Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts-Chapter 48 - Forty Seven

"Is something wrong?" Damon asked again.

His deep voice was smooth, calm, and perfectly polite. He sounded exactly like a caring husband asking a simple question.

His voice broke through the loud, panicked thoughts racing inside Camilla’s head. It pulled her completely out of her deep thoughts.

Camilla flinched slightly. She quickly blinked her eyes and sat up straight in her chair. She realized she had been staring at him for far too long.

She quickly shook her head from side to side. She forced her facial muscles to work. She plastered a very bright, very fake smile onto her face. It was a tight smile that did not reach her eyes.

"No, My Lord," Camilla replied out loud. Her voice was slightly higher than normal. "Nothing is wrong at all. I was just... admiring the beautiful garden."

Damon did not believe her, but he nodded slowly. He moved his eyes away from her face and looked down at the stone table. He looked at the second teacup resting on the silver tray directly in front of her. Thick, hot steam was still rising from her cup.

"Aren’t you going to drink your tea?" Damon asked softly. He raised one dark eyebrow. "You poured it for yourself. It would be a shame to let it get cold."

Camilla looked down at her cup. She had been so distracted by her failed magic trick that she had completely forgotten about her own drink.

"Oh, yes," Camilla replied quickly. She wanted to look perfectly normal. She wanted to prove to him that she was completely relaxed. "Pardon me."

She reached out her hand and picked up the delicate porcelain cup by its small handle. She lifted it from the silver saucer.

Because her mind was completely filled with frustration and anger about her magic failing on the male lead, she was not paying attention to the physical world around her. She completely forgot that she had just poured tea from the teapot only a few minutes ago.

Wanting to look confident and unbothered, Camilla brought the cup quickly to her lips. She tilted her head back and took a very large, greedy gulp of the dark black tea.

The liquid hit her tongue.

It was like swallowing liquid fire. The intense heat burned her lips, scorched the roof of her mouth, and sent a sharp shock of pure pain down the back of her throat.

Camilla’s eyes flew wide open.

"Ah!!!" Camilla screamed out loud.

She did not have time to be polite. She did not have time to act like a perfect lady. Her reflexes took over completely.

Immediately, the tea got to her mouth, she spat it out.

She forcefully sprayed the hot black tea straight out of her mouth. The brown liquid flew across the stone table, splashing loudly against the silver tray and scattering over the white porcelain teapot. Some of the hot drops even splashed onto the edge of Damon’s shirt.

Camilla slammed her teacup down onto the table. It rattled loudly against the saucer, almost breaking.

She began coughing violently. She raised both of her hands to her mouth and started fanning her face rapidly, trying to cool down her burning tongue.

"Ah! Hot! It is hot!" she whined loudly, tears of genuine physical pain springing into her dark eyes. She stuck her pink tongue out slightly, panting like a small dog trying to catch a cool breeze. Her perfect, dignified image was completely ruined in a matter of two seconds.

Damon sat in his wheelchair and looked at her. He looked genuinely surprised by her sudden, violent outburst. He had never seen a noblewoman spit her drink across a table before.

But as he watched her fan her burning mouth with her hands, his surprise quickly melted into deep amusement.

Inside his head, Damon was actually laughing. It was the perfect revenge. She had just tried to use her strange magic to burn his lip with hot tea. Her magic had failed on him. And now, she had managed to severely burn her own mouth with the exact same tea. It was poetic justice.

Damon reached into the deep pocket of his dark trousers. He pulled out a clean, perfectly folded white square of cloth. It was his personal handkerchief.

He leaned forward across the stone table. He held the clean white handkerchief out toward her.

"Didn’t you warn me to be careful?" Damon asked out loud. His deep voice was incredibly smooth, but it held a very distinct, teasing edge. He was clearly enjoying her misery.

Camilla stopped fanning her mouth for a second. She glared at him through her watery eyes.

"Now look," Damon continued, gesturing toward her wet chin and the spilled tea on the table. "You have burned yourself."

He leaned forward just a tiny bit more. He looked deeply into her angry eyes. He put on a face of fake, exaggerated concern.

"Does it hurt?" Damon asked sweetly, using the exact same tone of voice she had used on him earlier.

Camilla shot him an icy, furious glare. If looks could kill, the Tyrant General would be lying dead on the floor of the gazebo. She knew he was mocking her. She could hear the smug satisfaction hidden behind his polite words.

"You smug, arrogant bastard," Camilla insulted him inside her head. Her internal voice was screaming with anger. "You think this is funny? My tongue feels like it was set on fire!"

She snatched the white handkerchief out of his large hand with a harsh, angry motion.

She quickly wiped her mouth and her chin, cleaning away the spilled tea. She dabbed at the front of her dark red silk dress, making sure none of the liquid had stained the expensive fabric. Her lips were currently stinging and slightly swollen from the tea.

She lowered the handkerchief and crumpled it tightly in her fist.

"I am fine," Camilla said out loud. Her voice was sharp, tight, and incredibly annoyed. She refused to let him see her in pain.

She took a deep breath, forcing the burning sensation in her mouth to the back of her mind. She needed to regain control of the situation. She had lost the tea battle. Her magic had failed to burn him directly.

As she was cleaning herself, she looked away from his smug face. She looked out into the bright, sunny garden.

She noticed the thick, lush green grass growing near the edges of the white gazebo. She noticed the large, dense bushes filled with dark shadows beneath their leaves.

A new, brilliant idea sparked inside her mind.

Camilla stopped wiping her dress. A slow, wicked smile began to curl the edges of her sore lips. The pain in her mouth was temporarily forgotten.

"Wait," Camilla thought to herself, her internal voice turning cold and calculated. " I need to test it again to be sure the problem is not from my end."

Camilla turned her head back to face him. She dropped the crumpled handkerchief onto the stone table. She put her sweet, innocent, caring wife mask back on.

"My Lord," Camilla spoke out loud, making her voice sound very gentle and concerned. She pointed her small finger toward the edge of the gazebo. "Look at the bushes we have in the garden. They are so thick and green."

Damon slowly turned his head. He looked at the bushes she was pointing at. He did not see anything strange. They were just normal garden bushes.

Camilla leaned forward slightly. She made sure to look him right in the eye so he would hear her words clearly.

"I hope a snake doesn’t bite you because of it," Camilla said out loud.

She delivered the curse perfectly. She used the trigger words, ’I hope’. She stated the exact threat she wanted to summon. A snake. A venomous, dangerous snake.

Inside her mind, she was cheering wildly.

"Come on, don’t fail me again!" Camilla thought excitedly. "Send a big, fat, poisonous snake! Let us see what would save him from a pair of sharp fangs!"