Yes! I am a witch. What's it to you?!
Jemi almost hurled those words out—if Victor hadn't reacted fast enough to yank her back.
"Please forgive my friend. We were arguing earlier," Victor said calmly, his voice firm and steady. "She's still a little emotional and easily provoked by shouting. She's very… sensitive. Once again, my apologies."
His hand tightened around Jemi's arm, pulling her back behind the waist-high gate. He didn't stop there—Victor dragged her straight into the house, and Jemi didn't resist at all.
At the peak of her overflowing anger, there was still a sliver of awareness left—she knew pushing this further would endanger her parents. So she followed Victor into the living room and peeked through the window.
"Now you understand why I always get angry whenever you use your magic, don't you?" Victor's voice was low, almost a growl, his sharp gaze fixed on the witch hunters still ransacking Mrs. Wassel's house.
"But Mrs. Wassel isn't a witch," Jemi murmured.
Victor exhaled harshly. "They're insane."
Yes. This was all completely insane.
How could they burn Mrs. Wassel alive and threaten anyone who tried to put out the flames? If they called witches savages, didn't that label fit them far better?
Damn it.
In the morning, when Jemi and Victor got ready to leave for the academy, the pile of ashes that had once been Mrs. Wassel—untouched all night because no one had dared to go near it—was now completely gone. Whoever had cleaned it up, it definitely wasn't Edd or Agatha. They had both slept in Jemi's room last night.
"You didn't see who cleaned it up?" Jemi asked Victor as his car sped toward the academy.
As usual, she was hitching a ride.
Victor shrugged, eyes still on the road. "I didn't hear anything at all last night."
"Nothing?" Jemi frowned. "You slept on the couch closest to the window. You should've heard something. Maybe noise, or someone coughing, or—"
"I didn't hear anything, Jemimah Brown," he cut her off. "Besides, the windows were tightly shut. When I woke up, everything was already clean. But…" He paused. "I could smell a lingering trace of perfume."
There it was.
Jemi snapped her fingers, her gaze locking onto Victor. She had always been impressed by that husky's sense of smell. All kinds of wild assumptions flooded her mind—maybe it was because of the transformation form Victor chose, or… because he had been raised by werewolves?
"I knew it! A husky's nose really is unbeatable!" Jemi raised both thumbs right in front of Victor's face.
Victor shot her a sharp look, his expression twisted with an annoyed sigh. "I am a witch, not a Siberian husky!"
"But you transform into a wolf all the time. And in my opinion, your wolf form looks more like a husky than an actual wolf. For your information, Mr. Wolves, huskies are also descended from wolves—and I'm more comfortable calling you husky."
Jemi never liked losing to Victor. And as usual, Victor was more than happy to indulge her.
"Fine! You can even call me puppy. Whatever you want!"
See? Victor would always be happy—even when Jemi kept being cruel to him.
"That doesn't mean I enjoy how you treat me," Victor added. "But because it's you, I let it slide. And remember this, Jemi—even though I grew up with werewolves, I'm still a witch who can turn you into a worm anytime I want."
Well… Jemi's assumption was wrong. At least he still allowed her to call him husky—even if he protested, she would've done it anyway.
"Okay, I'll behave," Jemi said, choosing to give in. "About that perfume scent you mentioned—did you recognize it?"
Victor's nose wrinkled slightly, as if recalling the aroma. "Of course. I've never smelled it around our neighborhood, but I know it's a luxury perfume—one that lingers even after your clothes have been washed several times."
"Is there really perfume like that? I once stole a bit of Dad's expensive cologne, but it only lasted a day."
Victor clicked his tongue, a sarcastic smile forming. "Your nose and mine are different."
Jemi narrowed her eyes. "Ha! You're right. A husky's nose is different!"
Victor snorted, then glanced at her. "Where do you want to get off? It looks like you're planning to walk the rest of the way."
Jemi laughed at Victor's sulking tone. Teasing him until he got annoyed like this was incredibly satisfying. "Calm down, Vic. You don't want your ears changing, do you?"
Victor flicked Jemi's head lightly. "Since when do my ears change when I'm angry, huh?"
Of course they never did. Jemi just enjoyed teasing him. And suddenly, a big plan crossed her mind.
