Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

Wayne got up very early in the morning.

He didn't wake the two sisters; he went out for a while first.

When I returned, everything was just right.

He pushed open the door, and the two girls were already awake. Ella was sitting on the edge of the bed combing her hair, her movements slow and deliberate. Emma was lying on the bed, swinging her legs, and when she saw him come out, she immediately sat up.

Good morning, Master!

Wayne nodded.

"morning."

Breakfast was still black bread and wheat porridge.

The two girls ate a little slower than yesterday. It wasn't that they weren't as hungry; they had simply learned how to "chew slowly and carefully." Emma held her bowl, taking small sips, but her eyes kept glancing at Wayne's face.

"What do you want to ask?"

Emma blinked.

"Master, what are we doing today?"

Wayne swallowed the last bite of bread.

"Waiting for someone."

"Waiting for whom?"

"The person who takes your measurements."

Emma was stunned.

Ella also looked up.

"Measure...measure the clothes?"

"You need to wear warm clothes to Frostbite," Wayne said. "What you're wearing is too big and doesn't fit."

The two girls exchanged a glance.

Emma laughed first.

"I have new clothes to wear!"

Ella smiled too, a softer smile than her sister's, but her eyes curved like two crescent moons.

They arrived before I had even finished breakfast.

It was a woman in her forties, carrying a wicker basket containing a measuring tape, scissors, a sewing kit, and several fabric patterns. She stood at the doorway and glanced inside.

"Father Wayne, I've come."

Wayne nodded.

"Please come in."

The woman walked in, her gaze falling on the two girls. She paused, then asked, "These are the two?"

"right."

The woman glanced at it again but didn't say anything. She put down the basket and took out a measuring tape from it.

"Little girl, come stand here."

Emma went over first.

Ella hesitated for a moment, then stepped over.

The woman began to take measurements. Shoulder width, chest circumference, waist circumference, sleeve length, skirt length—the measuring tape circled around her body, and after each measurement, she would call out a number and memorize it.

"These two children..." the woman suddenly spoke up halfway through the measurement, "Are they your new children, Father?"

Wayne nodded.

"Yes."

The woman did not ask any further questions.

But her gaze lingered on their faces for a while longer.

After taking the measurements, the woman put away the tape measure.

"It can be done by tomorrow morning. Two thick suits, two thin suits, and a cloak." She paused. "Winter is coming again, and I'll use the best materials for you, no extra charge."

Wayne nodded.

"This is troublesome."

The woman waved her hand.

"It's no trouble at all. Father, you've helped us so much over the years, this is nothing."

She picked up her basket and left.

Emma stood there watching her back as she walked away, and suddenly spoke.

"Master, that auntie...does she know you?"

Wayne did not answer.

Ella gently tugged at her sister's sleeve.

"Master is so amazing, he must know a lot of people."

Emma nodded, though it was unclear whether she truly understood or was just pretending. Clearly, she didn't have much of a concept of her master being the most famous priest in Audrey.

The following day, Wayne was indeed very busy.

But instead of preparing supplies, they were busy "paying off debts".

I promised those women yesterday that I could come and repent today.

The confessional in the church has been busy since the morning.

The first person to arrive was the wife of a grain merchant.

She sat across the window, her voice very low.

"Father, I have sinned."

Wayne didn't say anything.

"My...my husband went to a neighboring country on business last month and won't be back for three months. I...I've been thinking about...thinking about..."

She didn't finish speaking.

Wayne waits.

"What are you thinking about?"

The grain merchant's wife lowered her voice even further.

I miss you.

Wayne remained silent.

The grain merchant's wife continued, "I know it's a sin, I shouldn't... but I just can't control myself. Every time I pass by the church, I want to go in. Every time I see you, I... I..."

She couldn't continue.

Wayne reached through the window and placed his hand over hers.

"God's forgiveness will soothe your anxiety."

The grain merchant's wife trembled.

She closed her eyes, her expression slowly shifting from tension to relaxation, then from relaxation to something indescribable. A slight smile played on her lips, but her eyes reddened.

A few breaths later, she opened her eyes.

The blush on her face was frighteningly deep.

"Father... thank you."

She stood up, her legs a little weak, and steadied herself by holding onto the wall. Before leaving, she took a small cloth bag from her sleeve and placed it by the window.

