Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

Wayne was his benefactor.

If it weren't for that bottle of medicine, he would still be lying in bed, watching that bastard Kasa swagger around in front of him.

The morning he stood up three days ago.

The first thing to do is to go find Casa.

The second thing was to have Elena locked in the dungeon.

Now Casa is dead.

Only she remained.

The old bishop emerged from the reception room, walked through the corridor, descended the stone steps, and arrived at the dungeon entrance. The guard, seeing him arrive, quickly bowed and opened the iron gate.

The dungeon was very dark.

Only an oil lamp on the wall flickered, illuminating the shadow of a person huddled in the corner. Elena sat on a pile of hay, wearing the same clothes she had worn three days ago, her hair disheveled, and her face covered in ash.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up.

Upon seeing who it was, her eyes narrowed.

"Charman," her voice was hoarse, "what are you doing here?"

The old bishop stopped in front of her.

I watched her through the iron bars.

"Kasa is dead."

Elena was taken aback.

"He was hanged this morning," the old bishop continued. "Right in the square in front of the church, with hundreds of people watching. The rope was put in, the plank was pulled away, he kicked a few times, and then he stopped moving."

Elena remained silent for a moment.

"You killed him."

"right."

"Then why are you keeping me alive?" She looked up, her eyes shining brightly in the dim light. "Kill me too."

The old bishop remained silent.

Elena stared at him, her voice suddenly becoming shrill.

"Charman, can you stop being so disgusting? Kill me! Only one of us can live!"

The old bishop looked at her.

That face was still the same face, a woman in her forties with wrinkles around her eyes, but her natural beauty remained.

For three years he lay in bed, watching her and Casa toss and turn on that bed every day, watching her face contort in pain, listening to her…

Does he hate it?

He didn't actually hate anyone.

He knew it was Elena's revenge on him; after all, the former Elena had been a very innocent person. He had chosen to become a minotaur, forcing her down that path of no return.

"Elena," he said, his voice hoarse.

Elena didn't say anything.

The old bishop took a step forward and gripped the iron railing.

"I don't blame you."

Elena was taken aback.

"What...what did you say?"

The old bishop looked at her.

"Darling, I don't blame you," he said. "After all, I'm the one who led you down this path."

Elena's eyes widened.

"You're talking nonsense!"

Her voice became shrill, and she lunged forward, grabbing the iron railing as if about to crash into it.

"Charman, stop pretending to be a good guy! You forced me! I'm the one who made you become like you were before! Now you're saying you don't blame me? What makes you think you don't blame me?"

The old bishop did not hide.

He stood there, looking at the hysterical woman in front of him through the iron bars.

"Yes," he said, "I forced you."

Elena's breath hitched.

The old bishop continued, "You were young then, newly married to me, and knew nothing. I'm the one who made you like this. Everything I taught you, everything I made you do, was my fault."

Elena opened her mouth, but couldn't say a word.

"I've been paralyzed for three years," the old bishop said. "Lying in bed, unable to move or speak. Every day, watching you and Casa in front of me, I hated you, resented you, and thought of countless ways to kill you."

He paused.

"But then I figured it out."

He looked at her.

"You took care of me for three years."

Elena's eyes reddened.

"As for taking care of you? You're overthinking it. My real purpose is to make you wish you were dead..."

"If you wanted me dead, you could have done it long ago," the old bishop interrupted her. "Three years, more than a thousand days and nights. You fed me every day, bathed me, and changed my dirty clothes. When Casa came, you did things with him. After Casa left, you continued to take care of me."

Women's eyesight.

"If you wanted me dead, I wouldn't be alive today."

Elena's lips trembled. She wanted to argue, to say something, but the words wouldn't come out.

The old bishop loosened the iron bars.

"There's one more thing," he said. "As for your talk of life and death... I only have about twenty days left to live, my dear."

Elena was stunned.

"What did you say?"

The old bishop smiled.

"That medicine will only keep me alive for a month," he said. "Seven days have already passed. In about twenty days, I'll die on my own without you having to kill me."

Elena stood still, motionless.

The flickering flame of the oil lamp illuminated the expression on her face. Anger, shock, bewilderment, and something else indescribable were mixed together, making her face complex.

The old bishop looked at her.

"So, you don't need to choose."

He turned around and walked towards the dungeon entrance.

He took a few steps and then stopped.

He didn't turn around.

"You'll stay here for the next twenty days or so. Once I die, someone will let you out."

His footsteps faded into the distance.

The iron gate opened and then closed again.

……

Meanwhile, in Frost Town.

The carriage stopped in front of the town gate of Frost Town.

The city gate was open, but few people were going in or out. A few guards in worn leather armor leaned against the gate opening, lazily basking in the sun. When they saw a carriage approaching, they looked up and their eyes fell on the carriage.

The Vatican's robes are quite easy to recognize.

"Another one." One of the guards grinned.

"How much to bet?" another asked.

"Ten copper coins, for a month's bet."

"I'll bet twenty, for half a month."

"I'll bet forty that he can hold out until spring."

"Spring? Do you know how long it is until spring? More than three months! The last bishop held on for three months, and the one before that for two months. If he can hold on until spring, I'll eat this knife."

The group burst into laughter.

Wayne lifted the curtain and leaned out of the carriage.

The guards' laughter stopped.

They stared at that face, momentarily stunned.

"Uh..." The guard who spoke first scratched his head. "This... are you the new bishop?"

Wayne nodded.

"Wien".

The guards exchanged glances, their expressions somewhat subtle.

"Um... Bishop Wayne," a younger guard took half a step forward and lowered his voice, "please don't take it to heart, we were just bored and fooling around."

Wayne looked at him.

"How long have you been gambling?"

The young guard opened his mouth.

The older guard next to him chimed in, "It started when the bishop before last came." He paused, then added, "Please don't mind, that's just how this place is, everyone's just looking for some fun."

Wayne nodded.

May the gods protect all people.

He lowered the carriage curtain and sat back in the carriage.

"Let's go."

The carriage drove into the city gate.

Several guards stood still, watching the carriage disappear around the street corner.

The young guard scratched his head.

"Why isn't he angry?"

The older guard glanced at him.

"Does getting angry help?" he said.

"In this place, anyone who gets angry has long since died."

He turned around and walked into the city gate.

"Still want to gamble?"

"Of course we'll bet! We'll bet on him for three months!" Another guard chimed in. "I've changed my mind. I'll bet on three months."

"Three months? We were just betting on half a month."

"I didn't see him before. Now that I do, I think he's quite pleasing to the eye. Good-looking people must have good luck, right?"

"What kind of logic is that...?"