The Witches’ Mutual Aid Society was located in a three-story building on the outskirts of Kaisania’s central district.
Its functions were similar to a club, a hometown association, or an embassy. It served as a place for local witches to socialize and receive services, or as a hub for those seeking to hire a witch.
Whether it was finding a job, finding a partner, unlocking a door, or fixing a water pipe… all of it fell within its scope of business.
Beyond these day-to-day services, it also carried out functions that outsiders were never privy to.
Intelligence. Surveillance. Control.
In truth, this was the real purpose for which the Mutual Aid Society had been established.
Because witches were naturally more attuned to the Sea of Souls than any other race, once they began to fall, the threat they posed would far exceed that of an ordinary defiler.
Precisely because witches were aware of their own flaws, academies had been established throughout the Empire to teach both commoners and young witches how to control the Sea of Souls, and how to avoid being lured by the Evil Lords.
But that method merely dulled the pain—it could not heal the wound.
There would still be witches who lost themselves while pursuing knowledge and power, or who, blinded by arrogance and reckless confidence, ended up as nothing more than pitiable marionettes.
They were the stains upon witchkind, and targets that had to be erased.
It was for this reason that Ina Iveco had come.
She sat on the terrace of the café on the second floor of the Mutual Aid Society, gazing toward the city center.
All witches possessed a beauty that inspired envy, and Ina was no exception—if anything, she stood out even more.
Her shoulder-length black hair was messy, with bangs dyed red hanging over her pale forehead, held in place with a pink hair clip.
A triangular pendant dangled from her ear.
Beneath a wide gray cloak was an academy-style uniform, though the black blazer was left partially unbuttoned, revealing the white shirt underneath.
A striped short skirt gave way to well-shaped, healthy legs, their fair skin completely exposed with no ornamentation.
What drew the eye most, however, were her mismatched red and blue irises.
If Loki were here, he would surely feel a strange sense of déjà vu.
Ina gently stirred a pale pink drink with her spoon. The ice clinked against the glass, producing crisp, wind-chime-like sounds.
She had repeated this action for over five minutes, her gaze fixed, as if nailed into place.
Her mind was elsewhere.
—To say that Ina had only come here to hunt down traitors of her race would be… inaccurate.
In truth, she had already been active in Kaisania for five years—an indirect reason she had become the longest-retained student in the history of Helena Witch Academy.
But even so, no one dared to lecture or humiliate her over it.
For Ina was the daughter of the clan leader, chosen by the clan’s artifact itself as a prodigy. No one questioned her strength—and those foolish enough to try had tasted unforgettable bitterness.
As for why she hadn’t graduated… it was because of her nearly impossible graduation task:
To reclaim the witches’ artifact from the soulless one whose very name could not be spoken—and, if possible, to kill him.
Though witches were a vengeful people, they weren’t so stupid as to miss the obvious.
The Soulless were their natural nemesis. Against Loki, they were no different from undercover agents stripped bare—especially when he wielded one of the witches’ own artifacts.
What’s more, with “Black Sword” backing him now, the witches had essentially written off his wanted notice as if it didn’t exist.
Better to wait for him to die of old age and pick up the corpse than throw lives away.
Face a muscle-bound monster who killed at the slightest provocation and could tank tenth-tier spells head-on? You’ve got to be kidding me.
Ina, however, thought differently.
For five years, she had been keeping Loki under close watch.
Not to find a way to kill him, but rather—
Ina lowered her eyes to the ancient, worn ring wrapped around the ring finger of her right hand.
“That woman… where on earth did she come from? She’d never shown up before… damn it, just because I fell asleep last night, something completely unpredictable had to happen!”
She muttered to herself, her expression twisting into a grimace. Grabbing fistfuls of her hair, she ruffled it into a tangled mess like yarn.
Her lips pressed to the rim of the glass, teeth gnashing against it with sharp “crack, crack” sounds—like a beast snapping at its natural enemy.
“The worst part is—she… she actually has a key to Lord Loki’s house! Even I’ve never been inside… I want so badly to know what it looks like… damn that Church woman, she must’ve used some vile trick to deceive Lord Loki’s trust… No. I can’t keep sitting by like this. Lord Loki’s chastity will be protected by me—”
“Ina?”
“…!”
At the sound of her name, Ina jerked her head up. Her face smoothed into calm composure as she took a sip of her drink, as though nothing had happened.
The cool sweetness jolted her senses, easing her mood. The lewd, detestable image of that petite, voluptuous girl faded away, replaced by the figure of a gentle, long-haired woman.
The woman’s attire was simple, her makeup understated. Despite her beauty, she left an impression so faint one could forget her the moment they looked away.
The warm smile on her face naturally evoked the word mother.
“Do you need something, Selene?”
The woman was one of Ina’s few friends in Kaisania.
“I just finished shopping at the witch specialty market. I thought I’d come upstairs to relax, and happened to see you here, so I came over to say hello… uh, am I interrupting?”
Selene scratched her cheek, a little embarrassed.
“No.”
Ina’s gaze shifted slightly away.
Hopefully her earlier twisted state hadn’t been seen.
Ina usually presented herself to others as “cool” and “dashing”—at the academy, she’d been enough to make adolescent girls swoon. Who would ever guess that this powerful witch senior had, in truth, been stalking a man for five years without even once speaking to him?
“If you ever have worries or troubles, you’re welcome to talk to me, you know? Bottling things up too long will only hurt your health.”
…As if she could ever tell her that.
Ina flopped face-down onto the table, lips slightly parted like a dead fish resigned to her fate.
After one deep breath, she gathered her resolve and spoke slowly.
“Well, actually… I have this friend.”