Witch, Fireball and Steam Evil God

Chapter 341 The Golden Retriever's Attack

Meanwhile, on the other side.

In the large room, Ivy was extremely anxious. She could tell that the lady was angry, so angry that she was gritting her teeth and her legs were trembling. The way she took a deep breath stirred up her deepest and most terrifying memories—the signs that her aunt used to tell her before she was about to be spanked on the bed when she was a child.

This unlucky kid!

Ivy also sensed this meaning in the eyes of the noblewoman.

The reason why the atmosphere in the room became so tense left Ivy both amused and exasperated; the unexpected turn of events had finally occurred.

She could tell that the lady was a fashion enthusiast, whose hobby was bringing her children into the house and dressing them up in all sorts of beautiful clothes. Ivy also found needles and thread in the lady's residence, and these outfits full of Gothic elements were all sewn by her own hands.

In order to see Ms. Valerie, Ivy endured humiliation and allowed the noblewoman to put a dark-colored tulle skirt on her, along with a pair of black and white stockings. This was clearly not the kind of clothing that a member of the royal family or the new prime minister should wear. If her aunt saw this, she would definitely grab her ear and ask her through gritted teeth if she wanted to work at the Imperial Drama Theatre.
Her long, golden hair was tied into pigtails with a brightly colored ribbon.

Then, an accident occurred.

The lady noticed a tuft of golden hair on her head that she couldn't comb out no matter what she did. Every time she tried to flatten it with a comb, it would stubbornly stand up again.

Ivy could clearly sense the changes in the lady's emotions. At first, she patiently repeated the combing motions, then she pressed down hard with the comb, and then she placed her entire palm on the lady's forehead, which lasted for nearly five minutes.

Then, the moment her hand left Ivy's head, the resilient golden retriever bounced its head up again.

Ivy sat upright in the chair like a doll, facing the mirror in silence, but she still heard a gasp behind her.

Normally, she would have already silenced that tuft of blond hair, but now that it had also been infected with the ghoul plague, it was like a wild horse that had been completely set free, refusing to listen to any reason. The fact that it dared to headbutt Ethan showed that her blond hair had completely turned into a bloodthirsty maniac.

It doesn't even listen to Ethan, so how could it possibly bow down to a strange woman who appeared out of nowhere?
"you……"

The lady's lips twitched several times.

This unlucky kid!

She wanted to scold Ivy, but upon closer inspection, she realized she couldn't find a reason to. After all, Ivy was now well-behaved and sensible, cooperating perfectly with her dress-up and fully satisfying her interests, embodying the image of a perfect daughter. As for that stubborn tuft of blond hair on her head...

That's beyond human control.

A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, and she finally changed her mind, asking, "Did you wash your hair last night and go to bed without drying it?"

"Blow-dried."

Ivy sighed, "It's been like this since I was a baby, you don't need to worry about it."

"How could we possibly ignore it?"

The lady raised her voice. From the first moment she saw Ivy, she made no secret of her affection for her. If she were to dress Ivy in a tutu, she would be a girl more exquisite than a porcelain doll. And indeed, things were developing in the direction she had envisioned. However, this tuft of golden hair that stood upright ruined everything.

She couldn't tolerate the unusual tuft of blond hair on her daughter's head, which looked like she hadn't dried her hair after taking a shower. It made people doubt her responsibility as a mother.

The lady steeled herself and took out a pair of scissors from the drawer.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!"

Ivy panicked a little, "We can't cut this blond hair!"

"why?"

"Because...it has been on my head for many years, and I have developed feelings for it."

She felt she had spoken without thinking and was not satisfied with the reason she had come up with on a whim, so she added, "I can wear a hat."

"The hat doesn't match your outfit."

The lady's gaze was completely drawn to the golden hair on Ivy's head, and she even completely ignored the gothic tutu she had carefully chosen for Ivy. This should have been the time for her to appreciate the work, but a tuft of golden hair was like bird droppings on an oil painting, becoming a flaw that made people ignore the whole painting.

"That……"

"Just sit still."

The lady sighed and put away the scissors. She took out more things from the drawer: hair ties and jewelry. Under Ivy's watchful gaze, she carefully dressed the tuft of golden hair in various "outer garments." Only when the hair accessories completely covered it and she was sure that they did not ruin Ivy's overall look did she finally lower her hand.

At this point, she had completely lost interest in appreciating Ivy's well-dressed appearance.

Ivy observed the noblewoman's movements through the mirror until her emotions stabilized before asking, "That follower of the God of Truth..."

