She Is Not a Witch

Chelsea was surprised by the young miss’s instructions, but her face remained impassive. She adjusted her glasses and replied, “This will take some time, young miss, as many of the people I trust overlap significantly with those he trusts.”

“Mm, be cautious. Ceres likely has others directing him from behind the scenes.”

“Yes, thank you for the reminder.” The head maid then withdrew.

Loranhil continued sitting on the small balcony, admiring the beautiful night view of the port city. Serene moonlight reflected on the sea’s surface, fragmenting with the waves’ undulations, creating a shimmering vista. She could even hear the distant sound of waves lapping at the shore, a soothing rhythm like a gentle lullaby.

Ceres had been Angus’s butler for nearly ten years. In his early years, he was a noble military officer in Western Wind who had seen combat. It was during Western Wind’s war against the northern barbarians—a small-scale conflict involving only some northern nobles of the kingdom. Though Western Wind won, they suffered heavy losses, exposing their weakness and losing the ability to fully suppress internal chaotic forces.

Afterward, the northern nobles completely withdrew, focusing only on their own castles and cities while neglecting outlying villages. This led to rampant banditry and the rise of mercenaries in the northern borders.

At that time, Ceres had retired from service. As he wasn’t the firstborn and had no inheritance rights, he worked as a mercenary for a while. By chance, he met Angus, who was doing business in Western Wind. The two had much in common—both born into Western Wind nobility, both unsuccessful second sons who had experienced many hardships. Later, Angus invited Ceres to be his assistant, and he gradually became the chief butler of Carithes. He was one of the people Angus trusted most in life.

It was hard to imagine such a person betraying them, but Loranhil had indeed sensed something amiss with this butler.

First, when Madam Mela opened the door and saw Ceres, she initially said “you” before correcting to “you (formal).” Mela had recognized Ceres immediately, with a hint of fear in her tone before correcting herself.

Second, when Madam Mela broke the teacup and he went to pick up the pieces, his eyes and expression weren’t as kind. He was facing away from Loranhil then, perhaps thinking the young woman couldn’t see, but in fact, Loranhil had noticed this in the reflection in Madam Mela’s eyes.

Finally, when Loranhil asked Ceres to investigate matters from ten years ago, his first reaction was to refuse. Though he phrased it as a gentle reminder, he might not have realized it was the first time he had contradicted the young woman’s instructions—behavior unbefitting an excellent butler.

After leaving Madam Mela’s residence, Loranhil asking him to investigate the past was also a test. If he didn’t know the truth, he should have inquired broadly about people and events from ten years ago, out of professional competence.

But if he already knew the truth and wanted to keep concealing it, he would deliberately avoid certain people and matters, making his actions unnatural. The points he avoided would, in turn, alert Loranhil. So no matter how he acted, he would reveal part of the truth.

Loranhil sat quietly in the wooden chair, unconsciously tapping her teacup with her fingertips. Slight ripples appeared on the amber liquid, accompanied by a faint, crisp sound.

When did I become so calculating? She suddenly wondered, feeling a bit scared and conflicted.

As people grow and experience many things, it’s hard to maintain childlike innocence and simplicity, because reality is complex, cruel, and full of contingencies.

She understood this well. In that age of information explosion, the stories a newly-adult person had seen, heard, and even experienced were unimaginable to people of this world—bizarre plots, countless characters’ scheming, all sorts of strange mysterious cases.

Perhaps outsiders couldn’t understand Ceres’s behavior, but Loranhil’s mind had already prepared twenty or so logically sound reasons and plots for him—ethical revenge, love turned to hate, ten years of lurking, and so on. To the point where she wasn’t surprised by Ceres’s oddities, but rather curious.

What kind of distortion lay in the heart of this outwardly excellent and steadfast butler?

Traveling too long on the road called life, with its magnificent scenery and ups and downs, can easily make one gradually forget the initial aspirations they set out with.

But when Loranhil found herself intuitively using such schemes, she also felt a sense of alertness. Scheming can be a temporary means and method, but relying solely on tricks can make one lose the courage to fight desperately, as well as one’s original persistence and dreams.

In the beginning, when forced by circumstances, using schemes is understandable. The weaker one is, the more one needs to learn wisdom and planning. But as one gradually grows stronger, this behavior can become internalized as a habit, always looking for shortcuts and trying to achieve efficiency beyond the norm. Seeing dull work and tasks, one doesn’t want to do them, always weighing whether something is worth doing, as if all of life can be calculated, everything a business, everything for maximum profit.

Undeniably, this is a kind of strength, but what is this strength ultimately for? Self-proclaimed cleverness, disregarding principles for the sake of profit, unknowingly forgetting one’s original intentions. When you start weighing your most precious dreams on a scale, you’ve already committed a crime against yourself.

Slowly finishing her cooled tea, Loranhil decided to stop thinking about these intrigues for now. She didn’t like speculating about others’ complex inner worlds and preferred to do something practical. So she returned to her room, closed the door, told the maids she would retire early tonight, and began refining and practicing her supernatural sequence.

No matter how many plots and schemes others might have, she would respond to ever-changing situations with constancy, breaking through all methods with sheer force. Power, after all, was the eternal truth of the world.

In her pale blue eyes, emerald-like light seemed to flicker. Loranhil’s Nature Sequence had long since stabilized, but she had been focusing on the Demon Sequence recently, and the journey hadn’t allowed her to settle down. Today, she finally found time to advance to Nature Sequence 3.

In her sea of consciousness, an emerald gem like a budding flower continuously emanated light. As the young woman concentrated, countless mana particles slowly rose from her sea of consciousness, spiraling to envelop and surround it, gradually merging into it, continuously filling and reinforcing its structure, beginning to outline new patterns and veins.

In the dark bedroom, waves of emerald light appeared on the young woman’s body. Her hair, originally dyed golden by supernatural potions, began to revert to silver, then took on a faint fluorescence, becoming a cyan color between blue and green.

The flower bouquet on the dressing table began to grow wildly under this fluorescent light. Vines and branches extended from the vase, creeping along the dressing mirror towards the ceiling.

One, two, three… more and more vines spread across the ceiling until it was completely covered, then along the walls, enveloping the wardrobe, bed, wooden chairs, and tables. These vining plants viewed Loranhil as a sun in the darkness, all leaves turning towards her. The waves of fluorescent light emanating from the young woman indeed seemed to possess some magical power, giving these plants endless energy and stimulation.

When Loranhil finished her advancement and opened her eyes, she was greeted by a scene straight out of a fairy tale.

Emerald plants filled the entire bedroom, tender green leaves quietly unfurling, flowers peeking out and blooming among the foliage. These flowers were blue, light red, and pale yellow. At the center of each blossom, the magic of the Nature Sequence manifested, emitting a soft glow in the night bedroom like small night lights, illuminating the room in a quiet, harmonious atmosphere.

Loranhil had achieved Nature Sequence 3 · Spring Flower Cultivation.