Millennium Witch

Book 3: Chapter 262: Sara

Yvette had imagined plenty of possibilities for Dugrabi’s situation. Maybe he really was the legendary Evil Dragon King who once stirred up storms across the world, only to be defeated by a hero and retire from the stage. Or maybe this dragon had just wasted all his time, still muddling around on the Dragon Isles to this day, accomplishing nothing at all.But it had never crossed her mind that this brat had actually caused such an uproar in the Church of the True Gods that the Ancestral Holy Spirit had been forced to personally take action against him in the end.

To be fair, that counted as a pretty top-tier achievement.

Still, your teacher can’t save you anytime soon. Forget it, it’s already been three hundred years anyway—why don’t you just wait a bit longer in there, and I’ll think of a way to send a flesh-and-blood marker in to you… but how am I even supposed to get it into the divine kingdom, and will the True Gods notice?

Yvette felt she hadn’t been this worried in a long time.

After that,

she asked Shuanghua for a few more details about the commotion Dugrabi had caused at the Crimson Sanctum.

But Shuanghua didn’t know much about that either. The only thing she could confirm was that Dugrabi really was the Evil Dragon King, and that he’d merely been suppressed, not killed on the spot by a True God.

As for how he’d managed to survive, Yvette guessed it might have something to do with politics on the dragons’ side.

After all, from what was known, the previous Flame Dragon King had fallen on the Day of Doom and was counted among the heroes who had defended the world.

Most likely, taking that into account, Dugrabi had been allowed to keep his life as the Flame Dragon King’s son.

Of course, it was also possible that Dugrabi really had grown to a level where even a True God couldn’t do anything to him, and could only seal him away instead of killing him—

Okay, the odds of that were a bit low.

Believing Dugrabi could go head-to-head with a True God was about as realistic as believing Abella could become an Aberrant Monarch.

Yvette let out a quiet sigh in her heart.

Ah, if only it were true. Your teacher would really like to have a chance to be proud of you for once.

And with that, the conversation in the bookshop came to an end.

Shuanghua stared at Yvette for a moment, as if there were still something she wanted to say, but when Yvette asked, the girl suddenly turned into a swirl of wind and snow and vanished straight out of the bookstore.

Yvette stood quietly where she was, looking at the spot where the white-haired girl had just been. Alongside her lingering puzzlement, she also felt—

satisfied.

From an omniscient point of view, both sides had clearly been hiding things in that exchange. But as her first contact and first real conversation with the mysterious girl Shuanghua, having things turn out like this, when they lacked mutual trust and were still on guard against each other, was already pretty good.

After all, you can’t just dump everything out in front of someone you’ve only known for a dozen minutes or so, asking everything and telling everything, and you definitely can’t just believe whatever the other side says.

It takes time to verify that what the other person says isn’t a lie before you can build the foundation of trust needed for further conversations down the line.

Still, her first impression was decent. If she could later learn more concrete details about the girl’s identity in the Snow Country, Yvette wouldn’t mind having some deeper exchanges with her, maybe even touching on topics related to the gods.

Leaving the bookshop, Yvette glanced up at the sky, estimating that the free dinner buffet time was about to start, and planned to head straight back to Snowmist Lodge to try some of the local specialties she’d missed yesterday.

On the way, she walked into a narrow alley dusted with thin snow. Icicles hung from the walls on both sides, glinting with a cold sheen in the dimming evening light.

Just as she was making her way along the slightly slick stone path, the door of a small stone-and-timber house beside her creaked open. A young girl stepped out, happened to spot Yvette, and immediately broke into a smile, greeting her warmly. “Oh! Honored guest, what a coincidence!”

Yvette looked over and realized it was the very young waitress who had led her by mistake into Shuanghua’s private hot spring courtyard last night—the culprit behind letting her witness that scene of a beautiful girl soaking in the hot spring.

The girl was wearing a local traditional thick cotton robe called a “Samis.” The standing collar and side lapels were fastened with intricate knotwork, and the robe itself was embroidered with complex snow-mountain patterns, full of rich northern flair that lent her a touch of dignity she hadn’t had yesterday.

“Is this your home?” Yvette glanced at the small house behind her. It wasn’t much to look at, maybe thirty or forty square meters at most, but a few hardy potted plants sat on the windowsill, and thin smoke curled from the chimney, giving it a cozy, lived-in warmth.

“Yes, yes, I’m off shift today.” The girl clapped her hands as she spoke. “Oh, right— you’re not busy at the moment, are you, guest?”

“Mm.” Yvette replied. “How did you know?”

“You can tell from your expression and the way you walk,” the girl said. “People weighed down with things to do and people who are relaxed and carefree walk differently. And you’re so young, yet already a gold member at Snowmist Lodge—you must be a noble lady who’s come from far away, right? For guests like that, it’s actually easier to guess their schedules.”

Yvette nodded slightly, acknowledging her reasoning, then heard the girl add, “So how about I treat you to a meal? It’ll be my way of thanking you for yesterday. Otherwise I can’t help feeling guilty about it.”

Yvette wasn’t sure whether the girl was simply repaying a favor or worried she might tell the proprietress—the middle-aged lady at the front desk—what had happened, and so wanted to buy a bit of insurance with a meal.

Still, she happened to be hungry anyway;she hadn’t even had lunch, so she didn’t turn her down.

Soon, the girl led Yvette out of the alley toward another part of town. As they walked, she said, “I’ll take you to a little local place. Don’t underestimate those shops—they may look ordinary, but the food they serve tastes every bit as good as the noble restaurants in the central district. If you ask me, those fancy places exist just to fleece out-of-towners.”

“You’re a local from Icehammer City?” Yvette asked.

“Mm-hmm, born and raised!”

“Then you must know the Snowfields pretty well, right?”

“Sure. Before I started working at Snowmist Lodge, I actually spent some time as a guide out on the Snowfields. Later, later…” At that point, a subtle expression flickered across the girl’s face.

“What happened later?”

“There was one time I was hired to take an adventurer party into the mountains. One of the male adventurers took a liking to me and tried to force himself on me. Luckily I know a bit of self-defense and didn’t let him succeed, but he just wouldn’t give up and kept pestering me. To get away from him, I ended up changing jobs altogether,” the girl said, looking a little shaken at the memory.

“That’s rough.”

“I heard that afterward he still wouldn’t give up—spent money asking around about me. I had to go stay with relatives outside the city and hide for several days.” The girl sighed helplessly. “Because of him, I don’t even dare go back to my old line of work this year. Working as a waitress at Snowmist Lodge is fine, and the owners are nice enough, but I really do make a lot less than I did as a guide.”

As they chatted, the two of them left the alley and came out into a broader street. Rows of interlocked round-timber houses lined both sides, their snow-covered roofs bristling with chimneys that puffed out curls of milky white smoke.

A faint aroma of food hung in the air. Yvette glanced around, and saw the girl point toward a not-far-off tavern built in the shape of a round hut. “We’re here, that’s the place—uh, excuse me, guest?”

It was obvious that only at this very moment did the girl realize, flustered, that she didn’t actually know the name of the short-haired, chestnut-haired girl beside her—and that she hadn’t even remembered to introduce herself.

How terribly careless of her!

“Yvette Loxivia,” Yvette said. “Just call me Yvette.”

“Oh, oh! Okay! Miss Yvette, my name is Sara. It’s so nice to meet you!” The girl—Sara—broke into a smile again, saying happily.