The Villain Who Invests in a Witch to Survive Chapter 168 : Chapter 168

Chapter 168: Him

The opening was still there.

Just as it had been yesterday, it stood in the center of the marsh like a gigantic eye. Black stone, densely carved patterns, and stairs that stretched downward into unseen darkness.

Around the entrance, the corroded pits were still there. The scorched black reeds were still there. The scattered remains of the monsters were still there. But the stench had faded a little, carried away by the wind.

Ryan stood at the edge of the opening and looked down.

The steps were steep, each one a full foot high, as though they had been built for giants. After only a dozen or so steps, nothing could be seen anymore—only darkness, thick and impenetrable.

Rex ca over and glanced downward, then shrank back a little.

“It’s really dark.”

Lillian stood on Ryan’s other side, staring into the darkness without speaking. Her hand rested on her sword hilt, her knuckles slightly pale.

Ryan pulled a few torches out of his pack and handed one each to Rex and Lillian.

“Once we’re inside, stay close to ,” he said. “Don’t touch anything carelessly, and don’t fall behind.”

Rex took the torch and nodded hard.

Lillian nodded as well.

Ryan drew a deep breath, lit his torch, and held it out in front of him.

Then he took the first step and walked into the darkness.

The firelight illuminated only a small patch of space, revealing those black steps and the dense patterns carved into the stone walls. They were the sa as the ones at the entrance, circling one after another, like so ancient script or so eerie magic formation.

Footsteps sounded behind him—Rex and Lillian had followed.

The three of them slowly descended.

Their footsteps echoed through the darkness, as if sothing were following them.

The torchlight flickered, illuminating the patterns, the walls, and the darkness ahead that never seed to end.

The entrance above grew farther and farther away, smaller and smaller, until it beca a single point of light.

Then even that point disappeared.

There was only darkness.

Only the stairs.

Only the path forward.

Saint Roland Magic Academy, boys’ dormitory district.

That door had been closed for several days now.

No one ca to knock. No one ca to ask. Now and then, footsteps would pass through the corridor, only to fade away again. Sunlight slanted in through the windows, falling across the hallway floor before slowly shifting away, and another day would pass just like that.

Inside the room, Cosette sat at the desk.

Spread open before her was a copy of Introduction to Basic Magic Theory, opened to page thirty-seven.

That page explained the basic composition of the fire elent, accompanied by an illustration of a flickering fla.

She stared at that picture for a long ti, so long that her eyes began to ache, so long that the image blurred in her vision.

She had not read a single word.

The book was still the sa book, and the words were still the sa words, but her mind was empty. Nothing would stay in it. Those letters looked like rows of ants crawling across the page, yet none of them would crawl into her head.

Cosette sighed and closed the book.

She stood and walked to the window, looking outside.

Beyond the dormitory was a small open patch of ground planted with several trees whose nas she did not know. Their leaves were a deep green, swaying gently in the wind. Farther away stood the academy’s main building, its pointed spires stabbing up toward the sky.

There was nothing there.

Just like yesterday.

Just like the day before.

Cosette turned around and began pacing through the room.

There was not really anything to do. The room had always been small: a bed, a desk, a chair, and a wardrobe. She cleaned it every day. It was already spotless, so clean not even a speck of dust could be found.

And yet she still went over to the bed and folded the blanket again. It had already been folded neatly that morning, sharp-edged and perfectly straight.

She unfolded it and folded it again.

After that, she went back to the desk and rearranged the books. She lined them up by size, then by color, then by the first letter of their titles.

When she felt that arrangent looked wrong, she rearranged them again.

Then she went to wipe the window.

The window was already clean. She had just wiped it a few days ago. But she still picked up the rag and carefully cleaned each pane, until the glass was so clear it was as if there were no glass there at all.

After the window, she swept the floor.

There was nothing on the ground. Not even a strand of hair.

Still, she swept, moving from the door to the window, from the window to the underside of the bed, sweeping every inch of the floorboards.

When she finished, she had no idea what to do next.

She stood in the middle of the room and looked around.

The bed.

Ryan had slept there. When he slept, he liked to lie on his side. His breathing was always light, and now and then, he would frown, as if he were having so unpleasant dream.

The desk.

Ryan had sat there. When he read, he would focus so intently that his eyes remained fixed on the page for a very long ti. Sotis he would look up and glance at the sky outside the window, then lower his head again.

The chair.

Ryan had sat there too. He sat there when he ate, and whenever he drank soup, he made the faintest little sound, as if he did not want anyone else to hear it.

The corner.

That was where Ryan put his pack. Every ti he returned from going out, he would leave it there, then take things out one by one. Sotis they were books. Sotis they were strange little parts. Sotis it was a small snack, which he would hand to her.

Cosette stood there, looking at all those places.

They were all empty now.

But slowly, her eyes began to brighten.

She could see Ryan sitting at the desk, his head lowered over a book. Sunlight stread through the window and fell across his profile, laying a pale golden glow over that face that was usually so expressionless. His fingers turned the pages with a soft rustling sound.

She could see Ryan lying on the bed with his eyes closed. His breathing was very light, his chest rising and falling faintly. His brow was furrowed, as if he were dreaming of sothing unpleasant. She wanted so badly to go over and smooth that crease from his forehead with her hand.

She could see Ryan sitting in the chair and eating. He would pick up a piece of at and put it into his mouth, chewing slowly. Then he would lift his head and look at her, and the corner of his mouth would shift, as though he were about to say sothing.

Cosette took a step forward.

She reached out.

Her fingers touched only air.

Those images vanished. The desk was empty. The bed was empty. The chair was empty. Only the sunlight remained, shining over those empty places.

Cosette’s hand froze in midair.

Slowly, she lowered it to her side.

Outside the window, birds were singing brightly.

Cosette stood there without moving.

After a long ti, she turned around, walked back to the desk, and sat down again. She reopened the book to page thirty-seven. The picture of the fla was still there, unchanged.

She stared at it until her eyes stung and her vision blurred. She blinked and did not let anything fall.

Then suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the door.

Cosette sprang to her feet and stared at it. Her heart started beating faster, so fast it hurt.

The footsteps ca closer.

Closer still.

Then they passed by the door and kept going, growing fainter and fainter until they vanished completely.

It was not Ryan.

Cosette slowly sat back down. She looked at the door for a very long ti. It remained shut, with no sign that it ant to open.

She lowered her head and looked at the illustration of the fla on the page. It had been drawn vividly, red and gold, as though it were dancing.

As she stared at it, a thought suddenly ca to her.

What was Master doing right now?

Was he still alive?

Was he hurt?

Was he hungry?

Did he have any water?

She did not know.

She knew nothing at all.

Cosette lowered her head onto her folded arms and lay there on the desk.

Outside the window, the sun slowly moved westward. Light slanted through the glass, fell across the floorboards, and slowly shifted away.

Another day was about to pass.

Tomorrow, she would clean the room all over again.