Olovice watched with interest as the demon dog gnawed on a bone on the ground. Judging by its appearance, this demon dog didn’t seem to be well cared for by its owner. No, it was almost in terrible condition. Its black short fur clung tightly to its visible ribs, and its body was thin and long, resembling a long-neglected black rye stick. Compared to ordinary dogs, the demon dog’s eye sockets emitted a murky red glow, and its fangs protruded beyond its lips, making it not a particularly good-looking dog.

Its ears stood erect, sharp like triangles, occasionally glancing at Olovice while continuing to gnaw on the bone. The tip of its tail, however, was hooked around the right forearm of the Red-Haired Witch, and soon, the two were leaning against each other. The demon dog was trying hard to keep the Red-Haired Witch within its safe zone.

Olovice recalled the description from the “Guide to Magical Pet Care,” which described it as one of the low-level canine magical pets, a carnivorous magical creature with a danger index of one star. Its bite force was also considered mid-to-low among low-level magical creatures, with a violent temperament and low intelligence. However, it was very cute during its cub stage, and it was recommended to raise it from a young age for easier bonding and training. (If conditions permit, one could choose the Mountain Long-Haired Giant Demon Dog, which has a gentle temperament and an adult size reaching about 2.1 to 2.5 meters. The terrifying demon dogs taller than humans often seen in fairy tales or adventure novels refer to the Mountain Long-Haired Giant Demon Dog.)

The Red-Haired Witch, having finished her small cake, grabbed the dog’s tail and carelessly wiped her tears with it. It was quite sloppy, and Grace, unable to stand it, handed her a clean wet cloth and a hair tie adorned with yellow flowers. Lily wiped her face again and used the hair tie to gather her scattered hair into a small bun at the back of her head, making her look even younger.

“Thank you,” Lily said awkwardly, feeling embarrassed, and quietly thanked her good friend Grace.

Grace patted the dust off Lily and helped her up. “Are you still hungry? I have some meat sauce pancakes and mint iced tea.”

Lily hesitated for a moment, clutching her stomach pitifully. “I’m starving. I’ve been locked up for a day and a night.”

Olovice pretended not to hear the Red-Haired Witch’s accusation against him. He watched as the two witches sat at the wooden table, eating, with the demon dog always sticking close to Lily.

Grace glanced at Olovice, feeling a bit conflicted. From his attitude towards Lily, he didn’t seem like a bad person… right? He even brought small cakes for them to eat tonight.

“Olovice, would you like a glass of mint iced tea?” Grace mustered the courage to ask.

Olovice raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised, because Grace usually seemed a bit afraid of him. She rarely looked him in the eye, and her words and actions were always filled with caution and vigilance. Initially, Olovice thought she might have discovered some of the things he had done.

With a calm demeanor, Olovice smiled and said, “Sure.”

He accepted the mint iced tea from Grace and sat back on the wicker sofa, trying not to make the two witches too nervous. He took a sip, and the refreshing mint drink dispelled the summer heat. “Grace, do you have any fresh mature human-faced nutmeg here? I’m missing it for my potion.”

“Yes, it’s over by the swamp. I’ll take you there later,” Grace replied.

“Alright, then please have Miss Lily join us,” Olovice said to the Red-Haired Witch, who was eating heartily.

“Why? I don’t want to go,” Lily protested. “I still need to rescue my sister.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Olovice asked her.

Lily was at a loss for words. It had been five years, and she had tried everything, but she still couldn’t get close to the forbidden area of the Black Tower.

“In a while, I’ll be going to Montpelier for an exam. If all goes well, I’ll come into contact with some seniors who have returned from the Black Tower. Maybe then, I’ll find some clues about the forbidden area,” Olovice said, pressing his hand against the forehead of the Red-Haired Witch who was trying to get close to him. “So, the most important thing for you now is to listen.”

“Listen to me,” Olovice emphasized. He didn’t want the impulsive Red-Haired Witch to disrupt his plans.

At that moment, Lily felt that Olovice wasn’t so bad after all. No, he was actually quite good.

“Olovice, Olovice, are you really willing to help me? I’ve begged so many people. My former companions scattered when they heard my sister was captured. The priest, the police, the underground gangs, they all listen to the Black Tower Baron. Begging anyone was useless, useless,” Lily said, starting to cry. “No one is willing to help me.”

The demon dog pawed at Lily, standing up to lick her tears, whimpering softly.

“I’m just going to try. I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to rescue your sister,” Olovice clarified to Lily.

“I understand. Even if I can just see my sister, that would be enough,” Lily quickly said. “I’ll listen to you. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Very well,” Olovice said, lowering his hand. “Later, you’ll come with us to pick the human-faced nutmeg.”

“I want to go to Montpelier too,” Grace suddenly interjected. She had longed for the outside world and always wanted to leave. She didn’t want to stay in this small village anymore. Outside, she might even find her mother.

