Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls-Chapter 159: Mirror

The soft light of late afternoon filtered through the school's colorful stained glass windows, tinging the corridors with warm shades of amber and violet. The distant sound of students returning to their routines filled the room with a comforting familiarity, as if everything was returning to normal... or almost.

At the top of an internal staircase, sitting on a ledge padded with enchanted cushions, Erika and Stella looked out over the schoolyard. The veteran swordswoman had her hair down for the first time in days, and Stella was still wiping her eyes with a finely embroidered handkerchief, her face slightly swollen from crying.

"You should have seen your face when you saw me," said Erika, trying to lighten the mood with a tired smile.

"You... you're very cruel, you know that?" mumbled Stella, sniffling. "I thought you were dead! You were always so... so impossible to take down. I thought..." her voice faltered, and new tears threatened to flow.

Erika sighed, pulled the younger girl close and patted her head affectionately. "You're too cute to live alone in this world. I'd like to lock you in a padded box."

Stella let out a nervous laugh, snuggling into the impromptu hug, her eyes still moist. "I don't want to be alone..."

"You won't," Erika replied, looking more serious, stroking the girl's hair. "Not while I'm here."

A brief silence settled between the two, comfortable and warm. Until Stella, her voice firmer but still cautious, let slip:

"You and Kael disappeared for quite a while, everyone was worried."

Erika froze when Stella spoke about Kael.

Literally. A slight tremor ran through her body, her eyes widening for a brief second before she disguised it with a dry cough. The color rose to her neck so quickly that it felt like she'd been hit by a concentrated heat spell.

"What was it like being trapped in that dungeon alone?" Stella asked curiously.

"B-well..." she let out, trying to sound casual as she stared into nothingness. "F-it was okay... Kael... is. He... is a good student."

"A good student?" Stella arched an eyebrow, suspicious. "You're red. You NEVER turn red. What happened?"

"I... I'm not red, it's just the sunlight hitting me wrong," Erika retorted, looking away completely. But the tone of her voice gave everything away.

Stella narrowed her eyes, clearly not convinced. She leaned in closer, scrutinizing the other woman's expression with a mischievous smile beginning to sprout on her lips.

"Did you do something with him?"

Erika's eyes widened and she gritted her teeth in an expression of pure panic.

"I didn't-WHO-WHAT-?!" She choked on her words, waving her hands in the air as if trying to deflect invisible arrows. "Are you crazy?! It's all in your head, your overactive imagination as a needy schoolgirl with eyes sparkling with romance!"

"You totally did something to him." Stella squeezed her eyes shut with conviction, hugging her knees with a victorious smile, like someone who had just discovered a forbidden secret.

The smile was short-lived.

Erika's face hardened instantly. Her previously tired eyes were now cold, sharp as the blade she always carried with her. She turned slowly to face Stella, each word coming out with the precision of a well-calculated blow:

"No. It happened. Nothing."

The tension in the air was palpable. The young woman could almost swear that the temperature dropped around them. Stella swallowed, the smile immediately fading from her face. For a moment, she swore she heard the distant sound of a sword being drawn - even though there was none there.

Erika continued to stare, serious, and the silence that followed was almost an implicit threat. The message was clear: don't push your luck, little girl.

"Okay..." mumbled Stella, quickly settling down on the cushions, trying to look smaller than she was. Nothing happened."

Erika finally looked away, returning to stare at the golden evening sky with a heavy sigh.

After a few seconds, in a softer, almost inaudible tone, she added:

"...But if it had happened... it wouldn't have been any of your business."

Stella didn't reply, but a discreet smile formed at the corner of her mouth. She got the message.

...

The light was cold and artificial, coming from a single magical sphere that hovered in the center of the ceiling, casting long shadows on the stone walls of the interrogation room. The silence was thick, as dense as the tension that hung in the air.

Bound with enchanted chains to an iron chair, the boy - the same one Kael had captured selling illegal magical substances on the outskirts of the school - stirred uncomfortably. His wrists were bound and his eyes, despite his fear, still bore a hint of youthful arrogance.

In front of him, Lyra crossed her legs calmly on the table, the heel of her shoe tapping gently on the polished wood. She was dressed in a "secretary" outfit that was miles away from the term "discreet": a partially open white shirt, a tight vest and a short skirt with a generous slit up the side. A carefully constructed illusion, armed not with offensive magic - but with intent.

She smiled. Slow. Dangerous.

"So... you don't want to tell me who your supplier is," she said, leaning her elbow on the table and tilting her face towards him, as if to share an intimate secret. "Is that right?"

