Hattie retracted all her tentacles, her split face merging back together. In the blink of an eye, she transformed from a terrifying, soul-draining witch back into the sweet, gentle, and compassionate nun—Sister Hattie.
Compared to before, she now looked radiant, her expression brimming with unparalleled joy and satisfaction—as if she had just feasted on a lavish meal or indulged in the most exhilarating release of desire.
She glanced down at Charles, who lay beneath her, barely clinging to life. With pity and reluctance, she cupped his face and whispered tenderly, "Rest well, dear Charles. You're my favorite gourmet food—I simply can't let you die so easily."
Charles stared blankly at the ceiling, his eyes hollow, as though his soul had been stripped away. Hattie, familiar with this reaction, paid it no mind. She stepped back onto the floor, then strode out of the room with pious grace, closing the door behind her.
Charles remained motionless on the bed, lifeless as a corpse.
Time slipped by. Outside, the sun crept southward until its harsh glare fell upon his face and eyes. Only then did he blink twice, then roll over with a pained groan.
His body curled like a lobster, muscles spasming. He clutched his head, his breaths ragged, his heart pounding violently. A sheen of sweat coated his forehead.
It hurts…
So terrifying… Is this what a soul-draining witch is like?
That agony—as if his brain had been torn in half—had convinced him, for a moment, that he was truly going to die.
This… I'll definitely have psychological scars from this. I might never recover…
His body trembled faintly. Only after what felt like an eternity did the torment of his drained soul finally fade. Weakly, he lay sprawled across the disheveled bed, staring at the ceiling, his eyes clouded with uncertainty about the future.
Damn it… Trapped here, no matter how I look at it, the future's hopeless…
According to the game's lore, until tamed by the player, the witches of this monastery drained the souls of hundreds of commoners every year—and because they targeted orphans, vagrants, and other unnoticed victims in this lawless city, their crimes had gone undetected.
So, most likely, the original owner of this body had been one such unlucky wretch, marked by a witch, his soul already devoured before yesterday.
Is that my fate too?
No… I have to at least try.
Escape?
Unlikely. Forget this weak body—even if I weren't frail, the protective magic arrays the witches placed around the monastery would be beyond me. I know nothing about magic.
And even if, by some miracle, I got out… How would I survive in this unfamiliar, crime-ridden city? No friends, no connections, just gangs and chaos.
As for following the original protagonist's method and sleeping with them into submission?
That's even more impossible. I'm not some Chosen One blessed by the Gods of Order who can overpower witches and fuck them into submission with sheer strength from Mount Celestia...
Huh?
Suddenly, his expression froze.
At that very moment, faint blue threads began materializing before his eyes, slowly weaving together to form a massive blue screen.
Centered at the top of the screen, bold English letters spelled out: "Monastery Construction System." Below it were two main sections: "Personal Attributes" and "Current status of the monastery."
In the bottom right corner, the screen displayed: "Purification Points: 0."
This interface was nearly identical to the status panel from "Witch Monastery" - the game he'd played - except it lacked a "Daily Gift" option and had "Purification Points" instead of "Gold."
Charles froze, his head throbbing with fresh pain. But with the pain came fragments of returning memory.
Right... When that witch was draining my soul earlier, I did hear the system booting up.
It seems every soul-draining strips away some memories. Unless I fight to recall them, they're lost forever.
hiss...
A chill ran down his spine, but then, staring at the azure screen before him, his heart began racing uncontrollably.
I might... have an even more broken cheat than the original protagonist!
"System!"
He whispered urgently, questions tumbling out: "System? What are you? What can you do? Are you sentient? Can you talk?"
The system remained silent, as if it only contained a single pre-recorded line, leaving everything else for the user to figure out through trial and error.
Fortunately, the interface seemed user-friendly enough, not too difficult to navigate.
With this thought, he tapped the first option: "Personal Attributes." A new interface appeared with a scrollbar on the right, displaying rows of data:
Host: Charles
Gender: Male
Race: Human Subspecies (Silver Kin)
Age: 15
Height: 1.69m
Weight: 49.7kg
Strength: 8
Agility: 9
Constitution: 7
Intelligence: 13
Perception: 12
Charisma: 20
Charles was stunned.
What? My Charisma is this high?
