Before the black-haired witch was crushed by the saint’s giant sword, her final murmur echoed in the girl’s ear.
The deal proposed by the witch was so tempting—she claimed she could become Ileil’s aid in revenge, even saying she had burned away the contract Ileil was forced into with Gro not long ago, but Ileil wouldn’t rashly believe the witch’s words.
Ileil had witnessed the disasters wrought by witches; plagues spread across the borders of the southern holy city of Aurean, horrific diseases devouring the lives of countless innocents—that existence couldn’t simply be encompassed by good or evil.
…
To be fair, in Ileil’s eyes, Gro was still a qualified leader—he could keep his subordinates fed, and with his martial prowess and strategy, he minimized casualties in every conflict. Compared to witches, who were humanoid calamities, the “Black Edge” was far less detestable than witches.
Ileil’s thoughts froze at this moment; the black-haired witch’s gentle voice calling her “kin” seemed to echo in her ear again—that gray-haired, golden-eyed youth was no more; she and that black-haired woman were both sinful witches.
Ileil couldn’t help but recall her family, whom she hadn’t seen in so long—before becoming a witch, Ileil had considered her destination after avenging her great grudge; if she were alive then, she might return to her hometown.
But as a witch, Ileil had lost even the qualification to go home. Even if her family accepted her, Ileil didn’t want to expose them to the storms stirred by her witch identity.
What was left for Ileil—perhaps only the path of avenging her father.
And the end of revenge… might be the end of Ileil’s life.
“…”
Ileil barely regained some consciousness; her whole body was still very weak. The witch’s flames seemed to have scorched Ileil’s soul, and maintaining wakefulness with her current mental strength was already her utmost effort.
Ileil vaguely remembered that someone in white, wielding a great sword, had saved her.
And now, she seemed to be carried on someone’s back.
Ileil opened her eyes; the girl was leaning against someone’s firm and powerful back, thick and sturdy arms steadily holding her.
An inexplicable sense of security…
Ileil untimely recalled her father.
In her carefree childhood, she loved riding on her father’s shoulders, admiring the pastoral scenery from a high vantage. Even when tired from play, she would be steadily carried home by her father; Ileil would always fall asleep peacefully on his back during the journey…
She didn’t want to recall these anymore, even though the girl had already done her best to suppress her weakness.
…
“Hey, you’re awake.”
But an unpleasant voice soon interrupted Ileil’s tangled thoughts. Gro drawled lazily, greeting the newly conscious Ileil.
“Gro…”
Gro carried Ileil on his back, walking slowly along the sparsely populated streets. From a passerby’s perspective, Gro carrying Ileil might just seem like a concerned elder.
Ileil lifted her gaze; she saw Gro’s hair messed by the rain, and that formal suit stretched out of shape after exertion. The girl, who had just been immersed in beautiful past memories, instantly sobered as if plunged into an ice cellar; Ileil felt nauseated by the thoughts she had entertained earlier…
—How could she confuse her father’s killer with her father? Even if it was a momentary illusion, Ileil couldn’t forgive herself.
“When you’re asleep, you’re like an obedient little dog; how come as soon as you wake up, you turn into a snarling vicious hound?”
Gro glanced back at Ileil, teasing her like that. The girl had long grown accustomed to his usual way of speaking—nothing that came out of that foul mouth surprised her; Ileil wouldn’t respond.
“You don’t even have the strength to talk back? That’s rare. Then next—just quietly listen to me explain the current situation.”
Ileil wanted very much to break free from Gro’s back; just thinking about leaning against her father’s killer made her shudder all over. But unfortunately, her weak body told her she couldn’t move now.
“First, I have to congratulate you on surviving that fire—everyone else was burned to the point where not even ashes remain.”
Ileil naturally knew Gro’s words had deeper meaning; she couldn’t be bothered to listen to his nonsense and got straight to the point:
“You’re saying that my survival will draw special attention from others?”
“Brain works fast.” Gro smiled. “To cut a long story short: you were just saved by an incredible saint. That saint is wondering why you held out until rescue and were almost uninjured.”
