Chapter 274 — The Alluring Witch (Part 2)
The bar was a two-story establishment, its décor clearly dating back several decades.
The atmosphere carried a faint sense of age—dim lighting, worn wooden furniture, and the lingering scent of old liquor.
The moment Gideon stepped inside, a soft, velvety voice reached his ears.
"Sir, is the room I reserved earlier still available~?"
He looked up.
At the bar counter stood a woman.
She wore a fitted black dress that perfectly outlined her elegant figure. A black hat rested lightly atop her head, lending her an air of refined nobility.
In an instant—
Every man in the bar turned to look.
Behind the counter stood a young bartender, no more than eighteen or nineteen.
"Y-You must be Miss Denise Dean…"
His face flushed red as he stared down at the counter, only daring to glance up occasionally.
"I've kept your room reserved, just as you asked."
"Oh, really~?"
Her tone carried a playful delight.
"Thank you so much… you can just call me Denise."
As she spoke, Denise leaned forward, resting her elbow on the counter.
Her body tilted slightly—
And the curve of her figure became even more striking.
Around the room, several men instinctively leaned forward, their breathing growing heavier.
The bartender, meanwhile, was completely flustered, his heart pounding wildly.
"What's your name?" Denise asked softly—low enough that only he could hear.
"M-Martin… ma'am."
"Mr. Martin…"
She gently tugged at his bow tie, pulling him slightly closer.
A faint fragrance reached him.
Sweet. Subtle. Intoxicating.
"A friend of mine just went through a breakup," she murmured near his ear.
Her breath brushed against his skin—warm, deliberate.
"So tonight, I'd like to have a quiet drink with her… without any interruptions."
She paused briefly, her voice softening further.
"Could you be a gentleman… and guard the door for us?"
Martin's mind went blank.
He nodded instinctively.
"O-Of course! Miss—Miss Denise, I won't let anyone disturb you."
Tap.
A sudden warmth brushed his cheek.
"You're so kind~"
Denise chuckled softly.
Then she straightened up and turned toward the room, offering a radiant smile.
The men immediately sat upright, pretending to busy themselves—
Though the clatter of overturned glasses betrayed them.
One man even absentmindedly put a lit cigarette into his mouth, only to jump up in pain a second later.
At that moment—
Denise's gaze met Gideon's.
She smiled again.
Then turned and walked toward the corridor deeper inside the bar.
Gideon narrowed his eyes slightly.
He had heard every word of her conversation with the bartender.
But what caught his attention wasn't what she said—
It was how she said it.
If he wasn't mistaken—
While speaking to the bartender…
She had subtly used witchcraft.
Gideon clearly saw a trace of energy slip into the bartender's eyes—and linger there even now.
"So, I've found my target," he thought.
He walked up to the counter and placed two bills down.
"Sometimes… you've got to seize the opportunity."
"Ah… sir? What do you mean?" Martin was still dazed from earlier.
Gideon pointed at his cheek.
Martin froze, then glanced at the mirror beside him.
A bright red lipstick mark stood out vividly on his face.
His heart skipped a beat.
Quickly, he wiped it away with his sleeve.
"S-sir, you must be joking… how could I possibly be worthy of a lady like that?"
"I think you're young and handsome," Gideon said with a faint smile.
"What's not to be worthy?"
Martin scratched his head awkwardly.
"You're too kind, sir…"
He knew it was just polite talk—but still, hearing something like that made him feel unexpectedly good about himself.
"Oh—right. What would you like to drink?"
Martin glanced at the bills on the counter. The amount was more than enough for an entire bottle.
"I just arrived in town," Gideon said casually.
"I've noticed a lot of banners on the streets. What's going on?"
"Oh, that…" Martin nodded.
"A few months ago, an organization called the Rosicrucian Order showed up…"
What he said was mostly consistent with what Gideon had already learned—but there were a few differences.
Martin lowered his voice.
"New Orleans has seen its share of chaos before. Take this bar, for example—it used to be an execution ground."
