Mystery: The Witch of Desire

With a hiss, the smell of burning filled the air instantly. Old Fitch let out a shrill scream, his body twisting violently, his eyes filled with extreme pain, and cold sweat instantly beaded on his forehead.

Just then, Livre clearly felt that the witch's potion in her body was beginning to digest. Clearly, she had instilled fear in old Fitch with her evil core, in accordance with the rules of the witch's role.

Even so, old Fitch gritted his teeth and refused to reveal a single word.

Chapter 120 The Final Sacrifice

Just as Livre was about to press him further, old Fitch suddenly revealed an expression of extreme pain. The black marks that had been hidden on his body surfaced and quickly spread throughout his entire body. He let out a beast-like roar, his face contorted in agony, and a dense, eerie aura surrounded him. His body gradually lost its vitality, and finally collapsed limply, completely lifeless.

Livre was startled and looked down at old Fitch's corpse. His body was covered with black marks, just like Isabella and Carloti's deaths, except that he did not have the torture wounds on his body.

Did he commit suicide, or was he killed remotely?

The thought instantly flooded her mind, and Livre immediately looked around warily, her spiritual vision fully activated, but she did not detect the presence of any other extraordinary beings.

She recalled the divination she had received that evening: "Following old Fitch will be dangerous, but not too dangerous," which put her mind at ease.

It has to be said that tonight's divination was quite accurate; old Fitch was indeed dead, although the manner of his death was somewhat different from what she had imagined.

With time running out, Livre quickly took out a mirror and used mirror magic to communicate with spirits.

She took out a dagger, cut her palm, and smeared the blood on the mirror.

Then, the mirror was pointed at old Fitch's corpse.

A chilling aura instantly enveloped the surroundings, and the mirror seemed to open a deep passage, exerting some kind of force on the corpse.

Under this power, a transparent, dark spirit rose from the corpse, looking exactly like old Fitch, and stared indifferently at Livre.

Time was limited for the psychic session, so Livre quickly asked:

What were you about to do to Lucy?

Old Fitch's spirit trembled slightly and said haltingly:

"curse……"

"Did you kill Isabella and Carlotty? Why did you kill them?"

Livre pressed for an answer.

"To create...to generate fear...to prepare...for the theatrical release..." Old

Fitch's spirit trembled again, his tone stiff, each word sounding exceptionally difficult.

Livre's heart sank, and she asked again:

"If all the actors are dead, how can this play be performed?"

"They...are the sacrifices...we...are the actors..."

Old Fitch's voice was hoarse and weak, yet it carried a strange fervor.

Livre was startled, a wave of emotion washing over her, and she quickly pressed for an answer:

"Then why wasn't Marilyn Monroe cursed?"

Old Fitch's spirit was gradually fading away, and he spoke in a faint voice:

"Marilyn Monroe... was... the final sacrifice..."

The final sacrifice? Livre's heart tightened, a chill running through her head. She then asked:

"Bright and Luna Bell are your accomplices?"

Old Fitch's spirit nodded with difficulty.

"Who else are your accomplices? What is the real purpose of this play?"

Livre hurriedly pressed for an answer, but just then, old Fitch's spirit suddenly became transparent, opened its mouth but could not make a sound, and finally turned into specks of light and completely dissipated into the air.

As the spirit dissipated, a dark red substance slowly emerged from his corpse.

"The extraordinary characteristics of an assassin..."

Liviel immediately stored away her extraordinary ability, then black flames ignited at her fingertips, burning old Fitch's corpse completely, leaving not a trace.

Her gaze fell on the lute beside her, a hint of hesitation in her eyes. The Assassin's Path didn't possess the ability to directly curse others; Old Fitch had clearly cast the curse through this lute, making it a magical item. However, she couldn't determine if the lute bore any tracking marks. Taking it rashly might attract the attention of Luna Bell and Bright.

After a moment's thought, Livre put away her lute, then rushed to the street, flagged down a horse-drawn carriage, paid double the fare, and headed towards the Brave Ones' Bar.

When we arrived at the Brave Ones Bar, it was already past midnight. The drunks were staggering around, and only the bartender was still keeping watch, barely keeping his eyes open.

Livre headed straight for the second floor, but was stopped by the bartender:

"You're looking for Redbeard? He's already asleep."

