Transmigrated into a reversed world
Chapter 148 - 148: Who is your sister?

The elders quickly alerted the medical team, and the crowds left in silence; they watched the leader's torn limbs and bloody gaping holes; the sight was tragic and disturbing.

Some men vomited, unable to bear the sight, while their husbands looked on, faces etched with worry and heartache as their wives were carried off for treatment.

Cyra looked at the moons and stars dotting the sky and sighed, feeling light and refreshed, having released all her pent-up energy.

She will go back tomorrow and come some other time to play again. By then, they would have been healed and stronger. To her, they were mere punching bags for releasing pent-up energy.

She wandered, breathing in the tranquil, ancient air. The buildings exuded an ancient charm. She could hear the sounds of horses' snorts and cries.

As she walked, she passed through a large estate filled with houses which had far boundaries between the next estate, and thought it would be each clan's way to stay out of the airs of one another.

She walked around aimlessly, enjoying the night breeze and the quietness of her surroundings.

After an hour of walking, she passed the estate and blended into the shadows, watching various uniformed figures return to their clans. They were in twos and three, discussing with grime faces about the battle.

She felt it was time for her to return. She moved in the direction of the guest building. Reaching the building, she saw a squatting figure in the shadow; ignoring it, she wanted to enter, but the figure blocked her way.

She saw the beautiful man shivering in fear in front of her and grasping tightly at the edges of his clothes in nervousness.

"S-S-Sorry to disturb you...please can you heal my sister...please, I can do anything for you to return her to normal," the green-haired boy said in a trembling voice with his eyes pooling with tears.

He looked delicate as if he might break with a single touch, yet his determined gaze showed his resolve to save Clara.

But Cyra's heart was unmoved; she felt he was noisy, with his heart beating loudly in his chest and his chattering teeth grinding against each other from fear. The sounds grate into her heightened ears, making her head throb.

She wanted to enter, but the young man stood firmly, blocking the entrance; she looked at him flatly; he trembled yet remained in her way.

She can't forcefully remove him out of her way, she doesn't hurt, weak defenceless men, so she toned out the noise coming from him,

"Who is your sister?" Cyra asked flatly with no expression on her face.

"C-Clara." His eyes were filled with light, thinking she agreed to help him.

"Huh?...who is that." Cyra was clueless about this person, the man saw her serious gaze and he tried to explain.

"She has green hair like mine, that was sent to bring you here today..." He still saw her clueless gaze, and his fear was replaced with anger and disbelief. How could she forget her attacker so fast in one day?

"She is the succubi who tried to attack you with her mind yesterday!" his voice raised in anger.

"Mm...there was something like that," Cyra said thoughtfully, picturing the attack, but the face was a blur in her mind.

After thousands of years and countless memories, Cyra erased anything unimportant- including people. Clara's face was no exception.

"She'll wake in two days." Without waiting for a response, Cyra stepped around him, slipping through the narrow opening he left in his hesitation.

The young man couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't remember his sister- only as an attacker.

Not knowing how right he was, he left the building, feeling happy his sister just needed time to wake up and he wouldn't have to sacrifice his body; he blushed secretly, feeling he wouldn't mind if it was her that took his first time. He shook his head furiously, trying to wipe away that thought.

Cyra reached her room and pulled off her clothes to bathe, forgetting that episode some minutes ago.

She set the water at a cold temperature, filling the bathtub. She added bath soap and sank in, sighing as the cold water caressed her skin.

Even since she became what she is today, she doesn't like anything hot except for her husband's body warmth-she smiled subconsciously, missing his soothing presence.

Meanwhile, the island was not peaceful; the medical team worked tirelessly to treat the leaders; some of them searched for the torn hands of some women and sewed them back.

It was a thing from the Frankenstein movie brought to reality. Once stitched, they immersed the injured in the healing liquid and sealed the top for them to heal.