He grabbed Fan Zhuo’s hand in a single motion, a pungent reek of alcohol gushing from his mouth so strongly it could nearly knock a person out.
“Really? You… you’re going to greet that troublesome lot in my place?”
“Of course.” Fan Zhuo fought down the surge in his stomach, forcing a smile onto his face, as if sharing the Warden’s burdens was his innate duty.
But inside, his doubts only grew deeper.
It’s just receiving some people from the Magic Academy… Is it really that painful?
“Good! Good lad!” Old John was so excited his fleshy face trembled; he slammed his palm down on the table, making the bottles jump.
“Deal!”
Fan Zhuo: “…?”
Old John moved with an efficiency that was nothing like a drunkard.
He quickly dug out a heavy ring of brass keys from his drawer, then fished a crumpled form from a pile of messy, stained documents and signed his name in flamboyant script with a quill.
In the end, he stuffed everything into Fan Zhuo’s arms as if tossing away a burning hot potato.
“At the end of the corridor next to the office, there’s a suite—it’s yours from now on! As for the C-07 Cell’s slime, you can move her wherever you want, just don’t let her melt the new cell. However you want to toss things around is up to you!”
Old John looked like a man who’d just shrugged off a thousand-pound weight, and even his gaze toward Fan Zhuo was much more agreeable.
Was there even… a hint of sympathy?
“Kid, those academy folks… I’ll leave them all to you. Remember, no matter what outrageous requests they make, don’t get into a direct confrontation, but don’t agree either.”
“Just use your usual mysterious rambling theories and run circles around them—leave them dazed and you’ll be fine. If anything goes wrong… I won’t take the blame.”
Fan Zhuo accepted the keys and documents with a smile, his suspicions further confirmed.
This “reception” definitely wasn’t going to be an easy job.
***
When he returned to his cramped room, Baitu had already tidied everything up spotlessly.
The ambiguous scent in the air had vanished, replaced by a faint hint of lemon—clearly, she had used some kind of cleansing spray.
Milina was still sound asleep on the bed, but her maid outfit had been replaced by a set of clean, loose cotton pajamas by Baitu.
Baitu had even thoughtfully wiped her down, so now the succubus girl looked like a pure and harmless girl-next-door.
“Lord Fan Zhuo, you’re back.” Baitu came to greet him, her sapphire-blue electronic eyes glancing over Fan Zhuo and the ring of keys, as if she’d already guessed what had happened.
There was a resonance.
“We’re moving,” Fan Zhuo said to Baitu with a smile.
Baitu’s electronic eyes visibly lit up.
It was a gleam mixed with surprise, anticipation, and a barely noticeable shyness, as if the word “home” carried some special meaning for her.
She also smiled slightly at Fan Zhuo, her lips curving in a lovely arc. “Now, Baitu will have more space to take care of Lord Fan Zhuo…”
The process of moving turned out to be a bit more troublesome than expected.
The trouble, of course, was the slumbering succubus girl on the bed.
Fan Zhuo couldn’t just carry a living, breathing succubus out in broad daylight. He looked at Milina, sprawled across the bed, one leg hanging over the covers, and fell deep into thought.
In the end, he could only helplessly approach, trying to wrap her up in the blanket like a piece of luggage.
But as soon as his hand touched Milina’s body to turn her over, something unexpected happened.
His palm inevitably came into contact with her soft, plump thigh, clad only in loose cotton pajama pants.
Through that thin layer of fabric, the astonishing softness and resilience sent a jolt through his entire body.
Fan Zhuo’s movements froze.
In her sleep, Milina seemed to sense something. She unconsciously shifted, the pant leg sliding up to reveal a small patch of snowy, delicate skin.
And right near the top of her thigh, a very faint, tattoo-like heart-shaped mark flashed by in a shade of pinkish purple.
At the edge of the mark, there was even a barely perceptible golden glow belonging to Fan Zhuo.
What… is this?
Fan Zhuo didn’t have time to ponder. He shook his head hard, no longer hesitating, and bundled Milina up from head to toe into a tight “spring roll,” then hoisted her over his shoulder.
“Let’s go, Baitu.”
Baitu, diligent as always, packed all their belongings—just a few changes of clothes and Fan Zhuo’s holy tome—into a small bundle and quietly followed behind him.
The new suite was at the end of the corridor next to the Warden’s office, in a patrol blind spot for C Ward guards, rarely visited.
Pushing open the heavy oak door, a rush of dry, clean air greeted them.
This place was at least three times larger than their old single room.
There was a living room with a soft crimson sofa and a huge oak desk, even a built-in bookshelf and wine cabinet along the wall.
A private bedroom held a soft, spacious bed big enough for three people to roll around on.
And a… truly white porcelain bathtub with a separate shower in a roomy bathroom.
What satisfied Fan Zhuo most was the huge one-way floor-to-ceiling window in the living room.
From here, he could look down on much of the circular corridor of C Ward and the edge of B Ward’s forest, with an excellent view. Those outside could only see a smooth, mirror-like black wall.
These living conditions were like moving straight from the slums into a five-star hotel’s presidential suite.
Fan Zhuo carefully set the “blanket roll” down on the big soft bed and unwrapped it.
Milina rolled over in the comfortable environment and continued sleeping soundly.
Beside him, Baitu was already as industrious as a little bee, neatly arranging all their belongings in the most suitable spots, graceful and efficient without making a single unnecessary sound.
Looking at this brand-new “home,” Fan Zhuo felt a long-lost sense of peace.
But he didn’t forget the other matter.
Taking the signed document, he headed straight to the depths of the prison.
The door to the C-07 Cell opened.
It was dark and damp, with a lingering moldy odor in the air.
Alfea was curled up quietly in the corner in her original slime form, like a forgotten, lusterless mass of pink jelly.
At the sound of the door opening, her huge body trembled slightly, but she didn’t take on human form.
She thought it was just another guard, bringing the cold, tasteless nutrient paste.
Until the figure she yearned for day and night, radiating a gentle holy light, walked into the cell.
“Alfea.” Fan Zhuo’s voice was soft, tinged with pain.
The pink jelly quivered violently, then began to surge and condense at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Soon, a shapely girl appeared before Fan Zhuo.
She was barefoot, still wearing that semi-transparent dress formed of slime.
Her large, watery pink eyes looked at Fan Zhuo with surprise and disbelief, rims slightly red, like a small animal abandoned by its owner and then found again.
“Fan Zhuo…?”
“I’ve come to get you, to a new home.”
Fan Zhuo reached out his hand to her, his face wearing a gentle smile warm enough to melt even the coldest ice and snow.