NOVPUB
Chapter 94: The Witch’s Return
Zayn kicked open the inn door with a grunt, dragging a half-conscious Bran behind him like a sack of potatoes.
Well, not quite. Potatoes didn’t occasionally slur compliments about how "the moon was secretly judging him."
Nor did they randomly twitch and mutter, "I swear I only paid for two girls..."
Zayn’s arm was looped tightly under Bran’s shoulder, doing most of the heavy lifting.
Bran, in contrast, was putting in negative effort.
His legs just sort of shuffled along the floor like a broom someone forgot to pick up after sweeping.
And gods, the man was heavier than he looked — muscle and alcohol made for a hell of a combination.
"Moderate spender, my ass," Zayn muttered to himself. "You single-handedly funded an entire brothel economy tonight."
He finally reached the stairs and stared up at them like they were the gates to the underworld.
With a deep sigh, he hoisted Bran up, step by painful step, the wood creaking under both their weights.
A particularly sharp turn caused Bran to flop sideways, almost taking them both down in a drunken avalanche of limbs.
A couple more grunts, one or two muffled curses, and Zayn finally managed to dump Bran unceremoniously onto the bed.
Bran bounced once, groaned, and rolled over, immediately snoring with the confidence of someone who believed they’d lived a life without regrets.
Zayn, on the other hand, felt like he had just pulled a full body workout with no proper warm-up.
His arms ached, his back protested, and his shirt clung to him uncomfortably with a mix of sweat and residual brothel perfume.
’Great.’
He staggered down the hallway to his own room, yawned, and rubbed his eyes.
All he wanted was to collapse on the bed, maybe pass out for twelve hours straight, and pretend the events of the night never happened.
He turned the doorknob, stepped in, and shut the door behind him with a soft click. Darkness welcomed him like an old friend.
And then —
"Zaaaayn~"
He yelped.
A surge of panic kicked in and his soul energy erupted instinctively.
His arms glowed with that eerie golden aura aura, both fists charged with soul-clad fury flaring at the ready as his heart jackhammered in his chest.
But instead of a demonic assassin or a sneaky bandit, he saw... her.
Sitting cross-legged on his bed, a pillow in her lap, was the Witch Princess.
"You should’ve seen your face," she giggled, leaning back casually like she hadn’t just given him a heart attack. "Adorable."
"Gods above — " Zayn gasped, the soul energy dispersing as fast as it came. "You can’t just sit in someone’s room in the dark like some bed goblin!"
She smiled, clearly unbothered by the accusation. "I knocked."
"Did I answer?"
She shrugged. "Minor detail."
He rubbed his temples, already regretting every decision that led him here. "Alright, mind telling me why you’re haunting my bed like a sultry ghost?"
"I missed you," she said simply.
Zayn blinked. "You missed me?"
"Well, I heard you were back, and I figured... I’d say hello," she said, twirling a strand of her dark purple hair between her fingers. Her amber eyes sparkled mischievously. "Besides, it’s not that late. Yet."
Zayn looked at the clock on the wall.
It was very much that late.
He sighed and slumped down in the lone chair beside the bed. "You know, most people catch up over lunch. Or, I don’t know, literally any time that doesn’t involve breaking into someone’s bedroom."
"I didn’t break in," she said with a pout. "The window was unlocked."
"I locked it!"
"Well, the window was slightly ajar."
"...You scaled the building?"
"I floated up, thank you very much."
Zayn blinked again, then pointed at her. "You are officially the weirdest royal I’ve ever met."
She grinned proudly. "I’ll take that as a compliment."
There was a long pause. He could still hear Bran’s snoring two rooms away, like a distant war drum in a tavern.
Zayn finally let out a long breath and gave her a side-eye. "So. Really, why are you here?"
The Witch Princess grew a little more serious, though the playful edge never truly vanished. "I wanted to check on you. Word is you’ve been through a lot lately. You deserve a proper welcome home."
"Does everyone know my entire schedule now?" Zayn muttered. "What’s next? A parade?"
She raised a brow. "We could organize one. With confetti."
"Don’t you dare."
He stood up and began pulling off his boots. "Alright, well, welcome me later. I just hauled a drunk man up three flights of stairs and my soul is screaming."
"Let me help," she said, hopping off the bed.
"No, no, I can undress myself, thank you — "
But she was already behind him, hands glowing slightly as she pressed her palm to his back.
A warm pulse of magic surged into his muscles, soothing some of the tension. He relaxed against his will, a soft groan escaping his lips.
"Damn you," he muttered. "That’s cheating."
"I prefer ’strategic use of abilities.’"
She gently guided him toward the bed, and for some reason, he let her.
He cracked one eye open. "You’re not staying here, are you?"
"Hmm... I haven’t decided yet."
"Please decide no."
She laughed, light and airy. "Fine. But only because you’re cute when you beg."
"I wasn’t begging — "
"Wait, I need to ask you something,"
Zayn sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the sore spot on his neck where the witch mark resided.
"Hey," Zayn began, breaking the comfortable silence. "This mark you gave me—"
"Eh?" she muttered while staring at him. 𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙥𝒖𝒃.𝒄𝒐𝒎
"Yeah, thanks for the unsolicited tattoo," he replied, rolling his eyes. "But why can’t I channel my soul energy into it? Feels like it’s... locked away or something."
The Witch Princess’s playful demeanor softened.
She moved to sit beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight.
"It’s not just a fancy hickey, Zayn," she began, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "The witch mark serves multiple purposes."
"Like teleporting me to some trial venue when you decide it’s time for me to dance for your amusement?"
He already knew what it was for but it was better if she said it.
