Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Dream Demon
No one knew what the Whisperers truly were. They were described as something invisible yet omnipresent.
No one believed the Whisperers actually existed either. The Church dismissed them as heretical nonsense, while mothers used these terrifying legends to frighten crying, disobedient children.
Funis certainly thought so too. She stared into Chexia’s eyes. “Don’t try to fool me with stories meant to scare children. You witches rarely speak the truth.”
“I’m merely stating facts. Whether you believe them or not is your choice,” Chexia didn’t take the girl’s defiance to heart. “Besides, you’re a witch now too. One of us.”
“Hmm…” Funis was momentarily speechless.
She wanted to say that even if she had become a witch, her character wouldn’t become corrupt and vile. But that would undermine her earlier point. Unable to refute this, Funis could only swallow her frustration.
“The first witch could communicate directly with the Whisperers. She constantly dreamed, constantly babbled madness, constantly wrote and drew, leaving countless manuscripts and diagrams,” Chexia glanced at Funis’s sulky little expression before continuing. “These included the original volume of the ‘Witch’s Codex,’ as well as detailed records of human modification procedures.”
“The subjects could only be immature girls. Hallucinogenic herbs and venomous crawlers would enter their tender bodies, followed by a bloody dissection, then seven days of excruciating torment,” she continued.
Funis suddenly recalled those horrifying images from her dreams. This woman had done exactly the same things to her.
“That… that’s…”
The girl’s small body began to tremble involuntarily. She felt afraid.
“This is how a new witch is born—bloody and cruel, usually forced, born of desperation, or various other reasons.” Chexia took Funis’s trembling small hand.
“Slap!”
A crisp, loud sound.
“Stay away from me!” Funis screamed.
She slapped Chexia’s hand away, terrified and disgusted. Even her light purple pupils were trembling slightly.
The air seemed to freeze for several seconds. A red mark gradually appeared on the back of the witch’s unguarded right hand, her skin equally delicate.
Those wine-red eyes first showed momentary surprise.
Then turned to wild delight.
The red deepened.
Blood-red.
That slapped hand suddenly grabbed the girl’s nightgown collar, yanking her up then throwing her down. Unable to resist, the girl was like a puppet, tossed onto the bed where she could only whimper softly.
The sound of tearing fabric.
The cicada-wing-thin silk nightgown couldn’t withstand the witch’s violence. Only tattered fragments remained on Funis, exposing large patches of her snow-white, smooth skin under the dim candlelight.
Fragile.
This word described Funis perfectly right now.
Her starry, dazzling silver hair spilled across the bed like moonlight. Her violet eyes, brimming with tears, were crystal clear yet evasive, their ripples undulating. Her helpless arms tried to cover her exposed delicate body but didn’t know where to place themselves.
Brilliant and enchanting.
But also vulnerable.
She had provoked Chexia again.
In this state, Chexia was the true Blood Witch, with a wicked smile playing at the corners of her lips, accompanied by violence, delighting in cruelty—completely different from her usual self.
Her gaze toward Funis held no more affection.
Greed.
Longing.
Demand.
Pure desire.
Not even bothering to remove her small shoes, the crimson-eyed Chexia impatiently climbed onto the bed, straddling the whimpering glass maiden beneath her.
The little white rabbit who angered the big bad wolf deserved punishment.
Even a four-year-old would understand this logic.
“I’m… I’m sorry…”
Funis didn’t dare meet Chexia’s eyes. She fearfully turned her head aside, covering her eyes with her arm.
The girl who had been so defiant now could only apologize and beg for mercy. Perhaps the pride and dignity from her former male self still influenced her, but she likely wouldn’t learn her lesson for a long time to come.
But the expected violation or abuse never came, even after a long while.
The candle burned quietly.
Funis timidly moved her arm away, secretly observing Chexia’s state, only to find that the blood-red in the witch’s eyes had silently faded.
However, that fierce desire still remained, her misty gaze moving repeatedly over the girl’s smooth skin like a licking tongue, missing not a single inch.
“Since you’re so impatient, we might as well start your training early. No objections, right?” Chexia gently brushed away the silk fragments remaining on the snow-white body.
Funis shivered, not daring to speak.
Chexia suddenly sighed. “Aren’t you even a little curious why, as a witch, you can’t hear any whispers or wails?”
“Whispers? Wails?” The girl hadn’t yet recovered her senses.
But Funis actually had impressions of these two words, very deep ones.
The Temperance Institute didn’t always immediately execute witches who had committed crimes. Many of those mad women were imprisoned. As an enforcer, Sera Freed sometimes needed to extract clues and intelligence from these deranged women.
Of course, with minimal success.
They constantly complained about something whispering by their ears and crying with piercing shrieks, making them unable to hear any questions or communicate.
Almost no guard was willing to watch over the witches. Being in close proximity to these madwomen was torture even for a minute, let alone standing guard for an entire day or night.
The bishop said it was the devil’s curse. These women were unclean and were paying the price for it.
But as Chexia said, three days had passed since Funis discovered she had become a witch, and she had never heard any strange sounds.
“Listening to those whispers and wails is the key to falling asleep. It’s because of prophetic dreams that witches are seen as a resource,” Chexia’s fingertips gently brushed along Funis’s cheek as she gazed at her lovingly. “But that’s also the fundamental reason witches descend into madness. The Whisperers’ narratives are beyond human understanding and endurance. You were right about one thing—witches are indeed all mad. Every witch eventually goes insane. It’s an inevitable, desperate end with no return.”
“But you’re different—” Chexia’s tone shifted as she smiled.
As she spoke, her slender fingers climbed to the girl’s forehead, where Funis’s transparent little horns were located.
“Mmhn♡~!?”
A tender cry immediately escaped her lips.
Her slender waist instantly arched into an exaggerated curve. If Chexia hadn’t been pressing down on her, Funis would likely have bounced right off the bed.
It felt completely different from when she touched them herself. Funis couldn’t imagine how many sensory nerves were hidden in those seemingly small horns, causing her to immediately experience pleasure surpassing what she had known as a male with just a light touch.
Her body remained rigid for several seconds, her thoughts tangled into a mess, drifting aimlessly in her empty mind.
Before her waist could relax, Funis heard Chexia say with an almost mischievous smile:
“Besides using an improved special herbal formula during the surgery, before that, I used the secret magic of the dream demon race to shape a body for you of the same species as mine.”
Dream demon?
Funis’s little head hadn’t yet recovered from the stimulation, but she vaguely remembered this was a legend that only existed in vulgar publications found at street stalls—seduction, hypnosis, devouring emotions in dreams. They were masters of the mental realm themselves, so they could resist the pushes and temptations from the Whisperers.
But no one had ever told her that a dream demon’s body was so erotic!