The Handbook for Completing Demi-Human Girls

Chapter 101: A Hazy Distance

Glistening teardrops fell ceaselessly from the lady before him. She seemed genuinely hurt by Fischer's actions. Drops of blood, too, trickled down her fingers and dotted the floor of his room.

"Renee, what's wrong? You two locked the door — oh, please don't fight. Is there anything you can't talk through calmly?"

Masha, having heard the commotion from outside, tried to open the door only to find it locked. She didn't persist; instead she knocked and offered her counsel.

"I'm fine."

Renee wiped at her eyes. Fischer stepped toward her and took hold of her injured left hand. She instinctively tried to pull away, but Fischer gripped it firmly.

"Hold still. Let me bandage it first."

"Let go of me..."

Renee refused to look at him. Her right hand closed around his and she struggled, but she lacked the physical strength to break free. Fischer dragged her to the sofa, where a medical kit sat on the adjacent shelf — leftover equipment from his biological dissection work. Most of the contents were used up, but there was still gauze.

He would get her better medicine later.

"Masha, we're all right. She got hurt — I'll come down for some medicine shortly.""Oh, thank goodness. You two really should be more careful. My old heart nearly stopped. Let me go find the medicine chest — I haven't used the thing in ages."

Outside the door, the sound of Masha's footsteps faded. Fischer held Renee's pale hand. The cut ran across her palm, the wound wide. A brief flicker passed through Fischer's eyes, but his hands moved without hesitation, cleaning and tending the injury.

Renee was absolutely throwing a fit. She kept clenching her fingers shut, then trying to yank her hand back, refusing to look at Fischer, refusing to say a single word.

But Fischer was not about to indulge her. He gripped her wrist with unyielding force, preventing any retreat. After he had cleaned and dressed the wound, he stepped out to accept the medicine chest Masha handed him. Meeting the old woman's worried gaze, Fischer felt a sudden pang of regret for pressing Renee so hard — especially since he hadn't anticipated such a fierce reaction.

"She's crying, child. You need to talk to her properly. I knew that not getting married would lead to trouble sooner or later."

"...I'll speak with her. You should go rest."

Fischer didn't know whether to laugh or sigh. He saw off the old woman, who kept glancing back with concern, then quietly closed the door and returned to the room with the medicine chest.

Renee had not dissolved into mist and flown away. She sat on the sofa, facing the window, watching the scenery outside — anywhere but at Fischer. She was clearly still furious.

When Fischer approached with the medicine, she turned her head the other direction. The pattern was obvious: wherever he was, she would be looking somewhere else.

Fischer didn't try to break the mood just yet. He simply sat before her, firmly took her hand, and began applying the medicine. She had no desire to pay him the slightest attention, yet when the ointment touched her wound, her body flinched. Fischer even caught a tiny, muffled whimper.

"Does it hurt?"

"..."

Renee said nothing. Fischer lifted his gaze. All he could see of her was her exquisite profile — the rims of her lovely eyes still faintly red, two glistening teardrops clinging to her violet irises. The face that was usually so bright and teasing now looked fragile with the remnants of weeping, making one want to protect her, to make her smile, to never let even a flicker of unhappiness touch her.

Fischer could no longer tell whether Renee's display was genuine emotion or merely another performance in her repertoire. But then again, it didn't really matter.

Had Fischer truly believed what she told him?

He believed half of it.

He still thought it very possible that Renee was the Undying Witch.

Perhaps it was simply Renee's atrocious personality at work — she knew she was the Undying Witch but refused to tell Fischer, savoring the process of teasing and toying with him, every outward show just another act for her own malicious amusement.

Or perhaps Renee genuinely didn't know she was the Undying Witch, even if she was in fact that very being. But how could immortality be proven? Was he supposed to try killing Renee and see whether she resurrected? That was something Fischer would absolutely never do. He couldn't gamble with Renee's life, even if her personality was admittedly dreadful.

So regardless of which possibility was true, Fischer could not extract a definitive answer from Renee — not unless he one day obtained irrefutable evidence.

Then again, his purpose in seeking the Undying Witch was to keep her by his side, in hopes of finding a way to change the fate foretold by the prophecy. If Renee already was that Witch, then knowing or not knowing wouldn't change the outcome.

The only question was: how did Fischer truly see Renee?

