Mystery: Mr. Witch and Ms. Hunter

Chapter 97 What I want to do
"Is that why you've been living on this blanket?"

Altaïr picked up a thick book from the blanket and flipped through it.

"No, it was just for the convenience of being able to pack up and escape at any time."

Venata glanced at the book in Altaïr's hand. "That's Helmer Huynh's work on dualism. I don't think you can understand it."

"escape?"

Altaïr was stunned for a moment, then suddenly realized and did not continue asking.

"Don't ask why?"

Venata tilted her head slightly, her hair smelling faintly of pine.

"Do you still want to escape now?"

Altaïr did not answer, but simply smiled.

"That's hard to say. Maybe I will run away someday."

Vinata's voice was soft, like moonlight obscured by clouds.

"Then save the answer for when you can tell me for sure."

Altaïr took a sip from the cup. "Tsk, it's a little cold."

"...How many weeks are left?" Vinata was silent for a while and asked casually.

"How many weeks left?"

Altaïr asked back nonchalantly.

"How many weeks will it take before you can finish your potion?"

"Less than four weeks." Altaïr recalled briefly.

"Is there anything else you want to do? Before you become a witch."

"Let me think..." Altaïr lowered his head and thought.
"If everything goes well, I might be able to attend Mike's baby's full-month banquet as a man... But even if I don't make it, I can temporarily return to my original appearance. It won't take long to say goodbye to Sophie and the others. You can do it after you finish your classes. So, apart from some property transfer work that requires my personal presence, I'm afraid there's nothing I have to do."

Altaïr thought carefully before answering.

"What's wrong? Is there anything else you want to do before you leave here?"

Venata fell silent again, her lips slightly pale, not like a tenant discussing family matters, but more like a knight about to charge at a line of defense formed by high-pressure steam rifles. Just when Altaïr was about to be unable to endure this oppressive silence, Venata nodded gently.

"……Have."

"Oh? What else do you want to do..."

Just as Altaïr was about to answer, he suddenly felt his right hand being gently grasped. The hand, like a small creature seeking warmth, slipped into Altaïr's pocket and tightly grasped his rough hand.

Then, he felt that his question was blocked by some soft, fiery emotion that had solidified into a solid entity. The slightly trembling question mark at the end of the sentence was clamped by the soft emotion like a steel bar forged in a fire, and then folded into a layered vortex-like thing. A liquid with a strange smell flowed slowly and resolutely along the connection between the two people towards the vortex, making a long echo like water dripping through a stone.

At the same time, as if to prove that this connection really existed, the hand in the pocket gripped Altaïr even tighter. The fingers were long and smooth, with a strong character.

Altaïr remembered the hand. Over the twenty years it had been there, as a hunter's hand, it had touched all sorts of things, picked up and held all sorts of things, everything in its various forms, and the power it had infused into it had only grown stronger with time.

Altaïr returned the grip in silence, and it was as if he were holding the rings of a beautiful tree that had grown for more than twenty years. Then, the years seemed to melt in Altaïr's hands, mouth, and heart, blending into one, swirling. All the scenery, all the words, all the meanings accumulated over the years gathered together, forming a huge pillar in his heart, spinning around the center like a windlass.

After a long time, the two separated, and long gasps echoed in the room.

"why?"

The two took a breath, and Altaïr asked hesitantly.

"When I figure out the answer to the previous question, I'll tell you."

Venata looked into Altaïr's eyes.

"But there is one question that you must answer now."

"Do you want to continue?"

Something like a firework seemed to explode in Altaïr's mind, giving him the illusion that Vinata in front of him could turn into something like a firework at any time, rushing into the sky with a long and trembling sound of a thin wire breaking, and disappearing from his side.

The witch's spirituality borrowed through the ritual had now begun to boil, like a potion made from peppermint and moonstone. Sharp bubbles of strange shapes floated up in irregular trajectories and then exploded on the surface, emitting a scent similar to freshly mowed grass, freshly cut pine, and minty conditioner.

Altaïr hesitated only for a moment.

Then, the pile of books on the carpet that recorded the brilliant thoughts of famous anthropologists such as Lurmi and Hilarion were knocked over by the brilliance of human emotions, and the faint complaints of their owners were drowned out by the loud noise of their hard spines hitting the floor. Dualism and holism also pale in comparison to this surging emotion.

A faint breeze blew through the window lattice, blowing a corner of the carved window open, revealing a dead tree outside the window that was nurturing new life. The roots of the dead tree tentatively broke through the soil, making a sound of breaking eggshells. The sound of growth was very small, at most it sounded like someone sighing at the early winter dusk in front of the open window.

The soil greedily wrapped around the plant that had poked its head in. The plant was encouraged and quickly grew roots, causing every grain of sand it touched to tremble slightly.

Altaïr felt as if he had jumped off a Feysac airship, and he experienced an incomparable amount of time before the parachute made of the resin of the Toningsman tree behind him shook open. His body was losing control, floating down, and the process was infinitely prolonged, as if there was no bottom.

Then, he felt that he had touched something. It was like a meteor that fell directly into an underwater volcano. Instead of cooling down due to the fall, it was heated even hotter by the magma. The meteor fell into the shield volcano with a long tail, triggering a bigger eruption. They felt that their existence was melted by the magma in this eruption, and mixed into a certain material that was indistinguishable from each other.

They got to know each other.

He knew her and himself because he actually didn't know himself.

She knew him and herself, for though she had always known herself, she had never known herself as she was.

"Vinata," Altaïr called softly in Venata's ear after a long moment, his voice neither too loud nor too low, "Open your eyes."

Venata opened her eyes, and time began to flow in the world again.

"The moon is out," said Altaïr.

Brothers, I think this chapter is worth five yuan reward, what do you think?

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(End of this chapter)