The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 45: The Left Hand of The Devil

Chapter 45: The Left Hand of The Devil

The palace felt different after stepping off the court floor.

Not safer. Just... narrower. Like the walls were leaning in a little more than before.

I didn’t speak on the walk back. Neither did Zhu Mingyu. The click of our shoes was the only rhythm I followed, steady and unbroken, until we crossed into the eastern wing—my new domain. My territory.

We passed two layers of guards, four courtyards, and a pair of watchful maidservants who didn’t bother pretending they weren’t curious. Zhu Mingyu gave them no notice.

When we reached the inner doors, he finally spoke.

"You curtsied perfectly."

I glanced sideways. "Would you prefer I’d fallen on my face? Might’ve made for good court gossip."

He ignored that. "You knew when to look down. When to speak. How to hold your sleeves without even thinking about it. That’s not instinct. That’s training."

"Did you want the truth," I asked, "or a lie?"

He slowed, turning just enough to face me. "What do you think?"

I shrugged, the jade bracelet on my wrist shifting with the motion. "My grandmother is close to the Queen of Hell... think of her as the Queen of Demons, if you want. But because of that, we became family friends. I call her my aunt. My mother—afraid of seeming too backwater and more than a little obsessed with historical dramas from Country K— forced me to study court etiquette along with her. You know, just in case I ever needed it."

I paused for a beat, remembering watching all those shows online, curtseying when they did, practicing the way they held their hands, even the way they drank from their cups. It was a fun time between us, mother and daughter, and she felt like she was ’training’ me just like Papa ’trained’ me, or the Sins ’trained’ me.

Honestly, it would forever stay in my mind, that time with my mom.

"I never did," I smiled sadly. Any time Mom tried to curtsey to Hattie, Hattie would run away screaming in the other direction. I found it funny, but I think Mom took it a little personally.

I kind of wish Mom were here now, just so that she could see me putting our sessions into practice.

Zhu Mingyu stared at me for a moment. "Was that the truth?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, locking those memories away before I met his eyes. "What do you think?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He didn’t press.

Smart man.

We stepped inside.

The eastern wing was everything I expected it to be—polished, orderly, and clearly untouched. This wasn’t a home. It was a display. There were no scuffs on the floor, no scent of oil or fresh tea. The scrolls on the walls were perfectly aligned. The furniture was placed with military precision.

It was too clean.

Too new.

Too ready.

And definitely not me.

I could feel the eyes on me, even if I couldn’t see who they belonged to.

And then I did.

There was a man standing near the back wall.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stood there, half in shadow, dressed in layered black with a cloth mask covering the lower half of his face.

He didn’t look like a guard. He didn’t look like a servant.

He looked like he belonged to no one.

Zhu Mingyu gestured toward him.

"This is Shi Yaozu. Commander of the Shadow Guard," he introduced the man before moving over to a table and pouring himself a cup of tea. "I trained him myself."

The man bowed. One motion. Flawless and mechanical. His arms moved like he was built with joints instead of bones.

"He’s assigned to you," Zhu Mingyu continued, staring down at the tea. "To guard you. Don’t make any mistake, he reports to me. He’ll be beside you, like a shadow, morning, noon, and night."

I raised a brow. "So, I have my own stalker now? Huh? What if he has to sleep? To eat? He’s not a robot, you know. Besides, what if I dismiss him?"

"He’ll stay where he is supposed to," smirked the man I was currently dreaming of stabbing. "Right beside you."

Of course he would.

I studied the man in front of me. He was taller than I expected, broad-shouldered beneath the black fabric. Not a single inch of visible skin outside his eyes. No insignia, no jewelry, not even a trace of scent.

He wasn’t watching me. Instead, he was scanning the room around me. Doors. Windows. Weak points. He was like a tool. Sharpened. Waiting.

Maybe I wasn’t that far off when I called him a robot.

"Does he speak?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not unless you address him directly," dismissed Zhu Mingyu like it wasn’t that big of a deal.

I nodded once. "Efficient," I sighed. I think the shadows around me were going to be getting very congested between Shi Yaozu and Shadow.

I circled Shi Yaozu once—casually, not like I was studying him. But I was. He didn’t react. No twitch of muscle, no flick of gaze. His breathing was controlled, measured, perfectly managed.

This wasn’t a man.

It was a trained response wrapped in flesh.

"Have you killed many people?" I asked, stopping in front of him.

He didn’t answer, but then again, I didn’t expect him to.

"Will you kill for me?" I continued, a slight smirk on my face.

Still nothing.

Even better.

Zhu Mingyu watched me. "You like him," he said, almost accusingly.

"I understand him," I said simply, walking over to the table and taking the other seat beside Zhu Mingyu. "You can trust a man with no ego. He won’t break unless ordered to."

Zhu Mingyu’s expression didn’t shift, but I caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Putting down his cup, he rose to his feet and turned toward the exit. "I’ll return before the second bell. Try not to burn anything down."

"I make no promises," I chuckled softly, taking a sip of the cold tea. Ugh, I was going to have to do something about how everyone treated me around here.

When he was gone, I looked back to Shi Yaozu.

He still hadn’t moved.

"Is it better to be loved or feared?" I asked, repeating Hattie’s favorite question. When Shu Yaozu didn’t reply, I rolled my eyes. "Pick a corner," I said, waving my hand in his direction. "Doesn’t matter which. Just stay out of my way."

Without a sound, he crossed the room and settled by the window. The light hit his mask just enough to remind me it was there—not to hide emotion, but to erase it.

This was what they’d given me.

Not a man.

Not a spy.

A witness.

Someone they trusted to see everything and say nothing. I only had to remember the fact that he was going to tell Zhu Mingyu everything.

It was fine. I’d had worse roommates.

I poured myself another cup of cold tea and sat down.

I didn’t need conversation. Didn’t need company.

What I needed was time. Strategy. And space to think without interference.

Shi Yaozu wasn’t a threat.

He was a tool.

And I had always been very, very good with tools.