The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis Chapter 107: The Name Written in Red

By the ti we returned to my courtyard, the sky had already begun to pale—just enough to remind that even shadows couldn’t last forever. Dawn was coming, and I wasn’t ready for the new day.

I kicked off my shoes before stepping up into the covered platform, ignoring the guards stationed at the gate and the maid who tried to offer tea. My fingers itched to pry open the red envelope tucked into my sleeve, but not in front of strangers. Not yet.

Shi Yaozu followed like smoke behind fla—silent, watchful, close. His crisp voice dismissed everyone and they didn’t argue. Honestly, I figured they wanted whatever excuse they could co up with to not have to be in my room right now.

He fell into step beside , and it wasn’t until we were past the inner screen, inside my chamber, that he finally spoke. "Well?" he asked. His voice was quiet, but never soft. "What are your impressions? Do you trust him?"

I pulled the jade pin from my hair, setting it gently on the nearby table. "No," I said plainly. "But I don’t need to trust him. I just need to know the ga he’s playing."

"And if the price is too high?"

I glanced over my shoulder, lips curving slightly. "Then I’ll change the rules. I’m never willing to pay more than what sothing is worth."

The envelope was still warm from being pressed against my skin. I drew it free, letting the wax seal catch the morning light. Red lacquer stamped with a golden fox’s grin—smiling like it already knew what I was about to see.

I cracked the seal.

Inside was a single piece of rice paper.

No letter. No instructions. Just a na.

Yuan Siyan.

The calligraphy was sharp, elegant—like a blade in the hands of soone who knew how to carve truth into flesh.

I stared.

"I have no idea who that is," I said flatly, holding it out to Yaozu, wanting to get his impression. I assud that if the kill was easy, then Yan Luo would have handled it himself. Which ans that this was not going to be all that easy.

He took the paper from my hand—and stilled. No breath. No blink.

His eyes narrowed, mouth pulling tight at the corners.

Then, quietly, he spoke.

"He’s the Minister of Punishnts."

I frowned.

"He replaced the old one after the iron mine riots two years ago," Yaozu continued. "Said he would restore order. Bring dignity back to the justice system. What he brought instead was blood. A lot of it."

He didn’t look at when he said it. Just kept staring at the na like it might burn through the page.

"He runs a prison beneath the Ministry," Yaozu said. "One that doesn’t appear on any official record. He calls it the Ink Well."

"Ink Well?" I repeated.

"He says it’s where the truth gets drawn out." His voice was brittle. "In chains. With blades. With fire."

I sat down on the edge of the bed. "And what exactly has he done to end up in Yan Luo’s sights?"

Yaozu didn’t answer imdiately. He folded the paper once, then again, then set it on the table beside the incense burner like he couldn’t bear to hold it anymore.

"I have no idea. Yan Luo keeps things close to his chest. But for , last winter, four children were dragged from a rural estate outside the city," he said quietly. "Accused of stealing rice from an official granary. They were between the ages of seven and ten."

My fingers clenched on the silk of my robe.

"They were brought to the Ink Well. Never saw trial. One of them... survived long enough to be carried back to her family. Broken spine. Missing fingers. Burned so badly she couldn’t speak."

He didn’t finish the rest.

He didn’t have to.

"And no one has stopped him?" I asked.

Yaozu’s jaw was tight. "He’s the younger brother of Imperial Consort Yi. The Emperor shields him. The Court looks the other way. Even the Crown Prince only pressures him when absolutely necessary—too many threads lead back to powerful hands."

I let the silence hang between us for a mont, then said, "That’s why Yan Luo chose him."

Yaozu t my eyes.

"He picked soone the Crown couldn’t touch," I continued. "Soone who needed killing—but couldn’t be publicly executed. A private rot in a golden chair."

"Exactly."

I reached forward and unfolded the paper again. Three characters. That was all. But it felt like they’d been dipped in bone ash instead of ink.

Yuan Siyan.

"Do you think he deserves it?" I asked softly.

Yaozu didn’t blink. "If I thought I could kill him and walk out alive, I’d have done it years ago."

I nodded once and looked back toward the thin slice of dawn on the other side of the window screen.

This wasn’t a test of skill.

This was a test of reach.

How far could my hands go? How deep into the palace could I cut without raising alarms?

Yan Luo wanted proof.

Not that I could kill.

But that I could kill well.

"Start watching him," I said. "Schedules. Movents. Servants. Everything. I want to know who opens his door and when they sneeze."

"No shadows?" Yaozu asked.

"No shadows," I confird. "Not yet. This doesn’t need to look like murder. It needs to look like justice that no one noticed happening."

Yaozu gave a short nod. "Understood."

I closed my eyes for a mont, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and morning. The red envelope still lay on the table beside , but the weight of it had already shifted from paper to purpose.

"I’ll do it," I said.

Yaozu didn’t respond, but I felt the change in the air. Not relief. Not approval.

Just understanding.

Which was better.

He knew I wasn’t doing this for Yan Luo.

I wasn’t doing it to win a ga, or earn a favor, or strike fear.

I was doing it because I’d seen too many n like Yuan Siyan.

n who wore authority like armor and cruelty like perfu.

n who smiled while other people scread.

This wouldn’t be a ssage.

It would be a reckoning.

And when it was over, no one would even find the body.

Just the echo.

The silence left behind when soone too powerful to fall... finally did.

As I began to rise, Yaozu caught the discarded envelope and slid it into his sleeve. "What should I tell the Crown Prince if he asks what you are up to?"

I paused, cocking my head to the side. "Tell him I’ve taken up gardening," I said, deadpan. "So weeds require special attention."