The Witch’s Convent

Hawthorne was startled; with one careless move, his skin brushed against Yuta's fingertips, and he felt a sharp pain as if a needle had pierced him deeply.

Instinctively he let go, looking down to see Yuta's beautiful, pale fingers glowing under his gaze. Her ten slender nails were painted a reddish-purple, bright and intricate, contrasting starkly with the carrot and kitchen knife.

However, he knew very well that these ten reddish-purple nails were deadly weapons capable of tearing through steel effortlessly. To rip his body apart would be no harder than slicing through butter!

Moreover, at that moment, lurking beneath Yuta's beautiful facade was her grim intent to kill...

In the instant he was stunned, Yuta's seemingly effortless fingers had already taken everything from his hands.

Then Hawthorne watched as the kitchen knife in Yuta's hand moved with the agility of her own fingers, wielded as lightly as a feather. The blade spun around the carrot's surface, slicing so smoothly, like cutting through tofu, that it peeled off the skin without the slightest resistance!

This display of skill made Hawthorne gasp.

A brilliant performance—truly befitting the blade witch!

And this was just the beginning. Yuta placed the peeled carrot on the board and quickly and evenly sliced it into perfectly even thin slices, then into shreds, setting them aside for preparation.

Flawless.

This knife skill can almost rival the system's craftsmanship!

Hawthorne marveled, and then a faint and subtle fragrance wafted gently into his nostrils.

This was a scent emanating from Yuta's body, a unique aroma that only a clean-loving girl would possess, just like the one Heidi had.

Since these witches were pretending to be nuns, they naturally embraced the whole act, including such characteristics.

At that moment, the fragrance stimulated Hawthorne's senses. As he watched Yuta's focused and busy figure, a bold idea gradually formed in his mind.

Should I take this opportunity to launch a surprise attack and Purify her?

However, as soon as the thought arose, he quickly dismissed it!

Hawthorne, you're really getting ahead of yourself. There's a better opportunity, so why rush here?

All she needs to do is slightly turn and claw you with her nails, and you could die on the spot!

So don't harbor any foolish ideas; your life is the most important!

He admonished himself, and then he heard Yuta speak: "Why are you standing there? Boil a pot of water to soak the salted fish."

Returning to focus, Hawthorne didn't dare delay. Keeping a cautious eye on her movements out of the corner of his eye, he lit the stove, scooped water into the pot, and waited for it to boil.

Yuta never once glanced at him, focusing on her task of slicing the carrot into thin strands of varying lengths, which she then set aside on a plate for later use.

"Take out the bread," she instructed next. Hawthorne wasn't sure what she intended to do, so he followed her instructions one by one.

The entire Kitchen fell into a strange atmosphere of silence, busyness, and peace. Hawthorne remained silent throughout, while Yuta issued commands occasionally, as if performing a one-woman play.

Finally, after about half an hour of their combined efforts, a simple dish of salted fish with shredded carrot was prepared. Yuta evenly placed the cut fish and carrot strands on each slice of bread, rolled them up, and brought one to Hawthorne's mouth. "Here, eat."

Hawthorne was taken aback, carefully observing her expression, but he couldn’t discern any emotions from her face. "I can do it myself, um... Lady Nun, aren’t you eating?"

Yuta shook her head, but remained firm, holding the rolled bread to feed him. "I've already eaten. You eat."

Her beautiful hand, now so close to Hawthorne's lips, had skin so clear it seemed almost translucent, with a healthy rosy glow. This tempted him, and despite his hunger, he felt an urge to open his mouth and gently bite her finger.

However, he was acutely aware that one wrong move could provoke this witch, who disliked humans, to act and tear him to pieces in an instant with her reddish-purple, beautifully painted nails!

Hold back, you must hold back!

Unable to refuse and forbidden from tasting her pale hand, Hawthorne restrained his impulse, opened his mouth, leaned forward, and took a bite of the bread.

Hiss...

The soft bread wrapped around fresh carrots, with the salty flavor of fish hidden inside, waiting to explode—surprisingly, it tasted quite good?

Could it be that Yuta is a hidden culinary talent in the game?

Or was it the system's doing?

His face showed a moment of surprise, which Yuta caught: "What, does it not taste good?"

Hawthorne shook his head repeatedly: "No, it tastes great. Thank you, Miss Nun."

Despite saying this, he couldn't help but wonder.

What's going on with this witch? Why is she suddenly serving me?

"No need to thank me," Yuta said, maintaining her cold demeanor, but she was also watching every shift in Hawthorne's expression. "Helping those in need, especially underage kids like you, is our obligation."

"So, until you recover, feel free to recuperate here. In the future, if you want something to eat, just tell me; no need to make it yourself. I'll help you."

After a pause, as if to reassure him further, she emphasized once more, "You can trust me completely; there's no need to be so tense and guarded."

She said this, trying to ease his guard. But instead, it struck Hawthorne like a bolt of lightning in his mind!

I get it, she's trying to get me to relax!

Just like how a sushi chef massages an octopus—not to comfort it, but to make its meat more tender and delicious!

This witch is trying to lull me into complacency!

Sweat appeared on Hawthorne's brow, and he forced a slightly awkward smile: "I... I understand, thank you for your kindness, Miss Yuta..."

Bang—

The door was suddenly pushed open, and Heidi appeared at the Kitchen entrance, holding a cloth bundle with a flustered expression.

And then she saw Yuta, holding a piece of bread wrapped with salted fish and shredded carrot, feeding it to Hawthorne.