The Warden of The Witches

Chapter 114:

Three Major Illusions in Life

Aiden turned to look at Rebecca, inwardly exclaiming, "Big sister, how did I offend you when I visited you yesterday? Are you here to retaliate against me? Bringing up a transfer in front of two unit leaders, am I not openly poaching the old man?"

Sure enough, Harold's face visibly darkened.

"Oh, is it about this again? This unit is quite popular lately. Should I transfer there too?" he remarked.

Harold casually glanced at aiden seated as a guest, sending a shiver down to aiden's spine.

Rebecca, however, ignored aiden and looked directly at Harold, saying, "I feel that I have no hope of recovering my memories now, and I'm afraid I may no longer be fit for the role of a senior inquisitor."

"If you can't handle being an inquisitor, it doesn't necessarily mean you can handle working in a prison. I told you that you're oversimplifying the job at the prison," Aiden hastily interjected. "Honestly, I believe you haven't fully adapted to your state after amnesia. It's best to take some time to adjust before making any decisions."

His refusal towards Rebecca wasn't just because he feared the muscle-bound old man at the other end of the table, but because he genuinely felt that Rebecca was currently not up to the standards required for working in a prison.

"Indeed," Harold chimed in, "Given your current condition, it's best not to rush back to work. During this rest period, you can carefully consider future arrangements. You're on paid leave now, something everyone else would envy."

"But... how would I know if I don't give it a try?" Rebecca insisted.

Harold stared at her for a moment, then pulled out a gun and expertly removed the bullets before tossing it towards Rebecca with a swift motion, saying, "Catch."

"Eh?" Rebecca hesitated for a moment, then quickly reached out to grab the gun. Due to her delayed reaction, the gun almost slipped from her hand, looking somewhat awkward.

"Now, there's a rioter right in front of you, aiming a gun. Hurry!" Harold suddenly shouted sternly, his voice booming.

In response to this command, Rebecca clumsily raised the gun in her right hand, pointing it towards Harold.

Aiden, observing from the side, suddenly furrowed his brow.

Harold scrutinized Rebecca, who was holding the empty gun, for a while and snorted, "Your current skill level doesn't even meet that of a prison guard. The time it took for your reaction just now would have been enough for a criminal to rush over, knock you down, and take the gun from you. With this performance, do you still want to work at Rose Prison? Have you forgotten how many S-class fugitives from here are detained there?"

"But in that case, returning to the Inquisition bureau seems even more impossible," Rebecca reluctantly lowered the gun, looking discontent.

"If there's no other way, I can arrange an administrative position for you," Harold suggested. "Working in administration at the Inquisition bureau is much safer and less strenuous than in a prison."

Rebecca remained silent with her eyes downcast for a while, eventually sighing, "Then, allow me... to consider this further."

"Sounds good." Harold nodded, "You can go back today," .

"I'll take my leave then." Rebecca returned the gun to Harold somewhat dejectedly, nodded at Aiden, and left the office.

The two in the office watched Rebecca walk away through the one-way glass.

"Hmph, you're quite popular, aren't you?" Harold suddenly remarked.

"Director, are you upset?" Aiden cautiously assessed Harold.

"No, why would I be so petty?"

"Come on, when Rebecca mentioned the transfer earlier, your cigar was practically crushed," Aiden sighed. "Let's get this straight, I never once encouraged her."

"You don't need to encourage her because she already had a bit of interest in you," Harold said bluntly. "So when she initially suggested transferring to your unit, I thought it might be because of that."

"Director, what did you just say!?" Aiden widened his eyes suddenly.

"Don't act like you had no clue, many people at the office noticed before," Harold casually remarked. "I mean, you, A young man, becoming a senior inquisitor at such age, with a high position, decent income, reliable work ethic, and not bad looks... it's reminiscent of my younger days."

Aiden felt overwhelmed by Harold's teasing remarks, unsure where to retort.

"I genuinely had no idea... You're not pulling my leg, right?" Aiden said, partly skeptical.

Indeed, he truly didn't know. He had inherited memories but not emotions from his predecessor, aiden. After being transferred from the Inquisition, his past workplace relationships had faded.

From the memories he inherited, his predecessor didn't seem to have close relationships with any girl. Although Rebecca had shown some warmth towards "him" during their time working together, it wasn't enough to conclude that she had feelings for him.

Jumping to conclusions on such matters could easily lead to falling into the "She likes me" illusion among life's three major misconceptions.

"I'm not kidding you; the wisdom of the elderly still holds value. Even under the influence of mental spells causing amnesia, certain impressions can linger, making it possible for her to have some fondness for you," Harold said calmly, puffing on his cigar.

"But even if that's true, how does that relate to her wanting to transfer to the prison? She only found out about my role there yesterday," aiden recalled his conversation with Rebecca from the day before.

"That's why I said 'initially,' I later realized she had even forgotten about that. Insisting on transferring there, she persistently made me feel a bit uneasy," Harold lowered his voice suddenly, and casually crushing the cigar. "I mean, you must have sensed it too, right? Something off about that girl."

"Oh? Could it be that even Director..." Aiden caught Harold's implication, his gaze sharpening.

"Hmph, unlike you who halfway became a prison guard i spent forty-five years at the Inquisition. My eyesight isn't gone yet!" Harold retorted.

Aiden nodded; he hadn't even brought up yesterday's events with Harold, yet Harold had mentioned them. The sense of discord emanating from Rebecca was definitely not his imagination.

The excessive insistence on transferring to Rose Prison, the unusual reaction to Priscilla's pendant...

In addition, there was something else.

"Director, if my memory serves me right..." Aiden pondered for a moment, then raised his left hand, mimicking a shooting gesture. "Rebecca, she's a left-handed, isn't she?"