Chapter 74

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Akale looked around. Most of the people didn't care who was a goddess and who was a witch. People were fleeing, screaming, and rolling on the ground, weighed down by curses and poison. There were also people shouting, "Lord Rudra, what are you doing?" following Granadilla.

Looking closely, Akale saw that one of them was Ambrosia. She was probably being crushed by Granadilla and can't even show his dirty temper.

That was what Akale had seen all too often: people who would become animals to save their own lives. Worms fester in the human heart, but they always deny this fact, wrapping themselves in plausible deniability.

"Sacrifice your life for the goddess!"

"Charge at Lutea's enemies!"

It was disgusting. The phrase "for Lutea" felt dirty. Acale hated the hidden desires boiling within seemingly plausible words.

Maybe some of us were attracted to Lutea's looks. See, that man's gaze behind me, stopping at the base of my neck?

No one comes forward to talk to her about what they're doing for Lutea. They just scream for their lives. Maybe they're expecting a hug from Lutea, maybe they're expecting a hug from me. Humans always do. Morals, ethics, civility, kindness, norms... It all comes down to the desire to sleep with a member of the opposite sex, doesn't it? Akale thought.

What if some of them had been by Clara's side?

Clara would probably have been even more unhappy. They would have approached Clara, spoken sweet words of salvation, and waited for the opportunity to embrace her. She would probably not have noticed it and would have bowed her head repeatedly in gratitude.

Then she would be hugged by the man, trying hard to suppress the thought of her father, and eventually realizing the man's true nature, becoming disappointed and frustrated.

Akale was glad she didn't end up like that fool. She was glad she met the black butterfly then. She appreciated it then, but now, she was not very fond of Granadilla anymore.

Akale looked into Rudra's, or rather Granadilla's eyes. In those red eyes, Akale's false form, the image of Lutea, was reflected. She looked into those eyes and knew that she existed in Granadilla's heart.


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