Evil Dragon, Without a Princess, I Had to Transform Myself!

Chapter 90 : Freedom Disintegration

"In light of my personal financial circumstances, I, Shatina of Class 1, Grade 2, Grantlin Branch Campus of the Royal Dawn Witch Academy, hereby temporarily suspend all activities conducted in my personal capacity. This decision is made based on principled considerations..."

"Stop, stop, stop! Who told you to read all this nonsense?" Patunasankus, who detested red tape, cut off Shatina mid-sentence as she solemnly held her prepared speech.

"Is there a problem with reading a declaration of independence?"

Shatina removed the glasses she'd been wearing for show and tossed the speech aside, her amber, cat-like pupils fixed on Patunasankus.

"What? Can't I make it formal when signing a one-month servitude contract?"

"It's just hiring you for a month with money. Don't make it sound so weird." Patunasankus met her gaze unabashedly with sky-blue eyes.

"You—know your place!" Shatina huffed.

"Fine, I get what you mean."

Shatina nodded thoughtfully, then turned and plopped onto the bed.

"Your Highness, come here~"

Striking a pose, she reclined against the pillows like a noblewoman rousing from a spring slumber, waving her pale hand coquettishly at Patunasankus.

"Having fun?" Patunasankus tilted her head slightly, eyeing Shatina with indifference.

"Immensely." Shatina's reply was nonsensical.  "Well? Do you like it?" She straightened her slender waist, flaunting her silky, flowing hair. "This is the allure of a top-tier genius beauty in her prime—"

"Meh." Patunasankus answered bluntly.

"...Bullshit! I’ve got the looks, the figure, the charm, and the brains—how can you just say 'meh'?!"

"Does nothing for me."

"Such a blockhead, utterly humorless." Shatina snorted and stuck out her tongue.  "Listen, patron, if you keep this up, no beauty will ever fall for you."

"Are 'you' a beauty?" Patunasankus asked.

"I believe I am." Shatina answered firmly, radiating confidence in her youth—true, pristine, inviolable youth, brimming with vitality and grace!

"Really?"

Patunasankus leaned in, eyes locked onto Shatina’s, so close her reflection nearly filled Shatina’s pupils.

"..."

Shatina gulped, squirming slightly as her bravado visibly deflated.

In that moment, Patunasankus’s youth seemed to shimmer like starlight—dazzling, enviable, as if she were born to bask in the spotlight.

Alluring yet pure, ethereal, heart-racing, like treading on clouds—a dreamlike fantasy.

A quick comparison.

Damn!

Total defeat.

"Hey, are you two done yet?"Loranhir finally stepped forward, pulling Patunasankus and Shatina apart. She clearly couldn't make sense of these two troublemakers.

Was it really necessary to take so long just to discuss employment terms? And why were they gazing at each other so affectionately?

With this kind of atmosphere, she was genuinely afraid they might end up fighting in bed.

"Let's not hire this one—she's too lively," Loranhir whispered into Patunasankus's ear.

"Good point. She is a bit too rowdy," Patunasankus nodded seriously, deliberately raising his voice. "Change it from a month to just one day. We won't need her that long."

Hearing their murmurs, Shatina's smile vanished. She bit her lip in regret. "A gambling father, a sick mother, a young sister, and me—the responsible one. If you don't help me, patron, who will?"

"Cut the nonsense," Loranhir sighed, plopping onto the bed and lying down. "Enough already. Dealing with the vampire nobles downstairs was exhausting. Keep it down—I need a break."

"Wait a second," Shatina interjected sternly. "Did you just say nobles? Were they dressed extravagantly?"

Loranhir nodded.

"Whoo-hoo, gold coins incoming! This is exactly the kind of scene I love." Squinting with delight, Shatina rubbed her hands together, clasped them behind her back, and skipped downstairs. At the door, she turned back.

"Anyway, the contract's already signed. If you want to break it, think carefully about how much you'll owe me in compensation."

She giggled and ran off.

"You're the one who wanted her," Loranhir said sternly to Patunasankus.

"...Fine, fine. My bad," Patunasankus massaged his temples and fell silent for a long while.

○

"Even though it's just a one-month contract, I still have some responsibility. Since you two are being targeted, swaggering around here so openly is way too conspicuous," Shatina said to Loranhir and Patunasankus.

"From the sound of it, you have a solution?" Loranhir was intrigued, thinking her money might finally be well spent—at least they had someone with usable intelligence in the group now.

Though the girl did seem a bit unreliable overall, with her shabby appearance and slightly unhinged thought process...

"I feel like you're insulting me," Shatina frowned slightly, inexplicably annoyed.

"Not at all, not at all. From what you just said, your spell slots must be quite high-level?" Loranhir swiftly changed the subject. "Why not show me first?"

