Chapter 618: Love

Flores couldn't tear his eyes away for a moment, drawn closer instinctively, and bluntly praised her like most Fennepot men:

"Today is my lucky day—I've met such a beautiful lady! May I be even luckier and buy you a drink?"

The girl's eyes flickered, her lips curved in a smile, and she gently shook her head—no.

Unwilling to give up, Flores tried to say more, but noticed her expression growing cold; he reluctantly retreated to his seat.

In the time that followed, he glanced occasionally at the woman's figure—simple shirt and long black pants, evoking endless fantasies—and at the rim of her glass, where her moist red lips had touched.

This made Flores burn with heat, his mouth dry, the beer in his hand growing ever less satisfying.

Finally, the woman finished her pale golden Manzan wine, set the stemmed glass on the bar, and left amid the soothing, elegant music.

Flores rushed over, pulled out the soft paper towels recently popularized, and wiped the rim of the glass—the spot just touched by the woman's lips.

Then he folded the towel, carefully searched the surrounding area for the matching high stool, picked up several strands of light-blonde hair, and tucked them into the paper.

Only after finishing did he realize the bartender and a dozen or so male patrons were watching him, their gazes nearly identical, all "writing" one word:

"Pervert!"

It wasn't just Flores who'd been captivated by the woman's astonishing charm—every man and some women in the bar had witnessed his grotesque behavior.

Flores's blood rushed to his head; he feigned calmness and walked away as if nothing had happened.

He would never return to this bar again!

But he felt no regret for what he'd just done.

On his way back to the apartment, thinking of the possible reward, Flores's heart flared hot, his steps quickening, then slowing again.

Finally, he reached his residence, drew the curtains, and pulled from a hidden compartment of his suitcase a notebook with yellowed cover and aged pages.

Inside was a faded slip of paper, transcribing a complex word foreign to any language of the Northern Continent, accompanied by extensive annotations in Highland tongue.

Flores eagerly placed the towel—still clinging to the woman's hair and saliva—on the notebook, then picked up the faded slip and recited the strange, intricate word as the annotations instructed:

"Naporedisli…"

This was the "Love Incantation" Flores had acquired by chance.

By obtaining the target's true name, birth date, a personal item closely tied to her, or even her blood or bodily fluids, one could place the medium on the notebook and recite the incantation seven times to make her fall utterly in love.

Flores had waited a long time to create an opportunity—making Pedro's daughter Sara fall and injure herself—then won her favor with timely aid and sincere gratitude, while secretly collecting her blood to fulfill the incantation's prerequisites.

The results proved the "Love Incantation" was truly miraculous!

Flores had never used it again, because he didn't know how to break the spell—if, before marrying Sara, he were pursued by multiple women in a frenzy, sparking scandals, he'd never become part of that family or gain their resources and aid.

But today, he simply couldn't resist.

She was the most captivating woman he'd ever seen—he'd pay any price to possess her!

Of course, Flores wasn't sure if a towel stained with a little saliva and a few naturally shed hairs could serve as a proper medium for the "Love Incantation," but he had to try.

Imagining the possible bliss, he felt genuine excitement and anticipation, a smile spreading across his face, uncontrollable.

"Naporedisli…"

Flores recited the "Love Incantation" with extraordinary devotion and fervor, his soul filled with longing, joy, and delight.

"Naporedisli!"

After seven repetitions, Flores saw the towel and hairs ignite in flames that shimmered like rainbows, swiftly turning to ash.

It worked… it worked! At first he couldn't believe it, then overwhelming joy struck his heart.

Though surprised it succeeded with so little, he no longer cared.

It had worked!

The beautiful woman now loved him!

Thinking of what would happen next, Flores's blood surged; he snapped shut the notebook, secured the slip, forgot to return them to their place, and bolted for the door.

He'd go out for a walk—she must be searching for him already!

As Flores opened the door, he saw the same woman from the bar standing outside.

Her eyes, clear as lake water, swept over him; Flores went weak all over, nearly collapsing, longing to lie down instantly.

