CHAPTER 1462: THE HOLLOW HAVEN II

At the toilet, Lydia crouched low, her body convulsing as she forced herself to vomit, her face buried against the cold porcelain. Every heave tore through her chest, until her stomach emptied itself in a bitter flood that burned her throat.

She didn’t know if it worked, if it purged whatever had been in the wine, or if it was already too late. Still, the thought of leaving it inside her was unbearable. She gagged again, pushing until there was nothing left but bile and a hollow ache.

Thankfully, she was alone. Amy had gone off to celebrate with the others, leaving Lydia in the suffocating silence of the room. Her arms trembled as she sank back onto the tiled floor, utterly spent. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, heart racing so violently she thought it might burst. Fear gnawed at her.

She knew the wine would not just a wine, there must be something else in it, something dangerous, something vile.

With effort, she dragged herself upright and staggered to the sink. She rinsed her mouth again and again, gargling until her throat stung, then scrubbed her teeth and tongue as though her very life depended on erasing every last trace.

Only when her mouth tasted raw and clean, and she could think of nothing else to do, did she step out of the bathroom.

She collapsed onto the bed, limbs heavy, chest still tight, her mind circling back to the golden goblet and the awful certainty that she had swallowed something more than wine. Her heartbeat thundered, her breath stuttered, then, all of a sudden, everything...stopped?

Suddenly, a wave of warmth surged through her, rushing from her chest to her fingertips, so sudden it stole her breath. Her body felt lighter than air, her head swimming with giddy clarity.

The dread, the sickness, the exhaustion, all are gone, like the stone thrown to the deep lake, it was disappeared without a trace, and its place bloomed a wild, intoxicating joy, so sharp and fierce it made her laugh aloud in disbelief.

She shot upright, her expression caught between confusion and exhilaration. What is this...? But there was no room left for caution. The joy flooded too quickly, too strongly, smothering every doubt. All she wanted, all she needed, was to be out, to move, to bask in the world.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, then stopped abruptly. She furrowed her brows, then took a brush and brushed her hair until it fell neatly into place, then she added a touch of lipstick on her pale lips, after that she studied her reflection once more. and smile with satisfaction. Lydia then stepped out of the room, her stride light, almost bouncing.

The corridor glowed brighter, every torch and lamp shimmering as if the walls themselves sparkled. Her heart fluttered with delight at the mere sight of passing faces. She grinned, greeted them, even waved vigorously, unable to stop the effusive warmth spilling from her.

By the time she reached the common room, laughter and music struck her like a burst of sunlight. Her chest filled with an unbearable thrill, her feet nearly skipping her across the floor.

"Jasmine! Over here!" Amy’s voice rang out, bright and familiar.

Lydia’s grin stretched wide, her whole body vibrating with excitement as she bounded toward them, joy burning in her veins like fire.

Amy caught her hands, laughing. "We were just talking about you! I’m so glad you’re here!"

"Yes, Jasmine, you’re always shut away. Come join us!" another healer urged.

"Here—drink with us!" A cup was pressed into her hand.

She didn’t hesitate. She gulped it down greedily, the liquid sliding warm and sweet down her throat.

Unlike before, she felt no caution, no hesitation—only a surge of rapture, sharper and brighter than ever, dragging her into the music, into the laughter, into that endless, glittering high that smothered every thought until she danced and laughed as if she had no worry at all.

"Are you happy? We’re leaving tomorrow!" Amy screamed over the pounding rhythm and cheers.

"Yes!" Lydia shouted back, voice rising with exhilaration.

"It’s going to be great!" Amy whooped.

"It will!" Lydia cried, enthusiasm spilling out of her in a breathless laugh.

"Imagine where we’re going to go!" Amy squealed, her face glowing with delight.

Lydia’s smile wavered, just a flicker, barely a crack.

"Imagine how powerful we’ll become!" Amy spun, arms thrown wide, her voice soaring with the music. "We’ll travel the world—Imagine how many people we can help, they will love us, they’ll revere us, perhaps just like the Saintess, like Princess Lorient!"

Lydia froze mid-step. The name slipped from her lips in a whisper, heavy despite the euphoria: "Princess... Lorient..."

But Amy, lost in the rhythm, didn’t notice. She twirled again, voice breathless with zeal. "We will serve the Constellation! We’ll be at the very top—no one will ever be able to stop us, The S.A.I.N.T will rule the world, wohooo

!!"

