A street where luminous stones glow atop gray bricks.
As expected of the Labyrinth, it was dim and shadowy, but compared to Kumo Strasse, it was much cleaner and more orderly.
Every time Hans stepped into Schindel Strasse, he felt a peculiar and indescribable emotion.
It wasn’t anything extravagant—just the simple fact that the air here didn’t reek, that the streets weren’t stained with blood.
That people could walk around in comfortable clothes, unarmed.
He never thought he would come to envy such ordinary things.
His body reeked, the sword at his waist was crusted with dried blood, and his heavy, cumbersome outfit was more armor than clothing.
In this well-paved street, he was the lone speck of dirt.
Feeling as though eyes were on him, Hans quickened his pace.
Fortunately, this time, no one stepped in his way to pick a fight.
A tower, rising like a tumor in the middle of an empty lot.
Maybe it was thanks to his past experiences, but his steps through the familiars lurking around the tower felt bolder than before.
“Hrrr…”
Among them was a Lesser Angel.
Hans couldn’t help but think that if he had simply picked up the iridescent feathers scattered at its feet, he wouldn’t have needed to go through all this trouble.
But witches were known for their incomprehensible eccentricities, and this was hardly the first time.
So, he let it slide.
He climbed the long staircase and once again entered Gretel’s workshop.
“Ugh.”
The moment he stepped into the space, as if entering another world, a wave of scorching heat slapped his face.
Hans grimaced but stepped inside the molten lava-filled chamber with practiced ease.
It looked intimidating, but everything here was strictly controlled.
Not a single drop of lava spilled beyond its intended boundaries.
As long as he didn’t foolishly shove his hand into the flames, he wouldn’t get burned.
“…Gretel?”
Contrary to his expectations, the workshop was empty.
Or rather, it wasn’t truly empty.
If no one were here, the door wouldn’t have opened in the first place.
The space was vast beyond his comprehension—she had to be somewhere inside.
But Hans, even with his granted permission to enter, was neither ignorant nor reckless enough to wander around and disturb a witch’s workshop.
Even without that knowledge, the searing heat and ever-present flames were enough to snuff out any flickering sense of adventure.
As he stood there, unsure, a sudden eruption of lava rose not far from him.
The molten rock split, forming a structured shape, and in an instant, it cooled into solid granite—a chair.
Gretel was still nowhere to be seen, but the meaning was clear.
The structure that had been flowing lava just moments ago now felt like cold stone as Hans sat down.
Though, with the surrounding heat, it was already beginning to warm up.
“Haa…”
Drip.
Sweat began to trickle down as he waited, and along with it, unease crept into his mind.
He had no choice but to come here.
But what if Gretel had been watching the two of them through one of her dolls?
What if she had seen Alje turning into a monster?
Or, if not that, what if she had witnessed their affectionate moments together?
Normally, the moment Hans arrived, Gretel would struggle to hide her excitement, greeting him with barely concealed joy.
But now, her uncharacteristic absence only fanned the flames of his anxiety.
But now, leaving or running away was even more impossible.
As long as he was inside Heimvig, there was no escaping the witch’s gaze.
And if Gretel hadn’t seen those scenes, his behavior would only make him look guilty.
“Hoo… hoo…”
Was his breath growing ragged simply because of the heat, or was it because his heart was trembling?
He wasn’t sure, but either way, Hans had no other choice.
And so, he waited, feeling like a frog slowly boiling in a pot.
How long had it been?
“Johannes!”
A voice calling for him.
Whether he wanted to or not, people who spent time together inevitably came to understand each other better.
And Hans had spent far more time with Gretel than he ever had with Alje.
So, he realized immediately—at least in her voice, the emotions he had feared—anger, betrayal—were absent.
Something was definitely going on, but it seemed to be a witch’s business that had nothing to do with him.
And that was enough for Hans to feel relieved.
“I’m back.”
“Waaaah!”
With a half-scream, Gretel came running and leaped straight into his arms.
Despite her youthful appearance, she had lived far longer than Hans.
It was rare for her to be so openly affectionate.
Even as he thought about it, Hans gently patted Gretel’s small back.
“Haa…”
Of course, the moment didn’t last long.
Regaining her composure, Gretel quickly pulled away from him.
