The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 109: A Whisper Before the Flame

Chapter 109: A Whisper Before the Flame

The woman who entered my courtyard was older than I expected.

Lines etched her face like the folds of a crumpled letter—creases made not by time, but by the weight of memory. Her left sleeve was pinned neatly at the shoulder, and her right hand held a bundle of fabrics the way a soldier might cradle a blade—wary, reverent, ready.

She didn’t bow. Just stood in the sunlight like she had every right to breathe the same air as me.

And she did.

"You’re the one who sent for me?" she asked. Her voice was low, raspy, like silk dragged across ash.

"I am," I replied, not rising from the chaise. I sipped my tea instead, eyes on hers. Cool. Unmoving. Waiting.

She didn’t flinch. Not when my gaze sharpened. Not when the guards tensed. She was long past fear.

"I’m told you used to work in Yuan Siyan’s household."

"I was a seamstress," she answered. "One of the last to leave with both eyes intact."

I let the silence stretch, heavy as smoke. Yaozu stood behind me like a second shadow, still and silent. He knew this wasn’t a conversation meant for him.

"Do you want him dead?" I asked.

The woman’s remaining hand tightened slightly around the bundle she held. "I want to live in a world where men like him choke on their own teeth."

"Good," I murmured. "Then we understand each other."

She stepped forward and unwrapped the bundle on the low table between us. Silks, dyes, lacquered combs. A thin vial that glinted like a secret under moonlight.

I caught the scent before it hit the air fully. Not floral. Not sweet. Faintly metallic.

Poison. Airborne. Subtle. Lethal in the right room.

"I still know how to make a woman into an ornament," she said. "Or a weapon. You’ll need to be both."

"I already am," I replied. The words slid out soft but sharp. She studied me again—this time with something akin to recognition.

"I can get you in," she said. "But once you’re there, you won’t be protected. He’ll touch you. Grope. Inspect."

"If he tries to touch me," I said coldly, "then all bets are off. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill his guards. I’ll level his estate and salt the earth so nothing grows again."

Her mouth twitched. Not a smile. Just a shift, like something broken trying to remember what it was before.

"He won’t expect you to fight. That’s what makes this work."

"No," I said, setting my cup down. "What makes this work is that I fight smarter than him. Not harder. I don’t need brute strength. I need precision. I need timing. And I need every damn servant in that house to hesitate before opening their mouths."

I turned to Yaozu. "You said the cook hates him?"

He nodded once. "Her daughter disappeared last year. No one asked questions."

"Then we find her. If she’s alive, we buy her freedom. If she’s dead, we offer the mother revenge. Either way, the kitchen becomes ours."

I looked back to the seamstress. "The women in his chamber—how are they rotated?"

"He keeps three. Permanent, in name. But they vanish every two weeks. He calls for new ones through a Flower House near the south gate."

"Do they have any choice in the matter?"

She laughed—dry and bitter. "Choice? They’re debt girls. Or daughters of merchants who couldn’t pay their taxes. They’re bought, not hired."

"Then I’ll give them something new," I said. "A chance to choose how this ends."

Yaozu stepped forward. "If they’re loyal to him, it becomes a trap."

"If they’re loyal to him," I said calmly, "then I’ll kill them too. Quietly. No screams. Just breath stopped in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I wasn’t here to save everyone.

I was here to clean the rot.

"There’s a mirrored alcove in his pleasure hall," the seamstress added. "He likes to watch. He’ll place you where he can see your reaction."

"Then I’ll show him what he wants to see," I said. "Until it’s too late to look away."

She opened the vial and let a single drop slide onto her wrist. "Ten seconds," she said. "He won’t die from this. But he’ll wish he had. The paralysis starts with the lungs."

"And if he resists?"

She offered a second vial. "This one ends it."

I pocketed both. "Thank you."

"Do you know," she said softly, "what it feels like to be held down by a man who believes you’ll die before anyone even misses you?"

"Yes," I replied, my voice like frost. "Which is why I made sure they never forget me."

She nodded once, rewrapping her tools like sacred relics. She didn’t ask for payment. Just turned and walked away like she had already received everything she needed.

I let her go. Some women are weapons that never needed forging. They simply had to survive.

When the gate closed, I stood and walked to the table, hands folded behind my back. "I need a layout of the manor. Every window. Every door. I want guards mapped, dog routes timed, and blind spots noted."

Yaozu nodded. "You’ll have it by morning."

"Also," I said, turning toward him, "reach out to Yan Luo’s men. I want a rumor planted."

"About what?"

"About Yuan Siyan’s taste shifting." I paused. "Let it slip that he’s requested a woman with a scar across her face. Just deep enough to be remembered."

His eyes flicked toward the faint mark on my arm. "You’re baiting him."

"I’m owning the narrative," I said. "If someone recognizes me, let them believe I was sent in, not that I walked in myself."

"You’re not just going in," he said. "You’re stepping into a snake pit."

"Then I’ll become the fire that burns the whole nest."

He looked at me for a long moment. "Why do it yourself?"

"Because the message has to be clear," I said. "This isn’t vengeance. It’s precedent."

And when I turned toward the setting sun, the light hit the lacquered box beside the pavilion’s incense burner.

Inside, the red envelope still waited.

His name inside.

And soon, his fate.