Chapter 411

Windsor stood beneath a streetlamp, his vision blurring.

"What's happening?" His voice trembled with panic.

His legs gave way, and as he tried to reach the Simpson villa, an invisible force jabbed him. He looked back; a shadow darted toward him. Before he could react, everything went black. A cold sensation trickled down his forehead. He blinked, his vision swam, and he lost consciousness.

Windsor remained frozen, but Percival reached out, catching him from behind before he collapsed. Simultaneously, Odalys stepped forward, placing a talisman on Windsor's forehead. As her fingers withdrew, Windsor stood, eyes closed, seemingly asleep.

"Anything unusual?" Percival asked quietly.

Odalys stepped back, her gaze sharp. "I've seen something," she said after a moment. "Two shadows overlap him, like two people inhabiting one body. Windsor believes he's himself, but the other presence controls much of his actions. I also smell something familiar—Rafael, that disgusting man from the village!"

Percival's brow furrowed. He remembered Rafael well. That night, Rafael had attempted to attack Freya in the Film Capital, but she'd turned the tables, leaving him disabled and eventually killed by a truck.

"I remember," Percival said, his voice heavy. "That bastard died tonight."

Odalys smiled coldly. "He tried using the strange events in the Film Capital to sow confusion. That's why I acted decisively."

"But something's different," she continued. "Windsor has the same aura I smelled on that paper doll. It's faint, but unmistakable. Someone's using black magic—negative energy—to control him, just like Rafael did."

Paper dolls, made by magicians using special oil and magic dust at midnight, absorb negative energy, becoming easily possessed. This method, mostly used to scare people in ancient times, was employed here. Odalys never imagined anyone would still use such black magic. It seemed the Love Spell also originated from this person.

This person is well-hidden. Odalys sensed a familiar energy but couldn't pinpoint their location. They clearly masked their scent; otherwise, she could have tracked them immediately.

Percival's eyes narrowed. "So, the energy from the paper doll matches Windsor's. He came to summon a spirit tonight. Whose spirit? The one inside him? Or someone from the Simpson family?"

Odalys's expression darkened. "He's trying to summon the other presence—Quinton. Windsor and Quinton share a body. If Quinton controls Windsor, then everything Windsor has done—sleeping with Sophia, for example—is Quinton's will. We need to investigate Sophia's past. I suspect the Simpson family had something to do with her adoption by the Bennetts after her parents mysteriously died."

Percival recalled his earlier investigation. "I looked into it. Sophia's parents died the night she was adopted—they drowned in a river. No other children, no suspicious connections."

Odalys frowned. "That's where it gets tricky. If Quinton's controlling Windsor, his actions, even his relationships—including Sophia's—are part of his plan. We need to find out what the Simpsons were up to. Why were they interested in Sophia? And what do the Bennetts want so badly?"

She fell silent, staring into the distance.

Percival saw the tension in her face. "So, what now?"

Odalys took a deep breath. "Let me see what that other presence is planning."

She moved her fingers delicately over the talisman. As she traced the symbols, Windsor's eyes snapped open, wide with confusion. With a swift movement, she leaned closer. Windsor screamed.

Odalys was inside his mind, piercing through his consciousness. The coldness was suffocating; she shuddered, feeling an icy presence clawing at her.

A figure darted toward her. She dodged the apparition, spun, and grabbed it—but it was only an illusion, a shadow. After a struggle, she used the talisman to freeze it.

She withdrew, stumbling backward, her expression grave. Windsor stood motionless, his face pale and lifeless.

Odalys's brow furrowed. "Windsor is dead. His mind is blank. His consciousness was wiped three years ago—during a near-death experience. Someone revived him, but the Windsor we know isn't him anymore."

Percival's eyes widened. "So he's alive, but not really alive?"

"Exactly," she replied coldly. "He's neither dead nor alive. A puppet, with someone pulling the strings. Windsor's brain was emptied three years ago. He's been living in a vacuum ever since. A living corpse."

She paused. "That's when Quinton took control, using him as a vessel. Quinton's still manipulating Windsor—just like those paper dolls."

Percival thought. "So Quinton's been using Windsor for years, and now he's back. How could a high-ranking Simpson know this dark magic?"

Odalys smiled bitterly. "That's the interesting part. Quinton's been hiding, using others. Only now, with Windsor, is he making his moves."

She leaned back. "Windsor tried summoning Quinton tonight, but Quinton refused. He doesn't want to show himself yet. That's why Windsor's cigarette went out."

"Can we use Windsor to lure Quinton out?" Percival asked.

Odalys shook her head cautiously. "No. It's too risky. We'll alert him. And there's the villa's murder case; we can't stir up more trouble."

She sighed. "We still don't know much. But this game is far from over."