Fischer found he could not, at that moment, answer that question.

After treating her wound and tidying up the room, a true silence settled in. Seeing that she had no intention of talking, Fischer took a magic textbook to his desk and reopened the window he had shut earlier.

The night outside was hushed. Fischer noticed none of the purple larks that usually perched everywhere. Whether because of Renee's sorrow, they too had vanished — hiding somewhere to weep in their own way.

Fischer read slowly. Renee sat on the sofa, hugging her knees, refusing to speak.

The silence between them persisted right up until bedtime, when Renee suddenly rose and went to wash up. Fischer glanced at her retreating figure. After she returned, he went to wash up himself. By the time he came back, she had taken bedding from the wardrobe, spread it across the sofa, and lay there with her back to Fischer. All he could see was her cascade of loose black hair.

Amusingly, when she stayed over she always slept in Fischer's bed. Now that they were in a cold war, she had surrendered his bed to him. Fischer smiled silently, switched off the light, and climbed into his own bed.

Renee had slept here before. Fischer had told her he would wash the sheets after she left, but it seemed he had forgotten. Whether it was because she was in the same room or because her scent still lingered, his nostrils were filled with her tantalizing fragrance.

"Renee."

In the quiet darkness, Fischer suddenly broke the silence.

"..."

The sofa side seemed to have no signal — not a sound in reply. Fischer assumed she could hear him and continued.

"Remember the first time we met? You lied and told me you were the daughter of a Schwari hermit mage, and that in exchange for dinner you'd show me Schwari magic. Then you led me into the mountains and ran off, leaving me wandering around for half a day, wasting a lot of time."

"Later, when you learned I was looking for a Witch, you lied and told me you were human. When you found out I was looking for the Undying Witch, you lied and said you had a lead. And when we crossed the Kadu border and you knew my magic was running low, you lied and told me you could use magic."

"Honestly, if it had been anyone else — anyone in the world other than you — I would never have had this much patience. I would never have tolerated lie after lie, time after time."

"But gradually I came to realize you were like a hedgehog, hiding your true feelings behind countless lies and teasing. And I slowly went from the fury of being deceived to the calm equanimity I have now."

"All the patience I have in this world for deception, I've given to you. Sometimes, when you're away for a long time, I even find myself missing that signature teasing of yours... It's precisely because I trust you so deeply — because I believe the heart behind all those lies is not truly as terrible as it seems, even if the surface suggests otherwise."

"But ironically, on certain questions, I still yearn for a straightforward, honest answer from you. Whether it's about the Undying Witch, or what you said earlier — that you stay by my side because you care about me..."

In the darkness, Renee's fingers quietly gripped the edge of the blanket. Fischer was staring at the ceiling. Before his next words could leave his mouth, he saw her rise silently from the sofa.

There was no moonlight in the room. Fischer could only make out her silhouette approaching his bed. She said nothing. He couldn't read her expression. Renee imperiously pulled his covers aside, then lay down beside him without a word.

She nudged him backward, carving out a reasonably spacious spot for herself, then went still. In the cramped confines of the blanket, she had her back to him. Her black hair filled the narrow space between them with that intoxicating fragrance. She curled up slightly. The pale nape of her neck glowed like a sliver of moonlight emerging from the dark curtain of her hair.

Fischer suddenly very much wanted to kiss her soft body. But he didn't.

He watched her — silent, lying beside him. More time passed in the darkness. Then her voice came, calm and small.

"What I said earlier... was true."

In the haze of her fragrance, there was no way to tell whether the words were genuine, because Fischer couldn't see her face.

"...I'm sorry."

It was unclear whether he was apologizing for doubting that she was the Undying Witch, or for doubting her claim that she cared about him.

After that single apology, she fell silent and didn't move a muscle.

This was the first time they had been this close — not in jest, but in earnest-seriousness — even more self-conscious than any of their prior encounters. Perhaps because the distance was so small, her slightly quickened heartbeat reached Fischer's ears.

Fischer felt none of his usual urges. Even so, he reached out and wrapped his arm around her as she lay on her side — only to accidentally brush her bandaged left hand on the bed. She flinched and drew it back.

"Ow."

She said just that.

"..."

After that single word, they exchanged nothing more. They simply held that quiet, close pose — and the whole night passed.