"Where does it hurt? What's wrong?" Luther held Joyce tightly. Her forehead was drenched with sweat, indicating how much pain she was in. He was heartbroken, having never seen her like this before. He didn't know what was wrong with her and could only hold her, cupping her face and trying to comfort her. They were in Rohomes, under strict lockdown, and he was using a false identity. If she fell seriously ill, he would be at a loss.
"I'll get you some hot water," he said, attempting to stand up.
Joyce pulled him back forcefully. "Don't go, it's useless. I'm not sick." She clung to him tightly. "I'll tell you, but don't worry... Clint used dark magic on me. He said it's East Lands sorcery. I don't understand these things; I didn't believe in them before... But he seems to really have control. He can make me feel pain, render me powerless... He can even kill me... I need to take an antidote every seven days. So, I can't actually run away..."
As she spoke, she grew weaker and ended up leaning entirely on him.
"Clint isn't afraid of me escaping; that's why I could come out so easily. I wanted to see you... I couldn't wait another moment... I missed you so much..."
Luther was shocked and stunned. East Lands sorcery? He had never heard of it. Even if he had, he would have thought it was a joke. How could it be real? There was no scientific explanation for it. But seeing Joyce's condition made him believe it might exist. It was too bizarre and beyond comprehension.
He had wondered why Joyce had escaped so easily. Clint had gone through great lengths to kidnap her to Rohomes; how could he let her escape so easily? But seeing Joyce again made him forget everything else.
"Don't be afraid; there must be a way. I'll find a way." He held her tightly, terrified inside. He had never considered this possibility before. Now, Rohomes was in chaos, and Joyce was under Clint's dark magic control, which could cause her pain and even take her life. How could they break such sorcery?
The most critical thing was that she was in so much pain that her whole body convulsed. His heart felt like it was being crushed, yet he could do nothing but hold her.
Now, Joyce's life was in Clint's hands, which meant his own throat was being choked. This was his greatest fear; he couldn't lose her-his world would collapse without her.
He could only hold her tighter and keep stroking her to alleviate her pain.
When Joyce was about to pass out from the pain, it suddenly eased a bit, giving her a chance to catch her breath.
She breathed heavily and leaned against Luther's chest.
"Is it a little better?" Luther asked anxiously.
"Yes," Joyce nodded, her cheeks covered in sweat.
"You lie down; I'll get a towel to wipe your face." Luther carefully placed Joyce on the sofa and quickly went to the bathroom to find a dry towel and wet it with hot water.
Returning to the sofa, he gently wiped the sweat from her face and neck.
Joyce's face remained pale as she weakly said, "He won't kill me for now... Don't worry about him..."
She planned to take a gamble. Since Clint claimed to like her, he wouldn't easily let her die or keep causing her pain-at most, he'd warn her. After all, she needed the antidote every seven days; she had to go back to him.
Clint didn't want to kill her just as she didn't dare kill Clint and spark conflict between their countries.
Clint bet she wouldn't shoot him; she bet Clint wouldn't let her die.
Pain is just pain; she could endure it.
"What exactly is this sorcery?" Luther unbuttoned the front of her shirt and wiped the sweat-soaked skin on her chest and back. He knew what it felt like to be controlled by someone else-Athena had once threatened him with an antidote too. He had found another way out then and succeeded.
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