A witch can leave the labyrinth if she accumulates enough merits.
But for an ordinary person, that is impossible.
Even for a witch, it takes at least hundreds of years—something that humans, who neither live that long nor possess mystical power, could never achieve.
The only escape allowed to them is to become the possession of a witch and leave together when their master exits the labyrinth.
However, Hans’ master, Gretel, is still young as a witch.
By the time she gathers enough merits, Hans would have already grown old and died, his body long decayed, leaving behind only bones.
[I plan to leave this wretched labyrinth soon.]
“…Oh… Congratulations. But why are you telling me this?”
[Heh. You’re duller than I expected. Or are you just pretending not to understand?]
She tilted her head in a tempting gesture, moving so close that their faces nearly touched.
But she was not a beautiful woman—just a grotesque, twisted bird.
A foul stench from her mouth wafted over, making Hans unconsciously grimace.
[When a witch leaves the labyrinth, she can take her slaves with her.]
“…”
[You don’t seem particularly shaken by the mention of the outside world. That must mean your master has already told you about it. Did she also mention my offer?]
“I can’t distinguish between witches, so I don’t know if that was you, but yes.”
[I see. I suppose I should introduce myself first.]
The bird, which had come so close, flapped its wings and retreated again.
Come to think of it, it was the same one that had clawed at him with its talons before.
Strictly speaking, familiars have will but not free will, so even if it was the same witch, that wasn’t surprising.
Was it watching him all this time?
But why?
[I am the witch, Lebkuchenhaus.]
The bird folded its wings and bowed gracefully, as if it were human.
It would have been almost amusing—if not for the sickening crunch of bones and muscles snapping and tearing from the unnatural movement.
With its regenerative abilities, it wouldn’t die from something like that.
Besides, feeling sympathy for a monster was ridiculous… but even so, such grotesque habits were unsettling.
[You should consider it an honor to know a witch’s name.]
Though it was obviously an alias or a nickname, Hans simply nodded obediently.
When faced with overwhelming power, it was always best to be cautious.
‘Gretel might be irritable, but she was particularly lenient with Hans… However, Hans wasn’t foolish enough to think other witches would be the same.’
If they were, he wouldn’t have had any reason to despise witches in the first place.
[So, what’s your answer?]
“Before that, may I ask you one thing?”
[Go ahead.]
“Why me?”
Witches were mad.
To say it was because they were trapped in the labyrinth—such reasoning would be an insult to their madness.
Even outside, Hans had rarely heard anything positive about witches.
After all, if one considered where those venomous monsters came from.
Magic might seem like an invincible and omnipotent power, but its wielders always paid the price.
Their flesh rotted away, corroded by poison, making them grotesque.
Their minds crumbled, devoured by madness.
For beings like that, it was difficult to assign value to things that could disappear in a blink or be wiped away with a mere gesture.
[Ah! Ahahahahaha!]
Hearing Hans’ question seemed to delight Ojojo to no end.
The bird threw open its beak and burst into manic laughter.
It cackled so hard that blood-tinged saliva sprayed from its mouth.
[Why? Were you expecting something? Did you think you were special? That, unlike the others, you were chosen?Hik—ihihihihi! That’s ridiculous. A mere dog, dreaming such foolish dreams?]
“…Then why?”
[Because Gretel cherishes you.]
There was no attempt to hide the blatant mockery and malice in its tone.
[That girl—she’s surprisingly naïve for one of us. Young, too. So, I suppose I can’t help but be curious about her.]
At some point, the surroundings had gone completely silent.
The presence of a talking monster—a familiar, a witch’s servant—was enough to make people scatter like rats caught by a cat.
Hans wanted to run too.
Unfortunately, the cat was staring straight at him, making escape impossible.
‘Of course, he had known that causing a disturbance in the city wouldn’t go unnoticed by the witches, but still…’
[She seems quite attached to her little puppy… I wonder, if she were to lose her precious pet, just how devastated she would be?]
Of all the mad creatures he could have encountered, it had to be one with such a twisted sense of amusement.
The fact that she was close to leaving the labyrinth meant she was a witch who had existed for an immense amount of time—madness as old as the history of a nation.
