Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Ruth’s Murderous Intent

The Blade Witch—second strongest among the seven witches of the monastery—had a peculiar taste. She delighted in striking when her victims were utterly defenseless, savoring only that fleeting moment of confusion when they realized, “Oh… I’m already dead.” Such a wasteful indulgence, yet one she considered exquisite.

And such extravagance could never sate her boundless appetite. Her hands were stained with more blood than the other six nuns combined!

Now, this cruel and bloodthirsty nun stood outside the room, her voice calm yet laced with faint confusion as she inquired about Hattie’s condition.

Charles tensed instantly. Hattie, too, swiftly suppressed all traces of desire and hurriedly replied, “Ah – yes! I’m inhalation, don’t come in…”

As she spoke, she scrambled off the bed, hastily pulling on her loose nun’s habit while draping a woolen blanket over Charles, tucking him in—

Creak—

Ruth, of course, ignored Hattie’s warning. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Instinctively, Charles turned his head toward the doorway—and for the first time in reality, laid eyes upon this witch.

Compared to Hattie, who stood nearly five-foot-seven with a plump and full figure, Ruth was far more petite. She barely reached five feet, her form draped in a sleek, form-fitting black nun’s habit that revealed little of her chest, giving her an almost petite and cute appearance.

Or perhaps lean and lethally cold.

Her delicate face betrayed no emotion. Her purple-red eyes gleamed with a razor-sharp intensity. Though dressed as a nun, she radiated an aura of danger that warned all to stay away.

Yet, for those audacious in the extreme, it only stirred a blasphemous urge—to defile her icy composure, to twist it into something humiliated and undone.

While Charles simmered with such audacity, Hattie startled, quickly turning to Ruth with a strained, reproachful look. “Why did you barge in? I told you, I’m —”

She tried to deflect, but Ruth ignored her. Instead, the Blade Witch inhaled sharply—and her fine brows knitted in disgust.

The stench was overwhelming.

Man. Woman. Here. There. And all over Hattie’s body.

But the thickest concentration clung to the man on the bed—the pungent, unmistakable reek of male lust.

And on the sheets, mingled with Hattie’s scent, was the intoxicating fragrance of Root Power, a force meant solely for witches, never to be shared with another being.

They had done it—right here, on this bed!

The realization sent Ruth’s chest heaving violently. Fury ignited in her heart, her purple red eyes flashing with disbelief as she glared at Hattie. “You actually—!”

Hattie’s heart pounded, but she forced defiance. “Actually what? What do you want?”

Charles also stole a glance at Ruth, his heart uneasy. But then, the Blade Witch suddenly turned her head and looked straight at him.

Caught off guard, he met her purple-red gemlike eyes—and instantly, pain lanced through his vision like needles. He shut his eyes reflexively, tears streaming down.

As he shed tears, his mind screamed in shock. IIs this the strength of the witch ranked second in the monastery? He almost got blinded by her gaze after only looking at her once!

Really outrageous. It seemed that as an ordinary human, he had no choice but to be extremely cautious when facing these witches!

He remained inwardly vigilant. Meanwhile, Ruth’s fury—fueled by his earlier actions—was like adding fuel to the fire!

Filthy, lowly human! A lesser lifeform only fit to serve as soul food for witches! Not only had he taken a witch’s body, but now he dared to audaciously stare at her!

An unforgivable wretch—he deserved to be torn limb from limb!

“Hattie!” she snapped, her voice sharp and unyielding. “You actually… did that with him?! This is a grave violation of the Abbey’s rules! The entire monastery will be shamed by your actions!”

Even now, though Charles was as good as dead in her eyes, she remained cautious. She spoke only of the monastery’s doctrines, never once mentioning witches.

This was their unspoken rule—to avoid carelessness that might expose their secrets to outsiders.

Hattie merely raised an eyebrow. “He’s my pet. How I enjoy his body and soul is my choice. It’s hardly your place to interfere.”

Ruth’s eyes widened. “You—!”

She never expected this woman, already known for her madness, to abandon even a witch’s pride and stoop to coupling with a human!

Hattie straightened, her chest rising defiantly. Though weaker in Strength, her height and figure far surpassed Ruth’s—and now, she held the upper hand in presence. “This is my freedom, Ruth. Don’t interfere with my preferences.”

Charles listened silently, his heart pounding. But in his current state—weak, magicless—there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t possibly cross the seven or eight meters between them before Ruth reacted, let alone Purify her…

So, he could only tremble.

Finally, though stronger than Hattie, Ruth had no desire to clash over such a trivial matter. She took a step back and sighed. “Fine. I didn’t mean to reprimand you. It’s just… unexpected, given your pride.”

Hattie smirked, inwardly relieved to have dodged disaster.

Charles exhaled quietly—until Ruth made another demand. “But… hasn’t he been your plaything for days? His soul must be weak by now. Hand him over to me.”

His heart leapt to his throat.

She wanted him!

This request was not unusual among witches—especially coming from Ruth. Most witches preferred healthy souls, so someone like Charles, drained for seven or eight days and left utterly feeble, was considered rather bland in their eyes.

But what Ruth craved was the confusion of a sudden, violent death, regardless of the soul’s strength. Thus, the witches often gifted her the dregs of nearly consumed souls for her to finish off. This way, she would hunt less in the slums, avoiding too many deaths that might draw suspicion from outsiders.

So, it was a perfectly reasonable request among witches. And against it, Hattie could only stubbornly refuse:

“No, I’m not done playing with him yet!”

But she knew this excuse wasn’t nearly enough. So before Ruth could speak again, she quickly cut in, turning the blame around first: “Ruth, have you been very hungry recently? Or are you afraid to go out hunting? How come you come here and take my pet, which is not done playing?”

Instantly, Ruth’s brows furrowed sharply. “Impossible! I just thought—after you’ve been toying with this one for seven or eight days, it’s about time to dispose of him. So… Hm?”

As she spoke, she turned her head, scrutinizing Charles on the bed. Only now, when she focused intently, did she realize in surprise that his soul burned bright and healthy—nothing like a dying man at all!

Indeed, killing him now would be wasteful… a pity, even.

This…

“…Fine.” In the end, she conceded once more, unwilling to argue further over such a trivial matter. “Just make sure you know your limits. Don’t let this one human lead you to break more taboos than a nun should.”

Hattie chuckled softly. “I know. No need for your reminders.”

Ruth said nothing else. She turned, closed the door, and slipped away without a sound.

Then, in the room, both Charles and Hattie let out long, quiet sighs of relief.

They’d managed to bluff their way through!

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