The boy tried to keep his gaze steady, but his eyes fled hers every few seconds. He was sweating, not from the hot clothes - but from her presence.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, trying to sound confident. "I only sold. Not much. For my own use..."

Lyra snorted a laugh and leaned closer, close enough for him to smell her perfume - sweet, but with a spicy undertone like magic cinnamon.

"You're terrible at lying. But you know... it's kind of cute trying to play the tough guy."

She moved, sliding from the table to the back of the chair opposite, crossing her legs slowly. Her eyes never left his.

"Let's play a game, then. I'll ask you a question, you answer correctly... and I'll leave the illusion of enchantment to you. You know what I mean, right? That feeling of floating. Of feeling no pain. Of being seen."

The boy swallowed dryly, his face beginning to contort between doubt and desire. Lyra's charm wasn't just physical - it was magical, subtle and enveloping. A spell of persuasion that only the trained could perceive. And that boy clearly wasn't.

"Or," she continued, her voice sliding like warm silk, "you can keep playing the bully. Then we'll hand you over to the guys who do the dirty work. They have a more... orthodox method of getting people like you to talk. Spoiler: it involves pain. And bones."

He hesitated.

Lyra then leaned in, her mouth close to his ear, and whispered:

"I prefer the game."

Finally, his eyes wavered. A moment of weakness. A breath between the right choice and the fear of the wrong one.

"...Okay. Okay. But you have to promise that - that you won't screw me over for good."

She took a step back, arching an eyebrow.

"Depends on what you say." And she smiled. But her smile wasn't one of comfort. It was of someone who was in complete control of the situation.

"Who's behind this?"

The boy took a deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment. When he opened them again, they were wet - but defeated.

"I don't know his real name... but they call him the Mirror. He never shows up. He only sends different people... with masks. But... but there's a girl. Blonde. Very good with enchantments. She's the one who gave me the last load. She said it was only the beginning..."

Lyra sat back slowly, absorbing the information. The name reverberated in her mind like a dissonant note.

Mirror.

She stood up with the same calculated elegance with which she had arrived, and with a nod, a magic circle lit up around the boy, locking him in a magical cell.

Before leaving, she stopped at the door, cast one last glance over her shoulder and said:

"Good choice. Now pray that blondie never knows it was you."

The boy turned pale for good, and Lyra, satisfied with the effect, left the room without haste, like someone who had just concluded a particularly lucrative business meeting.

Outside, in the polished stone corridor with floating lamps emitting a discreet blue light, one of her assistants was waiting - a young elf with her hair in an impeccable bun and gold-rimmed glasses, holding a magical clipboard that floated slightly in front of her.

As soon as she saw Lyra leave in her "predatory secretary" look, the elf arched an eyebrow, appraising her from head to toe with the coldness of someone who is used to dealing with enigmatic beings all the time.

"Do you have that kind of fetish?" she asked with the utmost naturalness, while adjusting the floating notes with a slight gesture of her hand.

Lyra didn't even blink. She walked past her with a little smile, stopping only to fix her hair elegantly.

"It's not a fetish, darling," she replied, her voice honeyed and sharp as a razor's edge. "It's a strategy. People talk more when they think they're in control... or completely hypnotized by who is."

The elf let out a sigh, typing something on her clipboard with precise movements.

"Strategy with fishnet stockings and stiletto heels. How tactical of you."

Lyra gave a low, sarcastic laugh as she walked down the corridor, her footsteps echoing with confidence.

"You should try it sometime. Maybe you'd get confessions faster than with triplicate forms."

"I prefer efficiency," the elf retorted, without even lifting her gaze. "And I preserve my dignity."

"Ah, dignity..." said Lyra, turning around with a debauched glint in her eye. "Beautiful thing. Too bad it doesn't serve as a shield against magic dealers." freēnovelkiss.com

With a snap of her fingers, she changed her appearance - the provocative outfit dissolved into a shimmering mist, revealing her usual sober and elegant arcane investigator's tunic. Her hair, once pinned up provocatively, was now arranged in a professional bun.

"Let's go." She fixed the magic bracelets on her wrist. "I want a full report on this blondie of illusions. Cross-reference the enrollment records with reports on behavior, magical traps and who else has access to the Enchantment Wing."

The elf sighed, turning on her heels. "Understood. Do you want a psychological profile, network of contacts, family history and arcane consumption pattern?"

"Everything," said Lyra, already turning away, her voice fading into the corridor. "If she's as good as they say... we'd better be ten steps ahead."