Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

After the two corpses left.

The church fell silent.

Mayfair remained standing there, clutching the letter in her hand. She didn't look at Wayne; her gaze was fixed on a certain point in the doorway, as if looking further into the distance through that door.

The panel popped up.

[Mayfair: After the Choice]

[Status: Calm.]

She came to Frosttown not just to live out her remaining years in peace. A necromancer, a chosen one of the gods, nestled in a border town caring for the dying—it wasn't resignation, it was waiting. She didn't know what she was waiting for: an opportunity? A benefactor? Or a reason to leave? Now the reason had arrived, and she seized it.

[Note: She does have feelings for you. But that doesn't mean she'll stay with you forever. A woman who yearns to forge her own path won't give up her future just because she likes a man. Feelings are feelings, and life is life; she knows the difference.]

[Note 2: She's thinking about something. If you die one day, she'll turn you into a zombie and use you as a sex slave. It's not a malicious curse, but serious consideration. This is how necromancers think; they view life and death differently than ordinary people. In her eyes, zombies aren't monsters, but another form of "living." And you, if you become a zombie, will probably be the most beautiful one, and the only one she might use.]

[Note: The reason she's staying seven days is because she's made a decision. During these seven days, she must fully experience your magic. Not the healing kind, but the kind of feeling you might never experience again—a deep, profound feeling. She wants to remember this feeling, carry it with her on her long journey of necromancy training, and occasionally revisit it.]

Wayne finished looking at the panel and remained silent for a moment.

Something doesn't sound right about that.

What does it mean to "take it out and savor it"?

Is his magic some kind of local specialty?

The kind that can be packed up and taken away?

Suddenly Wayne came to his senses.

Could it be some kind of in-depth exchange?!

He turned off the panel and turned to look at Mayfair.

She was still standing there, her face beneath the headscarf softer than usual, with a faint curve at the corners of her mouth—not a smile, but a relaxed expression of having "figured something out."

There were only the two of them left in the church.

Mayfair spoke.

"Mr. Wayne, don't you have anything to say to me?"

"have."

"What?"

"I'm very happy."

Mayfair paused for a moment.

"Happy?"

"Yes," Wayne said, "you've found your way."

"...You won't blame me for leaving like this?" Mayfair's voice softened. "The church is just starting to get better, and we're already short-staffed. If I leave..."

"No, I don't blame you," Wayne interrupted her. "On the contrary, joining the necromancerism cult must have been a great help to you."

Mayfair nodded.

"Hmm. The Necromancer's Cult has systematic training methods, scriptures, and the experience of its predecessors. I've been figuring things out on my own for so many years, and reaching the late stage of the second tier is already my limit. If I had proper guidance..."

She paused.

"I think I can go further."

Wayne didn't respond.

Mayfair's fingers twisted inside her sleeve.

"Mr. Wayne."

"Um."

"For the next seven days... could I ask you for a favor?"

"What kind of help?"

"Help me clear the death energy from my body." Her voice was soft, with a slight tremor at the end. "You know my current state. The death energy has been suppressed for too long. Although it doesn't affect my combat ability, but..."

She didn't finish speaking.

Wayne looked at her.

"But what?"

Mayfair's ear tips began to turn red, burning inch by inch upwards from her earlobes, as if someone were slowly drawing on her skin with a fine brush.

"But...it will affect perception," she said.

"What kind of perception?"

"The perception of...the grace of the goddess."

Wayne was silent for a moment.

What a wonderful "perception of Goddess's grace".

This excuse is far more sophisticated than Wendy's "chest tightness." Wendy's is a clear, direct hit; anyone can see it. Mayfair's excuse, however, is wrapped in three layers of cloth and padded with two layers of cotton. It doesn't hurt or itch when it hits you, but by the time you realize it, you've already been hit several times.

"Okay," Wayne said.

"Then... now?" Mayfair looked up, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment before shifting away.

"Now."

Wayne turned and walked down the corridor, with Mayfair following behind him. The corridor wasn't long, but Mayfair walked slower than usual.

The panel popped up.

[Mayfair - Treatment Application]

Current status: Tense.

[Note: She did indeed want to clear away the death energy, which had been suppressed for so many years and was indeed affecting her perception. But the fact that she chose this time to bring it up, when no one else was in the church, and with only seven days left before her departure... that's more than just a fact.]

[Note 2: The truth is, she needed to cleanse herself of the death aura. Her excuse was that she wanted to experience that feeling one last time before leaving. Not out of greed, not out of reluctance, but… to record it. Yes, to record it. She wanted to etch that feeling into her bones, carry it with her, and take it with her to the necromancer sect. The path of the undead is long and cold; she needed something warm to hold close to her heart.]

[Additionally: She decided that this time she would truly experience it. Unlike before, when she passively accepted things, she would actively try to understand and experience it, ideally gaining a deeper understanding.]

Wayne pushed open the door to the treatment room.

The room was still the same room, the bed was still the same bed, the medicine bottles on the table were still the same few medicine bottles, and the dried herbs on the windowsill were still the same pot of dried herbs.

Mayfair stood by the bed, hesitated for a moment, took off her shoes, and lay down on the bed. Her movements were much slower than Wendy's, not out of nervousness, but out of seriousness, as if she were performing a ritual.

Wayne sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Are you ready to lie down?"

"Um."

"Let's begin then."

The elements begin to operate.

……

The treatment was completed ten minutes later.

The door to the treatment room was closed.

Mayfair left in a bit of a hurry.

It wasn't the kind of hasty escape, but the kind of hasty rush where "if I don't leave now, I won't be able to leave at all." She had her shoes on the wrong feet, the left shoe on her right, the right shoe empty, without noticing. Her headscarf was askew, a small section of hair peeking out, and she hadn't had time to tuck it back in.

The footsteps in the corridor grew fainter and fainter.

Wayne sat on the edge of the bed and glanced down.

The wool felt is nice, but it has too many elements.

"Ugh."

He stood up, tore off the sheet, crumpled it up, and threw it into the basin in the corner. He'd wash it tomorrow; Vera must be tired today.

The panel popped up.

[Mayfair Treatment Report]

[Treatment duration: 10 minutes. Cleansing will take approximately 3 minutes, with the remaining 7 minutes dedicated to gaining a deeper understanding of "God's grace," which is what she is expected to do as a nun.]

[P.S.: She's currently kneeling in her room, praying again, saying, "Thank you, Goddess, for giving me this precious experience." She's praying very earnestly, but her knees aren't on the floor; they're on a pillow. That way, it won't hurt her knees...]