Novel Full Chapter 672: Glutton
Chapter 672: Glutton
“Give it to me. I’m hungry.”
“You can’t be serious. How many times are you going to wake me up at midnight because you were hungry? You are doing it every day now.”
“It’s not my fault! It’s your fault. Why do you cook so good?”
He looked at her in disbelief.
After all these years, Moraine now looked to be in her early twenties.
She had grown into a stunning beauty.
So much so that half the customers at the tavern came just to look at her.
He had to beat up the ones who got too handsy or too disrespectful, and it happened at least once a week.
And yet this same woman had kicked down his door in the middle of the night, shaken him awake, and whined for food because her bottomless stomach wouldn’t let her sleep.
Moraine kept trying to snatch the plate from him, but she had the strength of an average woman.
She had no chance of overpowering him.
He only gave her the food when she reached the verge of tears.
When she took the plate, he rubbed his face and sighed.
“I can’t believe I used to be scared of someone like her,” he muttered.
Then he stood up.
“I’m going to sleep. I cooked extra, so if you’re still hungry, it’s in the kitchen.”
“You are the best!”
The next day, business ran as usual.
The tavern was always busy, and a few more months passed.
Slowly, their place gained a reputation.
Regulars came by every day.
Tourists heard about them and stopped in.
The boy began to expect that they would move again, like they always did.
But Moraine said something different this time.
“We aren’t moving,” she told him as she cleaned some mugs behind the counter. “I’ve decided to stay here a bit longer.”
Her words made him smile.
“Thank you, Moraine. I can finally make some friends!” he said, and he rushed out of the tavern in excitement.
She smiled watching him leave.
Weeks passed.
One early morning, the boy came back home after hunting.
The tavern doubled as their home, and he entered through the back door as usual.
But something was off.
It was too quiet.
His steps slowed.
His instincts took over.
He reached for the hunting knife strapped to his belt—the one he used to skin meat—and crouched low, moving slowly through the corridor.
“Moraine?” he called out as he crept forward.
Then he saw it.
The tables and chairs in the tavern were broken.
Splintered wood lay across the floor.
Moraine was sitting in front of the counter, bleeding and breathing heavily.
“Moraine!”
He ran to her.
“What happened? Why are you injured?”
“Calm… down…”
She tried to smile.
“I’m… alright…”
Without saying more, he lifted her up carefully and carried her to her room.
He laid her gently on the bed, fetched herbs, and began cleaning her wounds.
Everything he knew about first aid and healing herbs, Moraine had taught him.
She had made sure he could handle anything that came up in daily life.
He cleaned the gash on her head and the scratches on her arms and legs.
It was nothing was too deep, but the bleeding had been concerning.
After bandaging her up, he sat next to her.
“What happened?” he asked again.
She was quiet.
“Moraine.”
She let out a slow breath and said, “The villagers found out I’m a witch. They came to warn me to leave.”
“What?”
“They don’t like witches,” she said, trying to smile again. “And for good reason. Mass murder, kidnapping, human experimentation. Witches have a reputation for doing horrible things.”
His expression shifted.
“…Have you ever done any of those things?”
“No.”
“Then why did they hurt you?”
“Because I’m a witch.”
His hands balled into fists.
His whole body tensed in anger.
“I’ll teach them a lesson.”
She reached out and grabbed his sleeve before he could stand up.
“It’s alright,” she said, then added, “…We might have to leave again, and relocate the tavern. I’m sorry.”
Only then did he realize the real reason they had always moved from town to town.
It wasn’t wanderlust.
It was fear.
Fear of being found out.
The next day, Moraine woke up peacefully.
She had a goodnight sleep.
She turned her head to the side, hoping to see him.
As far as she recalled, he had been taking care of her all night.
But he wasn’t there now.
Just then, she noticed the scent of blood in the air.
Panic filled her chest.
She pushed off her blanket and dragged herself out of the room, checking for any signs of the boy.
She feared he had been hurt.
She rushed down the stairs.
The scent of blood was thicker near the front.
When she opened the tavern’s front door, her heart lurched.
Bodies were piled in front of the building.
She looked around.
The streets were too quiet.
The houses nearby… something was wrong. The smell of blood came from there too.
Then, she saw movement.
The child was walking toward her, holding a sword.
There wasn’t a single speck of blood on him.
“Oh, you’re awake. Should we start packing to leave?” he asked
Moraine froze.
Her lips trembled.
She didn’t want to believe someone as nice as him was the cause of the situation.
Despite everything pointing it out, she hoped that wasn’t the case.
“Did… did you do this?” she asked with trembling lips, pointing to the bodies.
He nodded. “They came to the tavern at dawn with weapons. They were talking about a witch hunt. So I took care of it.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
“What about the people in the houses? Did they come for the hunt too?”
He shook his head.
“They didn’t. But they already knew you were a witch. Since you can’t use magic to hide your appearance, even if we moved, people would find out you thanks to the villagers from here. So I took care of them too.”