Chapter 718
Chapter 718
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 718
Chapter Title: The Sword Witch's Desperate Plea
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Any ordinary guest dropping by, and Lydia would've planned to stay glued to the bed.
But not this time.
The true owner of Si-woo, whom she'd picked up from Lodge's workshop—the Sword Witch herself had graced the Almack Club with her presence.
If Lydia stuck to her original plan of offloading Si-woo onto Duke Ererim, there'd be no need to meet her at all.
She could just play dumb, package Si-woo neatly, and ship him off to the duke. Done and dusted.
However, having chosen the alternative path of secretly claiming Si-woo for herself, leaving Rinne unchecked would only amplify the risks.
Rumors and countless tales proved just how bullheaded Rinne was—once she latched onto something, she never let go.
How well she could convince Rinne and send her packing would determine just how peaceful Lydia's future would be.
"Hello?"
Wearing her saccharine yet dignified businesswoman's smile, Lydia stepped into the VVIP reception room.
And she instantly grasped why the witch who'd just called her was trembling so violently.
The moment she descended the L-shaped staircase after opening the door, a veil-like premonition brushed against her skin.
Even from over ten meters away, Rinne's ferocious killing intent boiled the room's air, proclaiming, "This space is my domain."
No wonder a witch of the 20th Hierarchy had called in a panic, practically begging for backup.
"......"
Rinne stood rigidly, not touching the black tea that had been served, her eyes locked on Lydia.
On the side table sat some bizarre bundle—or was it a lunchbox?
"I told you I was busy, but you came rushing here like this... Does that mean you're ready to hand over Si-woo? Smart choice. I'll pay handsomely."
The instant "Si-woo" slipped from her lips, Lydia caught Rinne's fingers twitching.
Sure enough, Rinne's purpose was Si-woo.
"Your doing, I presume?"
Her voice rang out chillingly flat, belying the charged atmosphere.
But Lydia was a battle-hardened veteran of countless fields.
Confident she could overpower Rinne if push came to shove, she met the gaze unflinchingly, responding with calm composure.
"My doing?"
Tilting her head as if utterly clueless, blinking innocently.
Deep down, it felt downright satisfying.
This was Rinne, who'd haggled over his price with excuses about him being her disciple, even when Lydia had gone to her personally begging.
As a neutral party holding a politically vital figure, Lydia had fretted endlessly over whether hardliners might strike first.
Now the tables had turned, so the irritation from interrupted sex faded, replaced by a smug grin.
"I don't know why you're so angry, but surely..."
"......"
"Si-woo's gone missing?"
Lydia promptly crossed her arms, feigning deep thought.
"That's a problem. If he's fallen into hardliner hands, things could get messy..."
"......"
"I'll help with the search. But in return, you'll share full details on him?"
It was a ploy to step off the suspect list by mimicking how she'd react if truly innocent.
Not a single telltale sign of lying showed on Lydia—body language experts saw none.
Even the latest lie detectors wouldn't catch her flawless deception; it was child's play.
Her brazenness stemmed from certainty: Rinne had no proof, just hunches, yet zeroed in here.
Lydia had scoured Lodge's playroom and mansion top to bottom, erasing every trace.
With Solidus Merchant Group handling security in Uptown too, pinpointing surveillance orbs was easy; exploiting gaps, simpler still.
Rinne not shoving evidence in her face yet bolstered that conviction.
Even if proof existed, Rinne wouldn't flaunt it openly.
She'd have to admit her "disciple" Si-woo had committed murder within Hexennacht.
Even if blame didn't reach her, losing a disciple was the same bitter end.
Rinne stared unblinkingly at Lydia before closing her eyes.
"Hoo."
When she opened them again, the killing intent was gone, replaced by the calculating gaze of a schemer.
She'd realized hounding on suspicion alone was futile.
"Not your doing, then?"
"Of course not. I've been swamped prepping a secret auction. I can't fathom why you'd suspect me over the Clifforts."
"Hardliners would've killed him and boasted by now."
"Not necessarily. They might be timing it for maximum provocation and spectacle."
"If anything contradicts what you've said now, even later..."
