Chapter 1553: Retaliation II

The doorbell rang.

Lory rose from the porch and, as usual, checked the security screen before responding. The moment the image appeared, she paused. Her head tilted slightly, as if considering something amusing, and the corner of her lips curved into a faint smile.

Without hesitation, she pressed the button to open the gate. Her footsteps toward the front door were steady and unhurried. The night remained quiet as she reached the entrance and opened it.

"Who might you be?" Lory asked gently.

A young girl stood before her, trembling. Her hair was disheveled, her lips split and bleeding, the bruises vivid against pale skin. She looked up at Lory with pleading eyes.

"I’m Calista Wor...Worthington. Ca... can you help me?" the girl whispered. She bit her quivering lip. "I—I can’t go home like this. The authorities are still around, and if they see me... after what happened at the party, I don’t want to add another messy rumor to my family." Her eyes welled with tears, her frame small and fragile, pitiful in the glow of the porch light.

"...And you think I will help?" Lory asked, one brow arching so slightly it was almost imperceptible.

The girl looked embarrassed, lowering her head. "I... I don’t know. It’s just—your villa was the closest."

Lory let out a soft chuckle. Then she stepped aside, opening the way in. "Come on in."

The girl’s eyes lit up instantly. "Thank you—thank you!" She hurried inside without waiting for a second invitation.

Lory watched her for a brief moment as the girl stood just inside the entrance, openly taking in the villa’s interior. Her gaze lingered with quiet curiosity, as though she were measuring the space, but then she snapped back when the door closed softly behind them.

"What’s your name again?" she asked in a nonchalant tone.

"Calista," the girl replied at once. "My name is Calista Worthington. We met once when you were jogging." She tries to remind Lory.

"Oh yeah. My name is Raven Jane." Lory extended her hand in greeting, "Nice to meet you."

"Yes, I know who you are." Calista accepted the handshake immediately. "My mother is a fan of your husband," she added with a shy smile.

"She does, doesn’t she?" Lory said with a faint, knowing smile. Her gaze drifted briefly to Calista’s injured lips, "Let’s take care of your wounds first."

Lory walked past Calista with an easy, unhurried stride. "Would you like some hot tea, Calista?"

Calista hesitated, momentarily caught off guard, her fingers curling against the fabric of her sleeve. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face before she nodded. "Ye—yes, thank you, Mrs. Zhao."

"Please," Lory said, glancing back at her with a playful smile, "call me Raven."

There was something about Lory’s manner that unsettled Calista. She was too calm, too relaxed, far removed from how she had expected this encounter to unfold. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if this was a test.

But there was no way to retreat now.

"Ah... yes," Calista replied softly. "Thank you, Raven."

As Lory turned and headed toward the kitchen, her footsteps light and unassuming, Calista’s smile slowly faded.

In its place, her eyes glinted—sharp, cold, and unmistakably malicious.

The kitchen reflected the same minimalist elegance as the rest of the villa.

Clean wooden lines and smooth stone surfaces dominated the space, free of unnecessary decoration. Everything had its place, nothing more, nothing less. Soft light washed over the counters, highlighting the natural grain of the wood rather than ornament or excess.

Lory moved quietly within that simplicity, her presence blending into the clean lines and muted tones of the kitchen. The kettle was set down without a sound, the lid adjusted with practiced ease. Nothing about her movements was hurried, each one flowed into the next, unbroken, unguarded.

Calista sat on the counter, legs drawn in slightly, the open space around her amplifying every faint noise, the soft clink of porcelain, the whisper of water meeting leaves, the muted tick of the clock embedded somewhere in the walls. The silence pressed in, sharp enough to make her shoulders tense.

Her eyes followed Lory relentlessly. Every step. Every turn of the wrist, to every pause that might conceal intent.

Calista measured her like a blade testing its balance, searching for cracks, for stiffness, for the subtle signs of someone acting a part. But Lory gave her nothing. No flicker of vigilance. No tightening of breath. Not even the slightest hesitation when her back was turned.

That, more than anything, unsettled her.

Lory lifted the kettle and poured the water into the teapot. Steam unfurled in a thin, silvery veil, drifting upward before dissolving into the air. Moments later, she filled a teacup, and the gentle fragrance of jasmine bloomed through the kitchen, soft and clean.

"I hope you like jasmine tea," Lory said lightly.

Calista nodded, a polite smile forming on her lips. "I like it."

Lory slid the teacup toward her with a careful push of her fingers, the porcelain barely whispering against the counter. She smiled, warm and unguarded. "Drink it while it’s hot."

After that, Lory poured herself a cup.

Leaning back against the counter, Lory’s posture loosened, almost languid, as though this were nothing more than a quiet evening shared with a guest.

She lifted the cup and took a slow sip, her gaze unfocused, her expression serene, utterly at ease, without the faintest shadow of wariness or suspicion.

A faint unease coiled tighter around Calista’s chest.

She knew the black market well, too well. It was not a place that moved on whims or emotions. Every contract was weighed, every life priced with ruthless precision. For them to dispatch their best killer, not a disposable blade but a prized asset, meant only one thing.

Raven Jane was considered worth it.

That realization made Calista’s fingers curl unconsciously against the counter. This woman, who brewed tea with unhurried grace and smiled like an indulgent elder sister, was someone the shadows deemed dangerous enough to justify such a cost. Not merely an obstacle. A threat. ℯ𝓵.

And yet, sitting across from her now, Lory gave nothing away. No arrogance. No sharpness. No tension lurking beneath the skin. If she truly had the power to provoke the black market into such decisive action, then her composure wasn’t ignorance; it was confidence.

