Then, Sophia witnessed them leaving together—and returning together.
She saw them enter the kitchen, with Hattie even feeding the man by hand.
She even observed them retreating to the bedroom, where unmistakable panting and the sound of splashing water reached her ears...
Fortunately, having lived over two thousand years, Sophia was no stranger to peculiarities—she’d seen couplings far stranger than this. Unlike Ruth, she didn’t erupt in rage.
Yet shock still gripped her, mingled with deepening confusion.
This man appeared utterly ordinary. What made him so special? How could Hattie, with all her pride, lower herself ?
Combined with yesterday’s realization—that Hattie had failed to perceive the Night of the Witches—a foreboding shadow settled over Sophia’s mind.
So now, confirming Hattie had left Charles alone in the scriptorium, she stormed in without hesitation.
She would study this human thoroughly.
Returning to the present moment—
The instant she entered, Charles reflexively rose to his feet, adopting an expression of wary deference. "Greetings, Miss Sophia," he said cautiously. "What brings you here?"
Sophia didn’t respond immediately. Her jet-black eyes locked onto his, unblinking. Her dark nun’s wimple and loose strands of hair stirred as if moved by an unfelt wind, giving her the eerie presence of a specter drifting through the doorway.
Subtle magic pulsed through the air, quickly enveloping Charles’s mind.
Unlike Ruth—whose magical abilities were honed solely for executing perfect ambushes—Sophia possessed nearly every low-level spell. Though greatly weakened by memory losses, overpowering Charles posed no challenge at all.
Under the influence of her magic, Charles’s gaze grew vacant. The world around him faded away until the raven-haired, dark-eyed woman before him became the only person who mattered—someone he trusted implicitly, someone to whom he’d confess his deepest secrets without hesitation...
A 1st-level spell that compels weaker beings—humans, elves, dwarves, orcs—to view the caster as a trusted friend and confidant.
At his current level, resisting Sophia’s spellcasting was naturally impossible. And once charmed, all his secrets would spill forth unchecked.
"What is your name?" Sophia finally asked, her voice soft. As she spoke, the pedipalps beneath her nun’s habit twitched faintly while she glided across the immaculately clean scriptorium.
"Charles," he answered truthfully.
"You cleaned this scriptorium?"
"To study. To learn magic."
Sophia turned her gaze to the books on his desk. Sensing the faint magic waves emanating from them, she immediately realized—these were priceless magical artifacts!
"Where did those spellbooks come from?" she pressed urgently.
"Hattie bought them for me."
Sophia’s delicate brows furrowed in confusion.
This treatment was far too generous for mere food.
Had Hattie borrowed money from her... just for this?
"Did Hattie order you to study here?" she continued probing.
"No. I chose to learn," Charles shook his head.
"Oh?" Sophia’s eyebrow arched sharply. "You wanted to study, and she just agreed? She obeys you that easily?"
Charles’ expression wavered. The question struck a nerve, sparking resistance.
Noticing this, Sophia frowned slightly. Has my magic weakened this much?
With no alternative, she widened her eyes—then the skin at their outer corners squirmed violently as two additional eyes snapped open!
Her true form was a massive brain covered in pedipalps, completely eyeless. These human eyes were merely camouflage, tools for casting mind-affecting spells.
Four eyes now fixed upon Charles simultaneously, doubling the magical power washing over him. His struggling resistance was forcibly suppressed.
"Yes," he nodded faintly. "She listens to me."
Sophia’s expression grew increasingly incredulous. "What exactly is your relationship?"
Charles straightened his chest with pride. "I’m her Master. She’s my maid."
Sophia’s beautiful eyes widened impossibly large—then suddenly, she couldn’t contain herself.
Clutching her small mouth and stomach, she doubled over in uncontrollable laughter. "Ohhh—!"
So that’s it! Hattie was playing master-servant games with him!
I really don’t know when this witch developed such sexual interests.
"Haha... Master, haha..."
Sophia laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks. Charles watched with confused eyes. "Why are you laughing? I’m telling the truth! Ask her yourself if you don’t believe me!"
"Ah... yes yes, I believe you," Sophia wiped her tears, straightening up.
She’d remembered now—Hattie was even more skilled than her in illusions and hypnosis. The witch loved pushing victims to the brink with fantasies before sucking out part of their souls.
Clearly, this man’s mind was already broken. To still believe himself Hattie’s Master... how pathetic!
"Then tell me," she playfully cupped his face, her fingers subtly morphing into their true form—slender tendrils with flagellated pedipalps that caressed his skin, coiled around his head, and sent two probes creeping into his ears.
A habitual gesture, especially when feeding. One quick motion and those pedipalps would pierce his eardrums, spearing straight into his mind to devour memories.
Completely oblivious to the danger, Charles answered honestly:
"Because she’s a witch... and I purified her."