Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 689 The Life of the Rich (Second Update)

Wanda, looking embarrassed, sat down at the table as directed by the maid and greeted the witches.

The luxurious carpets were incredibly soft, exquisite busts sat on the tables, and vibrant oil paintings and tapestries adorned the walls. Exquisite porcelain and wine cabinets stood on the other side of the room. The windowpanes were so clean they seemed nonexistent, the dark brown wooden floors gleamed, and deep red curtains were neatly tucked to one side. Everything shimmered; it was clear to anyone that someone had put a great deal of effort into maintaining it. Wanda was certain it was Salomon's signature Baroque style.

The witches, clad only in thin nightgowns, leaned languidly against high-backed chairs by the dining table, their long, lithe, and flawless legs casually stretched out, belts loosely tied, and necklines revealing their perfect figures. It was clear they wore only this one garment, which put immense pressure on Wanda, who was dressed similarly and covered herself completely. Few people in the world could remain calm in the face of a witch's beauty, especially when she wore a sexy nightgown of the same style but with a different pattern. Wanda felt like she was burning up. She just wanted to hide her face behind the large plate brought by the maid to avoid further embarrassment in such a stark contrast—she felt her nails were messy, her lips chapped, and her fingers had lost their slenderness and smoothness from years of labor. She felt her teeth were uneven, her nose too high, and her eyes too small.

The gleaming oak table reflected her flushed cheeks and tightly closed eyes.

"How did you sleep last night?" Bayonetta suddenly asked her, startling Wanda so much she almost spilled her hot coffee. She noticed the dark-haired woman in the black silk robe smiling at her, while her teacher sat silently in the main seat, busy cutting the meat on her plate, as if the woman were the one in charge.

She gritted her teeth and mustered the courage to answer.

"That's great, thank you for your concern." Only then did she realize that her throat was trembling.

Her nightgown perfectly matched her hair color, as if it had been carefully chosen. The nightgown was embroidered with patterns in a deeper red, while the black-haired woman's nightgown featured roses embroidered in gold thread, and the white-haired woman's nightgown was embroidered in silver thread. Bayonetta winked at Joan of Arc, her meaning clear: this was a lovely Slavic girl with a good figure; Salomon should be prevented from having an affair with her.

Joan of Arc rolled her eyes, then tried to kick the sorcerer who was cutting meat with his head down.

“She’s no rival to you, my dear.” Salomon reluctantly put down his cutlery, grabbing Joan’s ankle to prevent her from knocking over the plate and spilling sauce onto the carpet. The white-haired witch didn’t even try to struggle, simply collapsing back into the high-backed chair, her face flushed, her hands fumbling for her pistol. However, she only found a furry creature; the Cheshire Cat meowed in displeasure, accusing the witch of interrupting its meal. Diana silently put Joan’s weapon away, then discreetly locked the door. Bayonetta winked at her, giving her a look of approval.

Joan of Arc grabbed the Cheshire Cat and threw it at Salomon.

The food plate was overturned as expected, and the once clean and tidy cat was covered in sauce. The Cheshire Cat seemed unable to accept this insult; it meowed loudly until Diana stuffed a cat treat into its mouth and then dragged it towards the bathroom. The Cheshire Cat was quiet for a moment, but then its loud meows echoed down the hallway again. It had finally realized its inescapable fate of needing a bath—even though it had already been bathed yesterday. It protested to Diana, its four short legs flailing wildly. However, the maid's fingers were like iron clamps, firmly gripping the scruff of its neck.

"My owner won't like a cat that tastes like beef gravy," Dinah declared to the Cheshire Cat with a blank expression. The Cheshire Cat's meowing didn't completely stop until she closed the bathroom door.

"Really?" The black-haired witch glanced at him and Joan of Arc, then dropped the subject. She smelled a very ambiguous scent of hormones, and Joan's behavior clearly demonstrated that she was the master of those hormones. Bayonetta changed the subject to divert Wanda's attention by talking about everyday things, leaving Joan of Arc blushing and flustered.

Wanda gradually relaxed, and last night's experience no longer bothered her.

The allure of a witch can conquer both men and women, and Wanda was no exception, melted by Bayonetta's feigned gentleness. They chatted amiably in hushed tones for a while. "Perhaps you should come and see my dressing room. I have many pieces of jewelry, and surely some will suit you," the black-haired witch invited. "If you don't mind, in an hour we need to go out and pick up the clothes we ordered earlier. Come on, let us introduce you to the best designer. I'm sure Salomon has overlooked something in this area; he's a blockhead and completely clueless about how to take care of girls. We should take care of ourselves and not expect men to be perceptive."

“My dear, that’s prejudice,” Salomon said dryly. “I’m also quite accomplished in the art of jewelry.”

"I don't believe a boy whose mind is filled with magic and work understands what women need. Perhaps you have a better eye for jewelry designers than for jewelry itself," Bayonetta said, pointing a croissant at the sorcerer. She narrowed her eyes, concealing danger beneath her grey pupils. "Perhaps I need to give you some time?"

"I'll wear the ring, darling."

"I'm not proposing anymore."

"I know, but I'm still willing." Salomon extended his left hand, which bore only a dark gray pinky ring. "Perhaps it's possible to wear two rings on one finger. I want to try."

Wanda felt a tightness in her throat; the warmth and gentleness radiating from the witch made it almost impossible for her to breathe, and even the shopping trip and spa that Bayonetta had arranged for her couldn't alleviate this feeling. From any perspective, the witch's power was far beyond what this Slavic country girl could compare to. She felt a deep despair and even wanted to cry her heart out somewhere alone.

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Next, she will go to a manor in Oxfordshire to ride horses with the witches.

It's said that soon, the witch and Salomon will be moving to Oxfordshire, completely away from New York. Even though they now live in a luxury apartment in Manhattan, they are still quite dissatisfied with their surroundings, with Salomon even considering New York a cesspool. Compared to the estate he bought, New York is indeed as terrible as he describes.

There were gardens, horse stables, and a boat dock, as well as a private forest and clearings. On sunny mornings, the sun would pour down like raindrops, allowing them to ride through the woods, galloping across the meticulously maintained meadows to the sounds of birdsong. Once the sun was a little stronger, they could return to the estate for breakfast and then leisurely while away the morning until their afternoon nap. In the afternoon, they could take a small boat from the boat dock and row up the Thames until dusk. Or they could stroll through the gardens, enjoy snacks under parasols, and bask in the pleasant warmth of the sun.

Salomon squandered worldly wealth frivolously, as if it were less important to him than a piece of toilet paper to wipe his bottom.

"Want to eat at the restaurant Salomon acquired, Wanda?" The witch casually linked arms with the sorceress, making the two, who already had a height difference, feel a little uncomfortable. Wanda forced a smile and agreed to Bayonetta's suggestion.

Where are we going?

"Moscow."

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(End of this chapter)