Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts-Chapter 31 - Thirty One

Downstairs, Camilla walked through the heavy front doors. She had finally stopped her victory dance. She took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of her dress. She patted her hair to make sure it was perfectly neat.

She quickly changed her facial expression. She put on the mask of a polite, gentle noblewoman. She looked calm, quiet, and perfectly innocent.

As she walked into the center of the foyer, she saw Doctor Aris. The old man was slowly walking down the grand, curving staircase. He was holding his worn leather medical bag.

Camilla stopped and waited for him at the bottom of the stairs. She placed her hands together neatly in front of her waist.

"Doctor Aris," Camilla greeted him softly. She offered him a small, polite bow of her head.

The doctor reached the bottom step. He smiled warmly at the young Lady. He thought she was a very sweet, caring wife who was just worried about her husband.

"My Lady," the doctor spoke kindly. He adjusted the heavy bag on his shoulder. "I have finished examining the General. He is resting now."

The doctor pointed a finger back up the stairs toward the second floor.

"I dropped the General’s medication on the small wooden table next to his bed," the doctor instructed her carefully. "It is a small glass bottle with a dark liquid. It will help manage his pain so he can sleep. Please make sure he takes two drops in a cup of water before the sun goes down."

Camilla smiled. Her smile was incredibly sweet and bright. It reached all the way to her eyes.

"Of course I will," Camilla replied. Her voice was smooth and full of fake devotion. "I will make sure he takes every single drop. Thank you so much for your hard work, Doctor."

The doctor nodded, pleased with her respectful attitude. "You are very welcome, My Lady. The General is lucky to have someone who cares for him so deeply."

Camilla maintained her perfect smile. "Be careful on your way back," she added politely. "I hear the roads can be quite dangerous today." She thought about Isabel’s broken leg and almost chuckled, but she held it in.

"Thank you, My Lady. Good day," the doctor said. He bowed to her respectfully. He turned around, walked across the marble floor, and exited through the front doors.

Camilla stood alone in the grand foyer.

The perfect, sweet smile slowly melted off her face. The polite noblewoman vanished completely. Her dark eyes turned cold and sharp.

She turned away from the front doors. She began to walk down the long, quiet hallway that led toward the stairs. She was heading back up to Damon’s room.

As she walked, her soft leather shoes made absolutely no sound against the stone floor. She moved like a shadow.

Her mind was buzzing with her new discovery. She had a jinxed mouth. She had the power to turn her words into reality. She had magic.

At first, in the courtyard, she had only thought about using the magic to get her divorce papers signed. She had only thought about finishing the novel and running away to a sunny beach in the Maldives. That was her original goal. Escape.

But as she walked past the expensive oil paintings and the tall suits of silver armor lining the hallway, something struck her mind.

She slowed her steps. She looked at the massive, wealthy mansion around her. She thought about the people in this world.

She thought about the head maid, Mrs. Ida, who tried to frame her for murder.

She thought about Nancy, the maid who insulted her and tried to serve her hot soup with a side of disrespect.

She thought about Isabel, the spoiled blonde brat who tried to claw her eyes out and steal her husband.

She thought about the author of the Webnovel, who had created this entire pathetic, miserable world just to make the original Lady Camilla suffer and cry until she jumped into a dark well.

Camilla stopped walking. She stood perfectly still in the middle of the long hallway.

A new, very clear, and very dangerous idea formed in her mind.

"Wait," Camilla whispered to herself.

She looked down at her own hands. She thought about the power resting right behind her lips.

"Why focus on the male lead?" Camilla asked herself in a quiet whisper.

Her mind began to expand. The puzzle pieces shifted. If she could make a girl break her leg just by speaking... if she could make a maid burn her hands just by wishing it... then the divorce was just a tiny, boring goal.

Why stop at a divorce? Why stop at completing the story? Why just run away from a world that had treated her body so terribly?

"Why focus on escaping," Camilla thought, her dark eyes narrowing with pure, unadulterated malice, "when I can destroy this world?"

The thought sent a rush of hot adrenaline straight through her veins. It was a thrilling, terrifying realization. She was not a victim in this novel. She was a god. She had the power to rewrite the entire story with just a few spoken sentences.

She could curse the head maid to lose all her hair. She could jinx the entire Ryde family into complete poverty. She could command the General’s army to forget how to fight. She could turn this entire arrogant, cruel historical society completely upside down.

She didn’t have to be the sad, divorced wife. She could be the villain who burned the kingdom to the ground.

Camilla raised her right hand. She brought it down hard against the palm of her left hand.

Smack!

The sharp sound echoed loudly down the empty stone hallway.

A massive, wicked smile spread across Camilla’s face. It was not a sweet smile. It was not a fake smile. It was the smile of the Black Widow standing over a defeated enemy. It was pure, dark victory.

"Yes," Camilla whispered to the empty hallway. Her voice was steady, cold, and absolute.

She dropped her hands to her sides. She lifted her chin high.

"That is exactly it," Camilla said out loud, fully accepting her new role in this story. She began to walk forward again, her steps strong and full of deadly purpose.

"I will not just leave," she promised herself. "I will bring this entire place down with me."