I Refused To Be Reincarnated-Chapter 881: Why, Sarah? Why?

Quintella fidgeted with her fingers, her face lowered behind Sarah. "Of course we are friends..." She gazed at the eerie darkness through the open doors of the crypt, then at her friend's back. Eventually, she swallowed, muttering. "It's... If... if you are sure Teacher Marcellus Noct Virein won't scold us, I'll follow you."

"He won't know we intruded." Sarah's lips curved, her voice enticing like honey blended with tasteless poison. "Trusted disciples have a couple of perks. That's one of them. Don't talk about him anymore, and prepare to see the most amazing thing of your life!"

"O-Okay..." Quintella tried to sound cheerful, but her voice cracked when the darkness swallowed Sarah. She hurried inside, the scent of dust and old corpses making her cover her nose.

Why did she follow Sarah? She didn't want to... but her friend sounded so betrayed when she had hesitated. It was okay; just a scary place to explore. Or at least, it was better than making her friend feel bad. After a deep breath that almost made her cough, the corners of her lips slightly rose. After all, among the students, she trusted Sarah and Elliot the most.

"It's so dark." Her voice grew more confident.

Sarah snapped her fingers without turning. At the soft sound, torches ignited along cracked walls, brightening laceworks of overgrown spiderwebs that glistened silver in a classroom that felt better suited for the dead than the living.

"Better, my sweet friend?" Sarah sneered as she passed through the rows of stone desks carved like coffins.

With a grateful nod, Quintella followed her past a blackboard rimmed by wood gnawed by countless years of dampness, to the stairwell. Wind colder than the snow outside crept on her cheek from its depths. She shuddered, fear crawling back beneath her skin like a swarm of ants. Whatever was beneath the classroom—she didn't want to see it.

She didn't know whether Sarah felt her reluctance or was simply eager to show it to her, but she gripped her trembling hand, slowly interlocking their fingers. It felt reassuring and warm, as were her words. "You know how necromancers are—skeletons, chilly winds, and ugly vials. We like to show off how well we understand death, even though it scares others. Don't worry. I'm with you."

Quintella's smile broadened, the warmth dissolving her fears. She stepped down the stairs, whispering. "Thank you. Is it still far?"

"Not very. Don't talk here. The dead have ears sharper than the living." Sarah led her to a dark corridor. Then, without lighting it, she guided her for three torturous minutes. She stopped before a wall she could barely make out through her squinted eyes. Sarah pressed a brick, then eight others in what Quintella felt was a precise sequence or a password.

Quintella's pink eyes widened as the bricks pivoted on themselves with a soft rattle, revealing a secret opening beneath the classroom. Was this what Sarah had found? It reeked so much of mystery! 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

While she entered, Sarah snapped her fingers. A pale blue light erupted from stones encased in walls more ancient than those of the classroom, yet much cleaner. The dull echo of her steps faded, muffled by a thick navy-blue carpet that stretched under a comfy bed. She wondered if someone slept beneath the puffed-up dark blankets.

However, the standard hung beside the desk stole her attention. The dark indigo banner bore a single pale, lidless eye at its center. Beneath it, a faint outline of grasping skeletal hands emerged from shadowy mist. The iris of the eye formed a ring of runes that seemed to scrutinise her.

"I don't like that eye. Feels creepy." Quintella muttered, and Sarah released her hand.

She walked to the desk, caressing the dragon claws engraved in the polished timber. She sat on a throne of absurd yet dreadful grace as if she owned the place, finally facing Quintella.

Sarah's smirk was twisted in a malevolent grimace, and her eyes scrutinised her. Quintella shivered. It wasn't the gaze of a dear friend, but the same one the cultivators had when they offered to buy her from her mother back in her village.

The same predatory gaze that the Witch of the West had when she performed disgusting surgeries. No! She had to leave.

Without thinking twice, she spun on her heels and reached for the entrance. Before she could, however, the bricks snapped back into place. She was trapped, her trembling back pressed against the wall, and her vision blurring from the buried traumas clawing their way out of her memories.

"S-Sarah... P-Please." Quintella stuttered, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Let me leave. What do you want? Why am I here?"

From her seat, Sarah's smirk broadened like a perverted half-moon. "You can't leave this soon, can you?" She faded from the desk, reappearing before Quintella. She lifted the girl's chin playfully. "This eye scares you? If only you knew its story, my dear, dear friend."

A shiver ran down Quintella's back. She pushed Sarah's chest, then ran. Not with the conviction that she could escape. No, she ran to the only place that had felt somewhat safe in her world of suffering before her big brother rescued her from the witch's clutches—beneath the bed.

"Big brother... help," she whimpered, covering her head with her hands.

"Futile." Sarah's steps echoed.

Slowly. Torturously.

Her hand shot beneath the bed, fingers that appeared like claws to Quintella.

"Nooo!"

With Quintella's desperate scream, the flower-shaped golden earring at her left ear ignited. Mana strands erupted with a swish, each lurching at Sarah. Countless strands constricted her arm, slithering upwards.

The gift from her big brother! Hope swelled in her heart, only to shatter when Sarah wrenched her hand back, dark eyes scrutinising the spell that tried to banish her in a shimmering sky-blue cocoon. Then, she simply waved her hand, and the strands faded like a forgotten memory. "Nice little gift. But your brother is far away." Her voice wasn't angry—not even exasperated. Instead, she seemed to enjoy catching her prey.

Fingers gripped Quintella by the hair, pulling her out. She struggled, shifting her legs erratically to resist. But Sarah was stronger.

Soon, she was lifted in front of her friend's dark eyes, crying, horrified, unable to pry the grip open. "Why, Sarah? Why?"

"Sarah?" Sarah's chuckle was like the screech of chalk on a blackboard as she gripped the swollen blankets of the bed. "I wonder who that might be, then."

With a pull, the blankets flew, and Quintella's eyes widened. Dark hair spread on the bedsheet from the peaceful sleeping face of... Sarah.

W-Who was gripping her then?

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AN: :'( Quintellaaaaa. Nooooo.