Forests Don't Support Idle Goblins

Ciel had wanted to ask Agatha many times if any of her Sebastian family relatives were still alive, and why she had never mentioned it.

However, it wasn't appropriate to ask a woman this question, since she had become a witch. Asking her this question would be like rubbing salt into a wound, so Ciel always deliberately avoided the topic.

The appearance of Uncle Musa gave Charles a long-lost feeling of family, which also made Agatha lose her composure. After thinking for a moment, he understood the psychological problem the other party was experiencing.

"No, no," Agatha stammered after a few seconds of silence. She stood at the door of the stone house, her already hunched back looking even more bent.

Just as she was about to leave, Charles spoke up again: "Keeping things bottled up inside can make you sick. Since we are allies, it is our duty to help each other with our problems."

Agatha silently turned to look at the goblin at the table, while Ciel returned her an encouraging look.

The atmosphere remained eerily quiet for several seconds until Charles was about to speak again when Agatha sighed deeply. She sat back down in her chair and picked up the half gingerbread she hadn't finished eating. Charles noticed that Agatha's fingers were trembling slightly, as if the gingerbread weighed a ton.

"I wasn't really going to say this," Agatha said, holding a snack but not in a hurry to put it in her mouth. Instead, she stared blankly at the stone house wall. "But you're right, there are some things that our allies need to know."

"If, I mean if these things make you very uncomfortable, I think it's okay..." Charles said, looking at the old woman's expression across the table.

However, Agatha raised her hand and waved it, stopping the goblin from saying anything more. "No, no need. You're right, some things need to be faced."

Charles didn't say anything more, but placed his hands on the table, looking like he was listening attentively. He knew that he was better off being a listener than an advisor.

"Several times these past few days, you've made me a little jealous," Agatha said, not looking at Charles, but focusing her eyes on the half of a gingerbread in her hand. It was shaped like a little person, and even more so, like a little girl. However, she had already broken it in half and eaten the other half. "I'm sorry for thinking that way, but Charles, you have a wonderful little sister."

"Do you have a younger sister too?"

"Hmm," Agatha nodded slightly, her slender, pale fingers slowly stroking half of the gingerbread man's face, "if she can still be considered my sister, of course."

Charles frowned, not replying, but silently looking at the other person. Sure enough, what the other person said next shocked him greatly: "I think she's the one who turned me into a witch."

"Your sister? Your biological sister?"

"Yes, and she's a twin sister." Agatha gave a bitter laugh, a hint of pain showing in her purple eyes. "Isn't it melodramatic? The sister actually used a vicious curse to harm her own sister. This is even more melodramatic than those melodramatic family novels sold by booksellers."

"Why would she do this?" Charles asked.

"Jealousy," Agatha sighed. "Before I understood it, I thought it was some bad person coveting our family's bloodline, but after careful investigation, I gradually realized it was her."

"My sister, Alma Sebastian, personally placed ashes of a cursed object in my food and water, turning me into a hag."

Charles gritted his teeth. Agatha had told him that this kind of transformation curse required obtaining a part of the victim's body, such as blood, hair, or toenails, and then having the victim eat the ashes after the spell was cast for it to take effect. This was why he had been investigating his personal bodyguard, Obodo. If he could find the missing Obodo, he might be able to find out who was trying to harm him.

"What is she jealous of about you?" Charles asked.

"In many ways," Agatha stopped scraping half a gingerbread and held it in her hand, "from appearance, height, learning ability, and magical talent."

"So many?"

“I was born less than half an hour before her, but because of our birth, my mother had health problems,” Agatha said slowly. “But perhaps it wasn’t entirely our fault. After all, my mother wasn’t a member of the Twelve Bloodlines, so after giving birth to us, her health deteriorated significantly, and she passed away not long after. As a result, my father didn’t like Alma very much.”

"There's nothing we can do about it. As we grow up, I'm better than my sister in terms of looks, height, and intelligence, which leads my father to often use me to belittle her."

"And when we awaken our magical abilities, this denigration reaches an even higher level."

"And when we awaken our magical abilities, this denigration reaches an even higher level."

"A higher level?" Charles narrowed his eyes.

"You know we are descendants of the twelve bloodlines. It turns out that our ancestors' magical abilities have become much less powerful over time. For example, I only know a few bloodline spells. Although I can summon the astral hound Lupus, I am already considered one of the best among these generations of bloodline sorcerers."

Agatha pursed her lips, paused for a few seconds, and then said again, "But Alma's bloodline abilities are far weaker than mine. She can only awaken the ability to summon the Astral Serpent, not to mention that I have some magical talent and can learn arcane magic."

"After that, she was like a ghost, forgotten by the family. The only chance she would be mentioned was when I achieved something or received praise."

"Not long after that, my father also passed away because he missed my mother. We were raised by our relatives."

She reached out and gently stroked the gingerbread man, her voice filled with melancholy. "That's when I truly understood what malice meant, what it meant for others to covet your bloodline, and what it meant to discard what you don't have as soon as possible. It was then that I truly understood Alma's situation."

Agatha sighed, "Although I tried to maintain my relationship with my sister afterward and wanted to make up for the consequences of my ignorance when I was young, unfortunately, it didn't seem to work. Until we came of age, I was admitted to the Royal Grammar School with excellent grades and magical talent, while Alma could only attend a very ordinary church school."

"Shortly after we met again, I found myself waking up in the woods on the outskirts of Plantagenet," she said, squeezing the half of the gingerbread man tightly, her hand trembling slightly, yet she controlled her strength to prevent the gingerbread from breaking. "At that time, I was already a witch."