90: 90 He is Back

90 He is Back

Vivian's POV 0

I made my way through the bustling crowd in the hall, using magic to sense the environment and track the scent left by the gray-clothed man. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, I could faintly perceive a scent similar to my master's. But I had never heard my master mention this person. Since the day she adopted me, we have always lived alone in the dark forest. My master would occasionally leave, but she never told me where she went or what she did there.

As I pondered, my steps never ceased. I swiftly passed by the sanctuary, the hall, and the exit.

The scent left by that gray-clothed man grew fainter and fainter. My heart tightened. Could it be that he had already sensed someone following him?

Sweat started to form on my forehead, and my feet grew a bit restless. I ran all the way until I found myself stepping into the palace garden.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, you must be Alice's only disciple," a voice, elegant and charismatic, echoed as if playing a joyful piano tune under the night sky. In the moonlit night, I was almost enchanted by the voice, but when he mentioned my master's name directly, I snapped back to reality.

"Who are you?!" I shouted.

No one answered.

"What's your relationship with my master?" I furrowed my brow, yet I couldn't pinpoint the direction from which his voice came.

My guard was at its limit.

Who on earth is this person? I scanned my surroundings. The full moon hung high in the deep blue sky, casting a silver glow on the tall rooflines. The bushes and flowers beneath the eaves swayed with the wind, and the open grassland showed no trace.

I couldn't find him, not at all. I clutched my clothes tightly, almost suspecting that I had just heard a hallucination.

But I knew my nose wouldn't deceive me. The special scent of the gray-clothed man was like spoiled powdered sugar sprinkled on a black forest cake. Its faintly cool and fishy-sweet aroma filled the air.

Ah, I turned around in frustration. I searched every branch, every corner of the shrubs, and even above the eaves, but I couldn't find a trace of him.

However, that scent lingered on my nostrils like a dangling carrot in front of a stubborn donkey. That gray-clothed man did it on purpose, deliberately emitting just a hint of that scent, luring me to chase him while remaining hidden.

He was somewhere in a corner, watching my every move, perhaps even mocking that Alice's disciple could be so foolish.

I was almost infuriated by him, so I decided to step into the garden from the corridor. I stepped on the soft grass, but I remained cautious. I looked around, but that cursed gray-clothed man was hiding in a corner that eluded my sight, playing tricks on me.

"You're just hiding and too ugly to show your face, huh?"

"I've never heard my master mention your name. You must be a despicable fraud!"

"Your scent is so repulsive. I hate this smell the most!"

I couldn't find him, so I kept complaining on the grass. I impatiently wandered around the garden, but there was no reply.

"Ah."

A pinecone, seemingly coming out of nowhere, suddenly hit my head. My forehead throbbed, and the ensuing tingling sensation forced me to immediately crouch down, clutching my head.

In pain, I closed my eyes and curled up in my robe like a turtle retreating into its shell. Few people knew that witches detested the smell of pinecones. As soon as I touched a pinecone, my entire body felt uncomfortable, almost allergic. And this wretched person threw a pinecone at me!

"Alice indeed doesn't know how to teach disciples," the voice came from near and far, as if it suddenly reached my ear. I quietly opened my eyes and saw a pair of shiny black leather shoes stepping on the lush grass in front of me. Strong calves were encased in well-tailored white stockings, paired with gray trousers and a fitted gray waistcoat. A simple black belt cinched his upright figure, while a white silk handkerchief elegantly hung down, and a gray robe was draped behind him. He was dashing and handsome, like an elegant gentleman.

"What's your name?" His smiling voice made me unconsciously utter the answer.

"Vi... Vivian," I said in a daze, crouching on the ground, still holding my head, gazing up at him.

"Good girl," the gray-clothed man chuckled, covering his mouth. His fingers appeared even more slender in the moonlight, and his long silver hair cascaded down his chest, adding a touch of beauty. The gray brim of his hat covered his face, revealing only his pristine chin and blood-red lips. I could never see his eyes.

"I haven't seen your master, Alice, for a long time. I'd been asleep for too long, forgetting to pay her a visit. My old friend," the gray-clothed man sighed as he spoke. But when he mentioned the words old friend, I felt an imperceptible hint of coldness in his voice.

My master is definitely not his friend. Such a thought popped into my mind.

"Good girl, or rather, Vivian," the gray-clothed man slowly crouched down, the wide pointed brim of his hat firmly concealing his face, with only his lips beneath the high and straight bridge of his nose gradually parting.

A stench filled my nostrils. The innate intuition of a witch told me to escape. It was like a natural enemy engraved in my bloodline, just as a rabbit would feel upon encountering a soaring eagle.

Pale-faced, I stared at the gray-clothed man crouching in front of me. His red lips moved and he uttered words.

"Alice is still in the dark forest, right? Why did you come here?" he asked.

"I...," I didn't want to answer him, but my lips seemed to be out of my control. The words came out from my throat, "My master, she, she has always been in the dark forest."

Something was wrong. I'm a witch. Witches should never reveal their whereabouts. But why, why did it seem like I couldn't control myself? Sweat trickled down my forehead, and I clasped my neck with both hands, trying to suppress the words in my mouth. Veins almost popped on my throat, but it didn't work.

The gray-clothed man's gaze fell upon me. "Vivian, with your abilities, you can't stop me," he said gently, his lips forming a restrained smile.

I could clearly sense the malice and mockery in his gaze, along with his extraordinary power. Under his gaze, I practically spelled out everything he wanted to know.

"I'm helping Delia make a love potion. Previously, I helped her find a way to shift into a wolf. That's why I'm in the palace," I said, biting my lip forcefully, tasting the faint hint of blood.

"Interesting, truly interesting," the tone of the gray-clothed man changed. He was merely curious before, but now he became excited.

"Delia is the future Queen of the werewolves. Yet, she doesn't have her wolf. That's unheard of. A love potion? What is she planning? Hahaha, Vivian, true magical potions can only be made by your master. You're still too young."

The laughter of the gray-clothed man became sharper, like an owl flying through the moonlit night.

"How wonderful. I woke up and encountered so many interesting things. Vivian, you're such a good girl, no wonder you used to call me Uncle when you were little."

The gray-clothed man chuckled and patted my head. His fingers were icy cold, devoid of warmth.

Uncle? I stared at the gray-clothed man in shock as he stood up. He smiled faintly and said, "My dear Vivian, tell your master that Albert has returned."

In the blink of an eye, the gray-clothed man completely disappeared from my sight.

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