"They say over a thousand prisoners were executed here back then…"
Gideon raised an eyebrow.
Whoever owned this place clearly had nerves of steel.
But more importantly—
This information caught his attention.
A woman who likely used witchcraft…
Choosing an old execution ground to meet someone…
Even subtly influencing the bartender to keep others away…
She might as well have written "I'm plotting something" on her face.
Gideon immediately decided to stay.
"Do you have private rooms here?"
"Yes, of course."
Martin led him to an empty room.
Before entering, Gideon glanced diagonally across the corridor.
The woman from earlier was inside one of the rooms.
"A formation… or something similar?"
He could clearly sense abnormal energy fluctuations around that door.
"Sir, please don't enter other guests' rooms," Martin suddenly said.
Then, realizing he'd spoken out of turn, he quickly lowered his head.
"S-sorry… it's just to make sure you won't be disturbed."
Gideon caught a faint pink glow flicker through his eyes.
He raised an eyebrow—but said nothing.
"I understand. Thank you for the reminder."
"You're too kind, sir…"
Martin soon returned to normal and even handed the money back.
"This isn't exactly secret information. You could've asked anyone on the street… I can't accept your money."
"In that case," Gideon said, taking out a cross,
"consider this a souvenir. I bought it while traveling in the Vatican—not worth much."
Martin hesitated for a moment—then accepted it.
"Thank you."
After the bartender left, Gideon stood up again.
He quietly set up a few precautions around the room—then slipped outside.
Through the window, he saw the woman.
She was sitting on the floor.
Around her, the tiles were lifting into the air one by one, stacking themselves aside.
From beneath the ground—
A faint, sinister aura seeped out.
"As expected… her target is the execution ground."
Gideon narrowed his eyes.
Soon, bones began to emerge from the earth.
Remains.
Then—
Shadows of spirits started to take shape.
Yet the woman showed no concern.
Instead, she took out an amulet.
With it, she sealed each spirit back into its own remains—
Then buried the bones at different points around the room.
After finishing, she made a phone call.
Because of the energy barrier, Gideon couldn't hear the conversation.
But from her lips—
He caught one phrase:
"You can bring them in."
His eyes narrowed.
He immediately moved to a more concealed position and waited.
Witch Academy — Underground Storage
Harsh white lights hung overhead, illuminating more than a dozen graceful figures below.
They were all students of this year's intake.
The witches gathered in small groups, forming several distinct factions along the corridor.
Each group kept its distance.
Their gazes clashed.
Expressions of disdain flickered openly.
The air was thick with tension.
At the end of the corridor stood a small window.
Beside it hung a wooden sign:
"Evil Materials Distribution"
The iron bars covering the window were still closed.
Ten minutes later—
"Clatter—"
The bars were lifted.
A middle-aged man leaned out.
"Ladies, thank you for waiting. Gree is honored to serve you~"
His features were ordinary—
But his deep blue eyes and faint stubble gave him a certain charm.
Even so—
Several girls immediately showed visible disgust.
"Today's materials are limited as usual," Gree said, licking his lips.
"If anyone needs them urgently… better act fast."
A woman stepped forward immediately.
She swayed her hips as she approached, placing a hand casually on his arm—
And slipped a silver coin into his palm.
"Miss Peggy, as proactive as ever," Gree smirked.
In front of everyone—
He took her hand and slowly licked it.
"What can I do?" Peggy sighed softly.
"My abilities are too weak to become a primary witch."
"If I don't try harder… I might not even qualify as an assistant."
"All the more reason you need materials," Gree said eagerly, gripping her wrist.
"Come inside. Take your time choosing."
Peggy didn't resist.
She walked straight into the storage room.
The moment she stepped inside—
Gree's hand slid onto her hips.
"Don't worry, everyone. One at a time."
The bars dropped shut again.
Soon—
Subtle sounds echoed from within.
Disgust spread through the corridor.
Madison was among those scowling.
"If you want your materials on time," a calm voice said,
"I suggest you wipe that expression off your face."
It was Quentin.
"Hmph. I still don't understand how someone like him works here," Madison muttered.
