This was the usual tactic employed by the master-servant pair, Theresa and Sephera, within the monastery: First, Sephera would unleash a torrent of scorn, ridiculing the offending witch until she was utterly humiliated. Then, Theresa would step in with comfort, making the witches feel warmth and reassurance.
The atmosphere in the room eased slightly. After a pause, Theresa continued, "This time, retrieving Sophia must be left to Ruth. Only she can handle it properly."
Ruth immediately lifted her head, nodding firmly. "You have my word. I’ll resolve the trouble I caused—I’ll bring Sophia back safely, and no one will suspect the monastery’s involvement!"
Sephera’s eyebrow arched sharply, resuming her role as the "venomous hound." She snapped at Ruth, "Her? Really? Won’t she just mess it up again? Master, I believe this task should be mine. I could handle it far more discreetly and reliably—"
Yet Theresa only shook her head gently. "No, Sephera. I have foreseen it. This matter must be entrusted to Ruth. If any of us interfere—even I—it will bring grave danger."
"Were it not so, I would have already gone myself to scour the slums for Sophia’s trail and brought her back."
Hearing this, Sephera finally relented, though her small mouth kept chattering. "Fine, let’s trust this one again. But if she fails this time and draws the Blackstaff Tower’s suspicion to the monastery... hmph!"
She piled on the psychological pressure, and Ruth bowed her head once more, casting a pall over the room.
Seeing this, Hattie quickly interjected, "Ah, Elder Sister Theresa, you must have had quite the fruitful trip this time, yes?"
"How are those pets you’ve been raising? Truth be told, I’ve been keeping one myself lately, and I’d love to learn a thing or two from you about training him."
She beamed, knowing Theresa loved boasting about her pets. By bringing it up, she deflected attention from Ruth.
Hearing this, Sephera whipped her head around, shooting Hattie a glare of bitter envy.
But even this toxic witch, for all her love of mockery, wasn’t foolish enough to pick a verbal fight with two witches at once—especially since, in her view, she’d lost the last spat with Hattie.
So, in the end, she swallowed back the torrent of curses bubbling inside her.
At the front, Theresa chuckled. "Oh? So you’ve taken an interest in that as well? Then you must expose him to the wider world. Though, with your skills, I doubt anything will go wrong."
After a beat, she added, "Ah, Hattie—perhaps you could assist Ruth. The foresight suggests that while there is some risk, something unexpectedly favorable may come of it."
Hattie and Ruth exchanged glances, surprise flickering across their faces.
In that moment, they suddenly realized: The key to safely retrieving Sophia might not lie with either of them, but with the bond they shared—their great Master!
With that, Theresa cast a spell, conjuring a series of youthful faces in the air. "Gather around. Let me show you the little pets I’ve raised these past two years."
The witches drew closer, curiosity in their eyes. Hattie exhaled slightly in relief—it seemed her diversion had worked.
Theresa gestured to the floating images, narrating languidly:
"This girl came from a poor fisher family—an alcoholic, abusive, gambling father, clinging to life with only her mother. So, I let her father win a fortune, then drunkenly fall to his death. She used that money to study... and even topped her class."
"Then, heh, half a year before graduation, I had a man steal her heart and swindle all her savings. Next, her mother fell ill, and without coin, it festered into something incurable. Oh, you should’ve seen her face—it was priceless!"
"And this one—a young dockworker, strong and full of vigor. I had him noticed by a Mithral District guard captain, given the finest training and education... only to let him stumble into addiction. Now? Well, look at him. Barely human anymore."
"And her... just as her guitar skills earned her steady work in the Muse District, just as she found love, her stepfather came home drunk, raped her, ruined her face, snapped her fingertips, got her with child, and left her rotting with disease..."
The images flickered one after another. Theresa wore a saintly smile as she recounted the tragedies she’d crafted—each tale of promising youths ground into despair, her voice dripping with pride.
The watching witches gazed at the faces twisted in agony, remorse, and self-loathing, as if they could hear their screams and sobs. Their own expressions melted into rapture, savoring the scent of souls withering in despair.
Hattie and Ruth forced smiles, mimicking the others’ delight. Yet inside, their reshaped morals—now aligned with Charles’—left them drowning in grief and anguish.
And they knew full well: unless Theresa was purified, such tragedies would only multiply!
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the monastery’s bath chamber.
Though called a bath chamber, this space had originally been Ruth’s room. Every witch in the monastery maintained a private room for keeping their captured... sustenance.
Now that Ruth had been purified by him, she naturally spent every night in the dorm - that is, Hattie’s room - sharing both bed and blankets. Her former room, thus rendered useless, had been repurposed by Charles after spending one hundred Purification Points to remodel it into a bathing facility.
The primary function of this construction was to allow characters to quickly alleviate fatigue by spending some gold, enabling them to return refreshed to the battlefield. In current terms, this naturally translated to spending a few Purification Points.
However, since the construction was already established here, the bath could still be used without spending Purification Points - though it would lack the additional "rapid fatigue removal" magical effect.
Oh, and the secondary function of this bath was to unlock certain... special CGs featuring the nuns.
Having busied himself all day - though his primary activities amounted to just clicking a few system interfaces and eavesdropping from behind walls - Charles found himself exhausted nonetheless. His constitution remained poor, still far from normal human standards, so fatigue came naturally.
At times like these, a hot bath was naturally the most appropriate remedy.
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