The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 395: [ Volume 1] Chaper 394- Going Crazy

Esme stilled.

And then she smiled.

A slow, sharp, dangerous smile.

"Heh." A soft chuckle left her lips. "You never change, huh?"

She sighed dramatically, shifting the pictures between her fingers like a bored card dealer. "Well then," she continued, "let’s see what happens first, shall we?"

Her golden eyes darkened.

"Will you die first..."

Snap.

Esme’s fingers clicked together.

The force surrounding the woman multiplied in an instant.

A strangled gasp tore from her throat as she was slammed face-first into the cold, hard floor. The impact echoed through the room, and a sharp, pained groan escaped her lips.

She couldn’t move.

The weight crushing down on her body was suffocating, unrelenting. Every nerve in her body screamed in agony, but she couldn’t even lift a finger to stop it.

"Or will I get tired first?" Esme finished, tilting her head as she watched the woman struggle.

The answer?

The woman would break long before Esme did.

The woman trembled, her body wracked with pain, and for a brief moment, Esme nearly lost control of the force pressing down on her. She quickly adjusted it—too much, and the woman wouldn’t die, but she would slip into a coma.

Why not die?

Because an ordinary person would’ve already been crushed under this pressure. But this woman? She wasn’t just anyone.

She had a strong beast supporter.

If not for that beast’s reinforcement, she would’ve already been dead with the force Esme had exerted. And it wasn’t just physical strength keeping her alive—she was a force of nature in her own right.

This woman wasn’t some low-level informant; she controlled the flow of information in the city and beyond. A walking disaster.

With a single whispered word, she could trigger a bloodbath.

Politicians, high-ranking officials, celebrities, entrepreneurs—they all danced on the strings she held in her hands. Their secrets, their weaknesses, even the most intimate details of their personal lives—she knew everything.

And she wasn’t just feared because of her information network.

She was the leader for a reason.

Her beast was powerful. She was trained and dangerous. If Esme hadn’t carefully woven her energy to create a space where no one outside this room could sense what was happening, the entire city would have already turned into a war zone.

Still, there were limits.

If Esme killed her right here, it wouldn’t just be her own people seeking revenge—it would be a worldwide hunt. Thousands of powerful figures would come for her.

Not that she cared about herself.

But her family?

She couldn’t afford to drag them into this mess.

Besides, today wasn’t just about dealing with this woman.

Esme wanted to test something.

How far could she push herself before her own power became uncontrollable?

Before, she would start feeling dizzy and weak after overextending her abilities. There had always been a limit—a threshold where exhaustion hit, and unconsciousness loomed.

But now?

She wasn’t even sweating.

Esme’s golden eyes flickered as realization sank in.

Her power was evolving.

And it was growing far beyond what she had expected.

Even through the searing pain wracking her body, one thought refused to leave her mind.

How the hell does she have so much power?

This wasn’t possible.

She knew everything there was to know about SN1. Every detail, every report, every shred of intelligence pointed to the same conclusion—Esme Valhalle should not be this strong.

[SN1 refers to the unique number she designated for Esme, acting as a confidential code to help remember.]

Yet here she was, pinned to the ground like an insect under her heel.

Her divine beast, the black panther, had reacted the moment Esme summoned her own—without hesitation, without command. The beast had lunged out, its instincts screaming as it bared its fangs—not in defiance, but in fear.

Fear.

And rage.

It was as if it had come face-to-face with its mortal enemy.

And yet, despite that fury, it was losing.

Because Esme’s divine beast, Beom, was no longer what it once was.

The white tiger stood behind her, a towering beast five times the size of the black panther. And it wasn’t just the sheer size—its movements were graceful, effortless, as if toying with its opponent. Every swipe of its massive claws sent the panther skidding across the battlefield, forcing it to stagger back up, only to be struck down again.

The woman’s mind reeled.

This isn’t possible.

Her panther had always been the fastest in the city. No other beast could rival its speed—until now.

She watched in growing horror as Beom moved, faster than the eye could track, effortlessly dodging her panther’s attacks, retaliating with devastating precision.

The reports, the intelligence, everything she had gathered on SN1—it was all wrong.

Esme’s beast had evolved.

And not just a simple breakthrough.

This was something else entirely.

Something terrifying.

Something that should not exist.

The woman coughed violently, each spasm sending fresh blood spilling from her lips. Despite the agony searing through her body, she forced herself to meet Esmeralda’s gaze, her voice hoarse but laced with unyielding defiance.

"Even if you kill me, I can’t give you the information for free."

Her lips curled into a weak smile, her breath ragged but her resolve unwavering.

"How about an exchange?"

Even with the creeping fear coiling in her gut, she could not—would not—show weakness. She was a master of the information trade, a woman who had built an empire on secrets. No matter how dire the situation, she never showed her throat to the enemy.

Esme tilted her head, her expression unreadable as she studied the woman.

She expected this.

This woman wasn’t the type to break easily.

A slow, knowing smile spread across Esme’s lips as she folded her arms.

"Alright then. Let’s hear it. And if I like it, I might consider it."

The woman’s bloody smile widened.

"Fine."

With a trembling finger, she pointed behind Esme.

"Tell me... how did you evolve your beast?"

For a split second, Esme’s amusement flickered into something else—surprise.

Her gaze followed the woman’s gesture, and when she turned, even she had to admit—this was unexpected.

Beom.