"Nothing... nothing serious." She stammered, explaining, "Master said that Young Master Carter and Miss Foster are having tea and snacks in the front hall, and asked you to go keep them company."

Olivia Sullivan responded with an "Oh," rubbed her sleepy eyes, sat in a daze for a while, and only then slowly got out of bed.

An ivory comb dipped in petal-infused water slid through her black hair. When it reached the ends, which had become dry and split from the original owner's constant sighing day and night, it got tangled. Maid A, carefully gauging her mistress's mood, grabbed a handful of fragrant balm and gently massaged it in.

A strong scent filled the air in an instant. Olivia Sullivan sneezed, covered her nose, and said impatiently, "Why make it so complicated? Just cut it off."

Maid A was shocked: "This... this might..."

"Here, let me." She rummaged in the drawer for a pair of scissors, snatched the hair from Maid A's hands, and snipped around her head with a few crisp cuts. The scattered ends fell onto the dressing table, and as she cut, she lectured, "You have to let go to gain something. Only by cutting it can it grow well. Don't be so precious about this hair."

Olivia Sullivan put down the scissors and, like a little dog that had gotten wet, shook her head quickly, flinging the hair clippings off her clothes, then slipped back into a meditative state.

The person in the mirror had slightly swollen eyelids, drooping a little, making her look somewhat dazed.

"Did you not sleep well last night, Miss?" Maid A asked cautiously.

"...Not really." Olivia Sullivan rubbed her temples, a bit of a headache. By rights, last night should have been her first successful step in winning over the black lotus, so she ought to have slept soundly and sweetly.

But every time she closed her eyes, she was haunted by nightmares.

Torches reflected in the mirror-like pond, as if a pool of sparks had shattered, the heat scorching people's faces. At the gate, row after row of disheveled people knelt, their faces covered in mud, and a chorus of faint sobs filled the air, coloring the whole world with sorrow. The soldiers dragged the girls by their hair, their hands tied behind their backs, forcing them to stumble along like sacks of rags being hauled away.

The crying was overwhelming. Some struggled, like fish thrown onto a scale, thrashing their tails wildly, only to be beheaded by a broadsword the next second. Hot, bloody liquid gushed out, pooling instantly into a small puddle beside the executioner's boots. When he walked away, the soles of his boots made a squelching sound, soaked with blood.

Piles of wooden chests were stacked up, some with their lids open, revealing a glint of dazzling light beneath the un-nailed planks—a trembling butterfly hairpin, its wings poking out, displaying a lonely beauty with no one to admire it.

In the distance, horses snorted. A lame soldier was about to load a chest onto a wagon, but a stronger one bumped him aside, and the two started fighting.

The night glowed red, and everyone was like ants on a hot pan—some mad, some dead.

Olivia looked at the maid's face, still covered in fine fuzz. On the night of the water-mirror incident, this little maid had been so scared her teeth chattered and her face turned ashen. Now, her cheeks were rosy like an apple—youth is resilient.

"How old are you?"

The maid, a bit puzzled, stammered, "...Fourteen. Why do you ask, Miss?"

Olivia saw her face—fourteen years old. On that chaotic night, after being violated, she was strangled and thrown into the mud, her big eyes staring blankly.

Where was Ethan Sullivan then? Had she passed the bamboo grove, or reached Xingzi Town? Did she ever think of her home, and the people she left far behind—what fate awaited them in the end?

She lowered her eyes. "It's nothing. Let's go, to the flower hall."

"Mission reminder: Mission One, Quarter-Stage Follow-up: Please continue to increase intimacy with character [Henry Carter] while character [Yvonne Foster] is online. Reminder complete."

The sudden reminder made the cake in Olivia Sullivan's mouth taste bland.

"Ugh." She spat it out.

"Not to your taste?" Henry Carter smiled as he sipped his tea, kindly pushing Olivia's teacup toward her.

"I think Miss Sullivan just isn't fully awake yet."

Chad Foster spoke with a half-smile. He, too, had gone to bed at the fourth watch, yet his complexion was still rosy, with not a trace of darkness under his eyes.

Meeting Chad Foster's black eyes, Olivia Sullivan instinctively shrank back. In a flash, fire and phantoms swept over her again, and her stomach began to churn.

Chad Foster saw her pale face as she gulped down a mouthful of tea, completely ignoring him and turning to Henry Carter, weakly asking, "Brother Carter, do I look really pale?"

She was utterly focused, her eyes bright. Chad Foster's expression froze for a moment.

In the flower hall, only Olivia was there with the main group. The magistrate father had gone off early to handle official business. In his own words, young people get along best with other young people; he was too old and always felt out of place, making guests uncomfortable.

In truth, Olivia knew the magistrate deliberately wanted this group of talented individuals to stay a while longer, in case the county encountered any more troublesome monsters and needed help. Since he couldn't use his status to pressure them, he entrusted the task to his precious daughter. He hoped Olivia could bond with them, and ideally, form some lasting friendships.