After Dorias left, the tired Ileil soon closed her eyes.
Too many things happened today… as if fate had pressed some detonator, all sorts of unexpected events came one after another.
Ileil had approached Gro with the mindset of a life-or-death struggle, but she failed to kill Gro as wished—and he, with a mentality Ileil couldn’t understand, spared her life, even forcing her into a humiliating contract.
But that wasn’t the worst.
Who could predict that a witch would start a fire—deliberately appearing before her to propose a deal? But the troublesome ones weren’t just the witch… Aressto’s noble princess, the saint Gro called a strong one, also came knocking; Ileil had to wade into this muddy water.
Ileil once thought her life was destined to be incompatible with Gro like water and fire, but in the current severe situation, Gro had instead become someone on the same side as her.
If her identity as a witch was discovered by that princess or saint… forget revenge; she could go pick a favorite stake for burning. Even if Gro temporarily kept her witch identity secret, when the truth came out, given his shrewd and interest-supreme style—she would definitely be cut loose at light speed.
Ileil couldn’t help but recall the days before she became a witch. Back then, she only needed to focus single-mindedly on revenge matters, constantly honing her sword—quietly awaiting the right timing. After experiencing several early defeats due to recklessness.
No need to consider too much; she didn’t have to deliberately conceal anything. Just dutifully complete the tasks Gro assigned, feign restraining her vengeful intent.
Ileil wasn’t good at socializing with others. Even if Gro taught her to read and write, basic etiquette in dealing with people, it ultimately remained superficial. She knew—Gro just wanted to train her into an executioner walking in the shadows.
From the first time killing a hungry beast in the wild, to the first time personally ending a dying person’s life.
She felt inexplicably dazed by this. Recalling the boy who felt guilty even for stepping on a few ants as a child, now able to slit throats without changing expression; she had proficiently mastered how to precisely and efficiently take lives.
Was this what she wanted?
But all her actions were for—revenge, revenge, revenge…
Ileil had been immersed in this path for too long. She even somewhat forgot the most cherished memories spent with her family…
Even the words her father once said to her became ethereal; the most imposing figure in memory gradually blurred.
Only the scene of her father being killed by Gro’s hand remained fresh in memory.
Was the path she chose truly correct?
She seemed to vaguely remember… one day under the birch tree in her hometown, amid summer cicadas, her father spoke of his future expectations for her—
Don’t think about these anymore. Ileil rubbed her temples with her hand; she had already tried her best to cast these thoughts aside.
Rest first.
Lying on the room’s overly soft mattress, Ileil was unaccustomed. She even had the impulse to sleep directly on the floor; the soft, slack feeling was uncomfortable.
Although Ileil thought this, her body was exceptionally honest. Ileil soon adapted to the warm, comfortable bed and fell deeply asleep.
Ileil slept very comfortably, even if the girl didn’t want her body to relax.
…….
The rain gradually lessened, dark clouds dispersed. Morning light dyed the clouds. The sun rose from the east, as dazzling as the Dawn Goddess worshiped by the Aressto people.
Ileil was accustomed to waking before sunrise. But alas, the warm quilt was a bed of decadence, breeding laziness. She failed to get up early as usual.
She got out of bed, simply stretched her limbs. The body’s fatigue had almost completely recovered; she wanted to change into her most habitual plain dark linen clothes with almost no decorations, but suddenly realized there were no such cheap outfits in this manor.
Ileil suddenly remembered, when Gro sent her to this room yesterday—that man had also casually removed her dirty chainmail and underclothes, changing her into new pajamas.
Her thoughts reaching here, she couldn’t help but hold her forehead. Yesterday, she seemed to have been pondering the words the black-haired witch left before disappearing; her attention hadn’t been much on herself. Thinking about it now, Ileil couldn’t help feeling some shame.
Opening the wardrobe, gazing at the dazzling array of women’s dresses inside, Ileil’s fingers hovered in mid-air; she felt somewhat at a loss. Those silks and laces gleamed softly in the morning light; each piece exquisite as if prepared for a noble miss. She really couldn’t imagine the wardrobe full of women’s clothes. If Ileil remembered correctly, the manor’s owner—Duke Lokas should be a single male.
Even men’s clothes would be fine…
She ultimately picked the plainest dark blue long dress, but even so, the silver embroidery around the waist still made the garment seem overly ornate.
Ileil frowned as she tightened the corset, suddenly hearing a slight tearing sound from the fabric; perhaps the entire long dress’s size was too conservative. Although Ileil looked like a delicate little girl, her long-trained body was far more solid and powerful than it appeared. The corset laces tightened in her hands, emitting an overburdened groan.
“……”
Ileil stared at the tear for a moment, then decisively ripped open the entire row of obstructive buttons. “Really troublesome…” She muttered, rummaging from the wardrobe depths for a belt, quickly shortening the excess skirt hem, and cinching it at the waist. After a good modification to the long dress, the uncomfortable restraint finally lessened.
Although the figure in the mirror with swaying skirt hem looked slightly odd, the skirt revealing slender calves. But Ileil usually ignored others’ opinions. At least in Gro’s mercenary group, few dared gossip about her.
Morning birdsong came from outside the window; Ileil subconsciously reached for her usual sword position, but touched only empty skirt folds. Ileil suddenly realized the wardrobe lacked the most important thing—a garter for hiding daggers, or at least a coat with hidden pockets. She glanced at the twin swords on the bedside table; where to put the weapons?
Ileil silently pondered whether to give the long dress a new round of explosive modifications. As she thought this, her gaze finally landed on the thigh garters lying in the wardrobe.
……
Morning, in the manor’s garden.
Gro sat at the edge of the garden corridor, distantly watching the princess sweat under the early sun, mutteringæ„Ÿæ…¨ to himself:
“Really diligent, young lady. Not forced by life to practice sword, but out of a sense of responsibility?”
Gro yawned. The heavy shadows under his eyes made him look unrested.
Tap… tap… tap…
Crisp footsteps came from the other end of the corridor. Gro thought it was the princess’s companion or a manor maid or something. Gro lazily lifted his eyes to look; he wanted to yawn again, but midway, he froze.
—Ileil was striding toward him. Sunlight filtered through the corridor vines, casting dappled light and shadow on her. The torn fabric edges gleamed with fine gold light; the dark blue silk made her snow-white skin nearly transparent; the utterly transformed long dress hem fluttered with her steps.
The most incongruous was probably her casually pinned hair—the hairpin crookedly holding half her silver hair, the rest messily scattered at her neck; a few strands even stubbornly sticking up, obviously Ileil had just grabbed a few times and called it done.
Gro slightly widened his eyes; his gaze slid from Ileil’s shortened skirt hem to the leather thigh garters faintly visible on her thighs, then to the short swords clipped on both garters, looking very abrupt and mismatched.
“Indeed, didn’t sleep well; hallucinating…”