was at a loss for words. She closed her eyes tightly, willing herself not to utter any rude remarks, then another thing hit her,

"Y- you remember me, ma’am?"

"What kind of stupid question is that? Why would I not remember you?" Clara snapped, both bewildered and annoyed.

"Tell me what happened last night! How did I get home? Did anyone see me? Did anyone touch me?! Why can’t I remember anything? ... and what is happening to me?!"

Angela blinked. She did not have the answer to the latter questions, but she could tell Clara how they had gotten her inside from the taxi. "Um..."

Angela decided to ignore the obvious in front of her. She masked the panic inside her like any experienced personal maid and then reencountered what she remembered from the previous night,

"I- I helped you inside. You were... uhm... a bit different... but you were also disoriented and - "

"I am not interested in such absurdities! Just tell me what I need to know!"

"Uh, um .... she added, almost under her breath, unsure what Clara wanted to know.

She just continued, making sure not to comment about Clara’s appearance at all. However, no matter what she did or said, Clara was very interested in that part of the conversation.

"So, it wasn’t a dream?" Clara whispered, getting excited as she remembered Aliya’s warnings:

"Once you take it, you cannot back out of our deal. The conditions will reset in a night. However, bear in mind that you will have to take the permanent potion in at least two months, or you will not be able to take the repercussions."

Clara went still. Her face twisted as she tried to recall anything-any sound, any memory from the night before—but her mind was blank. She only remembered things from up till she had taken the potion, and the rest were just memory fragments. However, this did not bother Clara at all. She was much more interested in the fact that Aliya’s potion had worked.

"What did I say? Did I say anything to you last night?" she asked hoarsely.

Angela hesitated briefly, sleep already far from her eyes.

"You said... Y- you felt beautiful again." Angela hesitated, eyes flicking up to the gnarled face now glaring back at her.

She also conveniently did not mention how Clara looked from the night before, but she could not help but mention,

"B-ut now... you don’t look too well, madam. How do you feel? Should we go to the hospital?"

That last part earned Angela a glare sharp enough to slice stone.

"Are you being stupid or naïve? Do you think that a doctor can help me with this? If you have nothing intuitive to say, shut that mouth!"

Clara snapped and then turned back to the mirror. She was genuinely upset, but everything Angela had said to warn her went unheard. All Clara cared about was that the potion had worked and Aliya was right. Whatever setback she was facing was temporary.

’Aliya has my best interests at heart. Not like those ungrateful children!’

Lost in thought, Clara did not notice when Angela turned to leave.

Angela lowered her eyes quickly, but not before the shiver passed down her spine. There was something... wrong with Clara. It wasn’t just the sudden change of face .... from wrinkled, to smooth, then back again.

The energy in the room was a suffocating pressure that hadn’t been there before. The air felt... heavy. She was not superstitious, but even a realistic person faced with these subnormal instances will know that there was much more at play than met the eye.

"I’ll get your tea," Angela murmured, turning to flee the room.

"Angela," the voice called, sharper than before.

Angela froze, but did not turn back. It was just too difficult and uncomfortable to look at Clara. Something sinister was in the air, and Angela felt as if she should stay away from her mistress. This was the first time she had felt this from Clara. Previously, Clara had just been unbearable as a person, but this time, it was different ... very different!

"Don’t speak of this to anyone," Clara said, her tone too casual to be real, "Not a soul. Do you understand?"

Angela nodded stiffly, heart racing. "Yes, madam."

As she scurried down the hallway, she couldn’t shake the image of Clara’s eyes in the mirror: not just angry... hungry as if something else was peering out from behind them.

’Is the house cursed?’ she thought, hugging herself.

’Will I turn the same way?’ She couldn’t help but dash into the nearest bathroom to look at herself in the mirror. A huge sigh of relief left Angela when she saw that she looked the same.

’ ... something tells me... that was not the same mistress I helped home last night....’

Angela lingered by the hallway phone. When she got to it, her fingers hovered above the dial pad.

’I wish Miss Shelby were here.... Oh heavens, please protect Miss Shelby wherever she is!’

Angela clasped her hands to say a silent prayer, then she thought,

’Maybe, I should tell Master Rocky? Yes... that will be best!’

She reached for the phone and tried dialling Rocky’s number. In fact, she had already tried the night before and a few days prior, to no avail. Each call had rung out before falling into voicemail, and then, it didn’t even ring. Just disconnected. She stared at the landline, sighing.

"He’s switched it off..." she whispered, chest tightening.

It wasn’t like him. Even at his busiest, he always answered her calls—especially regarding his mother. A slow, creeping panic settled into her stomach.

"I should leave," she said under her breath, looking toward the door. But her legs didn’t move. She had served in this household for decades. Watched Shelby and Rocky grow. She had watched Clara fall apart after James’ death... They were like family to her ... and family never just abandoned each other.

Angela knew then that she couldn’t abandon it even if something unnatural had taken root in that house. She owed Shelby and Rocky.

Little did Angela know that it was a blessing that Rocky never answered his phone. Aliya had set her eyes on him, but Currey had beaten her to it by hiding him and Ava. For Rocky’s sake, it was best that he never contacted his mother at that time, but it remained to be seen whether this contact could be made or not.

Ding!

Clara rushed to her messages as soon as she heard this:

’You know what you have to do!’

Yes, she knew it! She just had to link her son with Aliya, and she would have her youthful grace back... that was all there was to it... How hard could that be?

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