Witch, Fireball and the Evil God of Steam-Chapter 681 - 74: The Rampaging Blond Hair

Meanwhile, on the other side.

In the large room, Ave's mood was extremely anxious. She could see that the noblewoman was angry, so angry that she was gritting her teeth and trembling, the way she took a deep breath reminded her of her deepest fears — the sign that her aunt was about to pin her down on the bed to spank her when she was a child.

This unlucky child!

Ave saw the same expression in the noblewoman's eyes.

The reason the atmosphere in the room had become so tense made Ave laugh and cry, the unexpected change finally happened.

She could see that the noblewoman was a costume enthusiast; her hobby was bringing her children into the room and dressing them in all sorts of beautiful clothes. Ave also discovered needles and threads in the noblewoman's residence, and all these costumes full of Gothic elements were handcrafted by her.

To see Teacher Valerie, Ave endured indignity and humiliation, allowing the noblewoman to dress her in a dark-colored puffy dress, and put on black and white striped long socks over her legs. This was clearly not the attire a member of the royal family or a new prime minister of the cabinet should wear. If her aunt saw it, she'd definitely grab her ear and angrily ask if she intended to work at the Imperial Capital Theater.

Her golden hair was also tied into twin ponytails with bright hair ribbons.

Then, the unexpected happened.

The noblewoman discovered a tuft of golden hair on top of her head that couldn't be brushed down. Whenever she used the comb to flatten it, it would defiantly stand back up again.

Ave could clearly feel the noblewoman's emotional change, from patiently repeating the brushing action at the beginning, to pressing down hard with the comb, and finally pressing her entire palm on her forehead, all of which lasted nearly five minutes.

Then, at the moment her palm left Ave's head, the unyielding tuft of hair bounced back up again.

Ave sat still in the chair like a doll, facing the mirror in silence, yet she could still hear the sound of a sharp intake of breath behind her.

Under normal circumstances, she would have made that unruly tuft of hair behave, but now the hair was also infected with ghoul disease, and it had become like a wild horse completely letting itself loose, unwilling to listen to any reason. From the fact that it dared to headbutt Ethan, it was clear her hair had become a bloodthirsty fiend.

It didn't even listen to Ethan, so how could it bow to a strange woman who appeared out of nowhere?

"You…"

The noblewoman's lips twitched several times.

This unlucky child!

She wanted to scold Ave, but when she thought about it, she couldn't find a reason to. After all, Ave was being obedient and cooperative, perfectly satisfying her interest in changing outfits, resembling an image of a perfect daughter. As for the rebellious tuft on her head...

That wasn't something a person could control.

With a thousand thoughts crossing her mind, she finally changed her tone, "Did you wash your hair at night and go to sleep without drying it?"

"I dried it."

Ave sighed, "It's always been like this since I was a kid, you don't have to worry about it."

"How could I not worry?"

The noblewoman raised her voice, and from the first moment she saw Ave, she had an unconcealed affection for her. If she were to be dressed in a puffy skirt, she would become a girl more exquisite than a doll, and everything was developing just as she had imagined. However, that defiant tuft of hair ruined everything.

She couldn't tolerate her daughter having such an obtrusive tuft on her head. It looked as though she didn't dry her hair after washing it, which would make people suspect she wasn't fulfilling her responsibilities as a mother.

The noblewoman made a firm decision and took out a pair of scissors from the drawer.

"Wait, wait!"

Ave got a little panicked, "You can't cut this tuft!"

"Why not?" 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"Because… it's been on my head for many years, and I have feelings for it."

She felt she might have spoken without thinking, and was not satisfied with the reason she came up with in a slapdash manner, so she added, "I can wear a hat."

"The hat doesn't match your outfit."

The noblewoman's gaze was completely fixated on the tuft on Ave's head, even ignoring the Gothic style dress she had meticulously paired for Ave. At this point, she should have been admiring her creation, but a tuft of hair on her head was like a bird droppings on an oil painting, becoming a flaw that overshadowed the entire picture.

"Then..."

"Don't move."

The noblewoman sighed, put away the scissors, and took out more things from the drawer—hair ties and accessories. Under Ave's watchful eyes, she carefully dressed the tuft of hair with "clothes," and only when the hair accessory completely covered it without ruining Ave's overall look did she finally let her hand drop.

At this point, she no longer had the heart to admire the dressed-up Ave.

Ave observed the noblewoman's actions through the mirror. Only when her emotions seemed to stabilize did she speak up, "That God of Truth believer…"

"Bellamo!"