"Hey, Vic. I think… we need to go into Mrs. Wassel's house."
Victor let out a long sigh, as if he already knew what Jemi was thinking. "I knew you'd say that. My answer is no."
Jemi shot him a sharp glare. Damn husky! Always rejecting every plan she proposed. Her lips puckered, accompanied by an annoyed huff.
"Just for a moment," Jemi tried again.
"No," Victor replied quickly. "I'm not ready to lose my sparring partner because you get caught by witch hunters and burned like Mrs. Wassel yesterday."
"Hey!!"
"Jemi, stop looking for trouble. Stay in your lane—don't cross the line."
Victor was clearly the type who couldn't be persuaded. But Jemi wasn't the obedient type either. Anything that sparked her curiosity had to be resolved immediately—for the sake of her mental health, at least. That was her excuse.
The academy parking lot wasn't very crowded this morning. Only a few cars were parked there. Honestly, crowded or not, Jemi didn't care—as long as Oliver's black Ford was visible at the far end of the lot, the spot he always chose.
"Wow. Your expression changed just from seeing his car," Victor mocked with a low snort.
Jemi shot a sharp glare into Victor's gray eyes. "Mind your own business, Mr. Husky," she snapped, already reaching for the door.
"Hey! Remember our deal." Victor stopped her. "Don't use your magic again!"
Jemi gave a small nod before her foot touched the pavement. She didn't reply—only lifted one hand in a casual wave as a goodbye.
"Remember! Don't be reckless, and I'll be waiting here later!" Victor shouted after her.
***
Jemi's head was close to boiling after such a packed day of classes. She never understood why she had to struggle through daily lectures when all she wanted was to focus on painting and someday open her own art gallery. If only changing majors were that easy—but Agatha always insisted Jemi take Botany, so she could properly brew potions in the future.
Hah! Who even made magic potions in this day and age?
"Hey—you're… Jemimah, right?"
Jemi's steps halted. Her heart pounded wildly just from hearing her name.
Oh God. No way. This couldn't be happening.
Even before she turned around, she knew exactly who was standing behind her.
Slowly, she pivoted on her heel, holding her breath. Oh God… Oliver stood right in front of her, wearing a faint smile and soft eyes, waiting for her answer. By everything in this world, the human before her was the very definition of heavenly perfection.
"Wow, Oliver? You… know my name?"
Stupid! She should've pretended not to recognize him!
Oliver smiled gently. "Of course I know your name. You're quite well-known around the academy."
Jemi squinted. Her? Well-known? Since when? Had Oliver mistaken her for someone else?
Oliver frowned when Jemi didn't respond right away. He lifted a hand to scratch his head—Jemi was sure it wasn't itchy at all.
"Well… was that too much?" he quickly corrected himself. "I've seen you a few times at the basketball games, so I looked you up a bit. Did that bother you? I'm sorry."
Oh my God—he was adorable when his cheeks flushed as he apologized. Jemi had to hold her breath to keep from squealing. From this close—without using her magic—she could finally see every perfect angle of his face.
Oliver's blue eyes sparkled even more than when she froze time. And how did he have such a sharp jawline that only made him look even more handsome?
Stop it, Jemi. Focus!
"Oh, please. Don't apologize. I'm not bothered at all." Calm down, Jemi. "So… is there something I can help you with?"
Good job. Keep calm—even as the thunder in her chest begged her to jump for joy.
Oliver smiled, revealing dimples on both cheeks. Oh no. That alone could shatter Jemi's defenses.
"I just wanted to say hi. And… if you don't mind, I'd like to invite you to this week's basketball game."
What?? Oliver was inviting Jemi? That perfect, handsome man was personally asking her to come watch his game?
"Ah, this week? I should check my schedule first. If I'm free, of course I'll come. What time?"
Small talk! Of course she'd come—definitely come!
"Four in the afternoon," Oliver said. "And if you don't mind, after the game, I'd like to take you to Franky Jones' milkshake diner."
Before Jemi could answer, Victor suddenly appeared at her side. His face was stiff, his gaze sharp as it locked onto Oliver—so different from Oliver's relaxed demeanor.
"That's an interesting offer, Captain," Victor said coolly. "But unfortunately, Jemi already has plans with me this week."