Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

After breakfast, Wayne began to prepare for his departure.

The first thing is to recruit people.

The city of Audrien was small, and news traveled quickly. Wayne had barely sat down in the side hall of the church when people arrived outside.

The first one to arrive was a nun.

There was a knock on the door.

"Father Wayne." A woman's voice came from outside the door, not young, but not old either, with a hoarseness that came from years of being deprived of sunlight, "Mayfair."

Ella and Emma both looked at Wayne.

Wayne didn't move.

"Come in."

The door opened.

A woman in a black nun's habit walked in.

She was in her early thirties, perhaps a little older, but her face didn't reveal her exact age. She was thin, with high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and pursed lips, her expression unchanging. Her hair was meticulously tucked into a headscarf, revealing skin that was almost translucent white, as if she hadn't seen the sun in many years.

She stood at the doorway and didn't go inside.

"I heard you're going to Frost Town."

Wayne looked at her.

"Yes."

Are you short-staffed?

Wayne did not answer immediately.

Sister Mayfair.

Of course he knows this person.

The "eccentric" at the Church of Audrian.

Rumor has it that she was a nun transferred from the cathedral district and had been in Odrian for five years. In those five years, she never spoke a superfluous word to anyone, never went out to preach, and never participated in group activities. She did only one thing: care for the dying.

Whether someone is dying from illness, injury, or old age, she will take care of anyone brought to her. She provides a complete service: bathing, administering medicine, chanting sutras, and even arranging a funeral.

But no one wanted to talk to her much.

It's not because I dislike her.

It's because she has a certain smell.

It doesn't smell bad.

It's the smell of death.

Spending too much time around her makes you feel cold. Not physically, but emotionally, as if something is drawing your life force away. The monks confided that she might be someone blessed by death.

Wayne looked at her.

His gaze was calm.

Two seconds later, the panel popped up.

Name: Mayfair

[Identity: Necromancer (Second Tier)]

[Actual age: 26 (looks like he's in his early thirties due to makeup)]

[Past: Ten years ago, she was the youngest candidate for sainthood in the Holy City, possessing outstanding beauty and extraordinary talent. During a purification ritual, she was cursed by the out-of-control forbidden object "Lilith's Doll," becoming a necromancer chosen by the gods. From then on, she was surrounded by an aura of death. The Holy See considered her an omen of misfortune and exiled her through various ranks, eventually ending up in Audrian.]

[Current Status: Curse Secure. Constantly uses makeup to age herself to avoid attracting attention.]

[Note: Over the past 8 years, she has personally seen 473 people pass away peacefully under her care. The spirits, grateful to her, bestowed upon her a blessing—from then on, any undead creature that sees her will instinctively feel closeness and obedience.]

[Hidden message: She wanted to go to Frostbite because there were many undead there. She felt she only deserved to be with the dead.]

After reading it, Wayne looked at Mayfair.

Mayfair stood there, quietly waiting for his reply. She didn't ask "Is it possible?" or "Why?", she just stood there, waiting for an answer that was destined to come.

five years.

She stayed in Audrey for five years, and no one ever approached her to speak, nor was anyone willing to accompany her.

She's used to it.

"Why do you want to go to Frost Town?" Wayne asked.

Mayfair's voice was hoarse and calm.

"That's where the most people die; it's suitable for me to go."

Wayne looked at her.

"Just because of that?"

Mayfair did not answer.

Ella and Emma huddled behind Wayne, secretly observing the woman. They didn't understand much about adult matters, but they could sense that this nun possessed something similar to them.

That kind of thing that no one needs.

"Sit down and talk," Wayne said, gesturing to the wooden chairs in the side hall.

Mayfair paused, then walked over and sat down.

The wooden chair made a slight creaking sound.

"Frosttown does have a lot of deaths," he said. "Demonic tides, beasts, refugees, out-of-control superhumans—there are funerals every month. If you go, you'll be very busy."

Mayfair nodded.

"I know."

"But there are more than just dead people there."

Mayfair looked at him.

“There are still living people,” Wayne said. “The living are more troublesome than the dead. They’ll be afraid of you, they’ll avoid you, they’ll talk about you behind your back. What you went through in Adrian, you’ll go through there too.”

Mayfair remained silent for a moment.

"I don't care."

Wayne nodded.

"Then you can go."

Mayfair paused for a moment.

Five years ago, she asked many people similar questions.

Could we go on missionary work together? Could we visit the sick together? Could we do something together? Every time, she was politely refused. Every time, it was, "Sister Mayfair, you should stay in the church." No one ever said, "Then you can go," and eventually, she kept quiet.

"Really?" she asked.

Wayne nodded.

"There are five spots available. Right now, there are me and these two kids. If you join us, we'll need two more. We're leaving the day after tomorrow. Meet at the church entrance in the morning."

Mayfair stood up and expressed her sincere gratitude.

"Thank you, Father Wayne, may the goddess protect you."

Mayfair had a reason to thank Wayne.

According to diocesan regulations, nuns may not leave their assigned church without permission, unless they have obtained permission from a bishop or higher, or as a formal attendant of a clergyman.

Wayne's invitation was the first opportunity in ten years for her to leave legally. It's estimated that the higher-ups of the Vatican had long forgotten that in such a small place, there was a former saint candidate who had been trapped in Audrian for ten years.

The door closed gently.

Emma leaned close to Wayne's ear and whispered something.

"Master, that nun... she's so strange."

Wayne looked at her.

"What's strange about it?"

Emma thought about it.

"She seemed very sad, but also not sad."

Ella nodded beside her.

"It's that feeling... that feeling of not wanting to think about anything anymore."

Wayne didn't say anything.

Emma continued, "But when you let her go, she seemed a little happy, but... she hid herself and didn't let us see her."

Wayne stared at the closed door.

"I guess it's because he's been suppressing his feelings for too long..."

The two girls seemed to understand but not quite.

The door rang again.

The second person to come in was a man.

He was in his forties, his face weathered, his leather armor worn and tattered, showing signs of patching in several places. He stood at the doorway, not going inside, his gaze sweeping over the three people inside before finally settling on Wayne.

"Father Wayne."

Wayne nodded.

"Please sit down."

The man walked in and sat down in the chair Mayfair had just been sitting in. He sat very upright, knees together, hands on his knees, like a soldier.

"Father Wayne, I heard you're going to Frosttown and they're short-staffed, is that right?"

Wayne remembered the man who came.

On the day his eight-year-old daughter died, he knelt at the church door all night, holding the child in his arms. Wayne came out, but it was too late; the child was already dead.

The next day was the child's funeral.

It was a mass performed by Wayne himself, and he didn't charge any money.