Sacrificing Scumbags at the Honey Altar

As Vera's alluring figure vanished at the door, my mother turned around, her deep eyes staring at me. "You saw everything."

She was not asking, but stating a fact.

She walked slowly toward me, using a silver spoon to scoop up a drop of crimson honey from the black pottery jar and send it to my lips. The smile on her lips was more cloying than the honey. "Don't be afraid, my dear daughter. You've grown up. It's time to taste our product now."

I retreated in terror, shaking my head desperately. "No! I don't want it! That's not honey, it's—"

"It's the source of our power," she interrupted me, her tone unyielding, while her other hand caressed my cheek. "Do you want to always be looked down upon by those men, or do you want them to crawl at your feet like dogs?" Her words were like a spell, tempting the darkest desires in the deepest part of my heart.

By some strange impulse, I opened my mouth.

As the honey entered my mouth, the extreme sweetness instantly exploded before turning into hot lava, burning my esophagus and rushing through my limbs and bones.

My body went limp as I collapsed into her arms. I felt my blood boil as if countless bees were fluttering beneath my skin. A tingling pleasure shot straight to my head.

I staggered to the mirror. I saw my own lips full like ripe berries, while my eyes sparkled alluringly.

As I looked closer, my heart stopped. Deep in my pupils, a golden, hexagonal honeycomb pattern slowly emerged!

The pattern was contracting and breathing like a living parasite in my eyes.

I raised my hand in terror to cover my face, but a strange tingling sensation came from my fingertips, as if countless invisible, tiny tentacles were about to burst through my skin.

The person in the mirror was laughing, but all I wanted to do was scream.

My mother gently pushed me out of the shop, her warm palm leaving a mark on my back. Her voice slithered into my ears like a snake's tongue. "Go! Feel it rushing through you. Find your honey source!”

The street seemed to have become my hunting ground.

Every man who brushed past me had his gaze magnetically drawn to me. Their gazes shifted from astonishment to infatuation and then to undisguised greed. Some even gulped hard, practically salivating at the sight of me.

An unprecedented, intoxicating rush surged through my veins. I felt like a queen surveying my subjects, easily seeing through their respectable attire to their corrupt cores, obsessed with money and power.

My gaze finally settled on one man—Nicholas Timber. He was impeccably dressed with a perfect smile, but a calculating glint flashed in his eyes when he glanced at me.

I smiled at him by some strange impulse, and he immediately followed me like a puppet on invisible strings.

While I showered in the hotel room, he eagerly rummaged through my handbag. I watched coldly through the crack in the bathroom door.

While he showered, I picked up his phone. One obscene text message after another appeared on the screen.

[Babe, I'm about to get that rich woman's money. I'll give you half of it!]

[Don't worry. She trusts me completely.]

There were also several shocking electronic IOUs.