"This is...this is flour made from the newly harvested wheat this year. Take it with you for your journey."

When Wayne opened it, he found it contained about twenty shiny Vishield coins.

Before Wayne could refuse, he had already disappeared.

The second person to arrive was the blacksmith's wife.

The third person to arrive was the sister of the city defense captain.

The fourth is the widow who runs a tavern.

The fifth one is...

One by one.

From morning to afternoon, the door to the confessional never closed. Every woman who came in looked nervous, and when she left, her face was flushed, her legs were a little weak, but her eyes were frighteningly bright.

Some left food, some left clothes, some left money, and some left nothing at all, just standing at the door for a while, glancing back before quickly leaving.

Wayne's hands covered her from morning till night.

The water element circulates repeatedly.

appease.

To comfort.

He told them to put aside those inappropriate thoughts for the time being, and what they thought after they went back was not something he could control.

As darkness fell, the confessional room finally emptied.

Wayne stood up and stretched his wrists.

As he left the confessional, the two girls were waiting for him on a bench in the hallway. Emma was asleep, leaning on her sister's shoulder. Ella, her eyes open, immediately stood up when she saw him come out.

"Owner……"

Wayne walked over.

"How long have you been waiting?"

Ella shook her head.

"Not long after."

Wayne glanced at Emma, ​​who was asleep.

"Where is she?"

Ella looked down at her sister.

She spent the whole afternoon counting heads.

When I counted to thirty-seven, I got sleepy.

Wayne's lips curled up slightly.

"Let's go."

He bent down and picked Emma up.

Emma stirred in his arms, her eyes still closed, mumbled something, and then fell asleep again. Ella followed beside her, her little hand quietly tugging at the hem of his robe.

The three people walked through the corridor and headed towards the room.

In the streets and alleys of Audrien, there was only one topic of conversation today: Father Wayne was going to Frosttown tomorrow.

The most heated discussion took place in the tavern.

Oak Barrel Tavern was the largest in Aldrian, and it was bustling with customers. All sorts of people sat around the long tables: craftsmen, vendors, porters, idlers, and a few old soldiers in worn leather armor, huddled in a corner drinking.

"Have you heard? Father Wayne is going to Frosttown."

A bald, middle-aged man spoke quite loudly.

The person next to him chimed in:

"I heard about it, I'm leaving tomorrow."

"That place is no human being. Demonic tides, wild beasts, refugees—several bishops die there every year."

"Who can argue with that? But the priest is a member of the church; if the church asks him to go, can he refuse?"

The bald man scoffed.

"The Church? When have those people in the Church ever done anything good? The good ones stay, the bad ones are banished. Father Wayne worked here for three years, he reformed so many people, he helped so much, and what was the result? He was transferred to Frosttown to die."

Someone chimed in, "Exactly. I heard the successor is the archdeacon's nephew, he's barely grown up yet."

"The archdeacon's nephew? The one who lost money at the casino?"

"It's him."

A burst of laughter erupted in the tavern.

The veteran in the corner looked up and spoke.

"You mean Father Wayne?"

Everyone looked at him.

The veteran was in his fifties, his face etched with deep wrinkles, and he was blind in one eye, the remaining cloudy eye gleaming in the candlelight.

"He was a good man," he said. "Three years ago, I was injured outside the city, and my intestines spilled out. Nobody cared about me; everyone thought I was going to die. It was him who ran out with his medicine kit, knelt beside me for half an hour, and stitched me up."

He paused, then picked up his glass and took a sip.

"Later, I went to the church to thank him, but he didn't accept any money or gifts. He just said one thing: 'Live well.'"

The tavern fell silent for a moment.

The bald man coughed lightly.

"That...that person was definitely a good person."

Another voice rang out from the corner.

"What's the use of being a good person? Don't good people still get sent to their deaths?"

The speaker was a young man in his early twenties, wearing a patched coat, his face flushed from drinking.

"My uncle was a good man back then, he helped the church so much, and what happened? The church said he was in cahoots with a witch, so he was arrested and burned at the stake. I saw him burned with my own eyes."

No one in the tavern responded.

The bald man looked around and grinned lewdly.

"Speaking of Father Wayne..."

I've heard some other things though..."