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Chapter Twelve: Uninvited Guest
Pretending to clean the kitchen, Lia watched as the witch slowly opened the fence for the cloaked man. The two men stalked into the house, and Lia stood frozen upon their arrival in the kitchen.
The hooded man slowly raises his hands to remove his hood, revealing the most angelic face Lia has ever seen. Lia could be sworn that she spotted the intruder's skin gleam whenever light would touch it.
The witch, on the other hand, gave Lia a glance and strode towards the stairs. Before he disappeared out of Lia's sight, she gathered herself to ask.
"Should I prepare food?"
The witch gave a scoff and a curt look at his visitor, who's currently staring at Lia—looking rather fascinated.
"Do you want food?" The witch grunted.
"A pumpkin juice would do fine," said the man in a sweet melancholic tone.
Lia nodded and started preparing bread and pumpkin juice. The witch disappeared up the stairs and the visitor took it as his cue to sit himself on the kitchen's dining.
Lia gave a small smile at the man watching her move around. She placed the food in front of him, giving herself the liberty to see him close.
It isn't very evident, but the man has silver markings on his face, almost glittery, and his eyes... they are different shades of green—almost too colorful to be that of a mortal.
Lia knew—the man in front of her was no human.
"And who could you be? I haven't been informed that the potioneer is now keeping strays" said his calm voice.
Before Lia could answer, a voice interrupted.
"She's a thief who wandered carelessly into my garden" The witch walked in, handing the visitor a small wooden box filled with different vials of unknown liquid. "Here's what you've gone here for, Jimin. You can leave now. Perhaps you'll learn to wait for my letter the next time before inviting yourself into my forest"
"I had only worried, my friend. We've heard nothing from you for weeks. My fellows had gone awry of your absence" said the man, Jimin, in his misty voice.
Jimin stood up, gave his thanks to the witch, and gave a meaningful smile to Lia.
"You might want to cover their scents. Better to keep other covens away"
The man left the cabin with the box of vials without touching any of the food Lia prepared for him.
That night, after the uninvited guest's warning, the witch busied himself yet again by circling the whole cabin with potions and markings.
Lia watched as he murmured unknown and incomprehensible words as he made gestures in the air.
"He's muttering enchantments," Jeongguk told Lia, seeing how curious she was while they gazed through the cabin's window.
"Enchantments? And how'd you know that?"
Jeongguk beamed at her. "He does it when we do the garden. He says enchantments conceal the garden from wandering thieves"
Lia felt her face heated. She may, or may not, be the reason why the witch does that.
"It's getting late, now, time for bed" She ushered her brother and tucked him in before leaving their small bedroom for the kitchen, there was work she'd forgotten to do, and thus she intended to finish before going to sleep, when the witch finally entered the house. His inhumanly beautiful face is coated with exhaustion. Lia thought—muttering enchantments must've been eating too much of his energy.
"Shall I prepare food? Drinks?" She couldn't help but ask.
The witch spared her no glance as he plopped himself on the nearest seat. His head leaned back and his eyes were tightly shut, there were beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and the skin on his face flashed a different shade of redness.
Lia grew up looking after her sick brother and such appearances aren't new to her.
"You're sick! Why haven't you said anything?!" Lia ran to the kitchen to grab a towel and warm water before making her way towards the unmoving man.
The witch remained motionless, eyes tightly shut, even when Lia started gently pressing the damped towel on his forehead. The witch's breath came heavy. Was it from exhaustion or fever? Lia wasn't so sure.
That night, Lia didn't sleep. She busied herself looking after the same man she feared the most, with one thing in her mind—She didn't know until then that witches could get sick.
Lia lost count of the time she'd spent keeping the witch's temperature from rising. She tended at the weakened man the whole night that when exhaustion hit her too, she slept at the foot of the chair where the witch lay. Her head leaned on his side, hands gently touching his wrist to keep his temperature in check.
Lia slept peacefully, fully unaware of the eyes gazing at her—confused as the moon above hiding behind dark clouds.
