CHAPTER 148: WHAT DEREK DISCOVERED TOOK HIS BREATH AWAY

Some words, when spoken from the usually cold and distant Lyra, carried a weight that couldn’t be described.

It was a kind of satisfaction Veil couldn’t quite put into words.

For someone like Lyra—an elegant professor with a frosty demeanor—to say things like that... it didn’t just sound nice. It felt like a victory.

What, did they really think it was some sort of accident?

What a joke.

He had planned this.

Why else would he bring only Lyra to negotiate with Dorian Wilson that night, leaving everyone else behind?

Because it was the full moon. The exact night her condition was known to flare up.

Veil’s long-running campaign had already ensnared Lyra’s heart. But to take things to the next level? Naturally progressing their relationship might take forever. What he needed was a "twist of fate."

And that twist came exactly as intended.

He might’ve been saying sorry, might’ve acted like it was unplanned... but in Lyra’s heart, did she really believe he had done anything wrong?

Sure, there had been unexpected developments along the way—but through his expert maneuvering, Veil not only handled them but turned them to his advantage.

Even he couldn’t help silently applauding himself.

"How are you feeling now?" Veil asked gently, brushing a hand through her silky black hair.

Lyra bit her lip and nestled closer into his arms. Her voice was quiet and hesitant.

"I still feel... a little sore. I mean, I’ve never been through something like that. Maybe I just need a bit more time."

"Wait—what?" Veil blinked. "I meant your condition. The cold? Are you still feeling chilled?"

Lyra’s face turned bright red. "Oh. That."

Without answering, she pinched his waist hard.

"Ow—Lyra! Since when did you learn how to pinch?!"

Veil winced, covering his waist with exaggerated pain.

"It’s gone," Lyra muttered, cheeks burning as she pinched him again—multiple times in fact.

This morning, she seemed like a completely different person. The icy, composed professor had vanished—replaced by a girl full of youthful playfulness.

Flirting, teasing—it felt like something out of a high school romance.

Of course, her little "pinches" were just soft squeezes. And Veil’s dramatic reactions? Most likely just playing along to sweeten the mood.

Lyra knew exactly what she was doing, and Veil wasn’t complaining.

The two of them laughed and clung to each other like new lovers lost in their own world.

They were so caught up in each other, they completely forgot someone else was still in the room.

Yes, really.

Saoirse had originally thought if she just stayed silent under the heavy blanket, she could avoid the awkwardness entirely.

But no.

Not only did Veil stick around, Lyra too had decided to shamelessly remain in bed—her bed—flirting right in front of her face.

What were they thinking? That she was invisible?

That they could just do whatever they pleased?!

Huff!

With a loud, angry breath, Saoirse kicked off the blanket and stood up from the other side of the bed, pointing furiously at the couple locked in their affectionate embrace. Her face was burning red as she snapped:

"You two! Don’t you think this is a little too much?! Am I just not here?! Whispering sweet nothings once or twice—fine, I let it slide! But now? This shameless flirting—again and again—are you seriously not even going to pretend to care about how uncomfortable it is for someone else in the room?!"

Lyra froze, startled, her flushed cheeks darkening further. She hesitated, pointed at Saoirse, and murmured awkwardly:

"Um... clothes?"

Saoirse glanced down at her bare, flawless figure. Then, without flinching, she looked back up and scoffed coldly, continuing her tirade like she didn’t give a damn:

"Clothes? What clothes? Don’t act innocent! If you hadn’t suddenly started screaming for help and begging me last night, would I be like this right now?!"

Saoirse didn’t care.

She was nothing like Lyra. She and Veil already had plenty of history together.

At this point, with everything laid bare between them, what was there to hide?

She stood there, fuming with righteous indignation, her chest heaving with frustration. To her, Lyra had crossed a line—shamelessly inserting herself between her and Veil. Using a situation like that to deepen their bond? Despicable.

And if she didn’t yell it out, the fire in her chest wouldn’t go away.

"What are you looking at? Didn’t get a good look last night or something?!"

Saoirse straightened her back and stood tall, flaunting herself right in front of Lyra.

Lyra pressed her lips together, paused for a long moment, then finally murmured, "I’m sorry."

...What?

Saoirse was stunned.

She’d been ready to go to war—to keep the fight going, even escalate it. All her sharp words were loaded and ready to fire.

And then... Lyra apologized?

Her comeback got stuck halfway up her throat. And damn it, now it wouldn’t come out at all.

"Thank you," Lyra continued, her voice steady. "For not stopping Veil last night. If you had... I probably wouldn’t have made it. And thank you again—for helping, even if it was partway through. Without that... I might not have survived."

