“Hiss,” Russell sucked in a cold breath; this was definitely not magic. In this era, there shouldn't be high-tech existence like holographic projections either.
When all impossible situations are ruled out, whatever remains, no matter how unbelievable, must be the truth.
“Is this magic? Are you a wizard?” he asked, somewhat excitedly.
“To be precise, a witch,” Wednesday said calmly, completely unconcerned by Russell’s surprise, as if the existence of witches was commonplace.
“The fact that you can see that castle means that your body also contains magic,” Wednesday stated affirmingly. “Didn’t your parents tell you?”
“Unfortunately, they have passed away,” Russell spread his hands. “I am an orphan.”
“Congratulations, you are freer than I am now,” she maintained her expression, calmly looking at Russell.
“Are you trying to comfort me?” Russell scratched his head. He was a bit surprised; how bad must her parents have been to her for her to say such a thing?
“If you think so,” Wednesday did not refute, though she didn't truly feel that way herself.
“So what should we do?”
“Take your gun and follow me. Our goal is to conquer that castle,” Wednesday pointed at the Winchester hanging on the wall and pulled out a black crossbow from behind her back.
“Understood, Captain,” Russell shrugged, not refuting or asking where she had hidden her crossbow just now. He could sense that Wednesday harbored no ill will towards him, and he also wanted to obtain more information about witches from her, so he readily agreed.
Wednesday probably just wanted him to play with her.
Russell followed Wednesday to the front of the ancient castle. As Wednesday approached, the previously locked main gate suddenly opened automatically, making him click his tongue in wonder. It seemed this was Wednesday’s home, and it was no wonder her demeanor was somewhat unique; growing up in such a gloomy place would inevitably lead to this.
The previous words were indeed just a joke. All that talk about conquering the castle and being targeted was just Wednesday’s excuse to invite him over as a guest.
They passed through the tombstones in the yard, and the ancient castle gate was already in sight. Just then, Wednesday’s gaze suddenly turned in one direction.
“He’s here.”
Russell turned his head to look at Wednesday, but before he could ask, a sharp whooshing sound exploded in his ear. A silver-glowing arrow whizzed past Russell’s eyes and embedded itself in a dead tree behind him.
Looking in the direction the arrow came from, Russell saw a chubby boy wearing a blue and white striped shirt, holding a bow, looking this way.
Upon noticing Russell’s gaze, he flashed a bright smile and waved his hand in Russell’s direction, as if the arrow just now had nothing to do with him.
“What are you standing around for?” Wednesday’s cold voice sounded in Russell’s ear. He felt his hand lighten, and by the time he reacted, the Winchester had already landed in Wednesday’s hand, while the crossbow Wednesday had been holding was shoved into Russell’s hand with a hint of disdain.
“Take this.”
Russell looked at the crossbow in his hand, then his gaze shifted to the Winchester in Wednesday’s hand. A thousand words were in his chest, but he didn’t know how to speak them. After a long moment, he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence.
“Are you going to…?”
“Click-clack.”
The crisp sound of the Winchester being cocked answered him.
Seeing the curve of Wednesday’s lips and her movements manipulating the firearm, Russell could feel Wednesday’s genuine joy, and he fell into silence. Is this what a witch is like? He didn’t understand, but he was greatly shocked.
An image inexplicably came to his mind: “This thing is much more powerful than a magic wand.jpg.”
Wednesday raised the gun and pulled the trigger at the boy without hesitation.
“Wednesday, you’re cheating!”
The boy let out a yelp and ducked his head. The pellets missed, embedding themselves densely in the wall behind him, like a honeycomb.
“The struggle for power has always been thus, Parsley.”
Russell looked at Wednesday’s back and suddenly felt something was amiss. He had previously unloaded all the buckshot from the gun for safety.
He patted his pocket; the bullets were still there, not a single one missing. Could it be that she conjured them with magic? Moreover, from Wednesday’s words just now, he could tell that the boy and she had an unusual relationship, very likely siblings. Coupled with Wednesday’s ruthless shooting just now, a terrifying thought emerged in Russell’s mind.
He wouldn't have gotten involved in some family feud, would he? Wednesday’s words just now roughly meant something like “the struggle for the heir has always been this way.” He hadn’t expected such young witches to already be killing each other for power; it was truly terrifying.
Just as Russell was about to make a run for it and slip away, the ancient castle’s main gate suddenly creaked open. Accompanied by a silver light, the Winchester in Wednesday’s hand vanished, and a slender rapier pierced through the trigger guard, firmly pinning it to the wall.
“Wednesday, that’s enough for today.”
Before Russell knew it, a thin man appeared beside Wednesday. He had a mustache, wore a vintage suit, a doting smile on his face, and held a cigar between his fingers.
“Are you Wednesday’s friend?” At the same time, a soft voice suddenly came from behind Russell, startling him.
He slowly turned around, and what met his eyes was a woman with pale skin, long black hair cascading like a waterfall, wearing a tight black dress, with long fingernails, possessing a cold and mysterious aura. She held a flowerpot containing a very strange-looking plant, with a large flower bud hanging from its slender stem.
She perfectly fit Russell’s stereotypical image of a witch.
“I…” he pondered, but before he could speak, Russell was horrified to discover that the strange plant suddenly moved. The leaves wrapped around the bud peeled off one by one, and a slit opened in the center of the pink bud, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth, reaching out towards his head.
Russell only felt his vision go black.
“Oh, sweetheart, you can’t eat that.”
…
“Thank you,” Russell expressionlessly took the towel Wednesday handed him, carefully wiping away the green slime from his head bit by bit in front of the mirror. Although it smelled sweetly of honey, he still felt a bit disgusted.
“If Mrs. Adams hadn’t spoken up in time, I might be in the stomach of a man-eating plant right now.”
Russell said with lingering fear.
