Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1424, Chapter 1420: The Story of the Hearth (Second Update)

"I don't mind," Wanda Maximov shrugged. "It's a party, the more the merrier."

"I'd also like to hear the adventures after Yamatai," Bayonetta said, raising her glass to the new guests at the party. However, one of the guests wasn't very cooperative; she didn't even notice the witch's raised glass, while the other seemed a little nervous. Laura Crawford wasn't unfamiliar with witches; after her adventures in Yamatai, she was certain of the existence of mysterious forces in this world, thus embarking on an adventure to uncover the truth behind history. After a brief period of chaos, Dinah served the two guests their drinks. The somewhat eccentric woman received a hot cocoa with roasted marshmallows, while Laura Crawford received a Macallan whiskey without ice.

But Laura Crawford felt she had smelled enough burnt stuff.

Although the Macallan whisky wasn't overly peaty, she still declined. If possible, she'd prefer a sweet, spiced wine to revive her numb fingers and lips. Diana granted her wish, immediately replacing it with the estate owner's bedtime drink. The head maid quietly carried the drowsy Milia from the sofa. The child had eaten too much at the party; she needed to wake Milia to brush her teeth and get her to bed, so she also grabbed the Cheshire cat, who was equally bloated and sprawled on the sofa.

Milia wouldn't sleep well without holding this cat.

"I heard you went to Siberia and the Amazon rainforest afterwards. If he thinks it's worth millions of dollars, that's certainly a good story." Bayonetta crossed her long, shapely legs encased in black stockings. "But I'd like to hear first how he rescued you from the library. Don't worry, this is a women's party; no one else will be there. You don't need to pretend to know a lot about wine here. This isn't one of those pretentious high-end salons in London or New York..."

"And I've also heard you have excellent taste in firearms; I can share our collection with you." Jeanne pulled a pistol from the sofa cushions. She and Bayonetta both adored the female archaeologist, especially when listening to her recount her experiences and discoveries. "Truly good guns, like fine wine, endure, like this Kimber M1911A1..."

"I prefer the HK USP."

Laura Crawford sat in a high-backed chair and began to recount a small adventure she had recently experienced.

First came the sound of footsteps.

In the silent library, even the sound of her own turning pages and breathing was as noticeable as gunshots. Humans instinctively remain quiet in dangerous environments, and aside from the sounds of moving the heavy books to the ground and carefully separating the parchment pages with a knife, Laura Crawford remained silent as she knelt reading, until she felt her own breathing and heartbeat were the only sounds in the world—she photographed many scrolls and documents, but the value of her photographs was entirely based on intuition. She realized she was past her return time; the time spent selecting books alone far exceeded three minutes—she photographed a description of angelic figures in *Studies on the Orthodox Church in the Late Byzantine Period*, and the methods and means of creating the Philosopher's Stone in *An Exploration of the Evolution of European and Arabic Alchemy in the Ninth Century*.

She didn't notice the footsteps, but she did notice her cell phone suddenly getting a signal.

Very light footsteps approached from afar, and the turbulent air currents stirred up some fine dust.

Laura Crawford turned and drew her gun, simultaneously standing up and pointing it in the direction of the sound. The sudden drop in blood flow to her brain didn't impair her movements; in the brief half-second of blackout, she instinctively ducked back between two bookshelves, concealing most of her body in shadow, her gun-grip arm still firmly in place. She had no idea what she was facing, so she still held the flare stick in her hand—the woman had told her that the most effective weapon against demons was fire. Because the origin of witchcraft was fire, and humanity's earliest interactions and rituals with nature were also through fire. When the first lightning bolt ignited a withered tree, humanity's service to nature began, and the cornerstone of human civilization was built upon that flame.

Although she couldn't understand the esoteric pronouncements, Laura Crawford, adhering to her pragmatic approach, broke all the flaming shards in two. She left one set to the woman and kept the other for herself. Regardless of the woman's claims of being a witch with the power to communicate with animals and even inanimate objects, Laura Crawford wasn't comfortable leaving her alone. Whether the woman would set the entire library ablaze after receiving the flaming shards was no longer Laura Crawford's concern.

The cold air burned her lungs, and she felt her fingers lose all sensation; the trigger she should have pulled became slow and heavy. This was the consequence of ceasing movement; heat from her core no longer flowed to her limbs, her heat management was failing, and worse, Laura Crawford only then realized that her stiff fingers were still tightly entangled with a piece of bright red yarn that she should have hidden—the ball of yarn that had led her to the maze, now serving as a guide to potential enemies. She hurriedly yanked the tangled yarn off her fingers and crouched low, stealthily moving into the shadows. Now that the yarn had pointed her to the enemy, all she needed to do was find a suitable ambush spot.

Although she hadn't received professional indoor special operations training, her excellent physical condition, comparable to an Olympic gymnast, and quick reflexes allowed her to make the right choices and save her life during her adventurous career. However, she ultimately lacked formal combat training, causing her to forget some crucial factors.

"What?"

"Wanda Maximoff asked. She had read Laura Crawford's file and witnessed her valiant fight against Trinity mercenaries in the Amazon rainforest. She couldn't imagine what mistakes someone capable of going up against professional soldiers could possibly make when faced with a trap that the enemy was bound to fall for."

"I don't know how many irrelevant corners the library has, nor do I know how many things lurk in the shadows." Laura Crawford's tone had the feel of telling a horror story, especially with everyone huddled around the fireplace, wrapped in blankets, slowly enjoying their drinks. A powerful twist and a jump scar were absolutely perfect for a party. "This was a hunt, and the roles of hunter and prey don't last forever. I fell into a trap originally set for the enemy."

"What do you mean?" Wanda Maximov shook her head. "I still don't understand."

"It means the enemy discovered her trap. They were waiting for her to make her move, just lacking the right opportunity," Bayonetta said, raising her glass. "But this is a story we all know the ending of, because it's not a ghost that's with us."

"I should have realized sooner that dead bait can't attract fish," Laura Crawford said, slowly sipping her slightly hot sweet red wine. "When the bait wobbles, it doesn't necessarily mean a fish has taken the bait."

The hand emerged from behind her, carrying the scent of a cigar.

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(End of this chapter)