CH757 · Rewrite
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Chapter 757: Sharon


Wendy walked into the hospital with a dinner box in hand.

Near the entrance, she found Nana’s father—Viscount Tigui Pine—deep in conversation with a man and a woman. The couple bowed repeatedly, then bent their knees as if to kneel; Tigui stopped them each time, and the exchange went on for some minutes before they finally bowed once more and left reluctantly.

“Who were they?” Wendy asked as they went out.

Tigui shrugged. “The new witch’s parents. They were worried about leaving her alone in the hospital and asked whether they could take her home. The moment I told them it was the king’s wish for her to stay, they changed completely—expressed nothing but gratitude.” There was a faint edge of disappointment in the last sentence, and something that was also unmistakably pride.

Wendy couldn’t help smiling. “You think every parent is like you—willing to break into a lord’s castle for their child.”

She knew exactly why he was disappointed. He believed that parents should never hand their children over to anyone, even on a king’s orders. When Nana awakened, Tigui had walked straight to Roland’s castle without a letter of introduction. Fortunately, the prince had never intended Nana any harm, and that act of desperation had become something of a fond legend. Had he walked into Duke Ryan’s castle instead, or any other great noble’s in the Western Region, the story would have ended very differently.

Wendy hadn’t been in Border Town when it happened, but she had heard it from Nightingale, more than once.

“At least they’re far better than Summer’s parents,” Wendy said, and sighed.

Summer’s parents had sent her to the castle the day she awakened—in exchange for one gold royal. They had treated her like a servant delivered to a new master, warning her not to refuse any of the king’s requests. If not for the money, they might not have let her go at all. Since then, Summer had stopped going home as often as before; the Witch Building had become what her birth family never quite managed to be.

She was lucky, as witches went. As a daughter, she had been surrendered.

Tigui nodded slowly. “Yes. One of them works in the Furnace Area, the other is a handyman on the construction team. They had no idea what happened until their shift ended, and the moment they heard, they came straight here without stopping for dinner. I can read a parent’s face. They care about the girl.”

“It sounds like I was right to bring the dinner box,” Wendy said warmly. “Will you take me to Sharon?”

He touched his beard. “Of course. Follow me.”


After its recent expansion, the hospital had an inpatient ward now—though it was rarely full. Nana and Lily could treat most patients in Neverwinter within a short sitting; the usual practice was a brief stay in the hall until the cure took hold. For Sharon, Roland had arranged something different. He wasn’t certain how all the new arrivals to Neverwinter—people drawn from every corner of Graycastle—would feel about a witch moving back among them. Better to keep her here for now, where she was safe.

Tigui gently pushed open the door to the recovery ward and waved to Nana, who was sitting beside the bed. “Dinnertime. You can talk to your friend later.”

Nana looked up, startled. “She isn’t eating with us?” Then she saw Wendy. “Sister Wendy—you came too!”

Wendy patted the dinner box. “I brought her dinner.”

“Oh.” Nana said goodbye to Sharon and left with her father.

Wendy walked to the bedside and set the dinner box on the cupboard. She turned to find Sharon already watching her—curious, wide-eyed, unafraid. The girl had a childish face, short rosy hair, a shade Wendy had rarely seen in Graycastle. It reminded her of a rosebud. The awakening had already begun to work its changes; she could imagine, easily, how striking the girl would look once she entered adulthood.

“How do you feel,” Wendy asked, “about being a witch?”

“I felt something get into my body.” Sharon pursed her lips. “Miss Nana told me that was the magic power.” A pause. “Are you a witch too? Does it always hurt the first time?”

The second question had a broader meaning—but Wendy knew which meaning the girl intended. “Yes, I’m a witch. You can call me Wendy. As for your second question: it isn’t quite like that. Once you learn to use the magic power, it will become part of you—like your arms and legs.” She opened the iron dinner box and began laying the food out on the cupboard.

Sharon swallowed hard. Then her stomach made a sound she clearly could not prevent.

Her face flooded scarlet.

“Are you hungry?” Wendy smiled and set a bowl of Bird Beak Mushroom soup in front of her without delay.

Pale yellow broth, scallions floating on the surface, a sheen of oil shimmering in the firelight. It smelled of meat in a way that distinguished it sharply from any vegetable soup, and the smell filled the small room immediately.

Wendy had learned this from Roland—always welcome someone new with good food. She had watched him do it at every banquet for every witch who arrived at the castle, and she understood now why it worked so well.

Sharon nodded vigorously.

“Drink some soup to warm your stomach before anything else.”

The girl ate as if she were afraid the food might disappear—which made Wendy feel hungry herself, just watching.

“Where is your friend?” Wendy asked, once the edge had come off the hunger. “Did she go home?”

“Probably,” Sharon said between bites. “She might not fully trust me. I’m from the Southern Territory, same as the students who were bullying her.”

Wendy stared. “You’re from the Southern Territory?”

“Yes.” Sharon stuffed a piece of Bird Beak Mushroom into her mouth. “Mapleflower Town—a small town near Eagle City. It’s uninhabitable now.”

“I assumed you were from the east. I thought that was why you defended her.”

Sharon blinked. “I shouldn’t help her because we’re from different regions?” She said it plainly, without heat, as if the conclusion genuinely puzzled her. “The nobles’ disputes have nothing to do with her. Those students just wanted an excuse to bully someone. Wrong is wrong, wherever you come from. If I didn’t stand up, no one would correct it.”

Wendy was quiet for a moment.

Your Majesty, you were worried for nothing. This girl doesn’t need comforting. She doesn’t need to be guided toward right thinking, or told that witches belong here, or reassured that no one will come for her in the night.

She already knows what she’s decided—and she decided before anyone told her it was allowed.

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