As night fell, Buena Village was blanketed in a tranquil darkness, with only the small window of Lynch’s house emitting a warm, amber glow.
Dinner had just concluded, and the savory aroma of black-boned chicken and ginseng soup still lingered in the air.
Lynch sat at the table and summoned his system panel once more, scrutinizing the progress bar for the advancement quest.
[Current Progress: 0.87%]
"0.87%..."
To him, though the number was tiny, it represented immense hope. The system described this as the "percentage of recovery to peak condition."
This meant that Felsy’s current physical condition was less than one percent of her peak health.
Anyone else might have felt despair, thinking the condition was terminal, but Lynch was an optimist.
"At just 0.87%, she’s already able to get out of bed and walk around, even occasionally helping me with light chores."
Lynch watched Felsy's back as she washed dishes in the kitchen, his heart swelling with relief.
"If she can reach 1%, even just a little bit more, her physical fitness should reach the level of an ordinary person, right? At the very least, she won't be coughing all the time, and her hands and feet won't always be icy cold."
"If she hits 10%, maybe she can be like the other girls in the village—running, jumping, and even going shopping in town."
"And if all goes well, once she hits 100%... wouldn't she live to a ripe old age with perfect health?"
This was Lynch’s simple, humble wish.
He didn't care about any "peak power of the Calamity Witch." Besides, caring wouldn't change anything; after all, it wasn't as if Felsy were actually a world-ending witch.
He only wanted his wife to be healthy and to live a long life by his side in this world.
"To reach that goal, I have to work harder tonight!"
Lynch clenched his fist in silent determination.
Whether it was the nutritional boost from the black-boned chicken soup or the external aid of his God-level Massage Technique, he needed to use both approaches simultaneously.
"Felsy, leave the dishes to me."
Lynch stood up, walked behind Felsy, and naturally took the cloth from her hand. "The water is cold; don't let it chill your hands. Go lie down in bed and get warm."
Felsy paused and glanced back at him.
Under the lamplight, her eyelashes fluttered slightly. A flicker of anticipation—barely perceptible—danced in her violet eyes, though her voice remained as detached as ever.
"I'm not cold."
"Be good," Lynch said, gently but firmly ushering her out of the kitchen. "The massage last night worked quite well, didn't it? We’re continuing tonight. Er... ahem... for the sake of your recovery, we can't interrupt the treatment cycle."
At the mention of the word "massage," the tips of Felsy’s ears instantly flushed crimson.
Just as I thought.
This man... he really is obsessed with that kind of contact, isn't he?
Even though he claimed it was for the treatment, that technique of his... that soul-shuddering sense of comfort...
Felsy pursed her lips, a secret wave of joy surging in her heart.
In truth, she had been waiting for Lynch to bring it up since they finished dinner. If he hadn't mentioned it, she wouldn't have known how to hint at it while maintaining her composure.
"Since you insist..."
Felsy turned around, trying her best to make her voice sound reluctant. "Then... let's try it one more time."
Having said that, she was just about to head to the bedroom when she suddenly froze in her tracks.
Her gaze drifted through the window, settling on the dark side room across the courtyard.
Memories of the previous night instantly came flooding back.
That idiot Kuma hadn't just eavesdropped; she’d had the audacity to ask the next morning why things "hadn't been louder."
This could not be allowed to happen a second time.
Especially not tonight. Given how enthusiastic Lynch was being, what if he couldn't restrain himself and things actually did get a bit loud?
If her subordinate overheard that, what would become of her dignity as a Great Witch?
"What's the matter?" Lynch asked, noticing her pause.
"One moment."
Felsy turned around, a smile on her face so incredibly tender that it caused the insects outside to fall into an immediate, terrified silence.
"I just remembered there are a few... well, precautions regarding her work as a courier that I need to discuss with Kuma."
"I'll be right back."
"Oh, sure, go ahead," Lynch said, not thinking much of it. He only remarked, "You really do look out for her. You’re like a responsible older sister."
Felsy didn't bother explaining as she pushed open the door and stepped out into the night.
...
Inside the side room.