Yet, while Hans felt fear, he did not cower.
After all, he was Gretel’s possession.
The rules of witches were lax when it came to those beneath them, but among themselves, they were strict.
Inflicting direct or indirect harm on another witch was not allowed.
This was something Gretel had personally reassured him about.
Of course, if he relied on that and acted rudely, it could be considered an insult to the witch’s dignity—an offense he might have to pay for with his life.
But as long as Hans maintained a deferential attitude, he should be safe.
“…I apologize.”
[Oh? So you’re rejecting me after all?]
Did a human rolling in the mud have any pride left to cling to?
Without a moment’s hesitation, Hans bowed his head.
However, the words that came from his mouth were not those of obedience.
“I am merely a slave. How could a slave choose to change masters at will?”
[Ha. That’s a pretty excuse.]
Yes.
It was nothing more than a convenient excuse.
Loyalty?
Honor?
Such things held no meaning in the labyrinth.
He simply knew that serving a master with that kind of mentality would surely drive him to ruin.
[Do you even understand the opportunity you’ve just thrown away?
With that dull little head of yours?
Gretel can’t get you out of the labyrinth.
You won’t find another witch as merciful as I am.
You realize that, don’t you?
If you don’t take my hand… you will never escape this place.]
He knew that.
But Hans had already half given up on escaping the labyrinth.
He had been here too long, and he had never heard even a rumor or urban legend of someone successfully getting out.
More than anything—he was the type of person who would choose decades of hell over a single night in paradise.
The hope that he might leave if he waited was certainly sweet.
But no matter how he thought about it, Hans couldn’t believe that the Witch of the Cookie House would simply let him go unharmed.
So, this was a choice for himself—not for Gretel.
“…”
[Fine.]
Silence, meant to avoid provoking her further.
Not that it mattered—he had already angered her, and no reaction at this point would change anything.
Still, to avoid worsening the situation, Hans chose to remain silent.
[Don’t come to regret this.]
The leisurely and insidious attitude from just moments ago had completely vanished.
Even the usual slow drawl of speech was erased, leaving only a cold, severe voice.
Then, Ojojo suddenly flapped its wings and lunged toward him.
Hans instinctively flinched, his body tensing as if to dodge, but he forcefully suppressed the urge.
No.
He couldn’t harm a familiar.
That thing held more value than a human slave.
And besides, though the Witch of the Cookie House was insane, she was not the kind of witch who had fully surrendered to madness.
Last time, there had at least been the excuse of breaking the rules, but this time, he had already paid the price for his defiance.
Ojojo dove at him with the fierce momentum of a bird ready to tear him apart, yet in the end, it merely brushed past him without leaving so much as a scratch.
Only a chilling whisper lingered in his ear.
*
There had been a minor incident, but Hans’s work was not yet finished.
Gretel had given him three addresses, and he needed to take care of them all.
His attitude was closer to routine duty than revenge, but in Heimvig, getting betrayed or betraying someone was just another part of daily life.
If one reacted to every single instance, there would be no end to it.
He merely stored the memory away in a corner of his mind—if by chance they ever met outside the city, he could crush them then.
‘Radical acts of vengeance like this…’
“Hansel,”…were only possible when a witch permitted them.
“Why don’t we stop here?”
He had already caused two disturbances, so it was no surprise that word had spread in such a short time.
If someone Hans was acquainted with had seen him wielding a fire orb, they might not have been able to stop him, but they certainly could have run off to warn his next target.
What Hans hadn’t expected was not the crowd gathering around his third target’s house, but rather what the homeowner was holding in his hand.
A fire orb.
But unlike Hans’s, which was a pure, vibrant crimson, this one was murky and dark, a dull yellowish-gray swirling like muddy water.
Yet the mystical power within it was no less formidable.
No, more than its strength, the true significance lay in what it represented.
“So, among those under a witch’s protection…”
Long-suffering patience and a sharpened blade were the weapons of the weak seeking revenge.
The strong have no need to wait.
It hadn’t been long since the words “You’ll regret this” were spoken, yet the malice of the Cookie House had already descended upon him.
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