Chapter 44
Chapter 44: Getting Picked Up
This sleep was wonderfully sweet.
It had been a long time since Funis could sleep so carefree until naturally waking. Accumulated fatigue was released, tense nerves relaxed, and her mind felt much sharper than usual.
Surprisingly, she didn’t have nightmares either.
After becoming a girl, Funis often had nightmares.
She seemed to dream of times when she and Charlotte used to walk and shop together, when she first started trying to care for Charlotte and still had no idea about the differences and intricacies of girls’ clothing, causing quite a few embarrassing moments.
Truly nostalgic.
It was comfortable, very comfortable.
But the only problem was—where was this?
A carved wooden bed with an intricate, beautiful frame. Pink curtains hung softly, and bedding of the same pink color was made of lace and silk, smooth and soft to the touch.
Strange.
Too strange.
But also somehow not entirely unfamiliar.
Funis liked white, Cecilia liked black—neither of them liked pink. And the inn’s bed was a low platform bed that couldn’t support such luxurious curtains.
After eliminating these possibilities, Funis panicked.
She’d been picked up!
Although Cecilia had repeatedly warned Funis before departure that as a girl she couldn’t just get drunk and fall asleep anywhere, the energy drain from using the Wrath authority once was truly enormous. Managing to successfully extract the Sword Rust secretion and spinal fluid was already a miracle—she simply couldn’t resist the overwhelming drowsiness that followed.
She collapsed and slept.
Woke up in shock.
She was naked, her tight corset was gone, her stockings removed, and even her underwear had been changed to an unfamiliar style.
Without the special Flozen Snow Cotton undergarments, Funis was nearly immobilized. But fortunately, her legs hadn’t been under much pressure or stimulation while she slept, so she hadn’t made a mess everywhere—just left a shallow puddle.
Sitting up, she observed her surroundings.
Beside the bed was a carved vanity table covered with various cosmetic supplies—exquisite porcelain bottles, ivory combs, a mirror with gold-trimmed edges. The room’s owner must have been extremely attentive to grooming herself, most likely a woman who lived elegantly.
In one corner of the room sat a sofa and coffee table with books carelessly stacked and an unextinguished table lamp.
The lamp cast gentle, soft light.
This was the standard bedroom style for girls of this era. The layout was similar to Charlotte’s preferences and habits, which was why Funis felt familiar within the strangeness.
Thinking back, in their home in the holy capital Vatica, Charlotte’s room had been decorated like this—all pink and tender, quite girlish.
Unlike that old woman Cecilia.
Black, black, black—everything was black. Always with a cold face dressed in black, like she was constantly ready to attend a funeral. Unlucky!
So satisfying!
So refreshing!
She had to curse that old woman harshly in her heart!
But shortly after cursing, Funis began missing Cecilia.
She should have returned to the Golden Rose with her harvest and observations, her advancement ceremony and the gift Cecilia promised, plus the celebration banquet…
Initially, all Funis thought about was escaping from Cecilia’s side. Now that she’d been picked up by strangers and brought to a strange environment, truly temporarily free from Cecilia’s control, she began wanting to go back.
Perhaps it was because compared to strangers she’d never met, staying by Cecilia’s side still felt safer.
It was nothing more than waiting on her hand and foot, serving tea and water, fetching this and that, playing the role of pillow and stress-relief tool day and night, putting on a sweet voice to please her…
Thinking carefully about what kind of life she’d lived this past year!
Funis covered her face and wailed.
Before drowsiness dragged her into unconsciousness, it had seemed extremely hot around her. She guessed it was because the ignited whale oil had flowed into the laboratory full of wool carpets and books, causing a fire.
Who would have brought her out of that environment?
An enemy?
Funis couldn’t let her guard down. She knew nothing about her current situation—it was better to be cautious.
Pulling back the curtains and trying to climb down from the bed to look around, the hair falling over her shoulders wasn’t the familiar silver-white she’d grown accustomed to.
Soft yet somewhat alluring pale pink.
Funis grabbed a strand and rubbed it in shock. She wasn’t mistaken—under the lamplight, the cherry-blossom pink was clear, and it definitely wasn’t dyed.
She instinctively reached up to touch both sides of her head.
Bare.
Funis bolted from the bed and knelt before the vanity chair, holding the mirror and examining herself repeatedly.
The girl in the mirror still had a delicate, fair, refined face with a small nose and thin pink lips. But her silver hair had now become pink, and her pale purple eyes were somehow tinged with pink too.
Her entire aura had completely changed.
The former Funis had looked gloomy, cold, and unapproachable. The current Funis appeared lively, innocent, and soft—you couldn’t sense any of her former severity and indifference.
However, none of this was most important.
Most importantly, her horns were gone!
Even after deliberately parting her hair to search carefully, she couldn’t detect the slightest trace. A perfectly good pair of horns had suddenly and inexplicably vanished into thin air. Funis was completely baffled.
She couldn’t exactly say she missed them.
Though those horns had once been her nightmare, after accepting them she’d found them quite beautiful—crystal clear and sparkling, like crystal, like diamonds.
Moira was the first person to say Funis’s horns were very pretty.
The little bell she’d tied for Funis—Funis had always treasured it, wearing it at the horn’s base except when bathing or sleeping. Though Cecilia always teased her that it was quite kinky…
Stop!
Why did originally warm memories become suggestive the moment they connected to Cecilia?
Funis held her forehead as she got down from the chair.
Actually, becoming like this wasn’t completely without clues for her.
Signs of magical depletion had appeared since absorbing the Chapter of Wrath. After first using her authority and expending massive energy, her hair had all turned pink at once. But Cecilia had never mentioned that complete magical depletion would make her lose her horns too.
If a succubus lost all her energy, would she stop seeming like a succubus?
That sounded strange somehow.
The room wasn’t locked, but Funis didn’t dare open the door yet. She first did a small exploration within the room and quickly found the leather sheath containing her rapier, the gun holster, ammunition pouch, and needle bag.
These leather items seemed to be categorized together and placed on the lower shelf of the coffee table.
Opening the ammunition pouch, the Sword Rust secretion and spinal fluid were still safely contained in their bottles without any damage.
Funis breathed a sigh of relief.
Her advancement to the eighth sequence of the Witch pathway and sixth sequence of the Wrath pathway depended entirely on these two precious substances. Finding another Black Sword Lizard wouldn’t exactly be easy.
Then the weapons.
The revolver showed some wear but still functioned. The short rapier was stained with grime that hadn’t been cleaned yet.
Whoever brought Funis here seemed to have no intention of restricting her freedom, otherwise they wouldn’t have placed the dangerous weapons she’d originally been bound with in the same room as her.
But she still couldn’t relax.
Until she determined who it was, she shouldn’t let her guard down.
Something seemed to be missing. Funis felt like she was overlooking something that should have been packed together in the ammunition pouch.
The nameplate.
The insignia she’d received during her time at the Temperance House.
It bore her former name, representing her former identity.
Someone had taken it!
Funis’s heart sank.
Just then, shallow footsteps suddenly came from outside the door.