Chapter 62
Chapter 62: The Girls’ Storytelling Session
“Of course.” Ms. Hepburn’s emerald-green eyes shimmered in the dim light, and a mysterious smile curved her lips. “To show my sincerity, I’ll go first.”
“I’ll tell one too… a story about a ‘doll.’”
Lina’s heart skipped a beat.
Hey, hey, big sis, a doll story at a time like this?
But Ms. Hepburn paid no attention to Lina’s strange look and slowly began:
“Legend says that long ago, there was a master dollmaker of extraordinary skill. He was deeply in love with a beautiful dancer, but she was taken away by the greedy lord of the city and eventually died a tragic death.”
“The dollmaker was consumed by grief. He devoted all the effort of his life to creating a life-sized doll in the image of his beloved. He used the finest wood and silk, and in the dead of night, he slit open his own wrist and used his blood as paint to give the doll crimson lips and a pair of eyes filled with hatred.”
“The dollmaker died on the very night he completed his masterpiece. When the lord heard about the exquisite doll, he greedily claimed it for himself and placed it in his bedroom.”
“However, whenever the clock struck midnight, the lord would hear a ‘click, click’ sound coming from the room.”
“As though wooden joints were moving.”
By now, Annie had already shrunk her entire face beneath the blanket, leaving only her eyes exposed. She trembled in fear, yet could not resist listening.
“On the first day, the lord discovered that the doll’s fingers had changed position.”
“On the second day, he discovered that the doll’s eyes seemed to have shifted direction and were staring directly at his bed.”
“By the third night...” Ms. Hepburn suddenly paused.
The room fell deathly silent. Not even the sound of breathing could be heard.
“The lord awoke from a nightmare.” Ms. Hepburn’s voice became eerie and distant. “He discovered that he couldn’t move. The doll that had originally stood in the corner had somehow climbed onto his bed and was now sitting on his chest.”
“The doll’s blood-red lips did not open, yet the lord heard the familiar voice of a woman whispering beside his ear: ‘My dear… I’ve come to take you away.’”
“And then—”
Ms. Hepburn extended a slender finger and made a light twisting motion in the air.
“Crack.”
She imitated a crisp sound of breaking bone.
“The lord’s neck, as fragile as a piece of wood, was gently, slowly... twisted apart by the doll’s cold hands.”
“Ah—!!!”
Annie finally could not take it anymore. She let out a short scream and instantly wrapped herself around Lina like a koala, clinging with both arms and legs while burying her face firmly in Lina’s chest.
“Hehe...” Watching Annie’s reaction, Ms. Hepburn let out a string of silver-bell laughter. There was no malice in it; instead, it carried the playful delight of a successful prank. “Sorry, sorry. Occupational habit. I got too immersed in the story before I knew it.”
Sibyl smiled helplessly. “Hepburn, your story... was certainly excellent, but it’s really not suitable as a bedtime story. Let me tell the first story instead.”
“It happened a long time ago, during a summer in Osselro Town. Back then, the Sibyl family did not yet possess an industrial empire of its current scale. We were merely a newly risen noble family that had just entered the capital market.”
“I was seven years old that year and had awakened my affinity for wind-element magic for the first time.”
Sibyl raised a hand and lightly traced a circle in the air with her fingertip. A faint current of wind lifted a strand of Annie’s blue hair before gently letting it fall again.
“Wind magic is the hardest to control. It isn’t as passionate as fire, nor as steady as earth. To the clumsy little girl I was back then, those wind elements were like a group of mischievous sprites that could never be caught. I practiced for an entire week and still couldn’t even make a feather float. I was so frustrated that I sat in the garden and cried my eyes out.”
“And then?” Annie asked, blinking her large eyes.
“And then, my two older brothers came.” A gentle smile appeared on Sibyl’s lips. “My eldest brother, Derek, and my second brother, Eric.”
“My eldest brother wasn’t wearing glasses back then, and he wasn’t nearly as serious as he is now,” Sibyl continued. “He didn’t laugh at me. Instead, he crouched down, held my hand, and patiently told me, ‘Sibyl, wind isn’t something you grab. You need to learn to listen to its breathing.’”
“My second brother was much more impatient. To encourage me, he even climbed to the top of the tallest oak tree in the garden and threw down a whole pile of paper airplanes he had folded himself, shouting for me to try catching them.”
“That afternoon, the sunlight was beautiful. My eldest brother held my hand and guided my magical circuits, while my second brother yelled from the tree like a monkey. Encouraged by both of them, I finally succeeded in stirring up a gust of wind. The paper airplane circled through the air three full times before landing steadily in my eldest brother’s palm.”
“At that time, I felt like the happiest little sister in the world. I had two older brothers who could do anything. They said they would always protect me and always accompany me while I practiced magic.”
“Then... how are your brothers doing now?” Lina asked softly. Although she had already met Derek tonight, she wanted to know what had happened in between.
Sibyl fell silent for a moment, her fingers slowly tightening around the edge of the blanket.
“They changed.”
She lowered her eyes, and a trace of bitter hoarseness entered her voice.
“Everything changed when I was fourteen. That year, something major happened in Osselro Town. My father’s friend, another noble in town, Uncle Howard, was suddenly arrested and imprisoned.”
“At the time, I didn’t understand what had happened. I only knew that from that day onward, the atmosphere in our home became as oppressive as a grave.”
“My father shut himself in his study all day, and my two brothers, who had once doted on me more than anyone else, seemed as though their souls had been replaced.”
Sibyl took a deep breath. “My second brother became quiet and withdrawn. He left the family early and went to Solennam, and to this day he still hasn’t returned. As for my eldest brother, Derek... he took over the family business and became cold, calculating, and snobbish. All he ever talked about was profit and efficiency.”
“I once tried to ask him what had happened.”
“But he only looked at me coldly and said, ‘What does a child know? Stop bothering me.’”
“From that day on, he never taught me magic again. He never even looked me in the eye another time. Now, I’ve learned how to command the wind, but I’ve lost the brother who used to fold paper airplanes for me...”
The room fell silent.
Just then, a warm hand gently covered the back of Sibyl’s hand, which was clenched tightly around the blanket.
“Don’t be too sad, Sibyl.”
Ms. Hepburn turned slightly toward her. A gentle warmth flowed through her emerald-green eyes as she spoke softly, “Time is sometimes a clumsy makeup artist. It paints all kinds of strange masks onto people’s faces. Some become cold and distant because they have no choice but to put on a thick suit of armor to protect the things they cannot bear to lose amidst the wind and snow.”
She extended her arms and gave Sibyl a warm hug.
“Perhaps one day, when the storm finally passes, you’ll discover that the brother who folded paper airplanes for you has been standing beneath the tree all along and never left.”
Sibyl froze for a moment before a faint smile returned to her face.
“Thank you, Hepburn. You really are good at comforting people...”
Although Ms. Hepburn’s words eased the mood somewhat, the atmosphere remained a little stiff.
“Ah! No, no, no!”
Annie poked her head out from beneath the blanket. Her clear, doe-like eyes blinked as she looked around the still somewhat gloomy room and proposed, “Since nobody can sleep anyway, how about I tell a legend that’s... a little more inspiring? My ‘teacher’ told it to me.”
She obediently adjusted her sitting posture, hugged her knees, and said:
“The protagonist of this story is the legendary leader of the previous generation’s ‘Ten Great Witches,’ the one hailed as the strongest of them all—the story of the Star Witch!”