CHAPTER 144: A SUBTLE SHIFT BETWEEN RIVALS

"Haha... hahaha..." On the other end of the line, Saoirse still hadn’t realized just how grave a mistake she’d made. Maintaining her usual superior tone, she gave a soft snort. "Even though I’m quite busy right now, I suppose I can spare a few minutes to talk to you. In fact, if you’re willing to humble yourself a little, I wouldn’t mind teaching you how to win Veil’s heart. As long as you follow my instructions, sooner or later, you’ll get what you want."

Teach her?

Saoirse herself didn’t even have a firm grasp on Veil’s heart—so what qualified her to teach someone else?

Lyra understood this clearly. Saoirse might carry herself like a queen looking down on the world, but at the end of the day, she was just a lonely woman—someone without a single true friend she could confide in.

Within the Black Dragon Society, no one dared to defy her commands.

But when it came to opening up, to sharing the contents of her heart...

Would she even dare speak? And who would dare listen?

The authority of Saomi—the true leader of the Black Dragon Society—was no mere ornament.

The deeper one was entangled in the mud of the Black Dragon Society, the clearer the dangers became.

Perhaps before tasting the sweetness of love, Saoirse hadn’t cared much for such things—or perhaps she simply didn’t understand them.

But once she’d had a taste, she couldn’t stop. She became addicted.

Unable to speak to Veil directly, she turned instead to her rival—Lyra.

In truth, somewhere deep in her heart, Saoirse had already acknowledged Lyra’s existence.

"Can I hear Veil’s voice for a second?" Lyra suddenly asked.

"Uh—hold on, don’t rush me," Saoirse stammered at first, caught off guard. Then there was the sound of her standing up, followed by the soft thump thump thump of footsteps fading away from the phone. After a long pause, the footsteps returned. "The water’s too loud in the bathroom. He didn’t hear me. And I... I can’t exactly walk in there and shout, you know? Otherwise, I might not get the chance to come back and talk to you at all. You might even hear something... inappropriate."

Hoo...

Lyra exhaled deeply, a wave of heartache washing over her.

She’d once harbored suspicion, catching subtle implications in Saoirse’s words. She had feared that something had already happened between Veil and Saoirse.

But now... maybe it was all just Saoirse’s imagination?

Even Veil, lying quietly in her lap, probably didn’t realize that he’d unknowingly untied a knot in her heart—resolved a lingering doubt.

The call had gone on for a while. Perhaps out of curiosity over Saoirse’s antics—or maybe out of sympathy—Lyra had surprisingly ended up chatting with her far longer than expected.

And just as Lyra was hesitating, clearly on the verge of hanging up, Saoirse let out a disgruntled little hum.

"Alright, fine. Veil went out to buy something just now, and he’ll be back soon. I don’t have time to keep chatting. We’ll talk again next time. Don’t you dare hang up on me again, or I’ll make sure you regret it. Hmph!"

Click.

Saoirse hung up first, preserving the last shred of dignity she had as the underground empress.

"Now do you understand what I meant?" Lyra murmured as she lowered her gaze, gently brushing Veil’s fringe away from his forehead.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. "I don’t even know when it happened. From the initial resentment I felt toward her... to now. Somehow, my perspective on Saoirse has changed. And I caught myself thinking something strange.

Maybe... sometimes when two women are involved, it doesn’t always end in sparks and conflict. Maybe... it can also mean companionship. Comfort."

Veil shifted slightly, rolling his neck as he sat upright. He pressed the red button on the privacy divider, and the center console panel slid open.

"Head to Queen’s Bar first," he told Kai.

"Got it. We’re already off the highway. Shouldn’t hit any traffic at this hour in downtown Veyport. We’ll be there in under thirty minutes," Kai responded professionally without turning around.

Veil leaned back in his seat, taking a deep breath. His eyes carried a faint soreness.

Maybe to others, Saoirse’s behavior seemed ridiculous—like a clown trying too hard to be funny.

But not to him.

"Why don’t you drop me off here? I can head home on my own," Lyra said softly.

She wasn’t trying to stop Veil from going to Queen’s Bar. She’d already spent the whole day with him—maybe that was enough. Letting him see Saoirse now... it felt like a small gesture of balance.

Veil gently took her hand and, after a moment of silence, said, "Why don’t you come with me?"

He offered her a rueful smile. "Aren’t you worried that if I go alone, Saoirse might call you again just to keep up appearances—maybe even try to make me talk to you mid-call?"

Uh...

As ridiculous as that sounded, Lyra couldn’t deny that it was entirely within the realm of possibility.

This was, after all, something Saoirse would totally do.

After a moment’s thought, Lyra nodded, convinced.