Livre silently activated the Instigator's ability:

"Then drag him up. You must let me see him."

The bartender was taken aback, influenced by the instigator's power, and subconsciously said:

"He's in the inner room on the second floor."

Liviel said no more, rushed to the door of the second-floor inner room, and twisted the doorknob hard; it was locked. She then ran to the window and began pounding on it frantically, the sounds urgent and loud.

"Mr. Redbeard, wake up! I need to speak to you urgently!"

A short while later, the window was suddenly pulled open, and the muzzle of a double-barreled shotgun was instantly thrust out. Redbeard, dressed in pajamas, stood behind the curtains, his hair disheveled, his eyes filled with astonishment.

Without a word, Liviel leaped through the window and entered the house, tossing the lute and her hidden extraordinary ability in front of him, her tone crisp:

"Name your price. I'll sell these two items to you."

Redbeard was about to unleash a torrent of curses, but when he saw the extraordinary energy emanating from the object and glanced at the strangely shaped lute, the angry words he was about to utter instantly vanished. A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes as he examined it closely.

"I can't accurately determine the value of these two items," Redbeard said slowly after examining them for a long time. "I'll have my boss appraise them, and he'll give a reasonable price."

Livre nodded, her tone firm:

“Sure, but you need to give me some money first. Both of these items are quite valuable. The dark red thing is an extraordinary property of the Assassin’s Path, worth at least 150 pounds; this lute is a magical item that can cast curses, and its value is no less than an extraordinary property of Sequence 8.”

Redbeard hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Although he was not an extraordinary being, he had been in the extraordinary being circle for many years and had extensive experience. He could naturally see that what Livre said was true.

He took out 50 pounds from the drawer and handed it to Livre, but after Livre pleaded with him, he reluctantly increased it to 100 pounds.

Livre took the money, carefully put it away, and a smile instantly appeared on her face. Adopting a ladylike demeanor, she gave a slight bow, her tone elegant and brisk:

"Thank you, and sweet dreams, Mr. Redbeard."

"I have no good dreams anymore!"

Redbeard said angrily.

Livre smiled, turned around, climbed out the window, and quickly returned to 27 Minsk Street.

After returning home, she took out the mirror again to perform a divination, and only breathed a sigh of relief after confirming that she was not being followed and was not in any potential danger.

After a quick wash, she lay in bed, repeatedly recalling the old Fitch spirit's answer in her mind.

"Everyone is a sacrifice, including me, except I'm the final sacrifice...they're the actors..."

Livre murmured softly, her mind filled with doubt.

"What does this mean? Does it mean that all of this, from the creation of 'The Witch Trials' to Isabella's murder, Fors's arrest, Carlotty's tragic death, and old Fitch's destruction, was a 'drama' carefully orchestrated by Luna Bell? And that she was the real protagonist, playing the witch, in this drama?"

"Do we all exist only to feel fear and become food for her to digest the witch's potions?"

Amidst her chaotic thoughts, Livr fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Livre composed herself, pretending to know nothing, and arrived at the Paria Theatre Company on time. When she saw Lucy there, she instantly breathed a sigh of relief, genuinely happy that she was still alive, though she wondered how much longer Lucy would live.

Soon after, Bright arrived, but his face no longer held its usual calm; instead, it was filled with deep gloom.

He had Lucy taken in and questioned, but Lucy knew nothing and obviously wouldn't say anything useful.

Livre felt a sense of triumph at having thwarted the enemy's plot. While Isabella died, Fors was taken away, and Carlotty was killed, Bright remained calm. Now that old Fitch was dead, he finally revealed his weakness. Clearly, old Fitch's death had a significant impact on his and Luna Bell's plans.

During their break, Lucy and Livre went to a restaurant for a meal. Lucy cautiously said:

“Miss Monroe, I feel that the atmosphere in the troupe has been strange lately, and there are fewer and fewer of us. Not to mention Ms. Isabella and Mr. Coleman, even old Fitch and Carlotty have disappeared.”

Livre pondered for a moment, then whispered:

"Lucy, leave this theater troupe."

Lucy was taken aback and asked in confusion:

"why?"

Livre said:

"Don't you feel there's something wrong with the atmosphere in Paria? Then leave, move away from the Bridge District, go to a new place, and continue your acting dream."

