"Wear this. If you wear it, I will forgive you."
Ah? Just by wearing it, will this vengeful senior no longer be angry?
Without a second thought, Gwen immediately grabbed the hairpin and attached it to her hair bun. Instantly, the black spots that had smeared across her cheeks faded and disappeared, though she remained unaware of it. Gwen had never anticipated that the hairpin she wore would carry a truth spell—one that revealed whatever the user wished to hide.
If it were worn by an unattractive woman who had covered her face with makeup or illusions, they would dissipate, revealing her true, unattractive face. Conversely, if the user were to hide their beauty, the spell would undo any artificial alterations, exposing their true features.
Gwen, intending to conceal her beauty, had deliberately smeared charcoal powder on her cheeks. The hairpin, however, removed it effortlessly.
This was the first time Clayton saw the real Gwyneth—her hazel eyes, clean yet emotionless. Her cheeks smooth with a subtle red hue that made her undeniably beautiful. His heart stirred, and once again, he fell in love, deeper than ever before. His gaze was drawn to her lips, so seductive and full, tempting him to taste them.
Clayton was no longer in control of his heartbeat. He felt as though he was under a spell, entranced and pulled into a trap. His hand, almost of its own accord, reached out to gently lift a lock of hair that framed her face.
"You're stunning," he murmured. Now, he understood why Gwen had chosen to hide her beauty. It wasn't just her appearance—it was her hypnotic charm that made everyone around her want to sin. This couldn't be good; he had to take the hairpin back.
"What are you doing?" Gwen pulled away as his hand reached for the top of her head.
"Why are you running away? I'm saving you," Clayton replied with a teasing grin.
"Ah?" Gwen grasped his hand tightly, her face twisting with disgust. "I've worn it like you asked, now act like a man."
"But I'm not a man. Haven't you heard? I'm a mama's boy," Clayton teased, yet his hand didn't pull back, even as Gwen held it tightly. He was surprised by the strength in her grip—she might appear fragile, but clearly, she wasn't.
'How could this girl's strength match that of a sixth-level warrior?' he thought. Had he been a third-level knight, he would've been knocked into the wall of the carriage by now.
Clayton could force his strength, but that would reveal his true abilities. Instead, he decided to step back and sat back down.
"Are you a level 2 mage? You feel more like a warrior," Clayton remarked, curious about her unusual presence.
"That's because my father is a warrior. I have a naturally strong body," she replied, casually.
Clayton blinked, realizing she wasn't talking about her Rocco Hall, but about her birth father. "Is your father still alive?"
Gwen's expression clouded, her frown deepening at the abrupt shift in the conversation. "I don't know, and I don't care."
Clayton knew that something had happened with her father—her resentment was clear. He decided to tread carefully. "And your mother?"
"She died giving birth to me. People say I killed her. That's why my father hated me and abandoned me."
"..." Clayton didn't know how to respond to such a grim recounting, especially when she spoke with such an emotionless tone. Did she even care? It seemed like she didn't. Should he offer comfort? It didn't seem like it would matter.
"What about you?" he asked, searching her face for a hint of emotion. "Do you believe you killed your mother?"
"You believe that? It's absurd that people still believe such nonsense."
Clayton furrowed his brow, using the magic in his eyes to observe her. Her expression remained unreadable—there was no sadness, no joy, just a void. She didn't seem to feel anything, as though her heart had been locked away.
A person couldn't be devoid of emotions. Clayton wondered if she had been so hurt by her father's rejection that it had hardened her heart. Was that the reason she appeared so detached?
"I don't know if you're lying, but one thing is clear—your mother didn't hate you."
At his words, Gwen stiffened. Her gaze grew vacant, and she stared out the window, her voice hollow as she asked, "How can you be sure?"
"If she hated you, she wouldn't have sacrificed her life to give birth to you."
"You don't even know my mother," Gwen snapped, turning back to face him. "No, she didn't even know I was the cause of her death. If her spirit were to meet me…" Her voice trailed off unexpectedly.
Clayton waited, puzzled by her words, hoping she would continue, but what she said next left him even more confused.
"What are we talking about?" she asked suddenly, looking at him as though she had forgotten everything. "Ah, right, I've worn the hairpin, so you can't go back on your word! Why are you looking at me like that?"
Clayton blinked in disbelief. How could she not remember what they'd just discussed? He had felt no magical fluctuations, and yet, something was off.
He tried again, using his magic to peer into her soul, but in less than a second, a force repelled him, pushing him out of her mind. It was as though some sort of seal had been placed on her soul, an invisible barrier that even Clayton couldn't detect.
"Are you carsick?" Gwen asked, her voice filled with concern, though there was no real empathy behind it. "We'll be there soon. You need to hang on."
Clayton forced a smile at her unfeeling words. "Do you not remember what we were talking about?"
"Aren't we just talking about hairpins?"
"No, not that. Never mind." Clayton closed his eyes, trying to ease the ache in his head. Oddly enough, he felt the restoration of his physical energy intensify. His body was recovering at an astounding pace—faster than he had ever experienced, almost as though his mount, Light, had awakened as well.
How was this possible? Was the air outside somehow purer than that in his training room back at Hawk's residence? It shouldn't have been, but it was.
Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, the carriage came to a halt, and the footman opened the door. As a gentleman, Clayton stepped down first and offered his hand to Gwen.
Even as he helped her down, his mind raced with questions—questions about the speed of his recovery and what had caused it. Normally, reaching the Footman level would take months of rigorous training. How had he progressed so quickly?
But his thoughts were interrupted by the shocked gasps from the young lad who had seen Gwen's true beauty.
And then a new mission formed in Clayton's mind: he had to stay by Gwen's side at the party, no matter what.
~~~~~
God-level
11th-level called Footman
12th-level called Assistant
13th-level called Soldier
14th-level called Heir
15th-level is the highest and strongest called God