At the same moment, Charles turned his head to look—and immediately, he caught sight of Hattie.
Instantly, his eyes welled up with emotion.
My dear Hattie… You've finally returned!
Realizing he was temporarily safe, his heart settled back into place, and he let out a long, relieved sigh.
But while Charles was overwhelmed with emotion, Hattie's state was closer to sheer terror. She hurried to his side, falling into a fighting stance as she glared warily at Ruth. "Ruth… what are you doing to the person I saved?"
She nearly slipped up, barely catching herself mid-sentence to avoid revealing anything.
Ruth's eyebrows shot up at the hostile stance, irritation flaring. "Hattie. For the sake of an outsider, you'd actually take this tone with me?"
The tension thickened instantly. Charles knew now wasn't the time to provoke a fight—they couldn't win—so he quickly interjected, "Miss Hattie, it's alright. Miss Ruth was just offering me a meal. We—"
Ruth's sharp gaze snapped to him. "You don't get to speak here."
Charles' eyes burned. He reflexively shut them, tears streaming uncontrollably down his cheeks.
His vision stung—and so did his rising fury.
This witch!
Seeing Ruth's action and Charles' reaction, Hattie stepped forward, shielding him.
Her mind raced. Then, she forced an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Ruth. I overreacted. It's just… Charles' physical condition really isn't the best…"
Ruth said nothing, only sparing Charles a sidelong glance, her corners of mouth curling slightly.
Next time we meet alone… I'll kill him outright.
Ruth plotted calmly, unaware that Charles—struggling to reopen his eyes—saw her smile and shuddered.
This witch is definitely thinking about murdering me!
Just wait. When the Night of the Witches comes… I'll make you pay!
He seethed silently, while Ruth, oblivious to his thoughts, stood with icy detachment. "Since you're back, Hattie, I'll take my leave. Goodbye."
With that, she strode out of the kitchen. Only when the door shut did Charles finally exhale in relief.
The crisis is over.
Hattie immediately clung to him, guilt thick in her voice. "Master, are you alright? Did Ruth… do anything else to you?"
"I'm sorry—so sorry! This is all my fault. I was too slow…"
Charles forced a gentle smile, though his corners of mouth twitched. "It's fine. Not your fault. I messed up. I should've prepared some bread in advance."
As he spoke, the memory of dancing on the knife's edge—his life hanging by a thread—made him want to slap himself.
You learned one Mage Armor and got cocky? Couldn't bear a little hunger? Wandering around this death-trap of a monastery like a fool!
Is this all you're worth? How will you ever achieve anything?!
Today was pure luck. Next time…
Never. Again.
He swore it silently, then stroked Hattie's head softly. "By the way… what were you doing out there?"
Hattie snapped back to attention, guilt and grievance in her eyes as she slowly unwrapped a package. "I exchanged some money… and bought you three more primers…"
Charles blinked. Then, remembering this was a lewd world, a chill shot down his spine—his hair standing on end, his heart leaping into his throat a third time. "Wait. Where did you get money?!"
Hattie blinked innocently. "Sophia gave me a few gemstones from her collection. I sold them."
"It took a while because the sum was large… That's why I'm late…"
As she explained, Charles nearly went limp in her arms. "You scared me half to death…"
Seeing Hattie's confusion, he turned stern. "Hattie, money isn't urgent. I haven't even mastered the magic in these two books yet."
"Once we fully control the monastery, Master will have plenty of ways to earn. So never do anything reckless for money, understand?"
Hattie stared blankly—adorably clueless. Then, after a long pause, realization dawned.
Suddenly, she beamed, nestling her head against his chest with a soft murmur: "Don't worry, Master. No matter what, Hattie would never defy your will."
Charles held her close, struck by a sudden thought—Perhaps this girl truly understands me. Maybe my fears were unfounded?
Well… caution never hurts.
Still rattled by Ruth's threats, Charles resolved to tread carefully in all things.
Only now did he finally have a moment to properly examine the spellbooks Hattie had brought.
And just as expected, the three new volumes were primers from Strixhaven University's remaining colleges: Lorehold Primer, Prismari Primer, and Silverquill Primer.
Each thrummed with magical energy.
Clearly, these too were arcane treasures—recording spells that required no study, allowing the bearer to cast them merely by holding the tomes.
Gazing at the covers, Charles couldn't suppress a sigh of awe.
Excellent. Now I've gathered all five Strixhaven college primers.
This set's value likely exceeded fifteen hundred gold. If the spells within proved potent? Two thousand wouldn't be unreasonable…
"You've done well, Hattie," he murmured, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. "But with so many tomes, I'll need time to absorb them all. Let's hold off on new purchases for now."
Hattie blinked, then nodded obediently. "Understood, Master."
Charles said no more. Instead, he turned and devoured every last crumb of the salted fish and shredded radish bread Ruth had prepared. Then, with renewed fervor, he faced the teaching materials before him.
Good. Now—let's master them all.