Mystery: The Witch of Desire

Looking at Livr's joyful smile, Mr. Waffle suddenly felt a surge of heat. He had been preoccupied with worry and hadn't had time to examine Livr's appearance. Now, upon closer inspection, he realized that this young female tenant was incredibly beautiful.

He dropped his stern, threatening expression and said somewhat awkwardly:

"Well, that's it. I hope we can be good neighbors."

As he spoke, in this informal social setting where handshakes weren't strictly necessary, he extended his hand, his eyes lingering on Livr's fair and slender hand with a hint of greed.

Livr smiled slightly, extended her fingertips and gently shook hands with Waffle. Mr. Waffle greedily wanted to grasp that smooth, creamy skin, but found that it slipped through his fingers like a fish, and he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

After bidding farewell to Mr. Waffle and his family, Livre opened the door to number 27 and entered the two-story building.

Chapter 109 No Cooldown is Great

The servants at Mr. Waffle's house must have cleaned the place regularly; the house was not damp and stuffy like it would be if it had been uninhabited for a long time, but rather clean and tidy.

The bedding in the bedroom looked new and was neatly made.

Livre looked satisfied, but still removed the sheets, pillowcases, and duvet cover, replacing them with the ones she had just bought at the department store.

In the past, she would have simply moved in with her bags, but now she feels that as a girl, it's better to pay attention to hygiene, otherwise getting gynecological diseases can be very painful.

After changing into her home clothes, Livre placed a mirror on the second-floor balcony, at the first-floor front door, and at the bedroom door. This way, if she encountered any danger at home, she could quickly activate her mirror substitution ability to switch places.

"These are not enough. We'll buy more mirrors tomorrow."

After finishing her preparations, Livr quickly washed up and lay comfortably on her soft, springy bed.

Since her transmigration, this was the first time she had slept in such a comfortable bed. She happily buried her entire body in the mattress, her shapely curves pressing deep into the soft fabric.

A feeling of comfort enveloped her entire body, and having already tasted the sweetness, Liviel unconsciously reached out her hand.

Several hours later, she collapsed onto the bed, panting, not even bothering to clean up the mess.

"Ugh... I'm so tired, I'm so into it I don't want to move anymore..."

"Girls are so lucky, they don't even have CDs..."

"At this rate, I'll become a gold miner... No, I need to restrain myself."

Livre breathed softly and drifted off to sleep.

She didn't know when, but she opened her eyes again and found herself back in the spring-filled countryside of Backlund.

"This is... a lucid dream?"

She looked around instinctively, but couldn't find Chick or the mirror.

"Speaking of which, I haven't had any other dreams since I first encountered a mirror in my dream."

Liviel tentatively stepped out, wondering what she would encounter in this dream.

She hadn't walked far when she saw a beautiful figure under the shade of a large tree.

She looked to be in her early twenties, about 1.65 meters tall, wearing a beige, high-necked dress with ruffles, her brown hair slightly curled and draped over her shoulders. She was reading a book, her light blue eyes revealing a lazy and contented look.

“Beautiful lady, but… I feel like I’ve seen her face somewhere before…”

Liviel looked on in surprise, then suddenly realized that she was the same woman she had met when she arrived in Backlund!

Livr's cheeks flushed red instantly, and she stopped in her tracks, not daring to go any further.

At that moment, the beautiful figure turned around, her light blue eyes revealing a gentle teasing as she quietly looked at him.

Then, she walked over slowly with composed steps and stood in front of Livre.

Livre was over 1.7 meters tall with a graceful and slender figure, but in front of the other person, she lost all her aura, her heart pounded wildly uncontrollably, and she was flustered and uneasy, like a frightened little lamb.

The brown-haired woman chuckled, slowly raising her hand. Her long, slightly cool fingertips gently lifted Livre's smooth chin, and then she slightly rose on her tiptoes.

"Well……"

Livre woke up from her dream.

She subconsciously touched her lips; they were icy cold and showed no signs of being kissed.

"It was a dream..."

Livre blushed, and at the same time couldn't help but feel a little unconvinced:

"Me, a witch, actually in a dream...? This is my domain, damn it..."

"However, the relaxed and languid air about her, combined with her beautiful face and figure, does indeed give her a mature and sophisticated air... but..."

Just thinking about the image of her crouching by the bushes completely shatters any image of a mature, sophisticated woman.

"If I get the chance, I'll definitely get my revenge... Hmm, let's not meet again. It would be too awkward for two strangers who have seen each other naked to meet again."

Livre sighed, gently patted her flushed cheeks, and drifted back into her dream.

One morning, as the morning light streamed into the bedroom through the window, Livre reluctantly got out of bed, rubbed her sleepy eyes, changed into a cheap dress that she could barely wear out, and pushed open the door to leave her residence.

