The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis

"Careful," Yizhen murmured, "this one still thinks he's clever." He was dressed as Yan Luo today, his robes practically falling off his body as he strolled forward, ignoring the women's gaze.

I adjusted the veil over my face. My hat was on my head snuggly, and the white piece of flimsy cloth covered my identity.

"He thinks he's alive," I chuckled, studying the man in front of us. "And that's a much more dangerous delusion."

The teahouse was one of the old, forgotten ones—wooden beams cracked, paint peeling, door hanging crooked from one hinge. A relic of peace left behind by war. The nobleman waiting inside likely thought its ruin would shield him. That its emptiness would make him less visible.

He should've known better.

Yizhen stepped aside, letting me take the lead. I didn't need the gesture. I was already halfway through the door before he'd finished blinking.

The man looked up from his cup. He was middle-aged, with a round face that proved he had never gone without a meal. His hair was turning grey, and there were a more than a few wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. Sweat beading at his collar as he looked at me. He wore his rank on his sleeves—literally. Gold thread, polished buttons, all too bright for a building that smelled of mold and mildew.

"Lady Zhao," he said, voice oozing. "A pleasure."

I sat across from him without returning the greeting. He knew my name, but he clearly didn't know me.

He cleared his throat. "I admit I was surprised when your messenger suggested a meeting. I didn't think—well—I didn't expect you to take such an interest in matters of an alliance like this. After all, you are simply a woman."

"Calling me simply a woman is like calling a shark simply a fish. You might be technically right, but you are risking your life on that distinction. For example, you wanted a defection route to Baiguang," I said flatly. "And I'm offering it."

He blinked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Yizhen moved behind him, silent as a blade being unsheathed. The noble didn't notice. Of course he didn't. People like him never watched for shadows until it was too late.

I set a sealed scroll on the table.

"A map," I said. "Mark your movements. Carriage, guards, luggage. We'll clear a corridor through the checkpoint and notify our contact on the other side."

He hesitated. "A contact?"

Yizhen leaned down, breath brushing the man's ear. "You didn't think Baiguang would welcome you without some vetting, did you?"

The man jolted in his seat, eyes flicking between us. "I—I thought—"

"You thought," I interrupted, "that you were valuable. That defecting would earn you status, not scrutiny. That they would welcome you with open arms, no matter what."

"I have value—" sputtered the merchant, his face turning pale as he looked between me and Yizhen.

"Then write it down." I shrugged as I slid a brush and ink toward him. He took the scroll from Yizhen with trembling fingers. "Let's see if your value has names."

His hands continued to tremble as he opened the scroll, his eyes grazing through the list in front of him.

Yizhen watched him, his expression unreadable. It wasn't a stare so much as it was a silent dissection. Kind of like the way a surgeon watches tissue tear beneath steel before he then turned around to fix it.

The nobleman wrote quickly wrote something that I wasn't paying attention to.

First slowly, then faster—names, titles, transactions. A list of whispered promises and half-declared loyalties. Palace servants, eunuchs, two junior ministers, and one upper court judge. Rats hiding in golden walls.

I watched the ink dry.

When he finished, he tried to slide the scroll back toward me but Yizhen took it first, preventing the man from getting too close.

He unrolled it again, scanning quickly. Then he nodded once. "Matches the ledger we intercepted."

My fingers tapped the table. "So the only lie left is the one you haven't said yet."

The man blinked. "Lie?"

I tilted my head to the side and studied his face. He might not be able to see my eyes, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel them.

"You didn't come here just to defect. You came here to confirm that I was defecting."

He went still.

"You didn't bring a bribe. You brought a test. You thought if I helped you flee, Baiguang would consider me sympathetic. You could hand them this conversation like a wrapped gift and trade my name for safety."

His mouth opened.

Shadow growled from outside.

The man shut it.

Yizhen stepped to his side and reached into the man's sleeve. With one practiced flick, he revealed a second scroll—this one thin, folded, and sealed in black wax.

"A letter of accusation," Yizhen said. "Written in advance."

The man tried to rise. I flicked my fingers once.

The black mist didn't kill him. It just slid across his legs, burning through his flesh just enough to make him scream.

He collapsed, gasping.

Yizhen passed me the sealed letter. I didn't open it. Just slipped it into my sleeve for later.

"You'll be found," the man hissed. "Eventually."

"I hope so," I said, coming to my feet. "That's half the fun."

He didn't get a chance to beg.

Yizhen slit his throat cleanly, blood falling onto the teacup he never finished.

We left him there—sprawled across the rotten table like a warning.

Outside, Shadow waited by the steps, tail still.

Yizhen stepped beside me, brushing a fleck of blood off his sleeve. "Do you think they're getting bolder, or just more desperate?"

I didn't answer right away. I watched the wind stir the branches above us, watched the leaves spin like coins in the air.

"They smell the shift," I said at last. "The end of one empire. The birth of another."

Yizhen raised a brow. "And which one do you belong to?"

I looked him in the eye.

"Neither."

Then I turned and whistled.

Shadow ran ahead, black and fast.

We followed.