Kuma was huddled under her covers, her ear pressed firmly against the wall. Like a predator lying in wait, she was ready to resume the "intelligence gathering" she had started the previous night.
"Hehehe... I wonder if there will be any new developments tonight..."
"If I can record data on the reproductive process between humans and demons, I’ll make a fortune back in the Scorched Lands... I mean, I’ll be making a massive contribution to demon biology!"
Just as Kuma’s imagination was beginning to run wild...
Creak—
The door to the side room swung open without a sound.
A sudden chill swept into the room.
Kuma froze. Her head turned toward the door with mechanical stiffness.
A slender figure stood in the doorway, backlit by the moon. Her expression was obscured by the shadows, but her eyes glowed with an eerie, violet light in the darkness.
"M-Mistress Witch?"
Kuma swallowed hard, an instinctive sense of dread washing over her. "W-What are you doing here? Did you come to bring me a late-night snack?"
Felsy said nothing.
She simply stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.
Then, with a flick of her fingers, she traced a Silence Barrier in the air, enveloping the entire room.
"Agent Kuma."
Felsy’s voice was as soft as a bedtime story. "Did you sleep well last night?"
"W-Wonderful!" Kuma stammered, shivering beneath her blanket. "Aside from a slight crick in my neck..."
"Good."
Felsy approached the bed, looking down at the beast-eared girl who was desperately trying to act cute to escape her fate.
"To ensure you have another peaceful night of rest, undisturbed by any... outside noises..."
"As your superior, I’ve decided to show you some special consideration."
Before she could even finish her sentence...
Several strands of pitch-black mana materialized out of thin air. Like living serpents, they lashed out, binding Kuma and her blanket into a tight bundle.
"Mmph?!"
Kuma’s eyes went wide. She opened her mouth to plead for mercy, but a soft ball of cotton—a stray rag Felsy had snatched up—was shoved precisely into her mouth.
Next, Felsy produced a pair of exquisite earplugs. They were special items enchanted with sound-muffling magic; once they were in, she wouldn't hear a thing from the next room—even if the sky came crashing down.
"Keep these in."
With agonizingly gentle movements, Felsy made sure the earplugs were firmly in place.
"Mmmph! Mmmph!"
Felsy nodded in satisfaction as she watched Kuma wriggling on the bed like a caterpillar.
"From now until sunrise tomorrow, you are not allowed to take that off. Furthermore, you are forbidden from using any sensory magic to probe the main house."
"If I catch even a hint of disobedience..."
Felsy leaned down and whispered softly into Kuma's ear, "I'll send you back to the Scorched Earth to serve as a foot-washing maid for that menopausal succubus steward."
Kuma instantly stopped struggling, her eyes becoming incredibly clear and obedient.
She nodded frantically, signaling her absolute compliance and promising to be a perfectly deaf and mute observer.
"Goodnight. Sweet dreams."
Felsy patted the human cocoon and turned to leave, a job well done.
...
Back in the main house, Lynch had already finished the dishes and was making the bed in the bedroom.
"Done talking?"
Lynch asked with a smile as he saw Felsy enter.
"Mhm. The girl is very well-behaved; she’s already turned in for the night."
Felsy closed the door, the coldness instantly vanishing from her face. It was replaced by her usual stoic, expressionless mask, yet a hint of bashfulness and anticipation flickered within her deep, violet eyes.
She walked to the bedside. Instead of the awkwardness she had shown the previous night, she turned her back to Lynch and gently untied her hair ribbon, letting her silver hair cascade down like a waterfall.
"Then... let's begin."
She climbed onto the bed and buried her face in the soft pillow, her voice sounding muffled as she spoke.
"This time... you can take a little longer."
Looking at her back, which appeared exceptionally soft and graceful under the lamplight, a gentle smile played on Lynch's lips.
"Alright."
"I'll make sure you're satisfied."
The night deepened, and the room was filled with a cozy warmth.
Meanwhile, in a corner of the courtyard, a certain beast-eared girl—bundled up like a rice dumpling—stared at the ceiling through her gag, silently weeping the tears of a lonely singleton and a mere tool.