Transmigrated: I Became My Nemesis's Woman novel Chapter 79

Chapter 79: Freedom is overrated anyway

Hesitating, Xander returned to his room. Yet despite all his attempts to think rationally, he couldn’t push Ivy’s behavior out of his mind.

A part of him told him to let her be. But another part insisted he should at least check on her and apologize for Clara’s words.

Xander knew Ivy had never been obligated to carry his child. That night they shared had been nothing more than a fleeting moment. And if she had chosen to leave Leo behind, then he wanted to respect that decision. He always had. That was the reason he never tried to search for her.

He had been very clear about one thing. No one was to bring up Leo’s mother in public. But today, when Clara not only hurt Leo but also mocked Ivy, something inside him stirred with guilt.

He stood there for a while, trying to calm the restlessness inside him. When that failed, he finally decided to check on Ivy.

But the moment he reached her door and knocked, the silence that followed made him frown.

When there was still no response, he pushed the door open.

The room was empty.

Meanwhile, inside the guest house, Sal sat quietly, staring at the food laid out in front of him after the guard left.

Since yesterday, he had been stuffing himself with all kinds of delicacies, convinced each meal might be his last before Xander’s men decided to butcher him. But as time passed and nothing happened, as silence stretched endlessly around him, he realized something unsettling.

He didn’t want to die.

Not yet.

And the longer he sat there, the more certain he became that he needed to find a way out before things took a turn for the worse.

"I shouldn’t have helped her," he muttered under his breath. "Who would have thought Xander was already following her?"

Sal had no idea that Xander had only coincidentally caught Ivy running after those goons. He also had no idea that she wasn’t even in the house anymore.

Still, he blamed himself for being too easily swayed by a woman who had clearly tricked him.

"But how did she even know my nickname is Chickpea?" he wondered, frowning deeply.

He had been thinking so hard about it that, at one point, a disturbing possibility crossed his mind. What if Raven had also been captured by Xander? What if Ivy had somehow forced her to reveal everything?

Otherwise, there was no way she could have known that name. It was a name he only liked hearing from Raven.

"No... that can’t be," he said suddenly, getting to his feet and shaking his head.

"If Raven is here... then I have to find her. I need to get both of us out of this place."

Sal might not have been as physically capable as the other members of the DarkKnight Organization. He had never trained for field missions. His strength lay in technology, in supporting those missions from behind the scenes.

But right now, none of that mattered.

Because for the first time, he was ready to risk his life.

Not just to save Raven. But to save himself too.

Sal did not move immediately after that realization.

For a long moment, he simply stood there, staring at the untouched food, as if it might suddenly reveal a brilliant escape plan.

It didn’t.

"Great," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "The genius of DarkKnight, reduced to waiting for inspiration from a plate of butter chicken."

He sighed, then slowly began pacing the room.

"Think, Sal. You hack systems, you break firewalls, you literally got past a government server once. You can definitely outsmart two guards with questionable intelligence."

He paused.

"Hopefully questionable."

His eyes flicked toward the door.

Two guards. One stationed outside, the other usually lingering near the corridor corner. He had observed their pattern since morning. One of them always got distracted during meal deliveries, chatting more than necessary. The other seemed bored enough to fall asleep standing.

"Perfect," Sal whispered, rubbing his hands together. "I am surrounded by incompetence. This is my moment."

He grabbed the plate and walked toward the door, then stopped.

"No, no, too obvious. Think smarter."

A few seconds later, a slow grin spread across his face.

"Oh... this is brilliant."

A loud crash echoed through the guest house corridor.

"Ahh! My stomach!" Sal’s dramatic voice rang out, followed by exaggerated groaning. "I’m dying! Poison! You people poisoned me!"

The guard outside jolted, immediately pushing the door open.

"What happened?"

Sal was sprawled on the floor, clutching his stomach, rolling dramatically from side to side like he was auditioning for a tragic soap opera.

"You call this food?" he gasped. "I trusted you! I had faith! And this is how you repay me? With betrayal?"

The guard blinked, utterly confused.

"I... what?"

"I think it’s the spices," Sal continued weakly, pointing at the plate. "Or maybe the chicken was undercooked. I can feel my ancestors calling me."

The second guard rushed in, frowning. "Stop overacting. Get up."

"I would if I could feel my legs," Sal whispered, letting his head drop limply to the side.

The guards exchanged a glance.

"I’ll call someone," one of them muttered, stepping out into the corridor.

The moment he did, Sal’s eyes snapped open.

"Hook, line, and stupidity," he whispered, springing to his feet.

Before the remaining guard could react, Sal grabbed the heavy tray and shoved it straight into his chest. The man stumbled back with a grunt, losing his balance just long enough.

"Sorry, my friend," Sal said, already darting past him. "Nothing personal. Just survival."

Freedom.

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