And in that instant, amidst the blinding joy and ringing laughter, an image tore through Lydia’s mind: a pair of violet eyes, luminous and unyielding, staring back at her. Eyes that shimmered like stars in a midnight sky.

Everything came rushing back, the memory of her best friend Marissa, face, followed by Owen’s boyish smile, then Maddeline’s worried face, and the horrible truth she had learned, her despair...

Everything struck her like a meteor, sudden and devastating. And within the crash of memory, another image surfaced: a woman seated gracefully, sipping tea.

When she lifted her gaze, her purple eyes glittered, and Lydia heard her voice as clear as if she were in the room: ’You’ll be fine, Lydia.’

She remembered now!

Her hands trembled. She had a mission, a very important mission. She looked around. The healers danced to the pounding music, drinking and laughing, raising their cups in careless toasts as they munched on sweets. Lydia’s stomach churned. She could not stay here.

She stumbled to her feet and hurried from the room. Fortunately, everyone was immersed in the celebration, thus no one noticed her strange reaction. Lydia pushed through the door, half-running down the empty hallway, her hand clamped over her mouth, her face gone pale.

It was the drink. The thought was sharp, undeniable. The drink was drugged; it clouded her mind, made her forget, made her ecstatic, euphoric, obedient.

She must report it to Jay right away! She understood now why everyone was so happy and giddy all the time; it’s not because they were in a good mood, it’s because they were drugged.

Perhaps it was the drink—or maybe everything they were being fed. And for those chosen as the next batch, the dosage might have been increased, just enough to keep them happy, compliant, and docile.

They wanted to make them oblivious until it was all too late. No wonder they could be sacrificed so easily. Hundreds of them had died, disappeared, but no one raised a question. It was because of this!

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm and slammed her against the wall. A dagger pressed cold against her neck, sharp enough to draw a bead of blood.

A voice, low and icy, cut through the air. "Who are you?"

Lydia froze. "La–Lady Hartley?"

Dominique Hartley pressed the blade harder until Lydia felt the sting of skin breaking. "You’re not Jasmine. Who are you? What happened to her?"

"Wha–what do you mean, Lady Hartley...? It’s me, I’m Jasmine." Lydia tried to steady her voice, but her trembling lips betrayed her.

Dominique sneered, her eyes hard and menacing. "Do you take me for a fool? Jasmine was condition was special; she was immune to the drugs we gave her. But you..." She studied Lydia’s face with cold precision. "From your reaction, I know you were affected. Only briefly, yes, but still affected. I don’t know what you do to avoid the shapeshifter detection, but I know you’re not Jasmine, and I can see it in your face. You aware of everything. I see your face when you accept the potion at the bus. Tell me, who are you? Did the government send you?"

Lydia swallowed hard. She’d been found out, though it’s not entirely. "If... I said I am?"

Dominique’s expression didn’t soften; she seemed unconvinced. "What happened to Jasmine?"

The way she asked carried a strange undertone, almost... concern.

"She’s alive. And safe," Lydia said carefully.

Dominique narrowed her eyes. "How can you prove it?"

"I can’t. And I don’t have to. I don’t trust you." Lydia’s gaze locked with hers, defiant despite the blade at her throat.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed toward them. Dominique seized Lydia’s arm and dragged her into the nearest room, a bathroom. She locked the door behind them, then shoved Lydia to the far end before quickly checking each stall one by one to ensure they were alone.

Lydia watched her warily. Despite the dagger at her throat earlier, Dominique’s concern for Jasmine intrigued her. What did she mean about Jasmine’s special condition, something that made her immune to the drug? What drug was she talking about, and why did she care? Questions swirled endlessly in Lydia’s head.

Because of that, Lydia decided, for now, to cooperate. Just then, a voice whispered in her ear.

"Lydia, are you okay?" It was Jay.

Relief washed over her. "Why did you take me here, Lady Hartley?" she asked aloud.

Jay’s eyes lit up the moment he heard the name—Dominique Hartley. At once, he understood. From the tone of Lydia’s voice, she was signaling that she was safe for now, but also that she wasn’t alone.

Catching on, Jay quickly switched on the speaker, ready to eavesdrop on every word of their conversation.

Dominique’s gaze swept over Lydia, her eyes studying every detail of her face before she finally spoke. "Let’s talk."

"Can you put the dagger away first?" Lydia’s eyes flicked to the blade gleaming in Dominique’s hand.

Dominique smirked. Without a word, she slid the dagger up her sleeve, hiding it from sight. Then she looked back at Lydia.

"Happy?"

Lydia drew a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.