After a moment of contemplation, Lucy said:

“But I don’t want to leave Paria. Mr. Bright said that this play is our dream.”

Livre knew that Bright's instigation had left an ideological imprint on the troupe, so she immediately and subtly activated her instigator abilities, her tone gentle yet incredibly persuasive:

“Lucy, you can actually achieve your dreams anywhere. When Mr. Bright talks about ‘dreams,’ he is just using a general term. What he really wants us to have is the courage and determination to pursue our dreams. Even if you leave Paria, you can still find your own stage and realize your dreams.”

Livre's words seeped into Lucy's heart, dispelling the obsession brought on by Bright, and a light instantly shone in Lucy's eyes:

"Okay, then I'll go to Mr. Bright's office this afternoon to resign, and then go find a place that's really right for me."

Livre shook her head slightly, her voice lowering:

"Don't quit your job. After get off work in the evening, pack your things and leave. Find a new place to move to, and don't let anyone know where you're going."

As she spoke, she took a five-pound note from her pocket and gently placed it into Lucy's hand:

"Take this money and rent a new house. Make sure it's far away from your old home and from Paria. Don't have any contact with the people in the troupe for the time being."

Lucy clutched the banknotes tightly, nodded vigorously, and her eyes were full of gratitude.

As night fell, after get off work, Lucy, following Livre's instructions, quietly packed her belongings and left the Paria Theatre Company without attracting anyone's attention.

Livre had been secretly watching Bright's movements. She saw that he had locked himself in his office since the afternoon, with the door tightly shut, and had not come out since.

Finding herself unable to gather any information, Livre left Paria and returned to 27 Minsk Street. As she reached the door, she happened to see Mrs. Waffle taking a stroll in the small garden.

"Hello, Miss Marilyn Monroe."

Mrs. Waffle smiled gently and spoke softly.

Livr stopped and responded with a smile:

"Hello, Mrs. Waffle."

Mrs. Waffle walked slowly forward, exchanged a few pleasantries with Livre, and said with a slight smile:

"My husband isn't home today, and the house feels a bit lonely. Miss Monroe, would you like to have a cup of tea and a chat with me?"

Livre already felt some sympathy for Mrs. Waffle. She was so gentle, virtuous, beautiful, and intelligent, yet she had to endure her husband's betrayal and was kept in the dark. It was truly heartbreaking.

Furthermore, having been exhausted by the troupe's recent intrigue, she genuinely wanted to relax with someone, so she readily agreed.

"Okay, thank you, Mrs. Waffle."

Mrs. Waffle smiled and stepped aside to lead Livr into her living room. The living room was elegantly and warmly furnished, with a faint scent of lilies in the air. After a short while, a maid brought in a pot of warm black tea and a plate of delicate pastries, placed them respectfully, and then withdrew.

"Miss Monroe, please try this. This is an almond pastry that I had my maid make especially for me, along with some freshly brewed Kanai black tea. It has a very rich and mellow flavor."

Mrs. Waffle enthusiastically recommended the product, her eyes full of tenderness.

Livre picked up an almond pastry, took a small bite, and found the outer crust crisp and the inside soft and chewy, with an excellent texture. She then picked up her black tea and took a sip. The warm tea slid down her throat, dispelling her fatigue and allowing her tense nerves to relax slightly.

Mrs. Waffle watched her quietly as she sipped her tea, her eyes filled with tenderness.

She was born with a gentle and beautiful appearance. Her fair and delicate skin, paired with an elegant beige dress, exuded an innate soft temperament, and her every move revealed a mature and intellectual charm.

However, there was a strange look in her eyes, which made the emotionally sensitive Liviel feel a little strange.

After Livre put down her teacup, Mrs. Waffle chatted with her casually, her tone full of concern.

Livre responded politely to each question, trying her best to maintain the proper decorum between a tenant and a landlady.

After the conversation began, Mrs. Waffle's eyes glazed over for a moment, but then she changed the subject, her tone tinged with confusion and melancholy, and asked softly:

"Ms. Marilyn Monroe, what role do we women play in marriage?"

Livre nearly choked. Looking at Mrs. Waffle's wistful eyes, she couldn't help but wonder if she had discovered Mr. Waffle's infidelity.

She tentatively began to speak:

“I’m not married, so I don’t know much about it, but I think women should play a protective and supportive role, and be a good backing for their husbands.”