"Couldn't the academy find anyone else?"
"He has connections with the higher-ups of the Order," Quentin replied coldly.
"Though… that disgusting man won't be around much longer."
"Oh? Planning to deal with him?"
"That's none of your concern, Miss Montgomery."
Quentin's gaze sharpened.
"Just like I never ask why you're so obsessed with recovering your lost memories."
"I thought we were allies."
"There are no allies in this academy."
"If you get in my way…"
"I'll kill you too."
The storage door opened again.
Peggy stepped out, holding a silver container.
She adjusted her clothes, completely ignoring the stares around her, and walked off.
"Next," Gree called lazily, leaning against the doorframe.
His shirt hung loosely open.
"Miss Zoe, didn't you just become an assistant? Don't you need high-quality materials?"
A blonde girl in a black dress turned her face away, her expression disgusted.
"You disgusting creep!" a heavyset Black witch snapped, hands on her hips.
"I'll report you to Fiona!"
"Queenie," Gree sneered,
"don't waste your breath. I'm not interested in you."
"You—!"
She immediately raised a fork to her throat.
But Gree only watched, amused.
"Save it," Quentin stepped forward.
"Your 'pain transfer' won't work on him."
She placed five silver coins on the table.
"Oh~ Miss Quentin," Gree drawled, his eyes roaming over her body,
"I heard someone took your position as primary witch. What a shame."
Quentin narrowed her eyes—but didn't move away.
"Want me to put in a word with Fiona?" Gree leaned closer.
"For you… I'd be happy to."
"No need," Quentin said coldly.
"These coins cover three portions. I trust you're a man who respects the rules."
"Of course."
He grabbed the coins—
And brushed her hand deliberately.
Moments later, he returned with a silver container.
"Seventy-five percent purity," he whispered near her ear.
"My sincerity isn't fake."
Quentin clenched her fist—
Then turned and left.
Gree watched her back, a predatory glint in his eyes.
"Next."
Academy — Second Floor
Quentin peeked down the hallway.
Once she confirmed it was empty, she closed the door quietly.
She hung a bell on the handle and chanted softly.
A transparent barrier formed around the room.
Then she took out a small wooden box—
Carved with strange runes.
After setting another layer of protection, she opened it.
Inside—
A lump of blackened flesh.
Faint yellow energy seeped from it.
Her eyes turned cold.
She opened the silver container.
A wail echoed from within.
With a flick of her magic—
The box floated to the container.
The moment the two touched—
The container darkened instantly.
Without hesitation—
She dropped the flesh inside and sealed it.
The screams intensified—
Then slowly faded after a full minute.
Quentin cleaned the container and restored the room.
Then—
She picked it up and left.
Third Floor — Room 306
Knock. Knock.
"Just a second!"
After a brief clatter, the door opened.
"Quentin! You're finally here!"
Jenny's eyes lit up.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Quentin smiled.
"Come in!"
Jenny pulled her inside.
Quentin glanced at the injured animals around the room—
Her eyes narrowed slightly—
Then returned to normal.
"Here. Today's materials. Seventy-five percent purity."
"This should be enough."
"Gree was on duty today, so I got delayed."
Jenny immediately looked worried.
"He didn't do anything to you, right?"
Quentin shook her head.
"Just cost a few extra coins."
"I'll pay you back!"
Jenny quickly stood—
But Quentin pulled her back down.
"You're the primary witch. These coins are already yours."
Jenny hesitated.
"I still think… you should be the primary witch."
"Maybe I should talk to Fiona again—"
Quentin's tone turned cold.
"No need."
Then she smiled again.
"The headmistress must have her reasons."
She paused—then changed the subject.
"By the way… did you hear about yesterday?"
Jenny shook her head.
"I haven't left the room at all…"
"There's been a spirit incident in the city."
"The Voodoo Coven took the job."
Quentin paused slightly—
Then added:
"I heard… their leader was injured during the mission."
"She hasn't shown up for days."
At those words—
Jenny's fists tightened instantly.