Wanda sat awkwardly at the long dining table under the guidance of a maid, offering a stiff greeting to the witches.
The luxurious carpet beneath her feet was soft and plush, while exquisite bust sculptures adorned the table, vibrant oil paintings and tapestries lined the walls, and fine porcelain and a grand wine cabinet stood at the far end of the room. The window glass was so clean it seemed to disappear, the deep brown hardwood floors gleamed, and the crimson drapes were neatly tied to the side. Everything sparkled—anyone could see the effort it took to maintain all this, and Wanda could immediately tell this was Solomon's beloved Baroque renovation style.
The witches, clad only in thin robes, lounged lazily in the high-backed chairs beside the table, their flawless long legs stretched out casually. Their belts were loosely tied, their plunging collars revealing breathtaking figures. Clearly, they wore nothing beneath. It was the same style of robe Wanda had on, though with different embroidery, and the comparison made her feel immense pressure. She hastily wrapped herself more tightly, trying to hide her body.
There were few in the world who could remain composed while facing the beauty of witches—especially when wearing the same revealing robe. Wanda felt she was about to spontaneously combust. She just wanted to hide her face behind the large platter the maid had brought, anything to escape the shame of such an obvious contrast. She felt her fingernails were ragged, her lips dry, her fingers rough from years of labor. Her teeth weren't straight, her nose too prominent, her eyes too small.
The polished oak table reflected her flushed cheeks and tightly shut eyes.
"How was your rest last night?" Bayonetta suddenly asked, startling Wanda so much she nearly spilled her hot coffee. She looked up to see the black-haired woman in the silk robe smiling at her, while her teacher sat at the head of the table in silence, calmly slicing the meat on his plate—as if the woman, not he, were the true master of the house.
Wanda bit her lip and mustered the courage to respond.
"Very well, thank you for your concern." Only now did she realize her throat was trembling.
Her robe perfectly matched her hair color, as if it had been custom-selected. The pattern on her robe was embroidered in a darker red, while Bayonetta's was adorned with gold-thread roses, and Jeanne's with silver. Bayonetta glanced at Jeanne, clearly signaling: This is a cute Slavic girl with a nice figure—keep an eye on Solomon.
Jeanne rolled her eyes and tried to kick the spellcaster under the table, who was still quietly cutting his meat.
"She's not your rival, dear," Solomon said with a sigh, setting down his utensils and catching Jeanne's ankle before she could knock over a plate and spill sauce onto the carpet. The white-haired witch didn't even resist. She flopped dramatically back into her chair, face red, blindly groping for her pistol—only to grab something fuzzy instead.
Cheshire Cat yowled indignantly, scolding the witch for interrupting its meal.
Daina calmly collected Jeanne's firearm and discreetly locked it away. Bayonetta winked at her in approval.
Jeanne, still pouting, picked up the sauce-covered Cheshire Cat and hurled it at Solomon.
As expected, the plate went flying, and the once-clean cat was now drenched in beef gravy. It stared in disbelief at its ruined fur, then let out a loud, indignant meow—only silenced when Daina shoved a cat treat into its mouth and carried it toward the bathroom. The cat quieted for a moment—then began to howl again as it realized it was about to be bathed. It had already been washed just the day before!
It protested furiously, paws flailing, but Daina's fingers were like iron clamps, gripping its scruff without budging.
"Master doesn't like beef-flavored cats," Daina declared emotionlessly, vanishing into the bathroom. Only then did the cat's yowling cease.
"Is that so?" Bayonetta gave Solomon and Jeanne a sidelong glance, then dropped the topic. She had caught a whiff of a very suggestive scent in the air—Jeanne's flustered reaction confirmed she was its source. Bayonetta turned the conversation toward daily life to distract Wanda, leaving Jeanne red-faced and speechless.
Wanda gradually relaxed. The awkwardness of the previous night no longer haunted her.
A witch's charm could conquer anyone, male or female. Wanda was not immune to Bayonetta's deliberately gentle manner, and they soon fell into pleasant, quiet conversation.
"Perhaps you should visit my wardrobe. I have many accessories—surely some will suit you," Bayonetta said warmly. "If you don't mind, we need to head out in an hour to pick up our custom garments. Let me introduce you to the best designer. I'm sure Solomon didn't bother—he's a blockhead when it comes to women. We should take care of ourselves. Never count on men to figure things out."
"You're being unfair, dear," Solomon said dryly. "I'm quite skilled in jewelry arts."
"I doubt a boy with a head full of spells and work knows what women need," Bayonetta replied, pointing her croissant at him. "Maybe you're better at judging designers than jewelry itself." Her eyes narrowed, gray gaze hiding a glint of danger. "Maybe I should give you some time?"
"I'd gladly wear a ring, dear."
"I'm not proposing."
"I know. But I'd still like to." Solomon raised his left hand, which bore only a single iron-gray pinky ring. "Perhaps two rings on one finger might work. I'd like to try."
Wanda's throat tightened. The warmth and affection radiating from the witches left her breathless. Even Bayonetta's offer of a shopping trip and spa couldn't soothe her. She felt hopelessly outmatched from every angle—a mere Slavic girl from the countryside couldn't compete with these powerful witches. She wanted to run off somewhere quiet and cry.
And soon, they'd be going to Oxfordshire to ride horses.
Word was the witches and Solomon were planning to move there permanently, leaving New York behind. Though they currently lived in a luxury Manhattan apartment, they were increasingly dissatisfied with their surroundings. Solomon in particular viewed New York as a stinking cesspool.
Compared to his estate, New York was a dump.
The estate had gardens, stables, docks, and a private forest with a clearing. On sunny mornings, they could ride through the woods listening to birdsong, gallop across the well-maintained lawns. Later, they'd return for breakfast, then lounge about until a nap. In the afternoon, they could row upstream on the Thames, or stroll the garden sipping tea beneath a parasol, enjoying a sunbath in the mild weather.
Solomon spent worldly wealth with reckless flair—as if it meant less to him than toilet paper.
"Want to have lunch at one of the restaurants Solomon recently acquired, Wanda?" Bayonetta asked, slipping her arm through Wanda's. The height difference between them made it awkward. Wanda forced a smile and agreed.
"Where are we going?"
"Moscow."
------------------
If you're enjoying this novel, please check out my new work: I Am Zeus, KING OF GODS ⚡
Your support means a lot! Reading, commenting, or voting with Power Stones helps the story grow and reach more readers. 🙌
------------------
Enjoying the story? Support the author and get early access to chapters by joining my Patre@n!
Find me at: patre@n*com/Mutter
You can read each novel for $5 or get them all for just $15.
Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]