Chapter 21: Cyril’s Personality Shift

“Ding~”

The ornate door of the VIP viewing room was pushed open. Sera slowly rolled Cyril across the red carpet.

Judging just by the gold embroidery along the edges, this carpet was definitely not cheap.

The patterns were intricate, the stitches dense and refined—clearly hand-embroidered.

The room was filled with dazzling reliefs and chandeliers. A red velvet sofa lay across the room, directly facing a floor-to-ceiling window.

From here, the entire John Bridge could be taken in at a glance.

This was a private VIP viewing room.

To ensure the viewing experience of these VIPs, the organizers had renovated the entire bridgehead fortress into this lavish style. The first floor was a public viewing hall, where VIPs could socialize while enjoying the carnage on the bridge.

The second floor, however, was divided into several private viewing rooms like this one, ensuring the privacy that high-status VIPs inevitably required.

“The race should start in about ten minutes,” Sera said as she pushed Cyril into the room. “This room has an excellent view, young master—you can enjoy the spectacle to your heart’s content. However…”

She turned her head to the side. “Why has the nun also followed us up?”

“As a nun, it is my responsibility to help Young Master Cyril eliminate any potential demonic threats,” Evelyn replied, maintaining her practiced gentle façade, narrowing her eyes with a smile that didn’t quite reach them. “A place like this, full of filth and corruption, is highly likely to harbor traces of demons.”

She had no choice but to come along. This head maid had been glued to Cyril’s side from the very beginning. If Evelyn didn’t follow, this timid, sickly young master would probably never figure out a way to shake Sera off, no matter how hard he thought.

With only about ten minutes left before the race began, Evelyn had to find a way to send Sera away before the start, so that Cyril could participate with her.

“Then have you discovered any traces of demons yet, Miss Nun?” Sera asked, still standing like a dignified statue.

“Not yet,” Evelyn replied gently.

“Thank you for your hard work,” Sera said, pushing Cyril up beside the sofa. “We appreciate your concern for the young master, but—”

“Since we’re already here,” Cyril suddenly spoke, interrupting her, “why don’t you stay and watch the race with us, Miss Nun?”

This wasn’t him kindly bailing Evelyn out. Even though her earlier words had left him unsettled for a long time, at present Cyril still very much did not want to stay alone with this terrifying nun.

Who knew whether she might suddenly snap and pull out a handgun to shoot him?

He had witnessed all sorts of her crazy behavior firsthand.

The only reason he interrupted Sera was because he caught the fleeting cold glint in Evelyn’s deep blue eyes—and her deliberately clasped hands raised before her chest.

They looked as though she were praying, but the six command seals on the ring finger of her left hand were unmistakably obvious.

If he didn’t help her out now, this madwoman would definitely use one of those seals to forcibly command him!

“Hmph~”

Hearing Cyril say this, Sera could only let out a soft snort audible only to herself.

She looked extremely displeased, but constrained by Cyril’s order, she could only watch helplessly as Evelyn stayed behind.

“Thank you, Young Master Cyril,” Evelyn said, giving a slight bow before sitting down on the red velvet sofa.

That gentle smile, however, looked terrifying to Cyril no matter how he saw it.

“Um…” Cyril hurriedly said, “Sera, could you help us get some drinks? I heard the organizers opened a few particularly good bottles of red wine tonight.”

This was, of course, a complete fabrication. Sera had been following him the entire time—where would he have heard anything about what wine the organizers had prepared?

He said it purely to send Sera away temporarily, so he could quickly discuss with Evelyn how they were supposed to race under Sera’s nose without her noticing.

“Very well, young master,” Sera replied with a slight bow. After shooting Evelyn a hostile glance, she left the viewing room with elegant steps.

“Ahh, expensive sofas really are comfortable… so soft… feels like I’m about to sink right in…”

The moment Sera left, Evelyn immediately shed her gentle disguise, sprawling shamelessly across the red velvet sofa.

One long leg stretched out through the slit of her nun’s habit and rested on the armrest, proudly revealing a sliver of absolute territory beneath the lights—her fair skin flawless and smooth.

This sofa, probably worth more than everything she owned combined, made Evelyn let out a satisfied hum.

Her movements and demeanor were exactly like those of a lazy couch potato.

Who could have imagined that this nun, so unconcerned about appearances in front of Cyril, was a lunatic capable of crushing demons with thunderous force?

Of course, the reason she showed her true self so freely around Cyril wasn’t just because they already knew each other inside and out.

More importantly, in her eyes, Cyril didn’t even count as a person—he was a walking KPI, a demon she would personally kill in the future.

That being the case, there was no need for her to keep up appearances around him.

After all, maintaining that gentle façade was exhausting.

“So do you actually have a way to fool Sera or not?” Cyril asked, a bit anxiously. Evelyn’s lazy, good-for-nothing posture really made him nervous.

“She’s just getting drinks. She’ll be back soon.”

“What’s the rush? Always being so anxious won’t make any girls like you,” Evelyn teased casually, even at a moment like this.

The start time was drawing closer by the second. Failing to take position before the race began would be considered a forfeit.

