Felicia’s hand froze as she turned toward the source of the scream. The first thing she saw was a pair of white leather shoes. They were dirty, but the ankles above them were slender and delicate—unmistakably a woman’s. The sight struck a chord of familiarity. Felicia hesitated, then remembered; they were the same shoes she had seen before losing consciousness in the fog the previous night.

Maurice also remembered. In fact, from the moment he regained consciousness, he had never forgotten that final scene—the one that played out while Felicia had been unconscious. So, throughout the entire day while he wandered the island and feigned aimlessness, he had been discreetly watching, searching for these shoes. And now, their owner had appeared.

Maurice’s lips curved into a smile. Even Felicia noticed it. She glanced at him questioningly, trying to ask what was wrong. Maurice shook his head with a faint smile, indicating it was nothing. Felicia didn’t press further. They had finally found a venomous creature that could save Maurice’s life, only to have it slip away at the last second because of this woman.

Their subordinates, however, were furious. Their emotions had been on a rollercoaster; their hopes soared, only to plummet instantly. Their patience had evaporated.

Before Felicia or Maurice could speak, Maurice’s men stormed forward, dragged the woman from the bushes, and threw her onto the ground. “Who are you? Why did you interfere?” one barked.

Faced with their interrogation, the woman trembled violently, shrinking in terror. She didn’t even dare to think. “I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “I didn’t know what you were doing. I was just passing by! It wasn’t intentional, I swear…”

“Passing by?” That was a flimsy excuse.

Felicia scanned their surroundings, her expression curious. They were in such a desolate place, yet this woman just happened to be passing by? Felicia asked, “You’re not from this island, are you?”

“N—No.” The woman stole a quick, frightened glance at Felicia before ducking her head again, shaking it furiously. Even that brief glimpse was enough for everyone to see her face. It was a face utterly destroyed. Her features were covered in deep, grotesque scars—jagged wounds that had festered and healed improperly, leaving a horrifyingly disfigured appearance.

Felicia frowned. A strange, fleeting sense of familiarity flashed through her mind. She had seen this woman before, but couldn’t recall where. She wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Even Maurice’s men were stunned. Initially startled by her horrifying appearance, they exchanged glances. Then, one blurted, “Wait… you… you wouldn’t happen to be that woman from before…!”

Before he could finish, the woman let out another piercing shriek. Like a wild animal cornered, she went berserk. Before anyone could react, she sprang from the ground, her frail-looking body moving with shocking agility, disappearing into the forest in the blink of an eye.

Maurice’s men stood frozen, staring at her escape route, as if still processing what had happened. Several seconds passed before one turned to Maurice, his expression grave. “Mr. Glovers—it’s that woman!”