The noblewoman shouted, and shortly after, footsteps could be heard outside the door.

Entering was the quietest among the children, a thin figure who was always expressionless. At the banquet hall, Ave noticed that he was the only one completely uninterested in the gourmet club Ethan was describing. However, he neither questioned nor refuted, just stood among the crowd, coldly watching everything that happened in the hall.

And now, she heard the name of this young ghoul.

Bellamo, the same surname as Duke Bellamo of Dark Furnace City. Those who wanted to save time often used the term "Little Bellamo."

The son of Duke Bellamo was suddenly infected with the ghoul plague years ago. He refused the aid of the Demon Hunter Guild and the Church, instead following the advice of a witch. He faked his son's death, actually sending his infected son to the vicinity of the post office on the "fourteenth day" as the witch suggested.

Since then, his son disappeared, leaving only scattered clues to make Duke Bellamo believe his son was still alive.

Little Bellamo remained expressionless, waiting for further instructions from the noblewoman.

"Take her to the dungeon."

The noblewoman waved her hand wearily. She initially planned to personally guide Ave, but the tuft of golden hair on Ave's head completely killed her interest. Now she just wanted to be alone in the room and think about how to deal with this stubborn opponent next time.

Little Bellamo simply nodded and walked out first.

The two of them, one in front and one behind, were the only sounds echoing in the silent castle.

It was late at night, and after the banquet, the ghouls had returned to their rooms, living a routine similar to that of humans.

The dungeon was hidden in a very concealed location. Little Bellamo led Ave to a room that looked like a wine cellar, where the smell of grapes mixed with the scent of blood. He moved to the innermost giant oval wine barrel, operated it for a moment, and a dull thud from the brick wall beside it revealed a hidden door slowly appearing before them.

Little Bellamo took a step to the left, gesturing for Ave to enter, seemingly with no intention to follow.

"Me and that believer of the God of Truth actually are—"

"You don't need to explain to me."

Little Bellamo interrupted Ave's story, which she and Ethan had agreed upon in the room. Valerie had escaped from the gourmet club as "ingredients," and they were here to handle the aftermath. Ave had filled in many details of this story based on Valerie's experiences in the Imperial Capital.

"Regardless of what purpose you and that man have or what you are planning, you are temporarily safe here."

Little Bellamo said coldly, "The Blackrave Clan has only one rule, which is to prohibit harming one's own kind. As long as mother still considers you as the same kind, you are safe here."

His tone sounded unfriendly, yet the content sounded less like a warning, more like a hint... hinting at how they might leverage the Blackrave Clan's rule.

The noblewoman was the head of the Blackrave Clan and the rule-maker. She would not, under unnecessary circumstances, break this rule in front of her children.

"Thank you."

Little Bellamo still did not respond, shifting his gaze elsewhere.

He did not seem to show any interest in Ave's meeting with Valerie.

Ave, wearing her small black leather shoes, descended the mossy ancient stairs, as a faint light finally appeared at the end of the deep darkness.

The dungeon contained only one prisoner, and as she had wished, she saw the teacher she had longed for.

Fortunately, the dungeon's environment was better than she had imagined. The cell contained a desk and bed, and as she approached, Valerie was sitting at the desk, facing a thick Sheepskin Book. The book appeared aged, with yellowed pages and creased from being read countless times.

Valerie was initially taken aback upon seeing Ave approach, but her expression immediately changed when she met Ave's bloodshot eyes, "You—!"

"My time is short."

Ave lowered her voice, gently tossed the letter Valerie had sent to the Imperial Capital onto the table. They couldn't say much here. Although Little Bellamo, who led her, seemed disinterested in monitoring her, there was no guarantee that the noblewoman had not set up monitoring magic in the dungeon.

She approached the cell, deliberately putting on a cold and distant expression, "Is there anything else you wish to say?"

Ave waited for Valerie to finish reading the contents of the letter. As a believer in the God of Truth, her teacher should immediately grasp her purpose for being here.

However, Valerie's reaction completely surprised her.

It wasn't information following a long-awaited reunion, nor was there any comfort. Ave clearly saw fear crawling across Valerie's eyes, a reaction she could hardly understand why her teacher would display.

"Leave."

After a long while, Valerie squeezed out the words through her teeth.

Then she began to breathe heavily, crumpled the letter into a ball, and tore it into pieces as if in frustration.

——"I never wrote this letter."