Out of the Shadows, Fida’s Redfiendt Second Life Chapter 459 Funeral

Tilda’s voice was calm, almost too calm.

When Darell met her clear, steady eyes, he felt himself losing ground.

He couldn’t read her at all.

Then that strange sixth sense of his rose again.

This woman carried a depth he couldn’t measure.

“You… are you really Tilda? My sister who’s been missing for nineteen years?”

The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

Tilda narrowed her eyes slightly, catching the doubt in his gaze.

So this is Darell’s special gift?

Interesting.

In her past life, she had never thought much about it.

Darell had always been cold to both his sisters, leaving Tilda no chance to understand him.

She never expected his intuition to be this sharp.

To be honest, she had met plenty of gifted people in her life.

But none of them could sense something like this.

“So what you mean is… I’m not the obedient, weak, spineless Tilda you imagined? Not the puppet who agreed to everything? Not the quiet daughter or your little sister?”

Her eyes glinted with disdain as she twisted a lock of hair around her finger. In that moment, she looked like a creature lurking in the dark and untouchable.

“That’s not what I meant; it’s just… you’re giving me a creep.”

Tilda was more frightening than anyone Darell had ever met.

He could only admit that to himself.

Alone with her now, close enough to see those eyes that held an endless, motionless universe, Darell felt a shiver crawl down his spine.

Chapter 450 Funeral

Cold seeped into him.

“I am Tilda Jenson,” she said evenly. “I did vanish for nineteen years. But you’re wrong about one thing. I’m not your sister. I have nothing to do with you or your family.

“Whether I’m terrifying or not, demon or not – it doesn’t matter. None of it concerns you.

“I came here only to tell you this, Goodbye.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait! Tilda!”

Darell couldn’t let her leave so soon.

He spun around, reaching to grab her shoulder.

But she slipped aside without effort.

Her counter came fast. She gave him a hard kick to his stomach.

“Arghhh!” Darell’s eyes widened.

The impact felt like it tore his insides apart.

Clutching his gut, Darell dropped to his knees, gagging from the pain.

Tilda gave a mocking smile. “Sorry – just a reflex. I thought you were about to try something on me.”

She pointed to the corner. “There are cameras in here. They clearly caught you making the first move. What I did was self-defense.”

She had already planned every encounter before agreeing to meet him. The kick landed hard.

Darell clenched his teeth, sweat running down his face from the pain. “You know this dream has something to do with you. Tell me… why am I having it?”

Tilda’s lips curved coldly. “Come on, Mr. Jenson. It’s the twenty-first century. Do you really believe in ghosts and spirits? Just a dream? If word got out, people would laugh at you.”

She left those words behind and walked away, crushing Darell’s pride under her heel as she went.

She had made things clear. If he still wanted to dwell on it, that was his problem.

As long as Tilda never admitted anything, how could Darell possibly guess she had been reborn – from a dream alone?

And even if one day, Darell did find out, so what?

Tilda would never forget what they did to her in that past life, and she couldn’t escape that memory.

At most, the truth would simply explain why she treated them this way.

They’d die knowing. That was all.

Her words pressed down on him like a curse. Darell stood frozen, his face unreadable.

When the pain in his stomach finally eased, he staggered back to his feet.

She had a point. Was he losing his mind? He had never believed in such things.

Why was he chasing after an answer that made no sense? It was only a dream. A strange, disturbing dream.

Darell went back to his room after much effort.

He lay on the bed, still clutching his stomach.

Exhaustion dragged him under. Soon, he drifted into sleep.

This time, he didn’t return to the burning warehouse.

“Finally, it’s over,” he whispered in the dream. Relief washed over him. “That nightmare is done.”

But then he looked around.

“Wait, where am I?”

A cemetery.

Fog wrapped the graves in heavy white layers.

Suddenly, a blood-red light flared ahead.

Almost entranced, Darell found himself drawn toward it, unable to resist.

His steps carried him closer, deeper into the mist.

By the time he realized what he was doing, he was already standing before it.

Chapter 450 Funeral

A funeral altar.

A framed photo sat there, glowing in the crimson light.

It portrayed a young woman.

Tilda.

“This is Tilda’s funeral? No. This is just a dream. It can’t be real!”