Half an hour later, the Bentley pulled into the parking lot outside Queen’s Bar.

Lyra stepped out first, entered the building, took the elevator, and arrived at the private suite upstairs—Saoirse’s personal resting room.

Earlier on the call, Saoirse had accidentally revealed her location, making it easy to track her down.

And when her subordinates saw that it was Lyra, none of them dared to stop her. They all recognized her as someone close to their lady.

None of them knew, of course, just how big a lie their boss had told.

Knock knock.

Lyra knocked gently. Inside, Saoirse’s annoyed voice called out, "Who is it? Didn’t I tell you I’m resting? Can’t this wait until tomorrow?"

"It’s me," Lyra replied calmly, her voice flat and unreadable.

Thump thump thump.

Inside, slippers shuffled hastily across the wooden floor, colliding with the edge of the bed. After a few awkward seconds, Saoirse stumbled toward the door and cracked it open, poking only half her head out.

Messy strands of hair framed her stunning face. There was clear tension—and a hint of panic—in her expression.

With a pale hand, she quickly pushed her hair back, glancing nervously over her shoulder before whispering with a forced smile, "Why’d you come now of all times? Seriously, your timing is terrible! Didn’t I tell you Veil’s already back from shopping? We’re... resting. Could you not interrupt?

Next time, alright?

Next time I’ll share more of my... wisdom."

...

"Boss, Professor Lyra’s already gone up. Aren’t you in a hurry to join her?"

Kai leaned against the Bentley, watching as his boss—who had just used the restroom as an excuse—strolled back to the car instead of heading straight into the Queen’s Bar. Calm as ever, Veil pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a slow drag.

Kai’s curiosity peaked. He leaned forward, eyes gleaming like a student eager for a lesson.

"No rush," Veil replied lazily. He flipped open the cigarette pack and lightly tapped it against Kai’s arm. "Want one?"

Without hesitation, Kai grabbed a stick and stuck it between his lips. Veil held the flame out for him. Kai cupped his hands to shield the lighter, took a deep puff, then exhaled a cloud of smoke before scratching his head sheepishly.

"Boss, think you could break it down for me? I’m not the brightest guy around. If you don’t spell it out, I might never understand."

Kai had witnessed firsthand the tension between Lyra and Saoirse—more clearly, perhaps, than Veil himself.

Back when Veil was in the hospital, both women had acted surprisingly civil toward each other in his presence. No drama. No sharp words. On the surface, everything looked peachy.

But outside that hospital room?

That was a different story.

The moment Veil was out of earshot, their glares could’ve cut steel. The way they looked at each other—like two queens in a turf war—each sizing up the other as a rival to be crushed.

Kai had long suspected that, if not for Lyra’s patience, the two would’ve come to blows by now.

There had to be more to it than met the eye. And he refused to believe someone as sharp as Veil hadn’t noticed.

There was a method to all of this. A deeper game.

And that method—Veil’s unique skillset—was exactly what Kai was desperate to learn. If he could grasp even 10 or 20 percent of his boss’s mastery, those tough women working at the club or hosting streams would be his in no time.

"Only by breaking the framework... can you rebuild the relationship," Veil said quietly, eyes fixed on the neon-lit Queen’s Bar in the distance.

Just one sentence.

Simple, but heavy with meaning.

He knew it well—Lyra and Saoirse’s relationship might’ve looked mended, but underneath was a chasm too wide to cross in a single step.

Their so-called friendliness lived in text messages and polite phone calls. In real life, they were still on opposing sides.

If he wanted them to truly accept each other, he needed a breakthrough moment—something that would smash the illusion and force them to rebuild from the ground up.

Tonight, Saoirse’s phone call was that moment. A perfect spark to ignite change. A chance for both women to recognize each other’s pain... and resilience.

Only by shattering the blurred, vague lines between them could something stronger be forged in its place.

"You get it now?"

Veil stubbed out his cigarette in the sand tray of a nearby trash can and glanced sideways at Kai.

Kai was silent, deep in thought. His brain spun so fast it was nearly overheating, like a dusty hard drive struggling to read corrupted files.

But when Veil asked the question, something clicked. His eyes went wide.

Then he raised a thumb with exaggerated excitement. "I get it! I totally get it now! Boss, you’re on another level! If I can master even half your tricks, forget having a thousand wives—I’d settle for just a hundred!"

Smack!

Veil swatted the back of Kai’s head without hesitation, his face full of disdain. "I told you to read more, not turn everything into nonsense."

He checked his watch and muttered, "We’re just about on time. I’ll deal with you later."

With that, Veil gave Kai a sharp look and turned, striding steadily toward the Queen’s Bar.