Chapter 57: The Saintess, the Dungeon, and the Girl in Chains

“I do not agree!”

In the guest room, the girl’s furious shout echoed through the entire chamber.

She stood up in anger, her brows knit tight with indignation.

“This is so unfair! Why should our people have to give in to your demands like this!”

“Sylvia!”

The man beside her hastily scolded, “Sit down. As the Saintess, you must not forget your manners.”

“But brother, her request is far too outrageous! This is nothing but exploitation of our people!”

The Saintess retorted angrily.

Yet the man only lowered his head, fingers ceaselessly rubbing together, clearly troubled about whether to accept her terms or not.

Julis sat across from them, her expression unchanged, showing not the slightest sign that she found her own excessive demands to be anything out of the ordinary.

Accustomed to wielding authority, she had seen many lose control in anger—yet all had ultimately agreed to her terms.

She bent her head slightly, her indifferent eyes bearing the pressure of one in power as she watched their expressions grow uglier by the moment.

“Please consider quickly. My patience is limited.”

“You’re just a bully!”

“Sylvia!”

Another harsh reprimand.

The man sighed deeply, and said to her, “Wait for me outside…”

“…Hmph!”

The Saintess stormed out of the room in anger, slamming the door shut with a loud “bang.”

“My apologies, Your Highness… Though she is a Saintess, she is still but a child—her mind is not yet mature.”

“It is of no consequence.”

All she wanted was the Necronomic Nocturne upon her—nothing else mattered.

***

In the corridor, the Saintess strode forward in a huff.

She was still muttering under her breath.

“Princess this, humans that… They’re all just bullies who love to exploit others…”

As she walked, her steps suddenly halted.

That same uneasy feeling she’d had on the way here rose up again.

As the Saintess, she knew it was an Evil Wraith at work.

Though she had no desire to purify such things in this place, her duty as a Saintess—bestowed by the gods—was something she could not refuse.

“This is so… annoying!”

Though she grumbled, she still followed the Evil Wraith’s aura.

Descending to the first floor, the presence only grew stronger.

She came to the outer edge of the palace, and before she’d gone far, several guards stopped her.

“Saintess, you may not enter here.”

She craned her neck to peer behind the guards.

There, she saw a gloomy cave entrance, from which a cold air continually poured, chilling her to the bone.

“What’s inside?”

“That is the dungeon, Saintess.”

“Dungeon… What is that?”

The guards glanced at each other, unsure whether she was feigning ignorance or truly did not know.

But in truth, she really didn’t know what a dungeon was.

Her own people had nothing like that.

Their tribe lived on Snowpeak, rarely visited by outsiders.

Their entire population barely numbered a hundred.

Any wrongdoer could easily be found out, so no one was foolish enough to do anything bad—there was never any need for a dungeon.

True or not, the guards explained patiently, “Saintess, those imprisoned here are all felons—dangerous people. Please keep your distance, lest your holy presence be sullied.”

“Felons… So they’re all bad people?”

“Yes, exactly.”

So that’s why it felt so eerie inside—an oppressive malice seemed to press upon her, so strong even ordinary people could sense it.

Still, the Evil Wraith had to be dealt with. If it got out, it could harm innocent people.

“Saintess?”

“Please let me in. I can sense an Evil Wraith inside. If it’s not dealt with swiftly, innocents may be harmed.”

“Evil Wraith…”

At those words, the guards all felt a chill down their spines.

They exchanged uneasy looks and swallowed nervously.

“But…”

“Besides, if you linger too long near an Evil Wraith, you’ll be Cursed, you know.”

The guards had just opened their mouths to protest, but the word Curse made their knees give way.

For humans, nothing was more taboo than a Curse.

Suddenly, all the misfortunes of the past few days—tripping, sneezing—seemed explained; surely, it must all be due to a Curse.

“Then… Saintess, please go ahead.”

Seeing she’d truly scared them, the Saintess covered her mouth and let out a mischievous giggle.

Two guards led the way down into the pitch-black dungeon.

It was so dark inside that only torches mounted on the walls gave a little light to the path ahead.

The cold crept up her spine, gnawing at her fair skin.

The deeper they went, the colder she felt.

But she had survived a hundred years on the snowy mountains; this cold was nothing.

The guards ahead, on the other hand, were already trembling from the chill.

Yet it was the malice mixed within the cold that made her increasingly uneasy.

As a Saintess, she was more attuned and sensitive to such negative emotions.

She hugged the clear snowflower in her arms, whispering purification spells under her breath.

***

“It’s all your fault! Weren’t we supposed to be here for a wedding?! Turns out we’re here to rescue an assassin!”

In the pitch-black dungeon.

The witch’s voice rang out, full of fury.

She had only come for the wedding, hoping to snag some food and drink.

Who would have thought she’d be arrested as a prisoner?

She hadn’t even done anything yet!

“I… I’m sorry.”

Mo Zhi hung her head, holding Windsor’s corpse in her arms, her eyes awash with all manner of negative emotions—grief, guilt, anger, and more.

“I didn’t mean to drag you into this…”

Seeing her so dejected, the witch couldn’t bring herself to keep yelling.

What could she do?

The girl was just too pretty, like a delicate porcelain doll.

She sighed and said, “So what do we do now? We can’t really wait for judgment after the wedding, right? The princess’s fiancé will surely be sentenced to death.”

“It’s us who dragged you into this. I’ll get you out safely. I promise…”

Mo Zhi said this softly, her tone gentle yet resolute.

Even in such dire straits, the witch felt a little comforted by those words.

“This friend of yours…”

“Family.”

“…Family, I see.”

“Then… what do you plan to do with her?”

Mo Zhi fell silent, shaking her head.

Now that she had calmed down, she knew there was no way to revive her through Landis.

Landis had wanted her dead; now that her goal was achieved, why would she go to the trouble of bringing her back?

Mo Zhi clenched her hands, her hatred for Landis reaching its peak.

She had only disliked her before, but after what she’d done, forgiveness was no longer possible.

“I won’t let her just die like this. I swore an oath.”

The witch fell silent, not daring to ask further.

Clang.

Suddenly, the dungeon door was thrown open, and a silver-haired figure entered.

She seemed to be looking for something?

Her gaze swept around, then stopped at Mo Zhi. Her expression froze.

“Teacher…”