Morning of the third day.
"Where's my breakfast? Can a warden actually be late?"
Ais had been given her belongings back when she was imprisoned — including her pocket watch. So even with almost no sense of the outside world, she could track the time.
She'd been up since six, and this felt strange — the wardens delivering lunch and dinner had been punctually precise the past two days.
Knock knock knock.
A little while later, the familiar signal rang out.
"Coming."
Out of habit, she called back — even though it wasn't her hand opening the stone door. The knock was just the warden announcing they were about to open it.
What surprised Ais was that the figure in the doorway wasn't one of the expressionless, soul-chilling wardens — but Cormac Terrence, in standard Watcher uniform, a sliver of silver hair just visible under his hat.
The sight made Ais immediately self-conscious. She hadn't put her shoes back on yesterday after removing them.
The stone floor was smooth and clean, and her feet weren't bothered by the chill — so she'd simply left them out to breathe. It hadn't occurred to her that today's visitor would be anyone other than an unblinking warden.
"Mr. Terrence — why are you here? Where's my breakfast?"
Recovering quickly when she saw he wasn't carrying anything, she forgot the awkwardness on the spot.
Terrence took in the Witch — clean and somehow still perfectly put together after two days of imprisonment, just a little wrinkled — and said with mild exasperation:
"Put your shoes on first, Miss Ais. Today is your one hour of exercise time."
"Oh—" her face lit up immediately. She turned and fetched her shoes.
Terrence leaned against the stone wall and waited.
She followed Terrence out through the Chanis Gate, collected her breakfast from the duty room, and was led through the cathedral all the way to a walled courtyard at its rear. There she sat on the lone white bench in the corner, watching the freshly risen sun while eating her breakfast.
So warm… She hadn't felt it on the way out, but now that she could compare, even this newborn sun was incomparably warm against what it had been like behind the Chanis Gate.
Terrence watched Ais sitting in the morning light — hair simply tied back in a ponytail — and had to acknowledge that beautiful things simply had a way of making people feel lighter. The aesthetic was undermined somewhat by the way she inhaled toast in two bites, but still.
A little piqued about her current appetite limit, Ais noticed Terrence watching her steadily and asked:
"Are you very free this morning, sir?"
"Because of you — this hour, yes."
He leaned on the adjacent wall, composed, and added once Ais had mostly finished eating:
"So. Let's discuss your illegal earnings."
"I'm sorry?"
Looking at the startled Ais, Terrence smiled:
"We can confirm you only took money that was dirty to begin with — but ignorance on our end doesn't mean we can just look the other way. Now that we know."
He extended his hand:
"Everything, please."
It's all that insufferable woman's fault. Getting turned into a woman — you absolutely deserved it. Dejected, Ais obediently handed over everything on her person: the money, the pistol, the knife, and the special materials extracted from the three lackeys' bodies.
Then she asked anxiously:
"Sir — I won't have to work and pay back the rest, will I?"
Tempted to draw it out for a moment, Terrence controlled himself and shook his head:
"We're not that petty. Just don't let it happen again."
I'm not turning myself in a second time… Ais nodded and pledged:
"Don't worry, sir — from now on I'll earn money honestly and keep my hands clean."
Terrence ignored the pledge entirely. He withdrew three hundred pounds and said:
"Now — I didn't come entirely to ruin your morning. Some good news."
"First: we've confirmed part of your history, so your supervision level has been relaxed. Going forward, you'll have one hour of exercise time per day. Once the five of us confirm nothing further requires our attention here, you can return to Beklund with us for a final review. Once the local Nighthawks here have verified that your full history checks out — you're free."
"Sir — what else does the review involve?" Ais interjected.
Terrence looked at the mildly puzzled Ais and said with resignation:
"It seems you didn't take what I said that day seriously, Miss Ais. Even for a Sequence 7 Witch — let alone a Sequence 6 Pleasure Witch — the church's regulations require Nighthawks below Sequence 5 to work in pairs. Do you really think I'm so idle that I personally come to spend an hour in the sun with you for no reason?"
"I can't exactly help that." Ais shrugged, unbothered.
Unable to argue with that, Terrence moved on:
"Fair enough. In any case, in Beklund we'll do a final check to see whether we can determine the cause. There are also a few things I need to advise you on.
First: the 'Role Method' — which is what you know as the way to clear a potion's negative influence."
"Fitting name." Ais noted approvingly.
Terrence nodded:
"I agree. In any case — behave in ways that match your potion's name. Internalize the underlying principle and use it to guide yourself. By adjusting your own state and drawing closer to the potion's residual spirit — gradually assimilating it — you reduce the probability of losing control. You've already done this well. The only thing I'll add is: remember you're only playing a role."
This reminder is completely unnecessary for me — I can't even get into the role… Ais nodded and asked with curiosity:
"Mr. Terrence — why does the church conceal the Role Method from Nighthawks ? It's not harmful."
Terrence shrugged:
"I don't know. Possibly to prevent it from spreading to unaffiliated Extraordinaries. For low Sequences, the Role Method isn't strictly necessary anyway. As long as you understand one or two key principles, loss of control due to the potion's direct influence is almost unheard of. Even in work as dangerous as Nighthawks ' — the vast majority of cases of losing control come from evil god influence or manipulation."
That makes sense — so it's the unaffiliated Extraordinaries with no guidance who suffer most. She silently sympathized for a few seconds.
"And the Law of Undying Traits: a supernatural trait cannot be destroyed — it can only change form, transferring from one object to another.
The church's requirement is that you not disclose these two pieces of knowledge to anyone uninformed."
Terrence's manner had grown more serious as he reached the end.
Official name for it is "supernatural trait," is it… Ais nodded:
"I understand. If unaffiliated Extraordinaries all knew this, they'd cause a lot more trouble."
Terrence paid no attention to the perfunctory response — a formal oath before the holy relic and the Goddess would follow anyway:
"The Law of Undying Traits isn't just a matter of causing more trouble."
Ais frowned:
"What other implications does it have? Does it affect trust between Extraordinaries? Not knowing this doesn't stop strangers from being wary of each other. Besides — knowing it just means you only need to be careful around those of a lower Sequence than you."
Terrence thought about it and said only: "Not everyone thinks the way you do. By the way — it's best to change the box you use to store supernatural traits daily. Leave it too long and the trait bonds with the object, forming a sealed item."
"I'll remember that." Ais nodded, then asked:
"Mr. Terrence — during exercise time, using the toilet, taking a bath — that's all fine?"
"Of course. Though per regulations, I need to be able to confirm your location at all times. Would you like me to take you?"
"Obviously — I've been holding it for two days!"
Author's Note (this chapter): "Obviously — I've been holding it for two days!"
克罗希斯的随从 The bath I get — but two days without a toilet? 雨书春秋 replying to 大夜大夜幾點睡: She's a Witch — it's remarkable, apparently.