She was being sincere.

And that sincerity somehow buried all the usual irritation Saoirse felt toward her.

Saoirse shot a sidelong glance at Veil and couldn’t help but scoff. "Stop him? You think I wanted to save you last night? Even if I did, you think he was going to let a golden opportunity like that pass him by? Only someone like you could get sweet-talked into believing him—apologizing to him even! Giving him the benefit of the doubt!"

She rolled her eyes, practically vibrating with indignation. "Stupid woman! He’s probably still laughing to himself on the inside while saying sorry!"

Lyra tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at Veil. "Is that true?"

"You’re hopeless," Saoirse groaned. "This stuff should be obvious. You look all graceful and smart most of the time, but when it comes to men? You’re like a child!"

"I’m starting to think," she added dryly, "that if Veil sold you off one day, you’d help him count the money."

Lyra let out a soft laugh, not offended in the slightest. "Then I guess I’ll have to rely on you to teach me a thing or two."

Veil suddenly felt a chill down his spine.

He’d worked so hard to get these two from constant bickering to civil cooperation. And yes, it had paid off—look at them now. But now... now things were turning. He could feel it.

A unified front.

Hell no.

If Lyra started picking up Saoirse’s chaotic habits, he’d be in serious trouble. He could still handle one Saoirse, but two? With Lyra backing her up?

That was apocalyptic.

"Hey—what the hell?!" Saoirse yelped as she suddenly lost her balance and stumbled.

Veil didn’t say a word.

He just leaned forward and kissed her.

Ding! Villain Points +1000!

Ding! Villain Points +1000 ×2!

Saoirse shoved him off, flustered and furious. "Lyra! Are you seriously just standing there enjoying the show?! After everything I did for you last night?! You still owe me!"

Lyra flinched.

The betrayal in Saoirse’s voice struck hard, and Lyra looked like she wanted to disappear.

"I... I was just going to wash my face..."

That was her excuse.

Because honestly, this? This was way beyond what she could comfortably handle. Especially with the way Saoirse was looking at her. Her whole back went cold.

"Wash your face? Who said you could run away?!"

Saoirse reached out, grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her back beside her.

"Don’t say I never gave you a chance," she said, glaring. "Last night you were like a stuffed animal—barely moved an inch. But now? Look at you, all lively and recharged. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re really thinking. So fine—I’ll hand it to you on a silver platter!"

She winked at Veil, all sultry mischief. On the surface, she was ’offering’ Lyra up to him... but in truth, she was deflecting.

Redirecting the heat.

Veil, of course, wasn’t about to let that opportunity slide. This was exactly what he wanted.

The moment Lyra got pulled into the fray, he dove back in.

Ding! Villain Points +1000!

Ding! Villain Points +1000 ×2!

And just like that, the whole morning flew by.

By the time things settled, Veil was lying between the two of them—Saoirse on one side, Lyra on the other.

Lyra occasionally glanced over at Saoirse with quiet resentment.

Saoirse, meanwhile, looked positively radiant—basking in satisfaction at seeing Lyra suffer, if only a little.

Haaa...

Veil took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke.

He looked down at the two women nestled against him—two gorgeous, powerful women.

The brilliant professor.

The underground queen.

Now both lying sweetly at his side.

Yeah.

This was what it meant to enjoy life.

...

Alice walked through the orphanage hall, carrying a basin of hot water in her hands, her expression tinged with irritation.

The caretakers were getting lazier by the day.

This should’ve been their job. But just because the person in question wasn’t one of the orphanage’s children, they flat-out refused to help. In the end, everything got dumped on her.

"Whatever," Alice muttered with a sigh. "If I don’t do it, Grandma Headmistress will end up tending to him herself."

Resigned, she carried the basin to a separate room and knocked on the door.

"Come in," a gentle voice called from inside.

Alice pushed open the door and entered, her gaze falling on a young man lying on the bed. His body was wrapped in bandages—especially his legs, which were bound so tightly they looked like the protective gear worn by professional athletes.

"Sorry to trouble you," the young man said, a faint smile on his lips. "I’m not in the best shape right now, so I’m a little... inconvenient."

The moment Derek laid eyes on Alice, he was stunned.

He’d seen beauty—his seven "Elder Sisters" were easily the most gorgeous women he’d ever met.

Ever since leaving the mountain, the women he’d come across on the streets—caked in makeup and trying too hard—had all felt hollow in comparison. Not a single one of them could hold a candle to his Elder Sisters.

But today?

Today was a pleasant surprise.

He never imagined he’d encounter a woman in a place like an orphanage—someone whose beauty could rival even his Elder Sisters.

Alice was nothing short of a rare gem.