Lira

Chapter 4: Confirmation

That night.

Lira locked her chamber door, drew the curtains fully shut, and ensured they were completely alone before lighting a black candle—the ritual the demon had taught her. The flame ignited, and the room instantly turned frigid. The air grew dense and murky, as if some unknown presence was creeping forth from the shadows.

She shut her eyes and uttered the name in a low voice.

"Dantalion."

The candle fire flared wildly, then froze in place. It did not die out, but shifted into a strange icy-blue blaze, steady and unwavering like a fixed star. Darkness all across the room began to stir, surging out from wall corners, ceiling cracks and the space beneath the bed.

Presently, a voice drifted to her ears.

"You called for me."

It was no question, merely a flat statement. The sound permeated every corner, deep and gravelly, resounding like echoes of ancient incantations.

Lira opened her eyes.

The demon stood right in front of her.

He was immensely tall, towering above everyone she had ever met. A voluminous black cloak fell straight from his shoulders to the ground, concealing his entire form; there was no visible body, no limbs, only endless void darkness. Yet beneath the hood lay a pair of distinct eyes.

Amber irises with vertical pupils, bearing the features of both serpents and felines.

They were the very same eyes she had witnessed in her final dying moments.

"I come to seek confirmation," Lira spoke, her calm tone surprising even herself. "Has my younger sister Liora Mornath also been reborn?"

The demon lapsed into a brief silence.

"Yes."

The single word crashed heavily upon Lira’s heart.

She had long suspected the truth, yet hearing it confirmed still made her chest constrict sharply. Liora retained all memories of their past life—every cup of poisoned milk she had forced upon her sister, every secret kiss she shared with Kael by Lira’s sickbed, the cruel infant swap, and the whole year of elaborate deception.

Yet earlier that day, at the racecourse, she had smiled sweetly, clung to Lira’s arm and acted as pure and guileless as any ordinary young lady.

Lira drew in a slow breath to calm her raging hatred, then voiced her second inquiry. "Was it you who granted her rebirth?"

"No."

This answer caught her off guard. Lira gazed up at those amber vertical pupils, trying to discern any emotion behind the faceless hood, yet found nothing at all.

"If not you, then who was it?"

"I was not the one," the demon repeated. "One of my kin has forged a soul pact with her."

Lira’s heart sank heavily.

One of his own kind?

"Which one?"

"That is not information you are meant to know for now."

A pale, black-nailed hand extended out from the cloak, its fingertip resting lightly on her forehead. In the blink of an eye, countless fragmented scenes flooded her mind. She saw Liora standing before another demon, wearing the exact same determined resolve Lira had once held.

"Do you crave a second chance?"

"I do."

"The price shall be devastating. Are you truly resolved?"

"I am ready to sacrifice everything."

Lira stumbled backward at once, breaking away from his touch and gasping for breath.

"What drives her to seek another life?" Her voice trembled faintly. "She seized everything she desired in our past life; every precious thing was taken straight from my grasp."

A mocking low laugh escaped the demon. Lira’s thoughts whirled endlessly.

In their previous lifetime, Liora was the perpetrator, while she herself was the victim doomed to an early grave. If vengeance was due, it should have belonged solely to her. Now that Liora had also returned to the past, what was her ulterior motive? Could she possibly want revenge? She had ruined her sister’s life, stolen her husband and child, and emerged as the ultimate victor—she had no grounds for such resentment.

A sudden realization halted her train of thought.

A forgotten memory resurfaced vividly.

After Liora married Theodore Merchant years ago, their union lasted no more than two years before Theodore passed away unexpectedly, leaving her a lonely widow with nothing to her name. Back when Lira resided in Gray Manor, every time Liora came to visit, there was no trace of sorrow on her face—only quiet relief.

She had never comprehended the emotion then, but everything was clear now. Liora’s marriage had been utterly miserable. She had once loved the unrestrained young merchant heir, yet once infatuation faded, she came to acknowledge her true feelings for Kael. To watch her own elder sister marry the man she loved was nothing short of a fatal wound to her heart.

A bitter, hollow laugh escaped Lira’s lips.

It was not a laugh of joy, but one born from the sheer absurdity of the truth. Liora had never stopped loving Kael all those years ago; she had merely overlooked him at the debutante ball, and ended up marrying Theodore under family influence. After becoming widowed, she wasted no time drawing close to Lira again, using her own misfortune as a disguise to rob her sister of all happiness.

She had long nursed deep jealousy and resentment, blaming Lira for winning Kael’s affection and owning the life and status that she believed rightfully belonged to herself.

