Transmigrated into a reversed world
Chapter 153 - 153: I promise I will listen.

"Gravitanium (Gr) has an atomic number 121. it's an exotic material with the ability to manipulate gravitational fields...''

Zane zoned out, her words blending into gibberish as his brain fried. Instead, he focused on how her lips moved, wondering how they could look so pink and full.

Cyra, engrossed in her explanation, finally noticed his blank stare. She instantly realized he hadn't been listening at all.

"What's the melting point of (Gr)?" She asked, watching Zane nod as though he understood.

"Um...500k." He said out a random number nervously, seeing her stern gaze hardened.

"Isotopes? Density? Reactivity? Atomic number?" Cyra threw out questions bombarding Zane, who looked down guilty. And Cyra understood what was happening from the beginning he didn't get what she was saying.

Her fixed stare on him made him more nervous, he fidgeted with his hands and explained guilt,

"Wife...I won't do it again...I promise I will listen. B-B-But it's too hard." Zane fumbled anxiously with his words, blinking innocently hoping to soften her anger.

Cyra sighed in frustration, knowing she had to step in or he'd fail the subject.

Zane peeked at her secretly and saw her face return to normal; before he could relax, Cyra's next words made him regret his actions of coming to her to teach him.

"I will write down a simpler table for you to read every morning....don't think of ignoring it, you have to recite it for me every morning till you learn it at heart...don't look at me with that expression if you start something you have to finish it well." Cyra calmly said, disregarding the expression of 'nothing to live for' etched on his face.

She quickly began arranging the table, her expression as focused as if she was conducting one of her experiments.

Zane found her serious expression captivating, but remembering the reason for her focus, his stomach churned with regret.

For a week, Zane woke up to 'eat' the periodic table for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Even his dreams, atomic numbers chased him relentlessly. Which traumatized his mind so much that whenever he saw Cyra for that period, he fled.

*Present*

He shivered, goosebumps rising as the nightmare replayed in his mind.

Since then, he has never gone to his wife to explain anything to him when he was bumped by Quantum Dynamics.

How is someone supposed to calculate the destination when something is thrown in the air to land? What sorcery was that?

He can't wait for when the class can be separated, so he can choose art, or his brain might shut down.

When he regained his focus, the topic matter ended. He looked around, guilty subconsciously for Cyra's figure, before he breathed freely and paid attention to the next subject.

As the day dragged on and the sky darkened, Cyra stirred from her rest.

Her sleepy grey eyes regained their coldness, stretching lazily; she put on her top and left the room.

She strolled through the silent hallways, savouring the calm. A metallic gleam pierced the darkness, but Cyra's fingers stopped the dagger mid-air.

"Hmm~ you haven't lost your edge even when injured..." Cyra's low, appreciating tone made Kyle step in the air, and he lost his balance.

Cyra steadied him by the waist. "Huh? It seems you're more injured than I thought.''

Kyle reddened from embarrassment at his blunder; immediately she retracted her hands, he bolted without looking back.

Cyra tilted her head, her brows knitting in confusion as she watched him flee. She shrugged it off and continued toward her cold room. Inside, she noticed the remaining bottles of blood.

She picked up a bottle and drank from it as she walked, her wild behaviour only enhancing her beauty. It gave her an earthly wildness with her untamed red hair flowing at her back.

She entered the glasshouse, where glowing flowers surrounded her in radiant beauty. The glowing stones cast an otherworldly glow over the flowers.

Cyra's eyes were calm at its tempting beauty, she grew them to change her taste of food and nothing else. When it blooms it can be turned to powered and be used to make things she would be able to consume.

She thought of Louis briefly. 'He might prove useful after all,' she mused.

She reclined on the bench, staring vacantly at the sky and sipping her drink occasionally.

Cyra's once-calm mind stirred with memories of the past. Eric...beautiful kind boy... It was one of that vampire memory lane in which she felt the semblance of peace, but one of the most torturous.

She blinked, forcing the memory into the recesses of her mind. She's not Cecily anymore, but Cyra, and she is in the present.

Turning the bottle in her hands to drink, but nothing came out; she dropped her raised hands and stood up to go back.

"Mistress~ you're here." A sweet, innocent voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned to see Viktor's shimmering eyes.

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