The Villain Who Stole Hearts
Chapter 109: Tension Between the Two Women

Chapter 109: Tension Between the Two Women

Lyra sat silently on the small couch beside the bed, her brows tightly furrowed.

She wanted to be angry. Furious, even.

To her, Veil hiding his injuries felt like he was treating her as an outsider.

But the moment she saw him wrapped in bandages from head to toe, looking so pitiful, something inside her chest began to ache—sharp and uncontrollable.

All her irritation and frustration melted at the tip of her tongue, and what came out instead was a tender, worried voice.

"Does it still hurt?"

Veil shook his head dismissively. "It doesn’t. Just some minor injuries."

Lyra’s eyes brimmed with grievance. "You’re this badly hurt, and you’re calling it minor? Then what exactly counts as serious in your book?"

Veil gave a pained smile. "But I didn’t want to drag you into this because of me. You’re busy enough with your work, your schedule’s always tight. Having to waste time taking care of me... it’s not worth it."

Facing Lyra’s undisguised resentment, Veil could only try to explain himself indirectly—don’t misunderstand!

He didn’t leave her out because he didn’t see her as one of his own. He just didn’t want her to waste her time.

It was all for her sake~

"I can put my work on hold. Find someone to cover my classes. But can someone else really take care of you properly?" Lyra shot back, clearly displeased—and puzzled.

Who said she wasn’t willing to "waste" time?

It all depended on who she was wasting it on, right?

"Those bodyguards of yours, all men, all careless—what if they cause more injuries while helping you? That’d be awful."

She paused, then added seriously, "I’ve had experience taking care of people. So, I’m staying here for the time being. I’ll look after you."

"Uh... that might not be a good idea?"

Veil’s heart began to race, though he tried to appear calm as he refused, "Aren’t you worried about Kai? Or the nurse? Don’t you trust them?"

Normally, if Lyra offered to stay, he’d be grinning ear to ear, more than happy to agree.

But now?

Things were... different.

He wasn’t being paranoid—Saoirse had walked out of the room earlier with that confident, defiant air. If the two women were to meet...

He didn’t even want to imagine the outcome.

One was the master of the Rose Division—bold and fearless.

The other, a stunning professor with brains and backbone, definitely not the type to back down from any kind of threat.

If those two crossed paths?

Of all people, it had to be them?

"You think I’d get in your way? Or that it’d be inconvenient to have me around?" Lyra’s tone sharpened, her beautiful eyes locking onto Veil’s.

Lyra wasn’t like other girls—she had her own principles. When she got serious, it was something you couldn’t brush aside.

Whatever Veil said next would determine the decision she’d make in her heart.

He couldn’t reject her too bluntly, but he couldn’t give in either.

After a moment’s thought, his face flushed red. Lyra caught the change and tensed up.

"What’s wrong? Are you in pain? I’ll get the doctor!"

Veil shook his head bitterly. "No, it’s not that. I just need to use the restroom. Lyra, could you call Kai? It’s... a bit inconvenient for you."

The air in the room seemed to freeze.

Lyra stood up and slowly walked toward the door. Veil lay there watching her go, mentally patting himself on the back.

Genius. Absolutely genius!

Since he couldn’t refuse her outright, he’d just get her to give up on her own.

With injuries like his, he couldn’t manage daily needs by himself, let alone something like going to the bathroom.

He wasn’t lying. But with the whole men-women difference between them, Lyra should give up, right?

Just as he thought victory was at hand, something unexpected happened.

Lyra walked to the door—but instead of calling Kai, she closed it.

Then she calmly returned to the bed, reached underneath, and pulled out a bedpan.

"What the fuck..."

Veil couldn’t help but curse inwardly at the sight.

Five minutes later...

Lyra placed the rinsed bedpan back under the bed. She warmed a towel in the bathroom and returned to sit by his side, gently wiping his hands with delicate care.

Her stunningly calm expression couldn’t fully mask the hint of bashfulness in her eyes—but Veil caught it.

"Was this necessary? Really necessary?"

He questioned himself silently.

