The Delicate Female Lead Only Wants to be Loved by the Villainous Young Ladies Chapter 33

A girl’s heart is a mystery, an enigma more difficult to unravel than… well, let’s just say it’s complicated.

Adele, her attention shifting from the fading ice-blue magic to Celeste’s face, noticed the determined expression on the golden-haired girl’s face, a resolve that seed to radiate from her very being.

And then… a ball of pure fire magic, crackling and swirling, erupted in Celeste’s palm, its chaotic energy a reflection of her inner turmoil.

The light danced across her face, illuminating her features with an ethereal glow. And around it, unseen by Adele, a torrent of ntal energy swirled, draining Celeste’s ntal reserves, pushing her to her limits.

It wasn’t the kind of oppressive ntal pressure that Adele had experienced with Dorothy and Hermione. This was sothing… different. Refined, focused, almost… gentle?

Adele, instead of feeling threatened, felt a surge of curiosity.

What is she doing?

She had no idea. She was, after all, a complete novice when it ca to magic and elental manipulation. It was a major disadvantage of transmigrating into this world without inheriting the original Adele’s mories, her accumulated knowledge.

Besides, Celeste’s role in the original novel had been relatively minor, her story arc quickly resolved. There wasn’t much to draw from her mories.

And Adele was sure it wasn’t just her faulty mory. This… this was sothing new, sothing that hadn’t happened in the original story.

She wanted to ask, to understand what was happening, what Celeste was trying to achieve. But seeing Celeste struggle, her face pale, sweat dripping from her chin, her body trembling with exertion… Adele couldn’t bring herself to interrupt.

She watched in silence, her curiosity battling with a growing sense of unease.

After what felt like an eternity, the torrent of ntal energy subsided, flowing into the ball of fire magic, transforming it, shaping it, until it pulsed with a steady, golden light.

Celeste, drained but exhilarated, her voice a breathless whisper, called out to Adele.

“Adele… quickly… infuse it with your ntal energy.”

There was no hint of resistance in her voice, no fear of Adele’s touch. Even though Adele’s ntal energy was weak, insignificant compared to her own, Celeste welcod it, craved it.

The golden sphere pulsed with a gentle warmth, its chaotic energy subdued, its flas extinguished.

“B-But… I don’t know how!” Adele exclaid, her voice a mixture of panic and embarrassnt. Celeste, you know I’m a Sequence Five! My ntal energy is practically nonexistent! How am I supposed to…

Besides, as a transmigrator, she lacked the knowledge, the training, that the original Adele had possessed. She would need weeks, maybe even months, of intensive study to even begin to understand the intricacies of magic, of ntal manipulation.

Celeste bit her tongue, hard, the pain a welco distraction from the wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her. She should have known better. Adele wasn’t capable of such advanced techniques.

She was a weak Sequence Five. Her beloved Sequence Five.

“Ha… Ha… Then… take my hand,” she said, her voice strained. “Interlace your fingers with mine… and place your hand on the sphere.”

She wasn’t trying to take advantage of Adele. She was performing a ritual, a sacred act. The intertwining of their fingers… it was a symbolic gesture, a promise of… sothing more.

Adele, trusting Celeste, hesitantly reached out, her fingers trembling. She was afraid to touch the sphere, afraid of being burned by its residual heat.

But as her fingers, intertwined with Celeste’s, made contact with the golden sphere, she felt… nothing. No heat, no pain.

And then… the sphere began to pulse, expanding and contracting, its golden light intensifying, becoming almost blinding.

Tendrils of fire, like playful spirits, danced around her arm, swirling upwards, enveloping her in a warm embrace.

If Hermione’s magic had been cold, distant, almost… aloof… then Celeste’s magic was warm, welcoming, almost… desperate.

The flas, infused with Celeste’s ntal energy, her very essence, flowed into Adele’s body, disappearing without a trace.

Adele’s mind reeled, her senses overwheld. She could see it now… the intricate network of magic circuits, the pathways through which magic flowed, connecting her to Celeste, their hands intertwined, their fates linked.

Celeste’s circuits were a vibrant gold, pulsing with power and energy. Hers… were a soft pink, their glow faint, almost… fragile.

She watched as fire magic coursed through her pink circuits, then flowed back into Celeste’s body, carrying with it… sothing. Sothing intangible, sothing she couldn’t quite grasp.

“…”

Adele felt a pang of… sha? Her magic was so weak, so insignificant…

She didn’t understand what was happening, but she trusted Celeste. She relaxed her body, letting go of her fear, allowing Celeste to draw from her, to… take what she needed?

Or maybe… it wasn’t taking… but giving?

The magic, returning to Celeste’s body, flowed downwards, settling in her lower abdon…

Celeste’s mind soared, her soul trembling with a joy so intense that it bordered on pain. She had never felt… this connected to anyone before. Adele’s presence, her essence, filled her, consud her, until there was no room for anything else.

It was as if they had beco one, their souls intertwined, their fates bound together.

The magic settled, the flow subsiding, and Celeste shuddered, a wave of exhaustion washing over her.

And on her lower abdon, beneath her uniform, a mark appeared, a heart-shaped symbol etched in pink fire.

This… this was all she could offer Adele.

Hermione could never do this. Could she?

She had accepted Adele, her magic, her essence, her very being. She had allowed Adele to beco her master, her ruler.

In ancient tis, this ritual had been known as the “First Embrace,” a brutal act of dominance, a forced submission achieved through blood and magic. The vampire, taking advantage of their victim’s weakened state, would drain their blood, then use their ntal powers to break their defenses, to invade their mind, to… ta them.

They would leave their mark, their magic, within their victim’s body, a permanent reminder of their subservience. Any attempt at defiance would result in excruciating pain, a backlash of magic that could cripple, even kill.

But tis had changed. The ritual had been refined, its thods less barbaric, its purpose… well, it depended on who you asked.

It was now known as a “spiritual contract,” a binding agreent between two souls, a pact sealed with magic. And to ensure compliance, to prevent rebellion… they used “magic crests.”

It was still a form of magical branding, a way to mark their property. But thanks to the ingenuity of a certain vampire, who had borrowed techniques from the succubus race, the process had beco… more subtle, more insidious.

The magic crest wasn’t just a mark of ownership, but a tool of manipulation, a way to subtly influence the victim’s thoughts, their emotions, their very sense of self. It was a slow, insidious form of brainwashing, a way to ensure complete and utter submission.

Celeste, who had secretly learned this forbidden art, this ancient ritual that was now banned by the academy… she had perford it on Adele.

Her eyes, glazed with a mixture of exhaustion and bliss, settled on the mark on her abdon, the warmth of Adele’s magic a constant reminder of their bond.

Adele’s magic wasn’t forceful, demanding. It was gentle, comforting, like a warm embrace.

She felt a shift within her, a tightening of the bond between her and Celeste, a sense of… control? She didn’t understand, but she couldn’t deny the feeling.

“What… What does this an, Celeste?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “What did you do to ? I just… I need to know.”

Celeste’s gaze t hers, her eyes burning with an intensity that sent shivers down Adele’s spine.

“I just… atoned for my sins,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “From this day forward, Adele… I am yours.”

“What… What!?”

Celeste’s expression was serious, her gaze unwavering. She took Adele’s hand in hers, her lips brushing against her skin, leaving a trail of kisses from her wrist to her fingertips.

Each kiss sent a jolt of heat through the magic crest on her abdon, a physical manifestation of her submission, her surrender.

“Adele… may I call you… Master?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Please… allow … to be your dog.”