That day, William stood at the manor gate with Abigail and Jessie, waiting for Hermione Granger's first official teaching visit.
After a short wait, a Rolls-Royce Phantom—transformed from one of the Twelve Knights of Cybertron—slowly rolled through the gate.
Before William could move, the Phantom stopped smoothly at the manor's front entrance, and its door opened automatically. Hermione, lightly made up and carrying a briefcase, stepped out.
"Good morning, Mr. Devonshire," she greeted politely upon seeing William in formal attire. Then she glanced at the Phantom and sighed, "I didn't expect you'd already developed self-driving technology. If the automotive companies out there found out, they'd probably lose their minds."
Only after saying this did she greet Abigail and Jessie.
William smiled and nodded, knowing full well her words were part compliment, part subtle warning. "Good morning, Ms. Granger."
He then led Hermione, Abigail, and Jessie to a specially prepared room of nearly 150 square meters before excusing himself with a friendly smile, so Hermione wouldn't feel too constrained.
On the way downstairs, he ran into Nysa, who looked less than pleased.
William shook his head and pulled her into an embrace. "Alright, my dear. Those English wizards are all stubborn old coots. If they won't teach you, then let's go do something... productive, physically and mentally?"
"If they won't teach me, can't you at least teach Selene and me some dark magic?" Nysa clung to his arm, pouting as she rocked it back and forth.
As if William would ever teach dark magic to two vampire women.
Just the name—"dark magic"—spelled trouble. He wasn't about to let their hard-won ability to withstand sunlight be eroded by it. And what if their personalities twisted or their thirst for blood increased?
That would be a terrible trade-off.
Scooping the sulking Nysa into his arms, William said, "You and Selene just need to master the Yakar Arrows. That's stronger than any dark magic. If you're still not satisfied, I'll ask Jessie if she'll trade her chance to study magic for your Yakar Arrow."
"Don't even think about it," Nysa clung to his neck and pouted, "It's not like you don't have extra Yakar Arrows lying around. If Jessie wants one, let her ask you herself. But this one's mine—I'm not giving it up."
"Alright, alright, no one's stealing your stuff."
Back in her room, the two got close and did some "fitness training"—push-ups and squats included.
By noon, having hogged William for herself, Nysa feigned not being hungry and stayed in bed. Jessie, realizing what had happened, grumpily pinched William's waist several times at lunch.
William, who didn't feel a thing, pretended to be in pain and furrowed his brow, prompting Jessie to laugh and gently massage the spot—while Abigail and Selene just shook their heads.
As everyone sat down, William asked, "Ms. Granger, do you think Abigail and Jessie have the talent to become witches?"
"Well…" Hermione, who had just been smiling, suddenly didn't know how to answer.
Though she herself was a Muggle-born witch, the odds of a Muggle mastering magic were incredibly low. Just as she was about to give an honest but disappointing answer, a rich aroma of wine and natural magical energy hit her nose.
Turning her head, she saw Jessie approaching with a decanter of red wine. The closer she came, the more Hermione found herself instinctively swallowing her saliva.
After taking a sip of the wine Jessie poured herself, Hermione immediately looked at Abigail, Jessie, and Selene with envy—and then gave William a strange look.
With this kind of wine, even someone without any magical talent could probably become a witch.
Unable to hold back, she cautiously asked, "Mr. Devonshire, would it be possible to adjust my payment—half in gold, half in this wine?"
"Sorry, the wine's not for sale," William declined flatly. But then he added, "However, during your visits here, you can drink as much as you like at mealtime—as long as Jessie's willing."
"I don't mind at all," Jessie, mid-pour, blinked in surprise, then smiled at Hermione. "Ms. Granger, ignore William. I don't have a lot of this wine, but whenever you're here, you can drink however much you want."
"Wait," Hermione suddenly remembered she was a married woman and a mother. Coming home drunk after every lesson wouldn't exactly ease Ron Weasley's suspicions.
"Just one glass per person at lunch, or it might affect work and study," she said quickly.
Thinking William was being stingy, Hermione shot him a sharp glare before reluctantly agreeing.
Three more days passed.
During that time, William not only authorized Sunday to begin construction of a massive particle collider—tens of kilometers long—on Planet X17, but also applied for a research project at the European collider facility under England's name to test a particular hypothesis.
If the experiment proved successful, then once the X17 collider was completed, he could begin manufacturing antimatter nuclear warheads directly.
The second matter on William's radar was the escalating war in Hell. Mephisto's forces and Cyttorak's berserker demon vanguard had clashed. Using a magical projection to observe, William watched several battles involving Cyttorak's berserkers and finally understood what Fisher meant by "no retreat, no surrender."
Unfortunately, the soul collection spell Fisher had taught him didn't work in Hell, so he couldn't harvest the spirits of the fallen. Otherwise, he would already have one hundred thousand demon spirits—ten thousand berserkers and sixty to seventy thousand others.
While such losses weren't a big deal for Mephisto or Cyttorak, Mephisto would have to be out of his mind to willingly hand over ten thousand berserkers to William.
If William sent that army deep into Mephisto's domain for a rampage, it'd be enough to make Mephisto furious enough to kill.
When Mephisto saw William's projection appear on the battlefield, his own projection began enacting a plan that had been eight days in the making.
Ring ring, ring ring.
The sound of a phone broke the morning peace, waking William from sleep. He was sandwiched between Abigail and Jessie.
"Damn it," he muttered, then heard Sunday in his ear. "SIR, Mr. Strauss of the Knights of the Holy Light has once again requested that you attend the Church of Light's funeral ceremony for the Pope, and offer a blessing of holy light."
"No. Not going," William declined without hesitation. Secular faith was for the mundane masses—what he wanted was the extraordinary segment.
After relaying the rejection, Sunday gave his next report. "At 3 p.m. today, the antimatter experiment will take place in Switzerland. Would you like to attend in person?"
"I'll—" He was about to say yes, but then thought better of it. His presence would definitely draw massive attention from multiple countries. It was better to let the scientists follow the plan step by step.
If antimatter really was produced, he didn't want it to be seized—or worse, destroyed—by someone else.
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