Chapter 18
Chapter 18: Reward Time
Funisi pushed open the wood-framed glass door, copper bells chiming softly behind her.
The first floor of this “Inn of the Blackwater River and Black Cat” wasn’t spacious. The maple wood floor was waxed, leather sofas were placed along one wall, and the fireplace added warmth to the interior.
Behind the wooden front desk, a brown-curled woman wrapped in a blanket was wearing gold-framed glasses and reading some material with her head down. She seemed very absorbed and didn’t immediately notice Funisi entering.
“Good evening, madam.” Funisi greeted politely and reservedly.
The woman slowly raised her head, pushing her glasses and craning her neck to squint toward the door.
Funisi had just removed her cloak’s hood, and her smooth silver hair cascaded down like a falling galaxy. Her transparent horns reflected brilliant light, making the small room suddenly sparkle with glittering radiance.
“Wow, if I didn’t look carefully, I’d think a little diamond walked in.” The woman laughed. She flipped her reading material closed. “Now it seems Cesya wasn’t exaggerating—you’re much more beautiful than she described.”
“Eh?” Being praised by a stranger made Funisi a bit uncomfortable. She couldn’t help pulling her cloak ties tighter. “You know Miss Witch?”
“Miss Witch… what a cute way to address her. That old woman must be delighted to hear you call her that.” The brown-curled woman covered her mouth and laughed. She threw off her blanket and came out from behind the counter. “Little diamond, what’s your name?”
Funisi felt something was strange.
When Cesya had told her to come and identify herself as being from the Black Rose Society, but judging from the current situation, this lady obviously knew Cesya well. Cesya must have also spoken with this lady and informed her in advance that Funisi would be coming to the inn soon, but why hadn’t Cesya told this lady her name?
Overthinking wasn’t a good habit, and Funisi felt she didn’t need to get hung up on such a small matter.
“My name is Funisi, madam.” She curtsied slightly and answered softly.
“Mm, Funisi, a very nice name, like a gentle, intellectual young lady.” The woman bent down to examine her. “But carrying thorns all over. Is Cesya planning to raise a rose that draws blood from anyone who touches it?”
This woman’s gaze seemed gentle and lazy, but was actually sharp and quite perceptive.
She could see the ammunition pouches and needle bags hidden under Funisi’s sleeves, the revolver and short rapier beneath her skirt. The noble, elegant appearance was always just the girl’s disguise—Funisi had received assassin training.
“Well then, a little white rose, a little diamond… Funisi, I’ll remember that name.” The woman took out a string of keys from her dress pocket and handed them to Funisi. “Second floor, end of the hallway. Don’t make too much of a mess of the room, and remember to close the windows and lock the door before sleeping.”
“Yes, madam. Thank you very much.” Funisi accepted the keys and nodded.
Just as she was about to go upstairs, Funisi suddenly remembered something.
“Madam, I haven’t asked your name yet.” She stepped back a few paces and poked her head toward the counter area to inquire.
The brown-curled woman had just sat down and was opening what looked like a thick, heavy leather-bound book.
From Funisi’s angle, she could just see the content on the pages—wildly styled yet masterful still-life sketches and large sections of text annotations. It was an alchemy substance compendium.
The woman looked toward Funisi with a meaningful smile.
“Sandina.” She said.
…
Witch Sandina.
Funisi remembered this name from when she was still Sera Fred.
She had also had a mentor at the Temperance Court—a man named Conrad who taught Sera everything about being an enforcer, but who died at a witch’s hands one night.
Funisi remembered that name: Witch Sandina. She was the one who killed Conrad.
Funisi would never forget holding that blood-stained key with trembling hands to open her former mentor’s door, and seeing young Charlotte in the doorway, lost and hoping for her birth father’s return but only finding her equally lost self.
That night was a nightmare for both her and Charlotte.
It was also why she was willing to adopt and raise Charlotte.
The floorboards creaked underfoot.
This pulled Funisi’s wandering thoughts back to the present.
She was now also holding a key, at the end of the hallway, just a light push away from the keyhole.
Her chest felt tight.
Only then did Funisi realize she had forgotten to breathe for a long time. After taking a deep breath, her tense body finally relaxed.
This really wasn’t the time to think about these things. Even if she wanted revenge, it wasn’t now, and she didn’t have the ability for revenge. She didn’t even have any clues about her adopted daughter Charlotte’s current situation…
The most important thing right now was still collecting all the potion materials.
Funisi had to concentrate.
She opened the door.
The sheets were snow-white and clean, beige curtains half-open, birch wood table and chairs painted in natural wood tones, a coat rack, a full-length mirror—a quite plain, unremarkable guest room, neither shabby nor luxurious.
It was quite suitable for this location.
After all, the Blackwater River District wouldn’t have many wealthy people staying, but workers could still afford three Corenzo silver coins for a night’s lodging.
Strangely, Funisi didn’t find Cesya in the room, nor did she find any traces of anyone else having been there—there wasn’t a speck of mud on the floor, the furniture hadn’t been moved, and not a single wrinkle could be seen on the fluffy sheet surface.
Funisi had reason to believe she was the first guest to enter this room recently.
She had thought Cesya would book only one room and then force her to play the role of a soft pillow for the entire night, but now it seemed truly surprising to Funisi.
“If she’s not here, does that mean…”
Looking around suspiciously, after confirming there was no possibility of anyone hiding in the corners or under the bed, Funisi breathed a sigh of relief with satisfaction.
Having endured for so long, it was rare to be alone in a relatively private space, and there happened to be such a clean, bright full-length mirror—it was absolutely perfect!
She was in a good mood.
Funisi hummed a tune and began removing her clothing as she walked into the room.
First the outer cloak stained with smoke and ash.
Then the various troublesome weapons and equipment.
She lifted her skirt and casually removed the leather holsters containing the revolver and short rapier from near the lace stocking edges at her thigh roots, then untied the leather straps bound around her forearms under her puffy sleeves. Ammunition pouches and needle bags clattered to the floor.
Then this luxurious Gothic dress.
Lightly holding a corner of the ribbon in her mouth, she untied the butterfly bow-shaped corset ties, then undid the ties at her back and waist. Porcelain-white Funisi bounced out of the snowy fabric like an elf.
The tight corset that couldn’t contain anything and could only tightly bind her waist—casually undone.
Fell to the floor.
The light-colored hair ribbon—casually undone.
Also fell to the floor.
As silver bells jingled, Funisi walked and undressed all the way. By the time she reached the mirror, only one final barrier remained on her beautiful, tender body.
Humming her tune.
She was about to untie that thin side tie.
But in the mirror, she saw a familiar black figure—the figure sitting on the bed edge, smiling at her through the mirror with ill intent.
“Mm!?”
The window that had been closed not long ago was now half-open, and wind gently flowed in, making her back feel chilly.
Funisi’s heart also felt chilly.