Amidst the silence, the henchman spoke. "How much pain will you inflict upon the Remaining Podeshire before you end his miserable life, Christina?" he asked with a smirk.

The woman with the doll, Christina, replied with an ominous grin. "Oh, I shall unleash upon him an unfathomable depth of agony, as much as I desire, darling."

"How evil that is," the henchman mused. "I love it," he giggled.

     Jean's eyebrow arched in intrigue as the mention of his adoptive father piqued his curiosity. He stepped closer, his gaze fixated on the doll cradled in Christina's hands. His shock grew as he noticed the doll's hair, a replica of Oliver's dark copper tresses. At that moment, a sudden realization struck him like lightning, revealing Christina's true nature as a witch and her sinister intent to curse his beloved father.

     As the sense of dread gets the best of him, Jean breaks free from his vision, his eyes fixed on the present moment. Gasping, Jean helps Oliver to straighten his body from the floor and steps back. With a loud pant, Jean wags his head and grasps his hair, his brows furrowing with worry.

     Meanwhile, Josephine and Gregory hurry towards Oliver and wrap their arms around him, aiding him in the situation. As Oliver's pain gradually fades momentarily, he succumbs to hyperventilation and winces his eyes. Bertie, George, Victoria, Elizabeth, and their husbands stand still, their eyes fixed on the chaos unravelling in the dining room.

"Mr Podeshire! Are you alright!?" Josephine gasped loudly.

"I... I..." Oliver groaned.

"Hang on tight, Oliver," Gregory said, his voice laced with concern.

Stepping forward, Jean stammered, "D-d-dad! A witch is cursing you!" He yelped.

"What?" Oliver exclaimed, his eyes widening.

"A witch is cursing you, I said!" Jean reiterated.

Everyone in the room exchanged brief, sceptical glances.

"Jean... honey. What are you saying?" Josephine inquired, her eyebrows arching with worry.

"I... I had a vision. There's a witch... she has a doll that looks like Dad, and she's using it to hurt him!" Jean explained in a rush.

"Jean Adrien Shalores Hidesine-Podeshire," Oliver grunted, sceptical of Jean's explanation. "It's not the time to entertain silly stories."

"No! There's indeed a witch! Using black magic against you, Dad! I've seen it in my own eyes through my vision!" Jean countered.

Gregory's brows furrowed as he contemplated Jean's ability. "I... I believe in what Jean said. In truth, he had visions of you, Josephine, before he met you. And as we know, you're here now."

"...I... I put my trust in Jean as well. Not just because Jean's our son... but... because Jean and I descended from seers," Josephine reasoned. "And we can see legitimate visions."

"Absurd," Oliver thought, wrinkling his nose.

"Dad," Jean began, his voice filled with conviction, "I recall you telling me that the ability to channel visions could be seen as either a power or not. Well! I want you to know that I firmly believe it is indeed a power, a blessing, much like your own elemental powers." He then took a deep breath, stepping closer to Oliver. "I believe we can trust what I saw," he muttered.

Oliver squirmed out of Josephine and Gregory's grip. He then began circling the dining room as he flailed his hands. "I don't believe it. I'm done with these problems. What did I even do to deserve such hatred from somebody? To the point I'm being cursed!?" he grumbled.

Josephine watched silently as Oliver spoke and circled the room. Suddenly, she received visions, her eyes widening as she comprehended the revelation. "Mr Podeshire..." she called out gently.

However, Oliver continued complaining, ignoring Josephine's calls. "I've gone through a lot, and I thought my problems were all in the past! It's truly unbelievable to think someone is out there trying to harm me again as if I am back in my old days!?"

"Mr Podeshire," Josephine called out once more, her voice transforming into a resolute tone.

"I'm honestly uncertain whether I should believe these visions or not! All I know is I'm sick! That's all!" Oliver grunted with loud stomps.

With her patience drying out, Josephine called out again, raising her voice. "Oliver!"

Oliver came to an abrupt halt as he faced Josephine. "Oh...?"

Josephine stepped closer to Oliver and stood before him. "Jean is telling the truth. I also saw it in my vision. There's truly a witch out there using black magic against you..." she said.

Yielding to the fact, Oliver released a heavy breath and asked, "...What should we do...?"

Everyone exchanged apprehensive glances, uncertain of the next course of action.

"...I know what to do," Gregory stated, stepping forward.

     Everyone gathered in the lobby, clearing the tables and chairs to the sides. In the centre of the room, Oliver and Gregory sat while the others observed from the periphery. As Oliver settled on the cold wooden floor, Gregory grasped his sceptre and sighed.

"We need to counter the witch's curse and put the curse upon an object," Gregory explained. "Oliver? May you spawn an object for us to use?" he asked politely.

     In response to Gregory's order, Oliver nodded and circled his hands. Swiftly, he shot his palms towards the floor, and a foggy element spawned. Slowly, a solid head-sized stone emerged amidst the mist.