Chapter 19: The Wicked Children

Emma and Estelle’s conflict continued, or rather, it began at full intensity.

In just half a month, the two had clashed multiple times—starting with framing and framing each other, then escalating to subtle sabotage.

But Emma was usually the one suffering, relying solely on David’s paternal favor to avoid being crushed by Estelle.

Even so, each seemingly accidental incident made David feel this child might need disciplining—she couldn’t keep targeting Estelle; Estelle was too pitiful!

Emma, it seemed, had overreached.

Louis, meanwhile, enjoyed peaceful solitude—even when Estelle tried to manipulate him, using him as a tool against Emma, he simply fooled her and vanished without a trace.

He quietly cultivated his Blade-Extraction Technique alone.

Due to lack of medicinal ingredients, his progress was slow, yet Louis’s natural talent was genuinely impressive—at least he no longer pierced his lips with needles, and he could now attempt swallowing larger knives.

But he was still far from mastery.

“The courier finally arrived—I spent all my pocket money on herbs, but the quantity was limited; every dose from now on must be used wisely.”

“Pity—the witch’s body-enhancing potion’s ingredients aren’t expensive, but some come from plants in Portugal, and acquiring them is too troublesome; I still don’t have enough money… sigh, money, money, money…”

In fact, part of this money for the secret potion even came from Emma—yes, he had reached into her purse again, and Emma dared not refuse; her only demand was that he stop correcting her for now, so she could focus on dealing with Estelle.

Louis agreed to the deal.

Looking at the unpacked courier box, its neatly sorted herbs, Louis pondered the preparation method.

The so-called secret potion, upon closer inspection, wasn’t truly miraculous—just ordinary herbs—but they produced strange effects; he’d even tested them on cats and dogs, which only resulted in diarrhea, nothing else, which only strengthened his conviction that the success of these arts was deeply tied to folk customs.

Louis began mixing the potion; since it was inconvenient at home, he set up a stove on a slope behind the house to brew it.

Fire blazed, the pan grew hot, herbs were crushed, water added, simmered, and occasionally measured doses of powdered herbs stirred in…

Soon, a thick, black sludge boiled forth, emitting a faint, herbal fragrance.

Louis didn’t hesitate—he scooped up a spoonful, placed it in his mouth. The taste was slightly bitter, but tolerable; he chewed and swallowed.

At once, a cool sensation enveloped his mouth, throat, and intestines, and Louis felt his control over the fine muscles in these areas had strengthened.

The silver needle entered his mouth.

The next second.

Thud!

A needle pierced the tree bark, its tip trembling slightly.

“Brilliant!”

Louis pressed on.

…

On the other side, after half a month of conflict, Estelle finally felt a flicker of impatience toward Emma.

She didn’t understand—Emma’s age seemed genuine, meaning she was truly a child, yet why did she target Estelle so relentlessly? Especially her methods—already cruel, not childlike, yet still tinged with childishness…

In truth, had Emma not been so immature, Estelle might already have lost David’s trust.

No, she must subdue this brat quickly—if not…

A dangerous glint flashed in Estelle’s eyes.

And that little boy—there was something off about him too. What was he always sneaking off to do?

Forget it—better go see dear David first.

Thinking of David—mature, responsible, and strikingly handsome—Estelle’s lips curled slightly; only a man like him could make her feel true joy.

She applied makeup before the mirror—light, yet adding a subtle allure.

Meanwhile, in another room upstairs, Emma also felt impatience.

She didn’t understand!

Why?

Why had everything gone wrong since returning home? First Louis, now Estelle.

She wasn’t mistaken—Estelle truly wanted to steal her father!

Would she still get to drink milk every night, receive gifts, wear new dresses, and be doted upon?

Click.

She clenched her teeth, staring into the mirror—and smiled.

Both corners of her mouth lifted, revealing eight white teeth—her smile was perfectly standard.

At the same moment, both girls faced mirrors, plotting dark schemes.

Afternoon.

Since it was Sunday, school was out, and all three were occupied at home—Louis remained elusive, vanished without a trace.

Emma arrived before a dead tree outside the yard, now dressed in a red dress, meticulously groomed, her clean face softened by a gentle smile, like a pure little girl waiting for a friend to play.

She was indeed waiting—but not for a friend.

“Emma, you wanted to see me? I’m happy to help my dear sister, as long as you behave.”

Estelle approached, dressed in black dress and coat, smiling.

Face to face, the two suddenly seemed oddly similar, harmonious.

Red and black, both smiling, both harboring ill intent.

A gust of wind swept past, rustling the leaves.

Emma said nothing—she pulled a large box from behind the tree, heaved open the lid with both hands, and a bird’s cry rang out.

Inside lay a pigeon, its feet and wings bound, lying motionless, chirping weakly.

“Dear sister Estelle, don’t you think life only comes once?”

Estelle frowned and nodded.

This girl, though inferior to her, couldn’t be treated as an ordinary child—what did she intend?

Emma’s smile widened. “Then sometimes, you must cherish it—especially avoid touching what you shouldn’t, or else, it ends up like this!”

In Estelle’s stunned gaze, Emma plunged a small knife into the pigeon’s body—blood instantly stained its white feathers.

The pigeon let out a desperate cry.

Blood, white feathers, red dress—and that smile, meant to be sweet.

All twisted together now.

Yet Estelle laughed—like witnessing a ridiculous play, or realizing she’d overthought it—she burst into hearty laughter, then suddenly changed expression, stepped forward, placed both hands inside the box, and fixed her gaze tightly on Emma.

Her black pupils, like abysses, reflected Emma’s expressionless face.

“Then let me teach you a lesson—do things thoroughly.”

“Like this.”

Snap!

The pigeon’s fragile bones shattered instantly—its body severed, blood spraying onto both girls’ cheeks.

The two girls stared at each other, faces streaked with blood.

Behind a nearby tree, Louis gnawed on a roasted ham, watching this bloody, fascinating spectacle.

(End of Chapter)