Survival Guide After Accidentally Kissing a Demon - Chapter 104

Chapter 104

Red, blue, and purple skirts revealed navels and the graceful curves of waistlines.

Feathers and tassels on the skirts danced lightly in time with the melody of the music.

Thin veils adorned with silver beads and sequins shimmered in rhythmic flashes as the dancers moved.

The laughter inside the tent grew more unrestrained with the appearance of the dancing girls.

Madam Constance poured a little wine into Bartholomew’s cup and said, “Luoluo, this wine was brought from the palace by the royal family. It’s delicious, very smooth, and not bitter at all. If you drink a suitable amount, you’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep tonight.”

Beili took the cup and took a sip; the taste was indeed excellent.

Just then, a collective gasp of surprise erupted from the seating area.

Beili turned to look and saw that a dancer in a red skirt had, at some unknown moment, approached the youth in the black robe and silver mask.

The dancer shifted through seductive poses while reaching out a hand.

Fingers adorned with a bell-tinkling ring-to-wrist chain slowly stroked the cold lines of the silver mask.

Beili’s jewel-like, deep red eyes narrowed slightly without her realizing it.

The youth in the black robe seemed to sense a strange emotion.

He reached out, preparing to push the dancer away, but she grabbed his hand and guided it to her waist.

Through a layer of black gloves that clung to his knuckles, she continued to twist in graceful, lithe curves.

Beili’s red eyes stared at that hand on the dancer’s waist. She gripped her wine cup tightly, her heart thumping-*thump, thump, thump*-beating heavily.

The head covered in a black hood tilted in confusion.

With a slight lean, those hollow, soulless gold eyes ‘looked’ at the gray-haired girl in the seating area who was holding out her cup for more wine.

A whisper, barely audible, escaped from behind the silver mask:

“Why… do I feel… anger…”

***

In the seating area.

Madam Constance watched as Bartholomew’s face chilled and she began drinking the freshly poured wine like it was water. She couldn’t help but cover her mouth and stifle a giggle.

However, the layout of the long, low tables kept everyone close together, so she said nothing. She simply looked at Bartholomew, then at the main seat not far away, smiling in silence.

Beili was too preoccupied with drinking the wine to notice Madam Constance’s expression.

Soon, the smooth wine was finished in a few gulps, and the cup was empty again.

She reached out toward the wine barrel again, intending to turn the tap.

The Duke noticed the speed and frequency of Bartholomew’s drinking.

He frowned and spoke up to stop her. “Bartholomew, don’t drink so much. It’s easy to do something embarrassing when you’re drunk.”

He reached out to confiscate her cup.

“Just let Luoluo drink-” Madam Constance blocked the Duke’s hand. She tilted her face toward the main seat and gestured subtly. “After all, she’s seen an unpleasant sight and feels frustrated.”

The Duke followed his wife’s gaze.

Only then did he realize that Prince Cyril, sitting beside His Majesty the King, was being danced upon closely by a dancer in a purple skirt.

Prince Cyril held his wine cup with a cold expression, not sparing the dancer a single glance. His purple eyes were cast down heavily, lost in unknown thoughts.

The Duke didn’t know what to say.

He withdrew his hand and glanced at Susanna, who was also hanging her head and drinking gloomily. He cautioned, “Susanna, you can’t drink too much either. Royal wine gets you drunk very quickly…”

Susanna neither spoke nor nodded.

Perhaps she was in low spirits and didn’t want to talk, or perhaps the royal wine was already starting to take effect.

***

As Beili picked up her fourth cup of wine and prepared to drink, a white figure appeared beside her.

A hand reached out and grabbed her cup.

“Sister… Bartholomew…”

A flush had risen to Susanna’s face.

With the corners of her mouth drooping, she said, “Prince Cyril suddenly has a brother… His Highness… he must be so sad…”
Beili’s brow furrowed at her words.

Turning her head, she saw a dancing girl at the head table take the wine glass from Cyril’s hand, attempting to feed him a drink.

His lowered violet eyes flickered with a cold light, meeting hers just then.

Then, his thin lips parted slightly as he drank the wine offered by the dancer.

“And?” Beili asked tonelessly.

“Sister… could you go… go say a few kind words to comfort Prince Cyril?” Susanna’s voice was pleading.

“No.”

Beili retracted her gaze and gave a blunt refusal.

“If you were the one to speak to him, Sister… the Prince’s mood would definitely improve.” The more Susanna spoke, the more sorrowful her expression and tone became.

Beili rolled her eyes.

She wasn’t in a particularly good mood herself; why should she have to comfort someone else?

“I said no,” Beili repeated crossly. She tapped Susanna’s hand, which was still gripping her wine glass, signaling for her to let go.

“Sister Bartholomew, please go-”

“His mood has nothing to do with me. If you want to go, go yourself.”

Hearing her continue, Beili interrupted her with an impatient tone.

“…”

Susanna’s lips curled in a wounded pout.

As if the alcohol had suddenly rushed to her head, she abruptly snatched the wine glass from Sister Bartholomew’s hand and downed it in large gulps.

After finishing the wine, Susanna slammed the glass onto the table.

She reached out, clinging to Bartholomew like a vine.

Startled, Beili tried to shake her off.

She hadn’t expected that Susanna, who usually seemed so frail, would possess such strength while drunk.

Susanna kept repeating the words “please go” and “I won’t let go until you agree.”

“Go where? Comfort who? You should go get your head checked!”

Unable to endure it any longer, Beili snapped.

Nearby, the Duke and Duchess noticed the two girls who were practically wrestling.

They tried to separate them, but one was holding on for dear life while the other was pushing her away.

Amidst the chaos.

Clarence Barton of the Wolf Family, who was sitting nearby, rushed over. He chanted an incantation and cast a sleep spell on the two of them.

Only then did the commotion at the Constance Family’s table finally come to an end.

***

The moon hung high in the sky.

A pale, thin silver glow blanketed the mountains, the tents, and the lush grass.

Eerie “hoo-hoo” cries echoed through the woods, likely from owls.

A chilly night breeze drifted into the tent, lightly ruffling long, silver-gray curls.

Then.

Beili suddenly snapped awake.

After her thick, curled eyelashes trembled slightly, her deep red eyes opened.

A faint, muddled sleep-muttering sounded beside her.

She turned her head and saw a familiar silhouette next to her.

It was Susanna, fast asleep.

Beili blinked her red eyes softly.

Her memories of the latter half of the banquet were somewhat blurry. After several glasses of red wine, Beili couldn’t quite remember what had happened afterward. She only now realized that she had unknowingly become intoxicated.

‘He said… before the moon sets, if you don’t kiss him…’

‘Then… this… this last remaining method… will also disappear.’

Ashera’s words surfaced in her mind.

Beili hurriedly threw back the covers, strode to the tent’s entrance, and peered outside.

Fortunately, dawn had not yet broken.

The moon, as round as a silver coin, still hung high in the pitch-black night sky.

The banquet had already ended.

Only a large bonfire remained in the camp, along with sentries who were drowsy from drinking.

If she didn’t seize this opportunity, there would be no other quick way to absorb Mana.

She gazed at the moon, took a soft breath, and whispered to encourage herself, “If I have to be the proactive one, so be it. It’s not like we haven’t kissed before…”