When Afawaf tumbled with this officer, it happened to be midnight.
Since Mr. Sheikh went mad, she had lost her source of wealth—Sheikh's jewelry, gold and silver, those savings and houses had all been fought over, bitten, and completely swallowed up by greedy partners with wide-open mouths and sharp teeth. By the time a woman actually reached out, they started uniting against her, preventing her from taking even a single gold bean from Sheikh's fortune.
In the end, all that was left for Afawaf was this residence where Mr. Sheikh currently lived.
The madman was on the second floor, and she was on the first.
Afawaf dismissed all the servants and hired several groups of workers to seal the upstairs tightly with thick wooden bars—just as Mr. Rochester had done.
Unfortunately, while Ms. Bertha Mason had died in a fire she set herself, Afawaf couldn't do that (and Sheikh wouldn't either). Afawaf had to find another long-term bank to keep her well-fed and well-watered before Sheikh died.
Muska.
This was her target.
A wealthy tycoon exiled from an island nation, he manipulated the army under his command with money and strong personal charisma. Ever since he arrived in Cairo, Afawaf's eyes had never left this man with a slightly receding hairline.
Of course, it also had to do with his vague and ambiguous attitude—one comfortable night, while Muska held Afawaf, he had said a few things the woman didn't understand.
'Royalty.'
'I will control the World.'
Well, it was a good thing her man had great ambitions, but that didn't stop Miss Afawaf from flirting around and opening up other escape routes for herself, lest she be abandoned by the somewhat heartless Mr. Muska after his success.
This puppy-like man on top of her was one of her escape routes.
A Captain of the apprehension squad related to the army commander, he was now a Captain of the marines.
Broad shoulders and a narrow waist, powerful thighs, thick arms, a square face, and black hair shaved short, leaving only a thin layer.
When he glared, his eyebrows would stand up, making his eyes look very fierce.
But he was very gentle when he looked at her.
She liked this kind of obedient dog.
"Darling." Afawaf hugged the man hoarsely and lazily. On this weary night, the woman was truly too lazy to even move a finger. "Darling, pour me a glass of Water."
The man lay calmly on top of Afawaf, his face buried in her neck. It seemed he had fallen asleep just moments ago.
That warm masculine breath that made the woman itch now seemed much lighter... "Darling?"
Afawaf pushed the man impatiently; the heavy and stiff body pressing down on her made her extremely uncomfortable.
"Don't pretend to be asleep, I'm thirsty! Pour me a glass of Water!"
Upstairs, the crazed Sheikh, with another needle in his body today, was thumping and smashing the few remaining pieces of wooden furniture in the room. Downstairs, it was dead silent... "Darling?"
Afawaf pushed him again.
Cold and rigid.
A chill seeped from the man's chest into the woman's heart... Trembling, she extended her finger and placed it under the man's nose... No breath.
F***!
The woman screamed and shoved, curling her legs to kick the corpse off the bed, then tremulously pulled up the quilt to cover herself—only then did she realize that three figures were standing silently in the large bedroom.
A man even sturdier than the dead officer, hairless and brown-skinned. Kuma-like, he filled out an oversized suit, standing respectfully to the left of a mid-height jewelry cabinet. On his handsome face, his deep eyes were cast down toward the ground.
To the right, the slender Shadow was a woman. Her black hair was coiled at the back of her head, held in place by a satin fan. Her hands were folded over her abdomen as she stood sideways, looking at the girl in the center.
She... had seen this girl. She had seen her at a cocktail party while flirting with that man named Jonathan.
—A petite Shadow sat between the man and the woman, perched atop the jewelry cabinet; her high heels had been kicked onto the carpet, revealing fair and delicate little feet, each toe painted with light green polish; her black hair blended into the darkness, and as a faint light hit her, above the beauty mark at the corner of her eye was a pair of slightly drooping eyes.
She was staring at her with a smile.
"Hi, Miss Afawaf."
So the devil's voice was crisp and lively... It didn't take long for Afawaf to spill everything she knew. When Nagini pulled out a few needles, the woman still wanted to put up a last-ditch resistance; then, she saw the brown-skinned handsome guy say something to them.
He reached out, and small lumps bulged under his skin, which then squeaked as they crawled out: a swarm of insects... oily black, shimmering with a deep blue light under the lamp.
Scarabs were truly experts at extracting confessions. As soon as two of them burrowed into her skin and crawled bulgingly toward Afawaf's waist, the woman told everything.
"Sheeta! That girl was taken away by Mr. Muska! I don't know, I don't know where!"
"Tyah? No! She didn't die because I forced her! It was Sheikh! That madman!"
Mori Tsukisa didn't speak, just humming a little tune. This meant it had to continue.
"No!! Get them out of my body... Ah!!!"
"I know, I... I know! She was taken to a Base on the outskirts of Cairo!! They were building airships and fortresses there before!!"
"Let me go!!"
The woman struggled and kicked her legs, pushing the carpet into layers of folds and revealing the bricks underneath. Imhotep looked down at Mori Tsukisa.
Mori Tsukisa, on the other hand, lowered her head, staring at her feet, her left and right feet fighting with great relish.
"Why are you looking at me?" she asked faintly. "Didn't you already make your decision, Imhotep?"
This three-thousand-year-old handsome man, who always maintained an air of noble mystery, composure, and maturity, finally showed an awkward expression... This awkwardness made Nagini, who had a look of 'though I don't know what you did, Master is unhappy and you're dead,' turn fierce: The woman slowly turned around, staring at Imhotep, and quietly drew the dagger from her waist.
"I am truly sorry, Your Excellency the Mage..." Imhotep bowed with clasped hands. "I cannot trust the gods now. Their promises are like the sandy banks of the Nile; anything written there cannot even withstand a few tides..."
"Then you trust me?" The girl carelessly bit her index finger, her two small feet still fiercely battling.
"Before Anck-Su-Namun is resurrected, I cannot trust anyone..." Imhotep looked at Mori Tsukisa, who was ignoring him, with some guilt. "But I will definitely give you more trust than them..."
After all, when he had nowhere else to go, this beautiful mage risked war with the gods to take him in.
This alone made Imhotep feel deeply guilty for his concealment and willfulness.
"So you're going to tell me now?"
"Yes, Your Excellency, I plan to use her as a sacrifice to resurrect Anck-Su-Namun." Imhotep looked behind him; Afawaf was still wailing hysterically.
"This doesn't align with our agreement, you know?" Mori Tsukisa calmly lowered her head. "We said: when you find Bastet's god box and also help me find the Dragon..."
"lady bastet may no longer care for me." Imhotep gave a bitter smile. "I came from the Underworld at your summons."
"At that time, Anubis, who failed to seize the god box, will surely reclaim my soul."
Mori Tsukisa nodded, and with a'snap', she flicked her bitten index finger. The war between her two small feet was also about to end.
"A reasonable proposal, I don't mind."
"Anyway, if she's not pretty, everything is off the table."
Speaking of his beloved, Imhotep proudly raised his head, his deep eye sockets filled with confidence and determination: "She is the most beautiful woman in all of Egypt!"
The left foot won.
Mori Tsukisa grinned victoriously. Nagini, who was nearby, had already quietly picked up the kicked-off high heels for the girl and was kneeling before the jewelry cabinet.
She held it up, and her cold fingers made the palm-sized small foot retract.
"Congratulations on your victory."
She put on her Master's shoes, and after standing up, she gave Imhotep a cold glare amidst his complex and... peculiar expression.
Cunning bald man.
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