As the woman stepped willingly into his arms, he clasped her tightly and kissed her.

But the sensation beneath his hands wasn't the imagined warmth and softness—it was cold and hard.

This… Flores stared in shock: he was embracing only a half-person-tall mirror, and the mirror kept pressing against him, shifting left and right, rubbing insistently, impossible to pull away.

Flores retreated in terror, yet the physical reactions from his earlier fantasy refused to fade—he was frozen in ice, burning in fire.

He pounded on the mirror, harder and harder.

Finally, as he backed into the suitcase, the mirror shattered with a crack.

It splintered into countless shards, embedding into Flores's clothes, his chest, abdomen, and arms.

Pain surged into Flores's mind, snapping the last thread of his endurance.

He tasted pleasure beyond anything he'd ever known.

He collapsed to the floor, lying still—terrified, nostalgic, pained, yet enraptured.

…………

"He really did digest the 'Pleasure' potion…" From the apartment diagonally opposite Flores's room, Fleurca watched the scene in the mirror, clicking her tongue.

Even by her standards, what she'd just witnessed was bizarre.

"I told you I wouldn't lie to you," Lu Mi smiled, wearing a golden straw hat.

After accepting the commission and learning Flores's main problem was being obsessively pursued by a beautiful girl, his first thought was to assign him a "witch" for testing.

Fleurca left behind saliva and hair as part of the test—after all, something mystical had to be involved.

Of course, for safety, those saliva and hairs had been specially treated beforehand; Fleurca had crafted a "Mirror Double" targeting them—a black magic of the "Witch."

Now the result was clear: excellent. Fleurca had made Flores endure the torment of Pleasure, taste the agony of chasing it.

"Strange—just a little saliva and hair, a single-word incantation, and Flores somehow made my mirror fall in love with him, without any ritual or prayer to any entity," Fleurca mused. "I couldn't even do that."

Lu Mi smiled:

"You could. You don't need incantations or mediums—just show your charm."

"..." Fleurca paused, then said, "You finally sound like an Intisian—or is this what you learned studying in Fennepot?"

She pressed her lips together, her eyes suddenly gleaming.

Lu Mi changed the subject:

"There's another issue: Pedro hired two adventurers to investigate Flores, but both vanished. Yet from what we just saw, this man has no supernatural abilities."

"That's odd…" Fleurca suddenly grinned. "If my specially made 'Mirror Double' hadn't worked, and I'd been affected by the incantation, falling in love with Flores—what would you do?"

Lu Mi laughed:

"Making someone vanish silently is easy—even without me lifting a finger."

Ludwig could devour him clean and reverse any divination.

Before Fleurca could reply, Lu Mi walked toward the door:

"I'll go ask him. Watch for changes, stay alert."

"Understood," Fleurca replied seriously.

Since Flores hadn't closed his door, Lu Mi didn't need to pick the lock—he simply walked in.

Sensing someone enter, Flores snapped back to awareness and scrambled up.

By then, Lu Mi had already picked up the notebook, opened it to the pages holding the faded slip.

"W-what are you doing?" Flores asked in terror.

He immediately recognized Lu Mi:

"Louis Berry? The great adventurer Louis Berry?

"You're the one Pedro sent to investigate me?"

Lu Mi ignored him, walked to the window, opened the glass pane, and let fresh air rush in.

"The 'Love Incantation' can make a woman fall in love with you, requiring only her true name…" Lu Mi read aloud from the Highland annotations on the faded slip, "The incantation's pronunciation is…"

He stopped, refusing to continue.

Flores's face turned ashen—he imagined his reputation ruined, captured by the Church, his fate sealed.

"Where did this come from?" Lu Mi pointed at the faded slip and the aged notebook.

Beads of cold sweat formed on Flores's forehead; his gaze grew fierce.

Suddenly he screamed, again uttering the word in its guttural pronunciation:

"Naporedisli!"

This time, there was no target, no medium.

Almost instantly, Lu Mi felt the room grow silent, a sinister presence rapidly growing within.

(End of Chapter)