A rich aroma wafted from the breakfast stall on the street corner. She bought a steaming hot Dixie pie. The warm texture of the pastry wrapped in oil paper was delightful. Taking a bite, the juicy filling burst out, and a sense of satisfaction spread down her throat.

She hurried toward the Paria Theatre while eating a pie, a scene reminiscent of someone in a past life eating hot dry noodles while rushing to early morning class.

Upon arriving at the rehearsal hall on the third floor of the theater, Lucy, the supporting actress, was already there, diligently practicing her lines and movements in front of the mirror, her expression earnest. Hearing footsteps, she turned around, saw Livre, and her eyes instantly lit up with undisguised longing and envy. She quickly walked over to greet her:

"Good morning, Miss Marilyn!"

Livre greeted her with a smile:

"Good morning, Miss Lucy. You're here very early. Are you staying at the dormitory in Paria?"

Upon hearing this, Lucy's cheeks flushed slightly, and she shook her head somewhat shyly.

"There are very few places in the dormitory in Paria. Only those who have worked for more than three years or become the lead actors can live there. I rented a small house in the Backlund Bridge area and commute there every day."

Livre paused slightly, her tone tinged with surprise:

"Bridge area? That must be quite a walk to get here. You're here so early, you must have gotten up before dawn, right?"

These words made Lucy even more flustered, her voice barely audible:

"I...I also want to become a great actress like Ms. Isabella and Ms. Marilyn Monroe, standing center stage, so I want to practice a little longer..."

As she spoke, her voice grew weaker and weaker, as if her wish was some kind of fantasy. A hint of unease lingered in her eyes, for fear of being ridiculed for overestimating her abilities.

Looking at her timid yet persistent appearance, Livre's heart softened slightly. She gently patted her shoulder, her soft tone carrying a hint of benevolent persuasion:

"Keep going, I believe in you. As long as you persevere, one day you will be standing in the center of the stage."

That gentle yet powerful aura enveloped Lucy, and she excitedly raised her head, her eyes shining:

"Really? Thank you, Miss Marilyn! I will definitely try my best!"

Looking at Lucy's appearance, Livre couldn't help but think of Beatrice, whom she had met at the Kingfisher Bar in Tingen. They had some similarities in their features, both being ordinary and unremarkable, with a touch of pitiful timidity, yet harboring a deep-seated persistence.

However, Beatrice's soul had already found eternal peace in the cemetery of Tingen, and she could no longer fulfill her wish to return home.

Livre sighed softly, a trace of sadness flashing in her eyes. The letter Beatrice had written to her before her death had long since turned to ashes in the battle against the Rose School, but she still remembered the address Beatrice had written stroke by stroke at the end of the letter: 136 85th Street, East End.

She knew that the postal system in the East Side of Backlund was chaotic. Under one address, there were often several houses crammed together, and even a bunch of messy illegal buildings, housing hundreds of people. Finding Beatrice's parents in such a place would not be easy.

"Once things settle down, I'll go to the East District to meet Beatrice's parents, at least let them know where their daughter has settled down."

Liviel slowly recovered from her grief and looked at Lucy, who was full of longing, with genuine affection in her eyes.

The two decided to practice their scenes together. Livre taught Lucy the techniques she had learned through her extraordinary abilities without reservation, correcting her tone of voice and posture. Lucy listened attentively, nodding frequently, and benefited greatly. Her eyes were full of gratitude and respect as she looked at Livre.

After a while, the other members of the troupe arrived one after another, tidying up their costumes and warming up, and the rehearsal hall gradually became lively.

Isabella was the last to arrive. Her face was so gloomy it could drip water, and she had heavy dark circles under her eyes, clearly indicating she hadn't slept well the night before. She exuded an aura of menace that kept strangers at bay.

Liviel subconsciously activated her spiritual vision and looked at Isabella. Isabella's astral body was covered with dense red lines, a sign of extreme anger. Deep within the red lines, the anger had turned into a dark black, probably due to long-term repression and unquenchable rage, which had even affected her spiritual state.

Liviel closed the shutter, secretly finding it amusing:

"Just as the traditional Chinese medicine said in my previous life, anger is harmful to the body. This Isabella really has a temper."

Livre completely ignored the hostile Isabella and turned to continue practicing with Lucy.

Once everyone was present, rehearsals officially began, led by lead actor Coleman. Since Livril was temporarily filling in for the lead role, and the proud Isabella stubbornly refused to play a supporting role, she could only stand in a corner of the rehearsal hall, pacing aimlessly, occasionally glancing in Livril's direction, making sarcastic remarks and cutting comments.

"Some people, as soon as they join the troupe, snatch roles from others. They're really good at it. I wonder how much they've flattered the boss."

"If you can't even remember the basic lines and still have to look at the script, you might embarrass yourself on stage and bring shame to the whole troupe."

"She's just somewhat good-looking, does she really think she can play the lead role well?"

