"No," Amanda shook her head in refusal; she couldn’t believe he would make such a request.
What is this supposed to an?
"You’re the one who said ’anything goes.’ Going back on your word now?" Lance, having snapped out of his fantasy, pouted slightly in dissatisfaction.
His attitude agitated Amanda. "The car isn’t mine! It belongs to the organization; I can’t make that decision."
"Then why did you say this was your private space? What are you putting on airs for when it’s not even yours?" Lance looked at her with disdain, as if she were claiming public housing as her own.
Amanda barely contained her anger. Her fists, clenched at her sides, trembled slightly from the force, causing her chest to quiver.
She prided herself on her years of self-cultivation and restraint. Even when Tamara provoked her, she could remain indifferent, even responding with elegance. But in front of this man, she simply couldn’t maintain her composure.
Ah! I’m going mad! I really want to punch him, to strangle him...
She was flustered. Utterly flustered. He had gotten under her skin.
Lance found her barely suppressed agitation highly amusing. She tried to act all mature and composed in front of him, yet a few words were all it took to break her facade.
"Don’t get worked up yet," he said. "Just bring out everything we need for the Spirit Communication Ritual."
Lance had no intention of dragging this out and wanted to get things over with.
Amanda was naturally reluctant, but she had no choice. She could only watch as Lance took the items.
What unsettled her more was that Lance knew everything required for the ritual. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Tamara, that traitor, must have told him.
However, for Amanda, another realization struck her with even greater force.
It ant he hadn’t been lying or just feigning composure earlier. He had genuinely known all along that the ritual she was setting up wasn’t for necromancy. So, what he said back then was actually a warning for .
Amanda’s breathing grew ragged. Clearly, she had missed her last chance then and had still chosen to attack him.
Being trapped was likely within his calculations. And he probably hadn’t interrupted her earlier simply because his imnse power ant he wasn’t worried, or perhaps he just didn’t care.
Having acquired the items, Lance had no reason to linger.
However, before leaving, he turned back to Amanda and spoke.
"You asked earlier why I chose to trust Tamara?"
Lance directly voiced a question she hadn’t even consciously registered.
"Because you’re too artificial. Standing before , you don’t resemble a person at all, but rather a puppet, ticulously trained to execute missions. You possess no true self.
"That Tamara, as vile as she is, at least seems more like a real person—soone of flesh and blood, with her own thoughts.
"When I face you, I can’t tell if I’m conversing with you or with the one behind you. Here, you are like a manipulated puppet, utterly devoid of your own thoughts. Your opinions are worthless, which is why I need to speak to that person behind you."
As he spoke, Lance chuckled. "Do you know why I suddenly burst out laughing just now? Because that was when I finally saw the real you.
"Not the feigned maturity and composure, but soone who becos irritable, insecure, and even frantic under pressure.
"But *that’s* what a living, breathing person is like. *That’s* the real you."
With that said, Lance didn’t waste any more words and left, leaving Amanda standing alone in a daze...
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