She acted as if nothing had happened, but Hans noticed the faint redness in her ears and smirked.
“You could’ve stayed like that a little longer, you know?”
“Don’t push your luck, Johann.”
Even as she pressed a finger firmly against his forehead, Hans just kept smiling.
He made sure not to push her too far, lest she pull out something much sharper than her finger.
“You seem exhausted.”
“Of course, I’m exhausted! I have to replenish losses, and the higher-ups keep breathing down my neck.”
Hans had no idea what she was talking about, but he simply nodded along, listening to the fiery-tempered girl as she whined one moment and snapped the next.
It’s not like she expected him to understand.
She was just venting.
Still, there was something in her complaints that caught his attention.
“Come to think of it…”
“What?”
The last conversation they had before leaving on their expedition.
It had been about leaving the labyrinth.
Even witches, who seemed far superior and more powerful than the scavengers and hunters that filled the labyrinth, were ultimately nothing more than dogs leashed by the great noble houses.
The fact that they could even entertain the hope of escaping this place was already a massive difference, though.
“Ah, that?”
Gretel smirked.
“I could tell you, but… before that.”
The moment the conversation shifted from idle chatter to something more serious, the mischievous girl’s entire demeanor changed.
Her [workshop], the place that was her home, her refuge, her very stomach, shifted according to her will.
The heat surged, filling the air with stifling intensity—then, with a single flick of her hand, it all vanished as if nothing had happened.
“First, I need to see how well you did what I asked.”
Hans pulled out the pouches he had prepared in advance.
The Eye of the Three-Eyed Hound, the Horn of the One-Winged Angel, Witchflower, the Horn of the Five-Horned Beast.
One by one, he placed them before her.
Each material, stored carefully in separate enchanted pouches, had been kept perfectly fresh despite the passage of time.
But more than their quality, it was their quantity that shocked Gretel.
Thanks to Alje’s rampage, they had managed to harvest an absurd amount of the angel’s feathers and the five-horned beast’s horns.
Even after discarding the ones that had been trampled or torn beyond use, the pouches were still packed to the brim.
“You… you didn’t push yourself too hard, did you?”
Her voice, though reprimanding, carried an undertone of concern.
Hans smiled at that.
“The Saint was there.”
“Even so…”
“I’m fine. You know my survival instincts.”
Of course, he made sure to throw in an extra excuse.
Alje’s true power lay not in [miracles] but in her sheer, overwhelming strength.
But that was something no one else could ever know.
Otherwise, they’d start asking questions.
“…Now that I think about it, there was that too,” Gretel muttered.
“You didn’t go wagging your tail at her like an idiot, did you?”
“I didn’t do anything. You watched, didn’t you?”
Despite Gretel’s interrogation, Hans maintained his shameless expression.
He couldn’t say there was nothing weighing on his mind, but the very fact that she was asking like this meant she hadn’t seen anything.
And his guess was right.
“I didn’t see it.”
“Huh?”
“How many times do I have to say it?! I was busy!”
That part, he hadn’t expected.
Judging by her frustration, she must have been truly overwhelmed.
So much so that she barely had time to spy on him through her dolls.
Hans felt a little guilty about it—but mostly, he was relieved.
If Gretel hadn’t been watching, then there was no need to worry about Alje being exposed as a monster.
Of course, he kept that thought to himself.
“…Ugh, fine. After all the effort you put in, I guess I can’t just not tell you.”
After venting her irritation for a while longer, Gretel finally calmed down enough to continue their conversation.
“Where were we?”
“You said you wanted to leave the labyrinth… So that means it is possible?”
“Yeah.”
Hans had already suspected as much the moment she brought it up.
He could escape this wretched place.
And yet, even after hearing those words, his heart didn’t race with excitement as he had imagined it might.
Because this wasn’t the only thing he had anticipated.
If escaping the labyrinth were easy, countless people wouldn’t have perished in despair.
Unlike the urban legends about mimic monsters, Hans had never once heard of someone who successfully escaped the labyrinth.
Even Gretel, a witch, was still bound to this place.
So, before Gretel could even give him that rare, sympathetic look—before she could say it outright—Hans had already braced himself for the inevitable truth.
“For an ordinary human… it’s probably impossible.”
The truth still stung, even though he had been prepared for it.