Chapter 102: The Pink Dreamland

Jeanne Decker opened her eyes in bed, greeted by an unfamiliar ceiling.

Her head felt heavy and muddled. For several seconds, her thoughts remained stagnant before the memories of yesterday slowly began to surface.

“A witch!” she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright.

What met her gaze next were the iron bars encircling her.

The entire room was empty, save for herself.

‘Where am I?’

Jeanne Decker stared blankly, her eyes sweeping across her surroundings: bars, shackles, torture devices, an execution rack, whips. Every element of the room suggested it was a military prison, yet something felt profoundly amiss.

The instruments of torture seemed more like props, incapable of inflicting any real restraint or harm.

And then there was the bed—what prison boasted such a soft, luxurious mattress?

‘Did that witch lock me in here?’ Jeanne Decker thought instinctively.

Her knowledge of witches stemmed primarily from the teachings of the Holy Academy, which was to say, the Church.

While the information imparted to them was more detailed than what was publicly disseminated, it largely painted a wholly negative picture.

Witches, having fallen to the demonic path, were depicted as insidious and debauched. They fed on the misfortune and suffering of others, adept at tormenting their targets with wicked curses and poisons.

They also possessed the power of enchantment, luring their victims into depravity and draining their vitality.

Though that witch had indeed saved her yesterday, a logical deduction suggested it was primarily because they had a common enemy at the time.

Moreover, in the end, that witch had indeed used methods on her that were almost identical to what the Church preached.

At this thought, Jeanne Decker froze, instinctively touching her lips.

Come to think of it, she had indeed been—by that witch.

Recalling yesterday’s experience, the sensation on her lips was still vivid, and she felt her face begin to flush.

Being a rational person, she didn’t blindly believe everything the Church propagated; she believed in seeing for herself.

However, her personal experience from yesterday undoubtedly confirmed that witches understood the art of enchantment. Not only had she witnessed the witch transform into a succubus, but she had also personally experienced the witch’s alluring powers.

‘Using enchantment to lead people astray…’

‘Could it be that this peculiar cell is specifically designed for… such activities?’

At this thought, she once again eyed the tools on the nearby table with a mix of suspicion and unease.

Truth be told, she had never even seen most of these items, let alone known their purpose.

Yet, once she approached these tools with her initial impression in mind, Jeanne Decker was horrified to find that everything around her seemed to increasingly confirm her suspicions. Upon closer inspection, these items indeed had a somewhat… improper feel to them.

‘What did that witch do to me with these tools after bringing me here?’

Jeanne Decker fearfully threw back the covers and checked herself.

Her clothes were intact, though she couldn’t tell if the witch’s meticulous re-dressing had simply left no trace.

Speaking of which, where had that witch gone?

Jeanne Decker found herself momentarily plunged into confusion.

She soon discovered a note and a handkerchief left on the pillow beside the bed. Picking them up, she quickly scanned the message.

[Saintess, please remember to cover your face when you go out. The key is on the floor in front of the door.]

The handwriting was shaky and uneven, clearly written with a non-dominant hand. The sender was cautious, leaving no trace of their usual penmanship.

According to the note, this place could be exited?

Jeanne Decker grew even more perplexed. She picked up the handkerchief, got out of bed, and walked to the door, where she indeed found a key lying on the floor.

After a moment’s thought, she decided to follow the note’s instructions. She covered her face, then used the key to unlock the door. Cautiously, she pushed it open and peeked outside.

Outside was an utterly ordinary corridor, resembling an apartment building or perhaps a hotel.

Jeanne Decker was deeply surprised. The room was a cell, yet the corridor looked like a common residential hallway? Was this truly the witch’s lair?

Confused, she stepped out of the room, found the stairwell, and descended.

Upon seeing the counter and signboard downstairs, she was utterly dumbfounded.

A man and a woman were at the counter, checking out, before they walked out of the hotel, nestled together.

“Oh my, you’re the one who was carried in yesterday…” The proprietress looked up, saw Jeanne Decker standing to the side, and greeted her with a smile. “Did you sleep well? Are you checking out? The young lady who brought you yesterday already paid. Just give me the key.”

“Um, where exactly is this place?” Jeanne Decker asked blankly, placing the key on the counter as instructed.

“You don’t remember at all, do you? This is the Pink Dreamland Theme Hotel! The other young lady carried you in yesterday,” the proprietress replied.

“A hotel?” Jeanne Decker was dumbfounded. That witch had found her a hotel?

‘It’s not a witch’s lair then…’ She let out a small sigh of relief.

But then another question struck her: “Wait, but why was my room… so strange?”

“Is this your first time at a hotel like this, Miss?” The proprietress raised an eyebrow. “How should I put it, our hotel caters to a slightly… unique clientele.”

“Unique?” Jeanne Decker looked bewildered.

“It wouldn’t be right to keep you completely in the dark…” The proprietress smiled slyly, then pointed to the couple still lingering outside, not yet far away, and chuckled mysteriously. “Do you understand? That room was decorated that way to enhance the atmosphere.”

Jeanne Decker’s face instantly paled, and she froze in place.

She suddenly ‘understood’ the witch’s true purpose in bringing her to such a place.

Seeing her innocent reaction, even the proprietress couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity and began to console her:

“I saw you were pretty drunk when you were brought in yesterday, weren’t you? You really need to be more careful in the future. The one who brought you seemed like quite a veteran to me. Girls should always watch out for themselves when they’re out… Hmm? Miss? Are you alright?” The proprietress waved a hand in front of the utterly petrified Jeanne Decker.

After a long silence, Jeanne Decker suddenly spoke: “That person, where did she go?”

“Uh…” The proprietress felt an unusual surge of killing intent emanating from her and answered honestly, “She finished up and left around one o’clock, I think. Hey… are you okay?”

Jeanne Decker turned around without a word and walked out the door under the proprietress’s bewildered gaze, then suddenly began to sprint.

In that moment, Jeanne Decker felt her head boiling. She wanted to use this momentum to make herself forget the ‘truth’ she had discovered, but she failed.

Finally, she stopped in an empty dead-end alley.

‘That witch, that witch dared to do this to her!’

She almost heard the witch’s laughter: “Hehehehe, didn’t you say any compensation would be fine? I just did as I pleased.”

But such a shameless act was simply too much, no matter how one looked at it.

Jeanne Decker covered her mouth with her hand, tears welling in her eyes.

She had become a knight in her teens; even the battlefield couldn’t intimidate her.

But having never experienced any romantic affairs, she had absolutely no immunity to such matters. The witch’s actions instantly broke through her defenses.

Since birth, it was almost the first time she had tasted such a mix of shame and indignation.

‘I will absolutely… never forgive you.’

Jeanne Decker thought, gritting her teeth.

‘That witch, if I see her again, I will definitely not let her off lightly!’

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