The Devil's Good Girl-Chapter 281: Find me a witch

[FLASHBACK]

"Latrice... what have you done to me?"

Latrice’s long eyelashes drooped as the corner of her lips curled up subtly. "What do you think, Your Highness?"

Quentin was frozen on the floor, staring into those pair of purple eyes staring at him coldly with a faint twisted smile. The beauty he once admired and had never forgotten since the time he laid his eyes on them slowly appeared... a horrifying sight.

No, there wasn’t any change in her beautiful appearance. But the way her eyes shone, he could feel her lust for blood, for death, for chaos. They were beautiful, but at the same time, too beautiful it would remind someone that the devil had never shown himself in front of others with red skin and twisted horns.

"Is this real?" Latrice repeated quietly, like a chant cursing someone to death. "Or an illusion?"

Quentin pressed his lips into a thin line, unable to respond. All he could do was stare at that beautiful face, wondering who she was.

"You’re not Latrice," he said without any plans of getting up from his spot.

"I was never Latrice." Latrice shook her head. "Latrice is the woman you created in your mind, Your Highness."

Quentin’s lips quivered, paralyzed at this heaviness weighing on him. "Who are you?"

"You finally asked after so long." Latrice smiled, but the stifling aura she exuded remained. "Filomena."

"Filomena...?"

Latrice nodded, her smile still on her face. "Yes. That is my name."

Quentin felt his throat dried up. "Did you... did you kill me, Filomena?"

"Did I? Or did I not?" Latrice was once again back to her games. She cupped her face, gazing down at him with intrigue. "I don’t understand."

"Huh?"

"How did she let a pathetic fool like you destroy her?" she continued with a shallow breath. "However, I do owe you one."

His brows rose a little, wondering what she was saying. For him, Latrice was simply blabbering things that didn’t make sense without full context. However, he did know the fear that was creeping into his heart.

She scared him.

Right now, she simply felt completely different. It didn’t feel like Latrice simply stopped pretending, but rather, it felt like she was possessed.

Was she possessed by an evil spirit?

"Why are you still lying down there, Your Highness?" her playful voice snapped him back from his trance. "Don’t you have plans to get up?"

"Will I get awakened again?"

"Who knows?" she tilted her head to the side. "I’m not quite sure. As I’ve said, I owed you, Your Highness. Breaking that woman... earns me my freedom. She doesn’t even want to come back anymore. All she’s asking is that I don’t hurt... him."

The corner of her lips curled up as a glint flickered across her eyes.

"Well, anyway, I had fun with you today. I hope this serves as a warning to you," she stressed. "You are not someone above me, Your Highness. Groveling at my feet is the highest you can go to reach me."

Having said that, Latrice pushed herself from her squatting position. She turned around and left without another word.

Quentin was left lying on the floor, eyes in the direction she walked off.

"Was this real now?" he wondered, staring at the ceiling blankly. "Or would it be another time I would wake up from this nightmare?"

At this point, Quentin was too afraid to know the truth.

Having to repeat sleeping and waking up again felt like it was draining his mind. On the other hand, if this was reality, then he was doomed.

Quentin had met many impeccable knights and nobles throughout his lifetime as the crown prince. He had been dealing with people since he was young, having to mature quickly for the empire. Thus, he knew Latrice was not someone he could subdue with simply title or power.

’She’s a witch...’ he guessed as that was the only explanation he had for this situation. ’A heretic. For sure.’

Quentin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In all the repeated illusions, it would take an entire day before he would hear Latrice voice’s again. He didn’t want to make himself believe this was the last, only to hear her question again.

He waited for time to pass and no one came to check in on him.

When the sun slowly set, the orange rays briefly landed on his closed eyes. Quentin slowly reopened them, staring at the sky through the window. He watched it slowly turn from sky blue to dark blue until it was night.

"Still no voice?" he wondered as he sat up, looking around the room. He touched his neck on instinct, yet he couldn’t heave a sigh of relief.

At any moment, he might hear her questions again.

Quentin sat quietly in the dark chancery, staying on the floor. He looked in the direction she came from again, his jaw tightening. But when he placed his hand on the floor, he felt something underneath his palm.

"Huh?" he rubbed his fingers together before moving them close to his nose. ’The scent of blood.’

Where did this blood come from? Was the first thing he wondered, only to quickly realize it was probably his.

Quentin touched his neck again, feeling this tightness around his neck as if something were strangling him.

Was this another illusion to scare him? To make him believe she beheaded him?

Witches couldn’t do that. The worst she could’ve done was make him believe he had died.

Just as Quentin was deep in thought, he flinched when he suddenly heard a voice.

"Your Highness?"

Quentin looked up, only to see his royal knight stand several feet from him. The latter was bringing in a lamp because the crown prince hadn’t responded when the candle lady knocked.

"Your Highness, are you alright?" the royal knight rushed to his side, worried. "Blood... did someone attack you, Your Highness?"

Quentin didn’t answer and simply stared at the man quietly. In the first several times he woke up only to wake up again, his royal knight or anyone close to him didn’t show up.

"Your Highness —"

"Call for a witch."

The royal knight froze as he looked at him in surprise. "Your Highness, what did you say?"

"I said call for a witch." Quentin grabbed his collar and pulled him closer. "Find me a reliable witch and don’t let anyone — even the crown princess know about this."

"But Your Highness, you can’t just bring in a witch within the royal palace..." the royal knight trailed off at the fire burning in the crown prince’s eyes. He lowered his head and said, "I’ll find you a witch."

Having said that, Quentin’s henchman searched high and low to find a living witch to fulfill the crown prince’s unreasonable request.

And after months of continuous search, he found one.