Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Verya went out. She had to arrive at the academy before two o'clock in the afternoon, otherwise she might miss Professor Phyllis's history class. He never waits for late students. And, if you're late, you'll have to stand outside the classroom and listen to the class.

Many students have complained about him, but they were all scolded by the old man. The principal didn't care much about him, after all, he was the only one in the whole school who had studied at Ossenfurt University when he was young.

Verya walks on the street with empty hands. She has no books to use now. Those people tore up Verya's book after class, and at the same time said some very ugly things to her. Verya didn't take it seriously. As the daughter of a businessman, she was used to being bullied in the academy.

Thinking like this, she touched the scar on her face, which spread from the left face to the right face, and it often hurts. But she was starting to get familiar with the scar, just as she got familiar with being bullied.

The girl didn't lower her head, she just walked on the street with the scar on.

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Geralt was eating beans in batches, and he had finished off the mashed potatoes and the bowl of broth. But he has never liked to eat beans, but with the money he spends, he has to eat it even if he doesn't. The owner of the hotel has returned to the bar and is wiping his wine glasses. Geralt is actually very suspicious of whether anyone will come here at night. Those part-time bars in the hotel with hot business will invite more than a dozen short clothes in the store. girl in skirt.

There are many people who criticize them, thinking that this is the beginning of the corruption. But in front of money, everything is false.

"Excuse me," he said, "bring me a bottle of Vizima."

When the young man heard this, he was in trouble: "Guest, we don't have the wine you want here, we only have our own brewed ale, do you want it?"

Geralt said indifferently, "Okay, how much?"

"Eight crowns."

Geralt, who was about to pay, paused for a while. He was a little surprised at the cheap price, but he didn't drink it for nothing, and he said, "Then let's have another bottle."

He took out sixteen crowns and placed them in a row on the table, waiting for the young man to bring him wine. The witcher didn't think he could do anything in this town, and the people here didn't seem to be bothered by monsters. He can't receive the commission to kill the monster, so he can only accept the commission of the lifting of the curse. This kind of commission is what Geralt hates the most. Most of them take a long time, and at the same time, they have to be careful step by step, unlike killing water ghosts... Why do I think of water ghosts again?

The witcher was a little dazed, and he began to wonder if it was because he killed too many water ghosts. At this moment, the young man came over to interrupt his thinking, and handed over two bottles of wine, the heavy glass bottles filled with orange-yellow ale.

Geralt observed it for a while, opened the cork and smelled it. A smile appeared on the corner of his mouth under the hood—for 8 crowns to buy such a wine, it was really a lot of money.

He poured out the first cup, drank it in one gulp, wiped the foam from his mouth, and simply took the bottle and started drinking. And just like that, he sat there all afternoon and drank all the young man's stock. No matter how low the alcohol level was, it was still alcohol, Geralt remembered in his somewhat chaotic brain that he just wanted a taste at first—like all drunkards, they told themselves.

I'll take a sip.

And then the second mouth, the third mouth - never-ending, never-ending.

Drinking is addictive in some ways, just like in others.

such as hurting others.

We all know that some people—I don't know if I should call them people—get pleasure from hurting others.

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Verya was slammed to the ground. A group of young people stood across from her. The blond young man at the head bent down. He wore an ugly pot head and bangs covered his eyebrows. His face was full of freckles, and his nose was crooked to one side.

He yelled at her, "Didn't I tell you not to come to school? You idiot! Women stay at home and do what you should do!"

"Look at her appearance, she still wants to sit in a classroom with us?"

There were mocking and sarcastic voices from behind the blond young man, but Virya was unmoved at all. She sat on the dirt road, gathered up her skirt, lifted the red hair on her forehead, and said calmly, "No. , you just think I'm a bully. Miss Beth also goes to this school, why don't you tell her what you just said? I bet you wouldn't dare to do that, Yorton."

The blond young man called Yorton's face was flushed red, and he immediately wanted to give this ignorant girl some color, but was stopped by his companions. His companion gave him a color, and the blond young man's anger was extinguished at once. He saw a white-haired old man standing behind the girl. He didn't say anything, just stood there with a thick book in his hand. thick book.

"Are you OK?"

When they ran away, the old man handed Verya a hand and pulled her up from the muddy road. Verya's linen skirt is now full of mud, and the green eyes under the old man's glasses swept across her face, his eyes paused: "...Did they do it to you?"

"No, Professor Phyllis, it has nothing to do with them."

Verya tried her best to keep her manners, she didn't want to show any weakness: "Thank you for your help, Professor, I'm going back."

A fleeting smile appeared on her face, and then she walked away with her head down.

Professor Phyllis stood behind her with deep confusion and doubts on his face. He didn't know who would do such a thing. But since the girl didn't want to say it, he didn't have the position to stick to it. The old man shook his head and also left the academy.

Verya didn't go home as she said. After she walked out of the academy, she turned left and right, and walked into an alley. There stood a tall and thin man with a pockmarked face and a dagger on his waist. Seeing Verya coming, he smiled maliciously: "Hey, look who is here?"

Verya raised her head, her blue eyes had no fear: "I'm here to get money."

The tall and thin brow wrinkled, then loosened it again, and he showed that smile again: "I told you very clearly last time, Miss Virya. That's the money your father owes us. , I thought this scar on your face should give you some memory."

"I have seen my father's ledger. He only owed you five hundred crowns, and you took an extra one hundred crowns after you recovered it. I can ignore his death, but you must return the excess money."

The tall and thin face gradually became impatient. He was about to open his mouth to explain something, but was interrupted by the action of his companion - his companion sprang from the darkness and hit the girl in the back of the head with the wooden stick in his hand. It made her faint.

"What the **** are you doing?!"

The tall and thin man shouted.

"Knock her out, you idiot, can't you see? She has come here to look for us four times. The last time she was smeared on her face, she didn't let her retreat. How can we give her any money? If we let the boss Knowing that we collect debts behind his back, do we still have life?"

The tall and thin man who was persuaded scratched his face: "Well, you said that too, but what are you doing now? She will definitely not give up when she wakes up, let's run?"

"run?"

His companion, a strong man with flaxen hair, let out a sneer, and saliva spurted out of his mouth. He said, "No, take her to the back room and lock her there, and we'll save some money that way."

The tall and thin man shuddered: "No, Rawls, I don't do such a thing. I believe in Goddess Meritelli, do it yourself."

Rawls laughed again, he nodded, and at the moment when the tall and thin man turned his head, the wooden stick in his hand shattered his head. Red and white splashed all over the floor, and some even splashed onto his face. Rawls scratched his nose with his fingers and smiled, dragging the unconscious Verya into the deep alley.