"Bellamore!"

The lady called out at the top of her lungs, and soon footsteps could be heard outside the door. The one who entered was the most silent and taciturn of the children. He was thin and always expressionless. Ivy had noticed in the banquet hall that he was the only one who showed no interest whatsoever in the gourmet club Ethan had described, but he did not question or refute it. He simply stood in the crowd, coldly observing everything that was happening in the banquet hall.

And now, she heard the young ghoul's name.

Bellamor, the same surname as Duke Bellamor of Darkhearth, is sometimes referred to as "Little Bellamor" by those who want to save time.

Several years later, the son of the Duke of Belamor was also suddenly infected with the ghoul plague. He refused the help of the Witcher Guild and the Church, and instead followed the advice of a witch. He faked his son's death and actually sent his infected son to the vicinity of the post office on the "fourteenth" mentioned by the witch.

Since then, his son has disappeared, with only a few scattered clues leading the Duke of Belamore to believe that his son is still alive.

Little Bellamore maintained his expressionless face, awaiting further instructions from the noblewoman.

"Take her to the dungeon."

The lady waved her hand wearily. She had originally planned to personally guide Ivy, but the tuft of golden hair on Ivy's head had ruined her mood. Now she just wanted to stay in her room alone to calm down and think about how to deal with this stubborn opponent next time.

Little Bellamore simply nodded and walked out of the house first.

The two walked one after the other, and the castle was so quiet that only the sound of their footsteps could be heard.

As night deepened, the ghouls, having enjoyed the feast, returned to their houses, where they maintained a similar daily routine to humans.

The dungeon was well hidden. Little Bellamore led Ivy to a room that looked like a wine cellar. The wine cellar smelled of grapes and blood. He walked to the innermost huge oval wine barrel and operated it for a moment. A muffled sound came from the brick wall next to him, and a hidden door slowly appeared in front of the two of them.

Little Bellamo took a step to the left, gesturing for Ivy to go inside, though he didn't seem inclined to follow.

"The believer in that God of Truth, I, am actually—"

"You don't need to explain to me."

Little Bellamore interrupted Ivy's story, which she and Ethan had discussed in the room. Valerie was an "ingredient" who had escaped from the Gourmet Club, and they were there to handle the cleanup. Ivy had filled in many details for the story based on Valerie's experiences in the capital.

"Whatever your purpose and what you are planning with that man, you are safe for the time being."

Little Bellamore said coldly, "The Blackrev family has only one rule, which is to forbid killing among our own kind. As long as Mother still considers you as her own kind, you will be safe here."

His tone sounded very impolite, but the content didn't seem like a warning; rather, it was more like a hint... a hint on how to make good use of the Blacklev family's rules.

The lady was the head of the Blacklev family and the rule-maker; she would never break this rule in front of her children unless absolutely necessary.

"Thank you."

Little Bellamy still didn't respond; he looked away.

He seemed completely uninterested in Ivy's meeting with Valerie.

Ivy, wearing small black leather shoes, descended the ancient, moss-covered stairs, until finally a glimmer of light appeared at the end of the deep darkness.

There was only one prisoner in the dungeon, and she finally got to see the teacher she had been longing for.

Fortunately, the dungeon environment was better than she had imagined. There was a desk and a bed in the cell. When she approached, Valerie was sitting at the desk, facing a thick parchment book. The book looked quite old, with yellowed pages and wrinkles from being read countless times.

Valerie was taken aback when she saw Ivy walking towards her, but her expression changed drastically when she met Ivy's bloodshot eyes. "You—!"

"I don't have much time."

Ivy lowered her voice and tossed Valerie's letter to the capital onto the table. They couldn't say too much here. Although Little Bellamor, who had led the way, didn't seem to intend to spy on her, it was hard to say whether the noblewoman had set up surveillance spells in the dungeon.

She approached the cell, deliberately adopting a cold and distant expression. "Is there anything else you want to say?"

Ivy waited for Valerie to finish reading the letter. As a follower of the God of Truth, her teacher should immediately understand the purpose of her visit.

However, Valerie's reaction was completely unexpected.

It wasn't a message of reunion after a long separation, nor was it filled with any joy. Ivy clearly saw fear creeping into Valerie's eyes, and she found it hard to imagine why her teacher would show such an expression.

"Walk."

After a long silence, Valerie managed to squeeze out a sound through clenched teeth.

Then she began to gasp for breath, crumpled the letter into a ball, and tore it to shreds in a fit of rage.

"I have never written a letter."

(End of this chapter)