Isabella's sarcastic remarks weren't loud, but they were enough for everyone present to hear. The troupe members knew her temperament and the dissatisfaction in her heart, so they all remained silent, quietly rehearsing. Livre, however, paid no attention to this, letting it go in one ear and out the other, focusing on her rehearsal and showing no intention of arguing with her.

However, as Isabella intensified her actions and began to question the relationship between "Miss Monroe" and Bright, Lucy finally couldn't hold back any longer. She stepped forward, somewhat timid but resolute, and said in a trembling voice:

“Ms. Isabella, you are a senior I greatly respect, but please do not speak ill of Ms. Monroe in that regard. We are all women, and we all know how important a woman's reputation is…”

Isabella sneered dismissively:

"What? With her qualifications, how could she possibly have achieved this without improper connections..."

Finally, Coleman could no longer bear it. He stopped the rehearsal, turned to Isabella, and spoke with a mixture of helplessness and seriousness:

“Isabella, we’ve been long-time members of the troupe for so many years. You should know that no one in the troupe can always play the lead role. I’ve also played supporting roles many times. It’s normal to give newcomers opportunities. I hope you can see this in the right light and stop disrupting the rehearsal process here.”

These words were like igniting a powder keg; Isabella instantly bristled and screamed like a madwoman:

"Even you're siding with her? Coleman, you heartless bastard! Have you forgotten how you clung to me so desperately back then? And now you're treating me like this for this whore of unknown origin!"

As she cursed, she vented all her anger on Livril:

"And you, you bitch! What right do you have to steal my role? What do you have that I don't? You're a jinx, you'll ruin the Paria Theatre Troupe sooner or later!"

Coleman trembled and turned ashen-faced from her scolding. Unable to contain his anger any longer, he began to argue fiercely with her. During the argument, they inadvertently uncovered many private matters. It turned out that they had been having a sexual relationship, being each other's lovers for a while and often comforting one another.

Livre stood aside, completely unfazed by Isabella's insults. Deep down, she still considered herself a man, and calling a man a whore seemed utterly harmless. If Isabella had called her weak and insignificant, she might have jumped up in a panic.

She activated her spiritual vision again, looking at Isabella's increasingly dark celestial body and listening to the dramatic relationship between Isabella and Coleman, with a sense of watching a show unfold.

However, as the argument between the two intensified, she worried that if it continued like this, it would ruin the entire troupe and delay the rehearsals of the new play.

With this in mind, Liviel smiled gently and activated her Instigator ability:

“Ms. Isabella, please calm down. You are a senior I admire, I…”

"Get out! You filthy bitch, stop pretending! I'll kill you right now!"

Isabella was furious. She charged forward like a wild beast, roaring as if she wanted to tear Livre’s hair off.

Livre was taken aback, a hint of doubt in her mind:

"My instigator ability, which I activated on my own initiative, has failed?"

Just as Isabella was about to touch Livr, Coleman suddenly stepped forward, firmly blocking Livr's path, and spread his arms to stop the crazed Isabella. His tone was urgent yet authoritative:

"Isabella, calm down! Stop making a scene!"

But Isabella had completely lost her mind by this point, her eyes filled with nothing but raging anger and hatred, and she wouldn't listen to any advice. She frantically tore at Coleman's collar and sleeves, her sharp nails quickly leaving several gruesome bloody scratches on his arms and neck.

Livre could no longer stand it, and decided to punish Isabella properly. She immediately activated her sex addiction ability and precisely aroused Isabella's desire.

Isabella's eyes widened in surprise, her body suddenly went limp, and she collapsed breathlessly into Coleman's arms.

But Coleman was in pain from her grip and his patience had completely run out. In a fit of anger, he raised his hand and slapped Isabella hard across the face.

"Snapped--"

A crisp slap suddenly rang out in the noisy rehearsal hall, instantly drowning out all other sounds.

Isabella froze, her movements halted abruptly, and the madness and flush on her face vanished instantly, leaving only disbelief and bewilderment.

She stared blankly at Coleman, her lips moving, her voice trembling:

"You hit me... You actually hit me for that bitch?!"

Coleman looked at her swollen cheeks, a wave of regret washing over him. His tone softened, and he whispered:

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I just..."

He tried to explain, but Isabella wouldn't listen. The confusion in her eyes was instantly replaced by even greater anger and despair. She trembled violently, biting her lip tightly, then suddenly turned around and rushed out of the rehearsal hall like a whirlwind. The door slammed shut with a loud bang, making the walls tingle slightly.

Isabella!

Coleman's heart tightened, and without even wiping the blood from his arm, he immediately chased after them.

A few minutes later, he walked back dejectedly, his brows furrowed, looking tired and helpless.

"Have you found her?"

The short-haired dancer, Carloti, cautiously stepped forward and asked.