Yet even now, Evelyn still had the leisure to flirt with him.

“Pujji?”

Evelyn called out toward the window.

“Coming!”

The next second, Pujji flapped its wings and appeared outside the window, carrying a huge bundle several times larger than itself in its beak.

It fluttered in through the ventilation window above the glass, dropped the bundle onto the floor, and it hit with a dull thump.

Only a demon could possibly carry something dozens of times its own weight like that.

“Thanks for your hard work!” Evelyn said, stretching as she climbed off the sofa. She unzipped the bundle with a rip. “The rest is up to you.”

“Mm!” Pujji flapped its wings and gave Evelyn a salute, mimicking a human.

“What do you mean?” Cyril was confused. “Up to it? It can distract Sera?”

“Its ability is to support a barrier that repels ordinary people,” Evelyn said as she rummaged through the bundle. “Once the barrier is formed, everything inside it becomes unobservable to ordinary people, and it also subconsciously makes them keep their distance… Here, yours!”

She pulled out a red bundle and tossed it into Cyril’s arms.

“So once it sets up the barrier, Sera won’t come back?” Cyril asked, then looked down at what she’d thrown him. “What’s this?”

“You can think of it that way. More precisely, once Sera gets close to the viewing room, she’ll subconsciously find something else to do and won’t have any desire to enter until the barrier dissipates.”

As she spoke, Evelyn pulled a leather outfit out of the bag. “That’s your helmet and clothes. You wouldn’t want to race with no disguise in front of Sera, right? The public viewing hall can also see the race… Tsk, what’s with Shelby giving me something this sexy?”

She held the outfit up against herself.

It was a women’s tight-fitting one-piece leather suit. The treated leather reflected an alluring sheen under the lights. If she wore it, it would perfectly highlight Evelyn’s slim waist and long legs.

“Forget it, no time to change properly—this’ll do.”

She lifted the hem of her nun’s habit, about to change right there.

“H-Hey?!”

The moment the skirt lifted and a sliver of hidden skin was revealed, Cyril immediately covered his eyes.

“I’m still here! Do you seriously have no sense of shame at all, you nun?!”

“Oh right, you’re still here.”

Evelyn paused mid-motion, tapping her lips with a finger. “Almost forgot.”

Those words made Cyril grind his teeth. Almost forgot I was here—what exactly was he to her?!

Before he could protest further, Evelyn walked over, grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, and spun him around so his back faced her.

“No peeking,” she said.

Her tone sounded playful and cute, even a little shy.

But Cyril knew very well—this was a threat.

Believing this nun had any sense of shame was about as believable as trusting the church leadership to commit blasphemy.

Behind him came the soft rustling of fabric and the sound of a zipper being pulled up. He even heard the faint sound of the nun’s habit falling to the floor.

Even as a half-demon pretending to be a sickly noble, this was way too much for him to handle!

Cyril could only focus on the items in his arms—a white motorcycle helmet and a red leather riding coat.

The coat looked pretty cool, and it matched his white hair well.

“Why haven’t you changed yet?” Evelyn asked as she stepped in front of him, already dressed.

The black, tight-fitting leather suit perfectly accentuated her curvy figure.

She had a yellow motorcycle helmet tucked under her arm, painted with blue lightning patterns. On top were two protrusions shaped like cat ears.

“Get changed.”

She put on the yellow cat-ear helmet and adjusted it slightly. “From now on, I’m called Celty—Celty Sturluson.”

“Wait, you—”

Cyril’s face flushed. Deep down, he had no romantic interest in this madwoman—who in their right mind would like someone who pulled a gun at the slightest provocation?

But objectively speaking, she was beautiful, with an excellent figure and an inexplicable charm that constantly stirred something strange in him.

He absolutely could not bring himself to change clothes in front of her!

This wasn’t cowardice—it was simply impossible for him.

“What’s with all this ‘you this, me that’ nonsense!”

Evelyn grabbed his shoulder and forcibly hauled the sickly young master—who had been confined to a wheelchair for over a decade—up onto his feet.

“You really think I’ve never seen a man’s body before? With your bag-of-bones physique?”

As Cyril was forced to stand, his figure instantly stretched taller, countless thorn-like phantom restraints snapping apart with sharp cracks.

“Bag of bones?”

Looking down at Evelyn from above, a wicked grin flashed in Cyril’s obsidian eyes. “You sure about that?”

As he spoke, he took off his shirt, revealing perfectly sculpted abs like a marble statue.

At this moment, whether in personality or physique, Cyril seemed like a completely different person from the frail young master once trapped in a wheelchair.

“I’m absolutely sure,” Evelyn said disdainfully, poking his abdomen with a finger. “With that scrawny body? Don’t make me laugh.”

Yet only Evelyn herself knew that beneath her helmet, her face was flushed with a strange mix of envy and embarrassment.

That body is f*cking perfect. If only it were mine…

She thought as much.

Indeed, Cyril sitting in a wheelchair and Cyril standing on his own feet were worlds apart in personality.

Though he was undeniably the same person, once he stood up, it was as if he had shed not only the shackles on his power, but also the timid, cowardly shell he had been wearing all along.