The kind that came from knowing exactly how deep the waters ran, and being certain she would not drown.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps drawing near, soft, measured, almost soundless. A man entered the room, dressed in a long, ancient-style robe reminiscent of the old Xiya dynasties. He moved with the fluid grace of a panther, each step elegant and deliberate, as though the space itself yielded to him.

The deep black fabric of his robe appeared understated at first glance, yet along the sleeves ran intricate embroidery of fire wrought in black and gold—subtle, restrained, definitely not something you can buy easily. The fabric caught the light only when he moved, like embers stirring beneath ash.

His hair was loosely braided, falling neatly down his back, secured just enough not to hinder him. Power lay coiled beneath his calm, controlled movements, restrained yet palpable.

His expression was cold as a glacier, sharp, distant, butcaptivating. His presence alone seemed to lower the temperature of the room the moment he arrived, an elegant predator at rest, watching, waiting.

Yet when his gaze settled on Lory, that glacial coldness eased. Beneath it, something gentler surfaced, like an ember glowing quietly beneath cold snow, bright and warm.

The moment her eyes met Zhao Li Xin, her breath hitched, and for a moment, she seemed to forget how to breathe. She had seen his picture on the news and caught distant glimpses of him during the party, but none of that prepared her for the man standing before her now.

Up close, his presence was overwhelming. Striking in a way that went beyond beauty, beyond charm, something sharp, dangerous, and irresistibly compelling.

For a brief, humiliating second, her lips parted in pure, unguarded awe, and she could do nothing to stop it.

Luckily for her, Zhao Li Xin never spared Calista a glance. From the moment he entered the room, his gaze never wavered from Lory, as though nothing else existed within that space.

He stepped closer and gently draped the shawl over Lory’s shoulders. [You should wear more at night like this.] He said with genuine concern.

Lory glanced down at the knitted fabric, then let out a soft chuckle.

[Why does this suddenly remind me of the old times?]

Zhao Li Xin frowned faintly. [If you say it like that, it feels as though I’ve been neglecting you all this time.]

[Never.] Lory gave his chest a light, playful tap. [Come on, stop joking. We have something to do now,] she added, her tone carrying a quiet, meaningful weight.

Zhao Li Xin tilted his head.

[Oh?] His lips curved into a smile—beautiful, yet threaded with something sharp beneath. [Is my wife trying to deceive the heavens and cross the ocean?]

[I don’t actually know what that means,] Lory replied casually, [but... sure.]

Calista pressed her lips together, watching the two of them drift effortlessly into their own world. She felt painfully out of place, a presence that did not belong. Worse still, she barely understood what they were saying. Though she spoke the Astern tongue, their words slid past her, leaving her with nothing but fragments and tone.

Her palm pressed flat against the counter. Unnoticed by either Lory or Zhao Li Xin, something stirred beneath the floorboards. From the narrow seam where stone met wood, a faint crimson thread seeped upward, pulsing as though alive. It crept along the base of the wall, slow and deliberate, branching into delicate veins.

A small green bud formed, then slowly bloomed into a strange flower; the outer petals were a soft, living green, but within them ran thin, straight lines of red, sharp and unnatural, as though the color had been drawn deliberately through its heart.

Petals unfurled one by one, revealing a blood-red flower, glossy as fresh wounds, its core darker still—as if steeped in shadow rather than light. It bloomed in silence, exuding a faint, metallic sweetness that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"Oh," Lory said suddenly, clapping her hands lightly, as though just remembering. "I forgot to introduce you. This young lady is Calista Worthington." She smiled kindly. "You remember Myra and Derek Worthington, right?"

Zhao Li Xin’s gaze finally shifted to Calista with cool and indifferent look. "The ones whose house burned down today?" he asked, a trace of mockery threading his tone.

"Only part of it," Calista interjected quickly, then faltered, her voice dropping into a murmur. "Just... around the bathroom."

Lory clapped her hands again, sharper this time. "Right. We should treat your wound." She turned to Zhao Li Xin. "Li Xin, can you get a healing potion? That injury would ruin such a pretty face." She winked playfully at Calista.

Calista smiled in gratitude, her eyes following Zhao Li Xin as he left the kitchen. Not long after, he returned with a small vial resting between his fingers.

Zhao Li Xin handed it to Lory, as if he refused to interact with other people other than Lory. Well, she was right.

Lory accepted the vial, then paused before passing it on. "You’ve taken a health potion already, right?" Her brows lifted slightly.

"I have." Calista uncorked the vial and drank it down.

Almost immediately, the split on her lip thinned, the bruising fading as if gently erased by an unseen hand. "Thank you," she said softly, setting the empty vial on the table.

"Don’t mention it." Lory picked it up and turned toward the bin—then, with a smooth, practiced motion, let it disappear into her sleeve instead.

She turned back to Calista, her expression unchanged with the same worried look.

"So," Lory asked softly, "would you like me to call your parents? Myra and Derek must be worried about you."

Behind Calista, the blood-red flower had fully bloomed against the pale wall, its green outer petals unfurled like a veil, the crimson veins within pulsing faintly, silent and waiting.

A smile tugged at the corner of Calista’s lips. "No," she said after a brief pause. "If you don’t mind... could I stay a little longer?" Her voice was thin, fragile, paired with a pleading smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Lory studied her for a heartbeat, then her gaze softened further. "Of course," she replied gently. "Would you like more tea?"

Calista nodded, tightening her grip on the cup. "Please."