Wait, was this child's Charisma originally this high?
No, now that the soul is mine, it should be my Charisma...
A whirlwind of thoughts raced through his mind. Then he noticed that beside each attribute, there was a small plus sign and a question mark.
He reached out and tapped the question mark first. Immediately, a tooltip-like text appeared before him:
"The Charisma attribute represents the sum of one's physical appearance, leadership, and innate attraction to supernatural magical energies. The average human's Charisma is 10 or 11. Values higher than this indicate exceptional talent, and normal humans cannot exceed 20.
High Charisma attracts not only one's own kind but also beings of other races, elemental creatures, and even deities and fiends."
Charles suddenly understood. The original owner of this body must have attracted a witch due to his excessively high Charisma, leading to such a gruesome end.
After all, according to the game's lore, Hattie was born when the power of the deep sea became tainted by corruption, transforming her into the deep-sea witch.
Now that he grasped the meaning of Charisma, he eyed his attributes and tentatively tapped one of the plus signs.
Instantly, a dialog box popped up on the screen with six bold words: "Insufficient Purification Points."
Alright, so "Purification Points" were the sole currency of this system.
But how could he obtain them?
He tapped the words "Purification Points" in the lower-right corner, but nothing happened. Frustrated, he pressed the scroll wheel on the right side of the screen and slowly dragged it downward—
New entries unfolded before him:
Class: None
Class Ability: Purification
Feats: None
Spells: None
Ah, this must be it!
He tapped the small question mark next to "Purification," and another tooltip appeared:
"The Host's core ability. Purifies the bodies and souls of evil creatures, enslaving them as soul-bound servants and granting Purification Points.
Trigger conditions: Silently chant 'Purification' while maintaining physical contact with the target."
Good, so this system's mechanics differed slightly from the game.
He then opened the second major tab. As the page switched, a familiar in-game building panel came into view:
Level 1 Monastery
Area: 2,200 square meters
Upgrade Requirements: Expand to 10,000 square meters and spend 1,000 Purification Points.
Currently Buildable: Kitchen, Dormitory, Warehouse, Prayer Room...
After Level 2: Goblin Quarters, Trading Post, Altar...
The familiar panel and terms jogged his memory. A thrill of excitement ran through him as he recalled last night's meticulous planning—his optimal upgrade path for a pure love route: Skip all Level 1 buildings, immediately fundraise and extort, then solo the Rubble District to farm money, save up for a Level 2 Monastery, unlock the Trading Post and Goblin Quarters first...
...Wait, no!
He pinched himself hard, took two deep breaths, and forced himself to calm down.
A comfortable life was still far away. Surviving the immediate crisis was far from guaranteed!
Right now, the top priority was purifying Hattie and turning her into his servant.
Even with this cheat-like system, it couldn't grant him immediate power. He was still weak—he needed a plan.
He had to catch her off guard, lull her into lowering her defenses, then suddenly cast "Purification."
And ideally, trap her in a position where she couldn't move or cast spells easily.
Spells generally required two components: gestures and incantations. The former demanded precise movements, while the latter needed clear speech. Disrupt either, and the spell would fail.
So, during the ambush, he should either hold her hand... or be kissing her.
To fulfill both conditions, he'd need to trick Hattie into, well...
Definitely not while she was biting him—if she panicked and actually clamped down, the loss would outweigh the gain.
The best scenario would be holding hands while kissing. But what excuse could he use to make her kiss him...?
He racked his brain, weighing each plan's feasibility, every excuse's credibility, and the nitty-gritty of execution.
Hiss... Damn it, in my past life, I never had to seduce a terrifying woman like this!
The sun crept southward, its rays intensifying as noon approached. Rubbing his temples, he felt a dull ache—his mind was stretched thin.
Just then, the door creaked open again.
Charles jolted upright on the bed. Turning, he saw Hattie standing in the doorway, a basket in hand.
Seeing him sitting up, the deep-sea-born witch disguised as a nun flashed a tender smile. "Oh good, you're recovering well."
After a pause, she added softly, "Are you hungry? I made your favorite—carrot bread and fresh shrimp herb soup. Eat while it's warm."
Charles's heart pounded. His plan was far from ready. But forcing a smile, he nodded meekly, playing the obedient role perfectly. "Mm!"