“I can also promise to listen and not cause you any trouble,” Grace continued.

Olovice hummed in response. His teacher was Grace’s godfather, and as his teacher’s student, he couldn’t be too harsh with Grace. Olovice quickly decided, “Grace, that’s not something I can decide. You should ask the teacher.”

For matters involving minors, it’s best to consult the parents—no problem with that!

Grace looked at Olovice with a pout.

Olovice finished the last sip of mint iced tea and handed the cup back to Grace, complimenting her, “It was very good. Thank you for the iced tea.”

Grace huffed and washed the cup, placing it in the sideboard. Olovice noticed an old photo on the empty wooden surface of the sideboard.

In an ordinary frame was a photo of a smiling witch with brown braided hair, wearing a gray robe and a pointed hat, holding a baby who looked similar to her. They both had light gray eyes. Next to it was Grace’s crystal ball, and on the wall hung Grace’s wand. The small door was half-open, and Olovice could see a potion cauldron, a spirit stick, various herbs, and potions…

“Let’s go,” Grace said, picking up her wand and leading the way. Lily walked beside her, and Olovice followed behind.

They parted the wall of vines.

The crimson moonlight fell like a veil, adding to the tranquility of the dense forest. Olovice glanced up at the sky’s crimson moon, still not quite used to the moon looking like this.

As they passed Moon Lake, the lively dusk fairies emerged again.

They fluttered around the three of them like fireflies. The curious spring water asked, “Grace, Olovice, it’s already the end of the Crimson Moon. Where are you going?”

“Be careful, the Moon God Grass at the end of the Crimson Moon can’t be picked. It will give you false hints and illusions of the future,” another dusk fairy, concerned for Grace, said. “The crimson moon is dangerous.”

“You’re so naggy. Of course, we know that,” Lily said, leading the demon dog and quickly walking ahead.

“We’re going to the swamp to pick human-faced nutmeg,” Olovice replied. The spring water landed on his shoulder, finding a good spot to sit. It happily sat on the young man’s brilliant golden hair, exclaiming, “Olovice, even the moon can’t take away your radiance.”

“Can’t you give me just two strands?” the spring water persisted.

Olovice shook his head. It wasn’t that he was stingy, but in this world, magic existed. A clergyman’s name, blood, and hair all had special effects. Magic and curses were intertwined, and he didn’t want to be cursed for no reason. Although the spring water seemed harmless and incapable of such things, Olovice didn’t want to take any chances.

“Alright, alright,” the spring water said, eyeing his hair for a while before reluctantly leaving with its companions.

When they reached their destination, under the crimson moonlight, Olovice squinted and examined the large swamp. It resembled a massive still lake, with a few fallen trees, half of their trunks swallowed by the black swamp, and the other half exposed on the grassy ground.

“These trees were struck by lightning and fell, with half of them in the swamp. After the heart of the trees rotted, the dark, damp, and food-rich environment became the favorite habitat for human-faced nutmeg. I planted it there, but it’s not easy to retrieve,” Grace said, setting down her lantern and taking a trowel from the basket. “How many do you need?”

“I’ll do it. Just one is enough,” Olovice said, crouching down and easily inserting the trowel. He made a small opening, and when he saw the human-faced nutmeg, he picked it.

The human-faced nutmeg emitted a sound similar to a baby’s cry. Olovice took out a sealing box he carried with him and placed it inside, finally finding some peace for his ears.

Afterward, Olovice escorted the two witch ladies back.

Under the crimson full moon, Olovice didn’t rush back to the church. Instead, he went to the orphanage on the edge of the small town. He looked at the wall, thought for a moment, and used a levitation spell to float gently into the courtyard. He then checked on the children, finding them all asleep in their rooms. The headmaster’s room was empty, probably still at the mayor’s vineyard.

Olovice left the orphanage.

Using the levitation spell to travel was indeed relaxing. Olovice returned to the church, quietly took a bath, read for a while, and only went to sleep when he felt drowsy.

The next day was a rainy day.

Olovice presided over the funeral for the poor drowning victim, listening to the parents’ lament. He was the youngest son of a farming family, a troublemaker since childhood. After reaching adulthood, he fell in love with drinking and gambling, owing money to a casino in Montpelier. He had returned in disgrace, and just when he found a job, he drowned.

The farmer’s eldest son and his family were full of impatience and indifference, showing no concern for the deceased brother.

“Will my poor Simon go to heaven?” the old woman asked sorrowfully, seeking comfort from the priests and deacons present.

Standing in the drizzle, Olovice’s golden hair was slightly damp. He wore a black priest’s robe, holding the “Heavenly Rest” holy book. Hearing the question, he lowered his eyes and smiled gently, “As long as he sincerely repents, the Heavenly Father will accept him.”

And his task was to send him to meet the Heavenly Father.