Wishmaker Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Read chapter 13 of Wishmaker by Larch on NovelPedia.

"That's strange." He looked down at his feet, the ones that were supposed to be healed a week later. They looked pale and smooth, very much like his own skin. "Very strange," He said, looking down. Val took a step back, then a hesitant step forward, and again entered the room that smelled like freshly bloomed flowers of lavender. It looks real. He crouched down, grabbing himself by his ankle and tracing his finger around the bone. It feels real. "When did that happen?" Standing up and looking out of his room, there was a short hallway and a closed window opposite his door through which the house was lit up. He noticed a sea of murky clouds covering the sky, painting a stage for the wind to rummage through the forest. Valentine snorted under his nose at how cold it was and turned to his right, where the hallway led to the exit. "Sunday!" A faint echo of his voice returned to him, barely noticeable, but enough to make him feel frustrated. Of course, he doesn't respond this time. Sigh. At least I'm not naked like the last time. He thought while adjusting his dark blue boxers. The house felt different from the last time he'd been here; the atmosphere was calm and cozy, with a somewhat warm atmosphere settling in the carpet beneath his feet. Without a need to run away, he could calmly explore the things he hadn't noticed before, things like the little accessory plants placed around each corner or over the windowsill, polished wooden walls that had small carvings of the sun across them, and even paintings made by unknown artists that depicted groups of people praying. Everything was small at first glance, but once he was caught up in the thrill of exploring Sunday's home, a good couple of minutes had passed before he finally found the living room. He looked up from the warm carpet. "Sunday?" Calling out his name despite not getting a response, only the sight of unfamiliar belongings greeted his entrance. Massaging his sore throat, he walked up to a coffee table in front of a dark-green sofa. Something was lying on top of it, a sticky note of sorts with some words written on it. Well, it wasn't just some words. In Valentine's eyes, it felt like a whole damn paragraph, which made his head hurt when looking at it. He picked it up, reading it with his lips barely moving. "To the fallen believer Valentine, whose treatment I was in charge of. I have completed the blessing and restored your body to its top condition. If you feel any discomfort inside your chest, please take the white pill I gave you as a gift. Of course, I will not stop you from selling it. But something tells me that eating it would bring you great fortune." His brow rose, "Your belongings have been thoroughly sorted out, and I left everything I deemed worthy under this very table." "Once again, may the goddesses' light never leave your side." "Saint Sunday the sixth." The note ended with him wishing well and a crude drawing of the sun, connected with wobbly lines that crumbled when Valentine crushed the note in his hands. You know what Sunday? Gritting his teeth, he looked towards the closest window in front of him and hurled the paper ball at it, watching it drop on the floor beside him. He picked it back up again, throwing it anywhere he was currently facing, just for it to slip from his grip and bounce off the table towards his feet. Val clicked his tongue. Piss off! And kicked the paper ball back into the hallway he came from, watching it slowly disappear behind a corner. "At least stay and explain things properly, I didn't think being old would mess up one's head this much!" Val's voice reached no one, not that he expected it to after reacting like that. No... I'm glad I don't have to see his damn face again, always scaring me to death with his towering build. Despite complaining, he listened to the letter's contents and crouched down at the coffee table, noticing the familiar wooden box he was struggling to push. Now, it felt as light as a feather. Putting it down