“…”
Ileil chose silence; for now, she planned to keep the witch’s proposed deal hidden in her heart.
“Your current identity is a witch, kid.” Gro lowered his voice; his tone unusually serious:
“The saints of the Dawn Goddess—their duty is to cleanse the filth brought by evil spirits. Their targets can be barbaric expansionists like Kastit, evil god cultists, or witches like you whose mere existence is a sin.”
“…Is that saint going to send me to the judgment seat?”
Ileil said flatly, as if being a witch was something detached from her.
“No such thing. He seems a bit dim-sighted with age and didn’t recognize your witch identity.”
Gro shrugged. “After all, you’re just a witch without magic. Think about two years ago when I first saw you like this; I thought your consciousness was trapped in some little girl’s body. Finally, after having those priests check—I mean, ha, a full-grown man turned into a witch!”
Ileil’s face turned ashen; she didn’t want to hear Gro dredge up past messes again: “Don’t bring that up anymore. What kind of big shot is the saint who saved me?”
“A big shot in the literal sense.” Gro raised an eyebrow. “His name is Dorias. He was the strongest saint of my era, the most qualified to become a bishop in nearly a century—worlds apart from those who schemed their way to bishop.”
Seeming to realize he had said something overstepping, Gro added: “Just my humble opinion; take it with a grain of salt.”
“From your tone, that Dorias guy didn’t become a bishop; he’s still a saint now?”
Ileil frowned; she had almost never heard Gro speak well of anyone. The girl unusually asked curiously.
“Yeah…” Gro responded, as if sinking into some inescapable reminiscence. He slowly said:
“He’s always been just a saint. But now, he has another identity: serving as the mentor to Aressto’s princess, cultivating Her Highness into an excellent heir.”
“Is that so… It has nothing to do with me.”
“Nothing? Haha… It shouldn’t. But unfortunately, you’ll have to get along with the saint and the princess for a while.”
“Why?” Ileil’s brows furrowed tighter. “If this is a task you’re assigning, pretend I didn’t ask.”
“I can’t explain why to you, just like most of the jobs I’ve given you before.”
Ileil didn’t speak, just tacitly accepting the task Gro assigned. Bound by the contract, she could only temporarily obey Gro.
The contract, huh…
Ileil suddenly recalled the “meeting gift” from the witch. The black-haired witch had personally said she would burn away the contract Ileil was forced to sign with Gro—but the process wasn’t complete; that unknown saint arrived at the scene and saved her…
She couldn’t confirm yet if the contract’s effect still held.
When my limbs can move, I’ll check the contract’s specific status then.
The girl began brewing her revenge plan anew in her heart. This time, she would use any means necessary.
Even if it meant colluding with witches…
“Where are we going now? What do I need to do next?” Ileil asked indifferently; she needed to confirm the next steps before arranging her plan.
“The camp was burned to nothing by the witch’s fire; we can only temporarily make do with the place the duke arranged. Barring accidents, the princess and the saint who saved you are there too.”
“Remember the lie I told in front of the duke today—the same fib I repeated to the saint; otherwise, we wouldn’t have this alone time.”
At this point, Gro paused, continuing in a light tone:
“Treat it as a mission; use more lies to cover up facts unfavorable to us—for now, play my adopted daughter well in front of these headache-inducing guys, kid.”
Even if unwilling, she had to superficially follow Gro’s orders and maintain the identity of his adopted daughter.
If her witch identity was exposed to that terrifyingly strong saint, it would be disastrous. If her weakness was truly grasped, Gro could easily play dumb and sell her out.
But Ileil still didn’t understand.
She didn’t understand what psychology drove Gro to go to such lengths to conceal her witch identity—both after the accident two years ago and now.
Clearly, she had almost killed him not long ago… According to Gro’s usual style, an unstable piece like her should be discarded— or was he playing a bigger game?
Ileil couldn’t see through him.
“Remember to maintain basic etiquette, and—keep that dangerous look in your eyes in check.”
Gro stopped; he stood before a grand manor, reminding her half-jokingly:
“The princess will be staying here lately too. Watch your words, or your head might not stay on.”
“No need to tell me.” Ileil said coldly.