His words gave Amanda a kind of revelation, and her mind uncontrollably drifted in that direction.
Indeed, Lance was right in certain circumstances.
Being chosen by her teacher ant receiving the best nurturing, but it also essentially ant losing herself.
Her teacher, a perfectionist, embodied an overwhelming desire for control; essentially, every aspect of Amanda’s life was ticulously arranged by her.
Furthermore, everything had to be completed according to her teacher’s orders, and she would not tolerate any mistakes. Any issues would be t with severe punishnt.
Or, her teacher would simply lose trust and eliminate the individual. Among all those selected alongside her, only Amanda had persisted. Previously, she had considered this a kind of honor, faithfully carrying out her teacher’s instructions.
That was why, after being trapped for seven days, the first and most important thing for her was to regain her teacher’s trust, fearing that mission failure would arouse her teacher’s suspicion.
But Lance’s words just now reminded her: perhaps she didn’t truly enjoy this kind of life. Or, to put it another way, she was already weary of this control.
Otherwise, when facing pressure earlier, she would rather have risked everything than truly contact her teacher. She knew her teacher wouldn’t stand up for a loser like her and wouldn’t even acknowledge her actions.
This was the pitiful aspect of their secret departnt.
Lance’s words had just planted a Seed in her heart—a Seed called ’Thought’.
Am I really ?
Is this really what I want?
Amanda’s thoughts beca chaotic. Suddenly, an abnormal sensation from her hand brought her back to her senses, and she noticed the wound on her palm, branded by the backlash.
It hurt intensely, a scorching pain, yet it still couldn’t stop her from wondering...
Who am I really?
「...」
After grabbing his things, Lance headed straight to Tamara’s car.
"You actually got it! How did you manage to do that?" Tamara asked, her face alight with curiosity as she eyed the pile of items.
"Guess?"
Upon hearing that, Tamara knew Lance had no intention of elaborating. She didn’t press further but began to carefully inspect all the materials and tools, wary of any hidden traps or Curses.
"What are you afraid of?"
"Of course you’re not afraid. You’re not the one performing the ritual," Tamara retorted, giving him a sidelong glance. "It’s easy for you to say. If sothing really went wrong, you wouldn’t be the one suffering."
"If sothing does happen, I’ll just grab her to accompany you in death," Lance joked.
"I’d already be dead. What’s the point of her accompanying ?" Tamara was speechless, though her hands didn’t stop moving.
Soon, she had set up the Spirit Communication Ritual, replacing the central Crystal Ball with her own transparent one.
However, she just sat there before the ritual, her expression conflicted and hesitant.
"You don’t know how, do you?"
Lance’s voice startled her, and Tamara defensively retorted, "How could I not know? It’s just... it’s just..."
But she faltered mid-sentence as if her tongue were tied. In truth, she was afraid—afraid of eting her teacher.
She had left the organization with the Sacred Object without uttering a single word to her teacher.
It didn’t take much imagination to know this incident must have had a significant negative impact on her teacher, especially during the contest for an Elder position.
How could she face her teacher now and ask for a eting?
She even doubted her teacher would respond to her summons.
"So things are destined to be faced," Lance said, easily discerning her thoughts.
Seemingly having made up her mind, Tamara took a deep breath and properly began to conduct the Spirit Communication Ritual.
Lance remained silent, focusing his full attention on it.
Indeed, he was observing, hoping to secretly learn the technique.
One major reason for territorial restrictions in feudal tis was the lack of long-distance communication thods. Mastering it would greatly enhance control over territory; it was too important.
But Tamara clearly had no intention of truly showing him. After watching for a long ti, Lance still didn’t understand how they communicated; the Crystal Ball rely emanated continuous waves of Spirit Light.
As ti wore on, Tamara’s complexion grew paler. Not only was maintaining the ritual exhausting, but she had also received no response. Dejection was practically written all over her face.
Lance hadn’t lost patience. On the contrary, he encouraged her with a comforting pep talk, "Hold on a bit longer. Even if we fail, we have to give it our all. At the very least, we won’t have regrets."
Of course, there were so things Lance didn’t say out loud.
I’ve placed my bet on you. You have to pull through. Whether you think you can or not, you must.
Hearing Lance’s voice, Tamara felt a long-absent sense of support from soone by her side, and her expression softened slightly.
Even Tamara herself hadn’t expected a surprise to co so suddenly. Just a mont ago, there had been no response, but right after Lance spoke, the ritual began to give feedback.
Her persistent longing had finally received a response; this mont was the proof.
"She’s here! She’s here!" Tamara exclaid, her voice thick with emotion, like a child about to reach ho.
The Crystal Ball projected a twisted, illusory image that gradually sharpened.
It was a middle-aged woman with a lean face and a gentle deanor. She wore adornnts similar to Tamara’s, featuring Romani characteristics and fashioned from gold and silver.
The woman on the other side regarded Tamara with a sowhat peculiar expression upon seeing her.
"I thought you wouldn’t look for anymore..."
"Teacher..." For Tamara, who hadn’t seen her teacher in years, seeing her and hearing her voice now filled her with deep emotion.
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