If she was going to get embarrassed anyway, couldn’t they have just gotten someone else?

I would’ve said yes if she insisted on staying!

And was it really necessary to make shhh sounds while holding the bedpan?

Was that a jab at someone?!

"A few years ago, I took care of my grandmother like this in the hospital," Lyra murmured in recollection. Her face softened with a nostalgic warmth. After drying Veil’s hands, she hung the towel neatly and smiled. "Funny coincidence, really. This was the same hospital. Back then, I’d see that big tree outside every day on my way in. It left such a deep impression... otherwise, you might’ve fooled me."

"Maybe... it’s fate?" Veil said softly, turning his gaze toward the window.

There it was, that huge tree, its canopy blotting out most of the sunlight coming in.

Kind of an eyesore, honestly.

Should we just chop it down?

While Veil’s thoughts veered off course, Lyra remained caught in the moment.

She cupped his hand in hers, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Fate... I always thought it was just something the ancients made up, a comforting illusion. But after meeting you, I realized—some things really do defy logic. Every time I’m in danger, you’re the first one who shows up. If it weren’t for you... I’d probably be a bloated corpse floating in the artificial lake by now."

Before Veil could respond, footsteps echoed from outside.

Saoirse stepped in, carrying a clay bowl in her hands. Her eyes immediately locked onto Lyra’s hand still wrapped around Veil’s.

The whole room seemed to sour—like someone had just spilled lemon juice everywhere.

"An old friend, huh? Barely half an hour here and you’re already holding hands?"

"Quite an old friend," Lyra replied calmly, making no move to let go.

Their eyes met.

It started subtle, but as Lyra’s grip on Veil’s hand tightened, her gaze grew sharper—bordering on hostility.

Second meeting, and sparks were already flying. Tension crackled between them like static.

Clack! Clack! Clack!

Saoirse turned her gaze aside, heels tapping crisply against the floor as she strutted toward the other side of the bed like a queen descending her throne.

She sat down with poise, lifted the bowl, and brought the spoon to Veil’s lips with a teasing smile.

"Darling~ Time to take your medicine~"

Veil glanced between her and the bowl, then back again—his throat bobbing as he swallowed nervously.

He wasn’t worried about Saoirse’s mental state right now.

He was worried about that medicine.

Was it even safe?!

"Can I not drink it?" Veil pursed his lips, tilting his head slightly with a forced smile. But in his deep, dark eyes, there was nothing but sincerity.

Saoirse shook her head. "No can do. The doctor said you’ve just woken up. You need to take your medicine on time, drink plenty of water, and go to the bathroom more to flush out the toxins. What, you’re afraid it’s bitter?"

Before Veil could respond, Saoirse took a sip of the herbal soup herself, stepped forward, and pressed her lips to his.

Her lips gently parted his, nudging them open just enough to let the bitter medicine slip into his mouth.

Right in front of Lyra.

As she pulled back, Saoirse deliberately tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then asked sweetly in a syrupy voice, "See? Not bitter anymore, right?"

"Not bitter," Veil replied, shaking his head and sneaking a glance at Lyra.

In his heart, though, he couldn’t help but think— Not bitter, sure. But this is way too sweet.

What the hell?

What was going on?

Had someone taken over Saoirse’s body?

Why such a dramatic change in personality?

Even in private, she’d always been cold and indifferent toward him. More often than not, he was left feeling like he was talking to a brick wall.

But now, with Lyra here, she was acting like a completely different person?

Was she showing off on purpose? Putting on a little lovers’ display just to get under Lyra’s skin?

Was the Ice Queen actually a green tea schemer behind closed doors?

The difference was unreal.

"Oh, right. If you need to use the bathroom later, just let me know. Kai’s asleep—he stayed up watching over you all night. Don’t trouble him. I’ll take care of you," Saoirse said warmly, her tone full of care.

Before Veil could say anything, Lyra let out a soft laugh and chimed in, "No need. He already used the bathroom earlier. I even cleaned the chamber pot myself."

"???"

Saoirse’s brows furrowed tightly as a faint sense of crisis crept into her heart.

Something’s wrong!