Black Sail

Isis was like a curious baby, finding everything fascinating, but this shabby place didn’t look anything like a hospital.

In her mind, hospitals were like vacation resorts—with hot springs, a pleasant environment, birds singing, flowers fragrant. Even the attendants had to be good-looking and charismatic. Some of her noble friends who pursued thrills through drug use would detox in such places.

But this place was dilapidated, a bare concrete building—it didn’t look like a clinic, it looked more like a dungeon.

Liszt stared intensely at the position of the stairway, and almost spat out a mouthful of blood when he saw Mika’s former home tutor.

This home tutor probably wasn’t very proper, right?

Mika was already in his thirties, and as his teacher, she must not be young either. She had to be at least in her late thirties.

The term "still charming" didn’t quite describe this woman, even though she was a bit older and slightly plump. Her baggy cotton sweater couldn’t hide her shapely figure, which was too pronounced. Her hair, tied back in a low ponytail, hung over one shoulder, with a few strands escaping. There was a charming beauty mark by her lips.

However, age took its toll, her complexion slightly dull and her expression weary.

If she was younger, probably none but the eunuchs would be able to resist her.

Liszt had read links to the Immortal’s passages, "Nine days could not compare to an instant in it."

It’s no wonder Mika was obsessed with collecting guides, with such a home tutor around, regardless of what knowledge he acquired, he surely learned some skills.