"Hmph, as if that needs saying?"

Shatina straightened her back proudly. Closing her eyes in concentration, she flicked her fingers gracefully in front of her, casting the spell directly onto Loranhir.

Disguise Self—a simple fifth-level illusion.

It could alter the target's physical appearance, fabricate clothing, armor, weapons, and equipment, and adjust body shape from plump to slender to average. However, it couldn't fool physical touch, remaining merely a visual trick—an illusion unfit for proper stages.

"Remember to credit my account for each spellcast. Fifty copper coins extra per spell level upgrade, with payments settled every Thursday," Shatina declared, waving her hand."Wasn't the contract already signed? Why are there still fees?" Loranhir spoke, but quickly noticed her voice sounded different. She spread her hands to examine herself and realized she'd transformed into the appearance of a middle-aged village woman.

Loranhir couldn't help feeling her current disheveled look was Shatina's revenge for her secretly speaking ill of her.

"Just kidding, our patron already paid for the full month," Shatina smiled slightly, glancing at Patunasankus.

"Your turn now. We still need to fetch wine from the cellar later. Time's almost up."

Patunasankus pondered for a moment, then shook her head. "I'll pass."

"You're the patron, I wouldn't make you look as rustic as her," Shatina made a face at Loranhir before turning back to Patunasankus. "But if nothing changes, what if your enemies recognize you?"

"That's my money, my money!" Loranhir protested loudly, only to be ignored.

"Still, we should at least let the other fool know the way back," Patunasankus sighed deeply.

Shatina tilted her head in confusion.

○

In the rented wine cellar, Loranhir poured a glass. The wine shimmered deep red in the sunlight—rich and fragrant, filling the cup lightly.

This was wine. Wine made from grapes personally crushed by Her Highness the Princess.

An alluring aroma.

"Such quick progress, finished in just one night?"

"And it looks absolutely delicious," Loranhir examined the wine in the bottle, its tempting hue making her long for a taste.

"When the fairies of Paradise are satisfied, things move fast. Our patron's charm is truly remarkable—this wine's quality smells heavenly already."

Shatina summoned over a dozen Mage Hands, sending them floating like spectral workers throughout the cellar. Soon, barrel after barrel of wine was being bottled.

"But are all these for the competition? Do we really need this much?" Loranhir asked.

"No, actually only the bottle in your hand is," Shatina said plainly.

"What do you mean?" Loranhir was startled.

"Sales," Shatina puffed out her chest. "Didn't we agree on a 70-30 split? Come help bottle these. Once we win Taurant's Best Wine competition, sales will be no problem."

Shatina said with full confidence: "With our patron's charm... absolutely heavenly grade."

She looked around but didn't see the familiar figure.

"Speaking of which, where is our patron?"

"Oh her? She's outside in the courtyard, sunbathing and napping," Loranhir said matter-of-factly.

The Princess was sometimes like a cat—fond of curling up in the afternoon sun, quietly closing her eyes, golden hair cascading over her cheeks with a soft glow, waiting as time flowed by tenderly and intimately.

A beautiful scene.

Almost softening like a piece of milk candy, silently melting away in immersion.

Loranhir often wished such afternoons could last longer, occur more often, never end.

And the Princess could do all the things she loved.

All things.Patunasankus opened her bleary eyes to the quiet surroundings. The warm afternoon sunlight lingered as usual—normally she would have slept a little longer, but today was somewhat special.

At this very moment, an uninvited guest had arrived.

The stench of sulfur from hell was far too pungent, robbing the evil dragon of any drowsiness.

Patunasankus lifted her head to see a figure standing in the darkness not far away—a flawless figure with an alluring silhouette, graceful curves, and enviably long legs.

"Finally found you through divination!" the figure said to Patunasankus. "…The scent of Princess. Wait… it's you… not her."

Patunasankus slowly sat up, stretching lazily. Every movement was as languid as a cat's.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, I didn’t mean to disturb Her Highness Latifa’s nap. I just wanted you to cooperate with me briefly," the shadow chuckled softly.

Her voice was unmistakably that of a girl—light, playful, with a hint of tension—and clearly familiar with Latifa.

"Let me think… what should I recite now? How about a lullaby from hell?"

"Hero of witches, no match for beasts."

"Under crimson light, the feast of predators begins."

The visitor chanted rhythmically in a low voice, as if plucking the strings of an elegant instrument.

"Beautiful lady, am I your enemy? Perhaps not. A friend? Maybe so. But if you ask whether fate binds us? Absolutely. Could you tell me… do you know where that freeloading princess, Serina, is?" the figure laughed softly.

"?"

She stepped out of the shadows. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the trees, casting half her face in light and half in darkness.

"You… carry her scent," said the Hell Princess, Tiana Mutinio.