The Devil's Good Girl-Chapter 285: She is me, but I am not her.

Latrice was like a drug. One taste and he was instantly hooked.

Day and night, Quentin would find himself looking for her, craving more of her. The initial fear he carried in his heart gradually turned into something else. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but every time, he succumbed to his desires.

When he first met Latrice, all he wanted was to have her. But later on, he despised her for looking in every direction but his. And then, he found out she was nothing but a monster, a cursed being that even the heavens fear.

Yet, here he was, lying on the bed with the most feared demon of all.

Staring at the high ceiling, Quentin casually stroked her bare back with his fingertips. He glanced down, only to see the top of her head on his chest.

"Do you sleep, Filomena?" he asked out of plain curiosity.

She didn’t answer, but she let him hear her soft chuckles.

Quentin sighed as he shifted his eyes to the ceiling again. Every night he would find himself on the same bed with her, he would always stare at the ceiling and wonder why he was back here again. After the pleasure and everything, there was this little part of him he couldn’t completely describe.

"Sometimes... I wonder if this is real," he whispered.

After spending countless nights with her, countless intimate time with her, and doing countless other things with her, Quentin felt more comfortable speaking his mind.

"Or simply an illusion my mind created, fueled by my greed and jealousy," he continued in the same quiet tone. "Say, Filomena... did I really wake up from that, or was this simply a continuation of that nightmare?"

Latrice slowly drew her head back and gazed down at him. Her eyelids drooped as the corner of her lips curled up.

"Do you want me to answer that, Your Highness?"

"No." Quentin shifted his eyes to her, raising his hand as his knuckles caressed her cheek. "I don’t want to know the truth."

After all, if this was reality, then he would be glad to know. But if it wasn’t, Quentin might not want to wake up. Not because he was scared every little memory they created together was simply an illusion, but because he knew deep in his heart that if this was an illusion, he might wake up in a fallen empire.

It was cowardly, but in this place, everything was perfect. The empire still stood mightily with a few rogues making a ruckus at the border. His wife and the crown princess of the empire were forthcoming and also powerful.

"Nothing can break us apart in here. My empire, my place, and you..." his eyes softened. "I want to believe this is real."

Latrice observed that look in his eyes and couldn’t help but smile subtly.

"It is real," she said as she traced his jaw with her finger. "Do you believe me?"

"Mhm." He nodded. "I do."

"Good." She smiled in satisfaction. "It will stay like this as long as you stay with me, Quentin."

Quentin slightly raised his brows at what she said.

Now that she mentioned it, Latrice’s only wish was for him to stay by her side. It was why he initially stayed with her before he started running back to her at the end of each day on his own accord.

"I hadn’t told you, did I?" Latrice let out a soft chuckle, placing her hands on his bare chest. She placed her other hand on top of the other before resting her chin on them. "I am neither possessed by some evil spirit nor did I deceive you."

He furrowed his brows while looking into her eyes.

"I am the original owner of this body and the one you met in that hunting game is the other part of me, created by the gods who want me gone forever," she summarized so he could understand without so much complication. "She is me, but I am not her."

Quentin stayed quiet, but he somehow grasped the idea. "She’s created by the gods?"

"Yes, the gods stole a small piece of me and blessed it with all their might until it’s as white as a canvas. Despite being just a small part of me, she was able to contain me. She kept me trapped within her and all I could do was try to scratch my way out, but to no avail. I can’t kill her because, at the end of the day, she’s me."

Latrice paused as she smiled subtly. "Before she stepped out of this world, no amount of pain could break her. She upheld the divine orders: not meddle with anyone’s affairs, do not hurt humans, return the wrongs with goodness. She followed all of that. It was why, even when you hurt her or when you decided for her and claimed her life and body, she didn’t say a word about it."

"But somehow... you were able to break her, Your Highness." She slowly pushed herself away and moved up until her face was hovering over his. "I thought I would live for the rest of my endless life stuck inside that place, but you broke her and she willingly opened the door for me."

Her voice sounded lustful with joy as she cupped his face. "She’s a stubborn one, but well, she came from me. So, she might want to try to come back and take charge of my body again, Quentin. Once that happens, will you promise to break her as many times as you can and bring me back, sweetheart?"

"You mean... make you suffer? To bring you back?" he whispered, and she nodded. "How will I know if she’s her and not you?"

Her lips curled up again until the corner of her eyes creased. "You’ll know it’s her and not me. I’ll teach you all the things you need to know." Latrice slowly planted a kiss on his lips before kissing her way to his neck.

She bit his earlobe and whispered seductively, "Ease up, my dearest. This will only hurt a bit."

"Latrice, what are you — ugh!" Quentin clenched his teeth as he intuitively held her by the waist, trying to lift her. But alas, her fangs sank deeper into his neck, making his blood overheat before darkness consumed him.