The Seed Thief

Vol. 1 Chapter 3.5

"......."

"Hmm..."

"......."

"Uhm."

The witch tossed and turned several times but never opened her eyes. Ervandas was dumbfounded.

The sun had already risen high in the sky, unmistakably beyond lunchtime. Yet the witch showed no signs of waking up?

"Did she stay awake all night?"

Either that, or she's incredibly lazy.

Still, could a human sleep until this hour?

Throughout his life, nobody, except the sick or collapsed ones, had ever slept so late.

Nevertheless, the witch seemed like she would sleep much longer. Ervandas pondered whether he should continue waiting and glanced at the book he had placed beneath his feet before sitting down.

Due to his haste, the books had gathered haphazardly. Ervandas bent down to neatly stacked them. He didn't want to turn his head toward the witch, but the books were innocent.

After tidying the books, he hesitated briefly, rose from his seat, gathered books, and set them on the desk, sorting them according to size.

"This will do."

Just as he was about to settle back into the chair after organizing the books, Ervandas spotted another stack of books near the desk. He paused briefly, then reached out toward them.

Since leaving this place was impossible anyway, and with no other tasks at hand, it seemed better to engage in physical activity and accept reality. Above all, it was unbearably dirty, even disgustingly so.

Tak tak tak. Wherever Ervandas's hands passed by, the books were neatly arranged by size.

Once the books were in order, Ervandas's attention turned to feather pens, dried inkwells, crumpled old paper, and bundled charcoal sticks—apparently stuff the witch used for writing. Ervandas looked at them for a moment and reached out again.

'Aren't there any organizers?'

As he opened the desk drawer, he found an old wooden tray. He intended to put things in it, but upon wiping the piled dust with his fingertips, he sighed.

Putting stuff in such a thing was no different from throwing trash into a garbage bin.

While desperately ignoring Lulu, who was still sprawled out snoring loudly, Ervandas looked for something suitable for cleaning. Luckily, he found a cloth nearby that seemed slightly less dirty than what he had slept on, along with a metal bucket containing water.

Splash.

Dipping the cloth into the metal bucket and wringing it out, he set items aside and began to wipe the desk surface.

"Goodness..."

Where the mop had passed, the desk unveiled an entirely distinct hue. A rich, deep shade—a luxurious tint intrinsic to aged wood. To treat such furniture so nonchalantly. Ervandas clicked his tongue and kept working with his hands.

How much time had passed? Ervandas stopped his hand and surveyed the living room.

A dilapidated, warehouse-like house crammed with an abundance of belongings. Despite hours of effort, he only managed to clean roughly half of the living room.

The house, which was more chaotic than a pigsty, had transformed into a somewhat decent-looking home under his touch.

Properly arranged books on the bookshelf. The spacious desk with only a pen tray on top. Even the junk that littered the floor regained their identities as the dust was wiped off and placed in their proper places.