Drip, drip.
The damp, chilly weather had spread and infected everything the moment they stepped out of the cozy little cabin, like some disease bent on stealing away one's strength.
Priscilla Havelock turned herself incorporeal, and raindrops passed through her body.
Staring at the pale, rainless back of her hand, her smile froze—then, a moment later, it bloomed even brighter.
Leisurely, she opened her parasol. The pattering rain offered her a slight sense of reassurance.
Drip, dri... The footsteps ahead came to a stop.
Jiang Han, the temporary hostess Witch, stopped and turned back. Even through Priscilla's eyes and experience, that pretty face looked faintly worried.
She stopped? Priscilla felt a flicker of surprise inside, but kept smiling as she said:
"Miss?"
"Priscilla, did you bring any moisture-proof skincare lotion?" Jiang Han asked with an embarrassed smile.
Moisture-proof skincare lotion? Huh? What? Miss, are you looking for a fight? Do you want to throw down? You're asking a ghost—a ghost Witch—something like this? Skincare lotion?
...Even Priscilla, with her ability to endure the grumpiness of waking up, nearly cracked. She almost couldn't keep smiling.
She quietly let out a breath and said with a smile:
"Miss, I'll add it to my carry list next time."
Miss Jiang Han's features leaned toward cool tones, though there was a certain brightness between her brows and eyes. Ghost Witches, who favored gloom and cold, did not particularly like that.
But she was a good child, aside from how she sometimes spoke without thinking—rather like a Witch between five and eight years old.
More or less, she felt like a baby with no Witch common sense starting from scratch to learn Witch knowledge, having studied for only a year or two.
...That was what Priscilla thought.
She saw Jiang Han sigh covertly, blink, and