Witch's Embrace

"The Witch's Convent" by DaoistaHADNk

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Cuivis weakly emerged from the bedclothes, a trace of white, milky residue still on her lips. She swallowed the last of the liquid in her mouth before asking, "What happened?"

"Yes." Hawthorne nodded, his brow furrowed seriously. "Those people are actually trying to hunt me down."

He then recounted the conversation he had just had with Andinie, word for word, and continued, "Let's hold off on discussing anything else until everyone is here, then we can analyze the situation properly."

As he was speaking, the dormitory door was pushed open, and Heidi, along with the others, entered one after the other. With each of them accompanied by a mosquito controlled by Andinie at their ears, it could be said that everyone in the convent was now present.

"Everyone, Andinie has already explained the situation," Hawthorne said gravely, though his current posture—half-reclined in bed, covered by a blanket, and holding Cuivis, whose face was flushed and whose mouth still bore traces of a whitish residue—hardly suggested gravity. "How have we handled this sort of situation in the past?"

The witches exchanged glances, and after a moment, Heidi was the first to speak, "Generally speaking, if we just keep a low profile for a while, lie low, we should... be alright?"

The more she spoke, the less confident she sounded, frequently glancing at Cuivis, hinting for her to explain.

Hide away?

Hawthorne frowned deeply, quite dissatisfied with this solution.

Beside him, Cuivis pulled the blanket up to cover her exposed skin and then said, "It's like this, the elites of Liberl Port have very limited interest in the slums of each district, especially since this is the poorest South Harbor District."

"Even if this case is significant, they just need a scapegoat to report back to their superiors. They are not that concerned about the truth."

"So, as long as we hide and wait for a while, and they can't find you, they'll lose interest. At that point, they might snag some leader of the Dark Intelligence Network as a token gesture."

Her explanation was extremely clear. Even though she had been exhausted from begging Hawthorne for mercy the previous night, when it came to practical matters, she immediately returned to the composure and thoroughness expected of the acting dean of the convent.

However, Hawthorne remained dissatisfied. The matter of Die weighed on him like a mountain, filling him with anxiety.

This approach was too passive. What if, in the meantime, those guys found Die's trace first?

No, he needed to think of a way to take the initiative!

After formulating a quick plan in his mind, he asked, "Is there a way to spread a rumor? Say that a month ago, someone saw that white-haired Mage clashing with a Dark Intelligence Network thug at the 'Foggy Fisherman' tavern, and now they're trying to frame him."

As he spoke, it was unfortunate that none of the witches had a solution: "Sorry, Master, we don't have our intelligence network, so we might not be able to manage this."

Alright.

Hawthorne rubbed his forehead slightly, then unwilling to give up, he asked, "Where is the investigation team operating now? Where are they staying at night? If we can't confront them directly, at least we can avoid them!"

He was calculating in secret. When Andinie mentioned many slum residents were selling their properties cheaply, he already had a rough plan in his mind to buy land and make a profit.

Although knowing they were investigating him had partially ruined this plan—at least he couldn't personally go to the slum anymore—he wasn't willing to give up this rare opportunity and wanted to try again.

"Regarding that, I'm sorry, Master, I don't know," Andinie said softly. "When they split up to investigate, I dared to send mosquitoes to eavesdrop, but when they gather together, it's easy to get caught."

After a pause, she quickly added, "However, if Master wants to go to the slum, I can help keep you hidden from them!"

She tried to show that she wasn't entirely useless, but unfortunately, this suggestion was not particularly useful for his future plans.

Alas, this girl is too weak.

Hawthorne sighed to himself and then gently comforted, "It's not your fault. Uh, at worst, we can choose the most conservative strategy and lay low in the convent for another month..."

As he spoke, he felt increasingly restless and convinced that if the matter with Die dragged on, it would certainly lead to significant problems.

Finally, he gritted his teeth and looked at Heidi. "Heidi, I'm telling you, tonight, go find Alan, the owner of the 'Foggy Fisherman' tavern, and ask him this..."

He couldn't stand it any longer. He needed to take the initiative and turn the situation around in his own way!

...

That evening, inside the "Foggy Fisherman" tavern.

A few homeless men lay scattered across the tables, dead drunk, mumbling their worries and drunken ramblings. The smell of sweat, fish, alcohol, and the sickly sweet scent of vomit mingled together, creating the typical atmosphere of the tavern at night.

The tavern owner, Alan, sat behind the counter, squinting in the dim candlelight, counting the number of patrons staying overnight. He couldn't help but sigh, feeling a slight irritation.

Those bastards from the Dark Intelligence Network and those crazy women from the Amazons, what have they done to the slum?

And those people sent by the Black Staff Tower, wandering the streets all day, stopping and interrogating everyone they see, turning this place into a mess. Everyone's leaving the South Harbor District; even the number of people coming to drink in the tavern at night has dwindled...

Alan had no fondness for the officials of Liberl Port. He used to be a Navy member and had performed meritorious service for the port. However, after retiring due to injury, he received only a meager pension, which was far from enough to live on.

Moreover, his business involved many illegal activities, so he naturally kept his distance from the authorities.

In fact, it wasn't just him; most people living in the South Harbor District slum had no fondness for the officials of Liberl Port.

Even though they knew the investigation team was there to probe into the bloodshed, magical creatures, and evil cults, and that the results of their investigation would affect their lives, the condescending attitude of the officials and past grievances led to resentment and a lack of cooperation.

This was why, even after so much time had passed since the atrocities, the investigation team was still making slow progress.

Forget it, there's nothing he can do to drive them away; he can only wait it out.

Sighing, Alan felt a wave of fatigue wash over him. He rose from his seat and headed to the restroom in the backyard.

It was late, and he planned to use the restroom and then go upstairs to sleep.

However, just as he pushed the door open, he saw a tall, curvaceous nun standing in the doorway, as if waiting for him in the cool moonlight.

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