"I get you're upset over possibly losing your disciple. But turning me—Lydia, who could be your biggest ally right now—into an enemy? Is that wise? This matters to me too. I warned you what happens if he goes to the Clifforts, right?"
"......"
"I'll cooperate. But when we recover him, can we renegotiate ownership? I'll add payment befitting a disciple of the Sword Witch."
Wrap up by dangling lingering attachment as bait. Perfect.
If Rinne agreed to collaborate, Lydia could leak evidence to hardliners at the right moment, letting Rinne chase shadows.
Natural clash ensues; sole suspect eliminated. Win-win.
"Fine. I accept."
But expectations of easy retreat were dashed.
Rinne glared at Lydia once more.
"But first, I'll search the Almack Club."
"Pardon?"
"Let me inspect your room right now, and I'll believe you."
Rinne's "request" wasn't even remotely polite.
Her tone dripped with rudeness.
Every word and gesture screamed intent to force entry if blocked.
"Witch of Gold, I don't trust you."
"Why?"
"Instinct."
"......"
"Deny me, and I'll proceed assuming you're hiding him."
Lydia's reaction to this baseless stubbornness was...
"Haa. Unbelievable."
A sigh.
Without witch senses, one might miss the nuance of Rinne's words.
In plainer terms: "No proof, but you scream guilty. Mind if I barge in sans warrant, muddy boots and all, and snoop through your docs while I'm at it?"
She'd crossed the line.
"You want to rummage through my workshop?"
"Yes."
Lydia dropped business pleasantries toward a peer, replying icily; Rinne fired back undaunted.
Lydia let out a hollow chuckle.
Part ploy, part genuine amusement.
"There's limits to coddling... Back when I was active, girls like you couldn't even meet my eyes."
She walked a moderate path now, but Lydia had achievements too.
Once Cliffort's elite, she'd reached the 23rd Hierarchy.
"Think a little intimidation scares me? That confident?"
The air around Lydia grew heavy.
Her dense mana surged, displacing the atmosphere.
"How many clueless upstarts like you have I buried? Wanna guess?"
"Long tongue."
To the faint-hearted, it was a powder keg on the verge of explosion.
Rinne's hand hovered near her waist-sheathed sword, then paused and withdrew.
The brittle clash of mana between them eased.
"Smart move. Don't grab the wrong person—let's get constructive from here..."
Lydia smirked inwardly at Rinne backing down first.
She flashed a charming eye-smile, about to pivot to business, when words caught in her throat.
The once-menacing Rinne had dropped to her knees at Lydia's feet.
An absurdly swift shift in demeanor.
And Rinne's shocking actions didn't stop there.
"If I've been rude, I apologize."
"What nonsense is this..."
Even cool-headed Lydia was speechless at Rinne's audacity.
Hands clasped neatly, Rinne pressed her forehead to the floor in contrition.
"I'll pay any price. Lick your shoes? Done. Entertain you? Anything."
"......"
"If you're protecting him, please return him."
Witches were notoriously prideful.
Among elite public figures, kneeling—save begging for life—was unthinkable.
It meant yielding life-and-death leverage amid cutthroat rivals, humiliation doubled against a recent foe.
Yet Rinne, obsessed with strength to a fault, knelt begging?
Calling Si-woo her disciple wasn't a bluff?
Did she truly cherish him as one?
Amid confusion, Lydia knelt on one knee before her, softening her tone.
"Rinne. I'm truly sorry, but I don't have him."
"...I see."
She took Rinne's steadfastly bowed hand, helping her up.
Bending to dust off Rinne's knees.
"I got a bit heated too."
Of course, not pure kindness.
"I thought you were posing him as a disciple just to jack up his price."
"...No."
"Sorry for doubting your sincerity and not helping sooner. If it's not too rude, how did you two become master and disciple?"
Who could resist curiosity when the Sword Witch went this far?
"......"
Rinne gazed at Lydia's face before speaking.
"He's not my disciple."
"Huh?"
"He's my husband."
"Eek?!"
Lydia yelped vulgarly, jaw dropping.
Rinne, famed lone wolf, had zero reason to lie frivolously.
Suddenly, her kneeling made perfect sense.
As did Si-woo's mid-act kiss aversion.
The two had already shared forbidden love.