"...I struggled against my racial instincts for fifty years. In those fifty years, I never drained the life of a single living creature."
"...Every nightfall, I feared that I would lose control and fall into... the same kind as those witches called ghosts, who were in truth vengeful spirits."
"...Every sunrise, the scorching sunlight endured by my witch and ghost bloodlines was the key to keeping myself lucid."
By the hearth came Dinesha's calm, brutal account.
She glanced at her blue-painted nails, her gaze tranquil.
"It is terribly painful. Like throwing a regenerative witch into a pool of sulfuric acid—constantly dissolving, constantly regenerating, the pain nearly numbing the brain. But I still went out into the sun every day. It made me feel... that I was still alive."
Her eyes were deep, as if she were recalling that pain.
Jiang Han felt somewhat uneasy, somewhat frightened. She subtly shrank back, then gathered her courage and leaned over, pressing a hand over Dinesha's hand and offering the ghost witch a gentle smile.
A ghost witch who had not drained life for a full fifty years—this meant that if Dinesha lost control, she would very likely go mad without restraint and completely drain a witch's vitality. That could very well directly 'kill a witch.' This was why witches instinctively feared ghost witches. After all, only a handful of races possessed methods capable of killing a witch so cleanly and decisively.
Of course, a ghost witch capable of suppressing that instinct also possessed a willpower beyond anything mortals could imagine.
With her understanding of witches, Jiang Han could easily tell that using pain to suppress such an instinct was no different from making a regenerative witch bathe in sulfuric acid every day...
Perhaps Dinesha's fondness for music was also because it could lessen