Chapter 231: [Present]

The room was suddenly too quiet.

The air thick and heavy with the weight of what had been revealed.

The faint hum of the crystal orb had faded, leaving only the oppressive silence and the lingering scent of sweat and sex.

Lor sat back in his chair, the orb still glowing faintly pink in his hand, its light casting soft shadows across the walls.

For the first time in what felt like hours, his cock softened, the raw hunger that had driven him moments ago sinking under the gravity of Silvia’s confession.

He wasn’t even ashamed of it—his body was too heavy, his mind too tangled with the echoes of her words.

Kiara’s mother burned alive.

Silvia kneeling here, naked and trembling, her voice breaking as she confessed the truth.

The sacrifices, the fire, the hatred carved into a little girl’s heart.

Lor had known Kiara’s mother was dead.

But hearing it now, through Silvia’s raw, tear-soaked words, hit differently.

It wasn’t just history.

It was blood, screams, smoke, and a child’s tears, etched into the marrow of the woman before him.

Lor exhaled slowly, setting the orb down on the desk beside him with a soft clink.

It pulsed faintly, then quieted, its light dimming like a candle starved of air.

The floor creaked beneath Lor’s boots as he stood, the sound sharp in the heavy silence of the room.

He bent down, retrieving a torn scrap of Silvia’s clothes from earlier—a soft white fragment of her blouse, frayed at the edges from when he’d snapped his fingers and ripped her garments apart in a surge of lust-fueled magic.

He held it in his palm for a moment, the delicate fabric catching the dim lamplight, its texture a reminder of the raw chaos they’d shared.

Closing his eyes briefly, he breathed mana into it, a faint shimmer of energy sparking from his fingertips.

The threads stirred, mending themselves with a quiet hum, tears closing as stitches wove together in elegant, looping patterns.

The cloth glowed faintly, and piece by piece, her jacket and skirt reformed, the fabric folding into neat, pristine shapes in his hands, as if the violence of their earlier passion had never happened.

He offered the bundle to her, his expression unreadable, a mix of smug satisfaction and something softer, more uncertain.

Silvia’s hazel eyes widened, the vulnerability in her gaze stark against the defiance she’d shown moments ago.

For the first time since her confession, she looked small, human, stripped of the witch’s bravado.

Her trembling fingers brushed his as she accepted the clothes, the contact sending a faint shiver through her.

"Lor..." she whispered, her voice taut with shame, her cheeks still flushed from their coupling and her exposure.

He sat back in his chair, sliding the desk drawer shut with a soft thud, the glowing crystal ball now hidden from view, its pink light sealed away.

His hazel eyes studied her, his voice low, tinged with a rare uncertainty.

"Should I tell Kiara?" he asked, the question heavy in the air. "She deserves to know, doesn’t she?"

Silvia froze, clutching the clothes to her chest, her full breasts pressing up over her arms, the fabric barely covering her nakedness.

She shook her head violently, auburn hair spilling into her flushed face.

"No. Not now. Not ever... unless I say it’s time." Her voice was sharp, desperate, the words spilling out like a plea.

Lor frowned, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Why? Why keep it from her?" His tone was probing, searching for cracks in her resolve.

Silvia’s gaze fell, her eyes tracing the floorboards as if they held answers she couldn’t voice.

Strands of auburn hair slipped into her face, clinging to her damp skin.

"Because if she knows... she’ll ask. About her mother. About me. About witch blood." Her voice cracked, raw and trembling.

"And then she’ll want power. More than she already does. She’ll chase revenge with both hands, and she’ll damn herself faster than anyone could stop her."

She lifted her eyes, wet but fierce, locking onto his.

"I’ve lived in shadows for years to keep her from that. Let her grow as she is, strong but still free of the chains her mother carried. When she’s ready... when it’s safe... I’ll tell her. Not before."

Lor leaned back, resting his chin against his knuckles, his expression thoughtful.

Her reasoning stung with truth, sharp and undeniable.

He could see Kiara’s fire—her raw, reckless hunger for strength, her temper like a spark waiting to ignite.

Add the truth of her witch blood, and she’d be a storm, unstoppable and destructive.

The weight of it settled in his chest, heavy and real.

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken truths.

For once, Lor didn’t feel the need to fill it with clever lies or perverted quips.

He simply sat, letting the gravity of her words press into him.

Finally, Silvia lifted her head, her hazel eyes glistening but sharp, locking onto his with a quiet intensity. "Please, Lor. Don’t tell her."

He exhaled slowly, his gaze softening as he watched her shiver, her bare skin prickling in the cool night air filtering through the open window.

"...Okay," he said, his voice low, a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep but offered anyway.

He raised his hand, mana sparking softly in his palm, a warm golden glow that shimmered like liquid light.

The energy swept over her body in a gentle wave, cleansing and soothing, dissolving the filth of their sweat, cum, and lust.

Her skin flushed anew as the sensation passed through her, leaving her fresh, her auburn hair smooth and gleaming once more.

She gasped faintly, her breasts heaving under the bundled clothes, her body trembling with the unexpected tenderness of the act.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the quiet.

She stood, her movements slow, stepping into her skirt with a grace that belied her earlier vulnerability.

The fabric hugged her hips as she tugged it up, the snug material accentuating the curve of her ass, the seams straining slightly as she adjusted it.