Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 32

Chapter 32: VPAA (7)

What’s wrong with me?

She curled into herself, trying to suppress the agony that threatened to consume her. Her vision blurred, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt and spin.

Then, a loud crash shattered the suffocating silence.

The glass exploded inward as her window splintered into a thousand shards, glinting like stars in the moonlight.

A cold gust of wind swept into the room, scattering things and knocking over a vase on her desk.

Ahcehera’s head snapped toward the source of the commotion, her pain momentarily forgotten.

Through the jagged frame of the broken window, a shadow loomed, a figure stepping through the chaos as if it belonged to the darkness itself.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, her voice hoarse yet filled with defiance, even as she remained slumped on the floor.

The intruder stepped fully into the light, revealing their identity.

The mate pull is an invisible thread of fate.

Richard climbed through and broke the window with an urgency that matched the chaos of the shattered glass flying around him.

His piercing violet eyes locked onto Ahcehera, who was still on the floor, her face pale and glistening with sweat. Without hesitation, he strode forward and pulled her into his embrace.

Ahcehera stiffened, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest. Summoning her strength, she pushed him away, breaking free from his grip.

Staggering to her feet, she rushed to the side of her room, her hand reaching for the ornamental sword mounted on the wall.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice shaky but laced with steel. She gripped the hilt tightly, her knuckles white.

Every breath she took felt heavy, suffocating, and yet she couldn’t ignore the strange energy that seemed to thrum between them like a taut string.

“You need to rest,” Richard said calmly, his voice deep and unyielding, though his eyes betrayed a storm of emotions.

“Stay away from me,” Ahcehera hissed, taking a defensive stance, her trembling body betraying her resolve.

“You need me,” he replied, his tone softening but firm, as though the statement was an undeniable truth.

“What?”

“You need me.”

Ahcehera’s chest tightened, the searing pain returning with a vengeance. Her body began to shake, and her vision blurred as tears pricked at her eyes.

“What did you do to me?” she demanded, her voice breaking as she glared at him.

Richard didn’t answer. Instead, he moved swiftly.

In one motion, he disarmed her, taking the sword from her trembling hands.

He hurled it across the room where it struck the wall with a loud clang, embedding itself deeply into the stone.

Before Ahcehera could react, Richard closed the distance between them and enveloped her in his arms once more.

His warmth was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the cold sweat on her skin.

“Let me go,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she tried to struggle against him. But this time, her strength faltered.

Without warning, Richard leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both forceful and desperate.

Ahcehera froze. Her mind screamed in shock, her body stiff and unyielding. The world around her seemed to disappear, leaving only the deafening sound of her own heartbeat.

What was happening?

Every fiber of her being rebelled, but deep within the chaos, a strange, inexplicable calm began to bloom, a spark of something she couldn’t name.

Why did he…

When the kiss ended, Ahcehera staggered back, her lips tingling and her heart pounding uncontrollably. She stood frozen, trying to process what had just happened.

Holy shit!

The pain that had tormented her moments ago was gone, completely vanished as if it had never existed.

But before she could even form a coherent thought, Richard abruptly pushed her away.

What the heck!

What was that for?

Without a word, he turned and stormed out of her room, his movements swift and purposeful.

Is he crazy?

He didn’t glance back, didn’t explain, didn’t offer so much as an apology.

He leaped out of the shattered window with the same determination he had entered, disappearing into the night as though fleeing from something, or someone.

Ahcehera stood there, breathless, staring at the broken glass glinting under the moonlight. Her chest heaved as she tried to calm herself, but her mind was a storm of questions.

Why did he kiss me?

Why did the pain stop?

Why did he force his way into my room?

What in the world is happening?

She clenched her fists, frustration boiling over. Her hands flew to her hair, tangling in the strands as she tugged in exasperation, pacing the room like a caged animal.

“Damn it!” she muttered, her voice trembling with disbelief and anger. “Was it some kind of werewolf thing?”

The thought made her freeze. Her mind raced as she pieced together fragments of knowledge.

“A werewolf thing?”

The Mors family was infamous for their werewolf-orc lineage, creatures of unparalleled strength and magical affinity.

“Do werewolves in this era have mates like those in the novels?” she whispered, a creeping dread building within her.

Her stomach twisted. “Damn it! What if…”

Her voice trailed off as an unbearable possibility clawed its way to the forefront of her mind.

“No way…”

She shook her head violently, backing away as if the mere thought were a tangible entity threatening to swallow her whole.

“But what if I’m his mate?”

“No! No! It can’t be! Impossible!” she yelled, her voice echoing in the silent room.

Her breathing quickened as her mind spiraled further. “He’s too young! It doesn’t make sense!”

The questions and doubts swirled in her head, each more maddening than the last. Her chest felt heavy, her thoughts wild and uncontrollable.

Finally, she sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands. “I’ll go crazy if I keep thinking about this…”

The silence of the room was deafening, broken only by her uneven breaths.

And yet, despite the chaos in her mind, one thought lingered, unshakable and haunting.

Why did it feel so familiar?

–

Richard stormed into his dormitory room, slamming the door shut behind him with a force that made the walls tremble.

His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling as if he had just run a marathon.

He leaned against the door, running a trembling hand through his disheveled hair. “I did something stupid,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and laced with frustration.