Chapter 183

All eyes were on Rafael.

“I… I…” Rafael’s lips trembled. Then, as if making up his mind, he blurted out, “I need a wife. I saw her, and with her large chest and wide hips, she’ll definitely bear good children.”

“I want her to be my wife!” Rafael declared boldly.

Freya felt the words like a slap. Disgust churned in her stomach. She never imagined that Rafael—this greasy, middle-aged man—would want her. It felt suffocating.

“Why her?” Odalys asked coldly, her voice chilling.

Rafael, now angered, seemed bolder, responding with a sense of entitlement. “Why not? You all came to our village willingly, didn’t you?” he sneered. “You’re about to leave, right? But you can’t all leave. You have to give me a son before you go, or you won’t be allowed to leave! There are plenty of women. Why can’t you leave me one? I’ve never had kids before.”

He spoke as if everything was within his control, as if he could demand whatever he wanted, and no one would dare defy him.

Odalys’s gaze grew colder. “You had your sights on Sophia before, and now you’ve turned them onto Freya. I’m curious, who exactly told you to shift your focus?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Her words held weight, reminding everyone of something important. Perhaps someone had deliberately steered him toward Freya. After all, men usually only fixate on one person at a time. It wasn’t common for someone like Rafael to suddenly change his target unless influenced by someone else.

“…I…” Rafael stammered, confusion flashing in his eyes. He met Odalys’s gaze. Her crystal-clear, almond-shaped eyes seemed to have a strange, almost magnetic power, as if drawing a confession from him.

Fear escalated. He instinctively stepped back, wincing in pain as he jarred his wound. A groan of agony escaped his lips. He clutched his chest; blood seeped through his fingers. The flow wasn’t fast, but it was steady. He was in danger of bleeding out. Earlier, he’d noticed that Odalys possessed some knowledge of medicine. She understood herbs and even seemed careful with her cooking. The wild mushrooms she picked never made anyone sick. He suspected expertise, and now felt desperate.

“No matter what, I know you know how to treat wounds. You need to stop the bleeding right now, or if something happens to me, you’ll never leave this village,” Rafael said, his voice dark with menace.

Odalys stood, hands casually behind her back, observing his pain with a detached expression. Then, with a sudden movement, she pressed a finger to his wound.

“Agh!” Rafael screamed, his eyes rolling back in pain.

“Does it hurt? Good. This is the price you pay for harassing women. You couldn’t have gotten away with it if she hadn’t walked in; you might have ended up dead by my hand.” Her words sent a chill through the air, but they were starkly true. You can’t find a wife on your own, and yet you’ve set your sights on someone else.

“You…” Rafael gasped, his chest heaving as he struggled to stay upright.

The pain in his side was almost unbearable. She had pinpointed the most vulnerable spot on his ribcage, and when she pressed, it felt as if his rib had snapped. He placed a hand on his chest, feeling the broken rib dig into the wound, and his eyes widened in terror. She had just poked him hard. To others, it seemed like a gentle touch, but she had targeted the most vulnerable spot on his ribs, and with a single jab, she broke it. The crack aligned perfectly with his injury. He instinctively pressed the wound, realizing what had happened. For a person like him, if she didn’t teach him a lesson now, who knew how many other women he’d harm in the future! If she hadn’t been there today, she couldn’t even imagine what might have happened to Freya and the others. The coldness in Odalys’s eyes deepened at the thought.

“You… you actually broke my rib,” Rafael grunted in pain.

The room fell silent. Odalys, arms crossed, stared at him indifferently. “Are you saying that I broke your rib with just one finger?” Her face was puzzled. She raised a finger and gently poked his shoulder. Rafael’s face turned pale as he tried to dodge, but with his injuries, he couldn’t react in time. A sharp pain shot through his shoulder.

“Really? Does this hurt?” Odalys asked, her tone flat, as if mocking him. She poked Freya lightly, then Selah, asking, “Does it hurt?”

“He must have lost his mind wanting a woman so badly,” Freya said with a laugh. She felt strangely relieved. Seeing this man looking disgusted but unable to express it was incredibly satisfying.

“Exactly,” Selah said confidently. “She poked me too, and I didn’t feel a thing.”

What they didn’t know was that Odalys had really broken his rib and injured his shoulder. The pain Rafael was in was very real, and he now realized that this woman was far scarier than any ghost.

He coughed repeatedly, stepping back, his eyes wide with fear. He wanted to run, but Francis and Stellan blocked his path.

“Want to leave?” Odalys’s cold voice stopped him. “Then tell us why you were hiding in our room, and why you suddenly targeted Freya.” She approached him, holding up her phone. “If you don’t talk, I’ll call the police. We’ve got a photographer; lots of things are on video. You don’t want to get caught, do you?”

Rafael’s mind was crumbling. His eyes shifted from rage to fear as he backed away, eventually collapsing to the floor. Odalys watched him panic, exactly as she wanted. She was pushing him to his breaking point, tearing down his last mental defenses.

“It was her,” Rafael mumbled, looking up at Odalys as if an idea had dawned on him. It seemed like he had been the one attacking, but in reality, he was walking straight into her trap. The pain in his chest and shoulder reminded him that if he didn’t get treated soon, he would die. Perhaps death was the only way out now. “Will you stop the bleeding if I tell you?” Rafael asked, his eyes filled with a desperate plea.

Odalys’s voice was sharp, with a hint of menace. “That depends on whether you’re telling the truth. If you’re just stalling, do you think we’ll sympathize with your damage?”

Rafael could hear the threat in her words. His body went limp as he pointed toward the direction where Group A was staying.