Now granted the chance to rewrite destiny, she would seize it without hesitation. She would never let her chance slip away again, and claim the man she had always wanted from the very start.

"Her sole aim is to take Kael away from me," Lira stated coldly. "In this new life, she intends to snatch him from my side from the very beginning."

Lira closed her eyes.

How utterly ridiculous it all was.

The wrongdoer saw herself as the wronged, and the murderer convinced herself she was the injured party. Her sister truly believed that Lira had stolen her happiness in their past life.

"So she is set to oppose me relentlessly, until only one of us remains standing?"

Outside the window, nightingales sang their sorrowful tunes, their melodies solemn and mournful like funeral chants. Candlelight cast swaying shadows across the chamber, while the demon stood rooted in the gloom like an immemorial stone statue.

"Did she ever love me?"

"What do you mean?"

"In our past life, did my own younger sister ever hold genuine affection or feel the slightest remorse toward me?" Lira fixed her gaze steadily on those amber vertical eyes.

The demon remained silent.

That silence alone was all the answer she needed.

Lira stared down at her youthful fourteen-year-old hands—fair, delicate and flawless, far removed from the frail blood-stained hands that had endured endless illness and suffering. She was alive once more, and she still held every chance to turn the tide. If Liora planned to seize everything right from the start...

Then let her try her utmost.

She raised her head, all inner hesitation completely vanishing from her eyes.

"I understand everything now."

"You feel no fear?"

"Fear?" A sharp, icy smile curved her lips, nothing like her usual gentle or bashful looks. "The one who ought to live in fear is not me."

A faint unfathomable glint flickered within the demon’s vertical pupils.

"Curious creature," he murmured. "Humans are indeed the most fascinating beings in all realms."

His voice faded, and the black candle was snuffed out instantly. The room returned to its normal state, warmth filled the air once more, curtains fluttered gently in the breeze, and the nightingale’s songs drifted in clearly. The whole summoning seemed nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

Lira sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her palms before slowly curling her fingers into tight fists.

Liora had been reborn too.

This was truly ideal.

A revenge battle would be meaningless if her sister retained no past memories. A genuine life-or-death rivalry, where each side laid out schemes and countered every move—that was how this game was meant to unfold.

A soft knock suddenly rang out at the door.

"Sister?"

Lira’s heart tightened sharply, yet she swiftly schooled her features back into her usual gentle and tranquil demeanor. She rose to her feet, tidied her attire, and walked over to open the door.

Liora stood outside clad in a plain white nightgown, her golden hair flowing loosely over her shoulders, hugging a soft pillow to her chest.

"I cannot fall asleep," she tilted her head, wearing her signature winning innocent grin. "May I stay with you? I wish to chat for a while."

In their past life, Liora had never once taken the initiative to seek her company like this.

Lira stepped aside to let her enter, her tone soft and mild. "Come inside then."

Liora skipped into the room cheerfully and flopped onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow and speaking lazily. "Sister, what do you think of Lord Gray?"

Lira shut the door and seated herself calmly beside the bed. "He is an admirable gentleman."

"Only admirable?" Liora rolled over to face her, eyes filled with hidden scrutiny. "I saw him help you adjust your stirrup today. What else did he say to you?"

"Nothing of importance."

"Sister... could you have grown fond of him as well?"

The casual question held hidden sharp intent. Lira looked into those identical blue eyes, clearly discerning suspicion, caution and deep-seated hostility hidden within them.

It was no mere petty sisterly friction, but genuine unyielding enmity that could end in ruin for one side.

It was the same icy hostility she had seen in Liora’s eyes on her deathbed, when she had stood there holding the fatal cup of poisoned milk.

"I do not," Lira lowered her head, twisting her skirt hem in perfect maidenly fluster. "He belongs to you. I would never vie for his affection against you."

Liora studied her face intently for a few moments before breaking into a radiant smile as bright as spring sunshine.

"I always knew you were the sweetest elder sister in the world." She leaned in and rested her head lightly on Lira’s shoulder. "You will always be my dearest sister, won’t you?"

"I will," Lira stroked her back gently, her voice soft as warm spring winds. "I shall always be your elder sister."

Liora snuggled comfortably against her shoulder, peaceful and satisfied like a contented cat.

Lira’s gaze rested upon the crown of her sister’s head, and every trace of gentleness in her eyes gradually froze into cold indifference.

I will always be your elder sister.

Until the moment you cease to deserve me as such.