Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 55

Chapter 55: Rebirth (2)

Was it responsibility?

Was it faith?

Was it love?

The water pressed in from all sides, cold and unrelenting, a suffocating embrace that clawed at his chest.

The weight was unbearable, as if the very depths conspired to keep him there, lost in darkness.

Beneath the untouched surface of the lake, blood swirled like smoke in water, crimson tendrils stretching and curling into the void.

The lake was a graveyard of silence, where no light dared to penetrate and shadows ruled unchallenged.

Above, the heavens bled. The red blood moon hung ominously in the night sky, its eerie glow casting a spectral light across the desolation.

The moon’s reflection shimmered on the lake’s surface, fractured and rippling as if the world itself recoiled from its haunting gaze.

Then it came, the surge of energy. Reddish-purple light erupted from the depths, wild and untamed, spiraling into the sky as a storm unleashed.

The power enveloped everything, the air vibrating with an ancient force that was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

I am alive.

The thought was clear, defiant, and resolute, cutting through the haze of despair like a blade. It was a declaration, not a plea.

In this second chance at life, I will be Richard Mors.

Riezekiel is dead.

Richard’s eyes fluttered open, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.

I remember everything.

The cold, metallic taste of blood lingered on his tongue, and his heart pounded against his ribs, reminding him that he had survived.

The memory of the lake, the moon, and the energy still lingered, a vivid echo of a transformation that had set his soul ablaze.

In the stillness that followed, Richard understood one thing, this life was no longer bound by the shadows of the past.

–

When Ahcehera awakened, she found herself back in the house, the familiar wooden walls casting soft shadows in the morning light.

For a moment, she lay still, trying to piece together the fragmented memories of the previous night.

Her breath caught when she realized something was off. Slowly, she examined her body, running her hands over her arms and torso.

Not a single wound remained.

The internal injuries she was certain she had sustained after passing through the portal, were gone, as if they had never existed.

Dumbfounded, she retrieved a small mirror from her space button, the smooth device clicking softly as it materialized in her hand.

She tilted the mirror to examine her reflection and froze. Her fingers trembled as they reached for her neck.

There it was, a streak of purple hair nestled among her locks, close to her neck, vibrant and unnatural against the rest.

Since when did I have this?

Her mind raced, searching for answers in the haze of her memory. But it was blank, nothing but a void after the moment she fell unconscious.

Frustrated and uneasy, she decided to push aside the mystery of her hair for now.

Instead, she focused on her surroundings, her eyes scanning every corner of the room with sharp vigilance.

Where is Richard?

She pressed her fingers to her temple, activating the monitoring system linked to the flying bots.

A holographic interface appeared before her, displaying a playback of the previous night.

Her breath hitched as she watched. Richard was carrying her limp body, his face pale but determined.

Blood coated them both, her clothes, his arms, and the ground beneath their feet. The image lingered, seared into her mind.

How am I healed? Did he heal me? In what way?

The questions churned in her mind, each one more pressing than the last. The sight of him bloodied yet resolute, stirred something deep within her.

Her chest tightened with an inexplicable urgency. She needed answers, but more than that, she needed to see him.

She stood abruptly, the mirror forgotten as it clattered to the floor. Whatever had happened, whatever mysteries lingered in the night, they could wait.

She had to find Richard.

When she stepped out of her room, an eerie stillness greeted her.

The house was unnervingly quiet, the usual faint creaks of wood and the hum of distant activity conspicuously absent.

Her eyes darted around, scanning for any sign of movement. No one. The place felt abandoned, yet she couldn’t shake the sense that something was off.

Frowning, she ventured further, checking every corner of the house and peering out through the windows. But it was the same everywhere, emptiness.

Richard had never left the house, she thought, her unease deepening. Where could he be?

A sudden thought struck her, a bold, almost reckless idea. Her heart quickened as she approached his room. She raised her hand and knocked softly at first, then more firmly.

“Richard?” she called, her voice tinged with hesitation.

Silence.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. Without giving herself time to reconsider, she gripped the handle and pushed the door open.

The sight that met her froze her in place.

There he was, sprawled on the floor, his body slumped in an unnatural position.

He was still wearing the clothes from the night before, but they were soaked in blood, the dark crimson stains stark against the fabric.

For a moment, her breath caught in her throat. Panic surged through her as she stumbled forward, dropping to her knees beside him.

“Richard!” she gasped, shaking his shoulder gently but urgently. His skin was pale, and his breathing shallow.

The blood wasn’t just his. She could tell. But whose was it? And why hadn’t he tended to himself?

But as she hovered over him, trembling with worry, something unexpected happened.

Richard stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. His breathing, though shallow at first, deepened as awareness returned to his gaze.

He wasn’t unconscious, just utterly exhausted. Relief washed over her in an instant, her panic replaced by a wave of confusion and concern.

“Ahcehera…” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as if dragging itself out from the depths of sleep.

Before she could respond, his hand reached up gently, his fingers brushing against her temple. The unexpected touch sent a shiver through her, grounding her in the moment.