“Ha?”
Hans was taken aback by Alje’s actions, which reignited the fire after he had worked so hard to ease the tension.
“What was that sound, Johan?”
“Well… haha. Either way, we can’t just leave it alone.”
Responding emotionally to an emotional attitude was a foolish move.
Especially considering their respective positions, Hans absolutely could not afford to lose this confrontation.
Instead, the shield Hans chose was the undeniable reality, something even a ferocious witch couldn’t ignore.
“To be honest, I don’t really understand what you’re saying. Something about the poisonous air in the labyrinth, something about the saint’s entry… I’m just a mere hunter, after all.”
“So?”
“But, as someone who’s rolled around in the mud, I do know this—she needs protection.”
Perhaps, the one that actually needed protection was this city, now infiltrated by a shapeshifting monster.
Hans decided to be shameless.
For someone who had crawled through the filth, morality was not something he was obliged to follow.
“She’ll hide the fact that she’s a saint from others, but… she’ll still be targeted.”
“Ha, since when did our dear Johann become such a compassionate person? You didn’t care when rookies had their guts ripped out or when they were sold off to brothels.”
“She saved my life.”
“That’s it?”
A push to be more honest.
A heartless bastard like him wouldn’t repay kindness just out of gratitude.
“…She’s useful. Satisfied?”
“Onii-san?”
In the end, Hans had no choice but to put it bluntly.
He deliberately ignored the startled voice from behind him.
Satisfied, Gretel curled up the corners of her lips and spoke in a relaxed tone, as if her previous anger had been nothing but an act.
“Well, it’s not like you or that half-baked saint would understand the true meaning of a guardian knight anyway.”
“Yeah, I know. Someone like me could never.”
“Well, more importantly.”
Gretel crossed her legs.
With her small frame, it wasn’t particularly seductive.
“To become a guardian knight, you’d have to be castrated first.”
“…What?!”
This time, it was Hans’s turn to feel betrayed.
When he turned his head, Alje was frantically shaking hers.
“I didn’t know either! If I had…”
“If you had known?”
A small yet forceful hand suddenly yanked Hans back.
Resting her tiny chin on his shoulder, Gretel spoke.
Hans could tell—her gaze wasn’t on him but on the other girl behind him.
“Johan wouldn’t have even joked about it. Not that I would have allowed it in the first place.”
“……”
“The ‘usefulness’ you’re talking about—it’s not the kind I’m thinking of, right?”
As fingers brushed against his waist, Hans responded in a slightly stiff voice.
“No.”
“Then that’s fine.”
The warmth, a little hotter than that of an ordinary person, withdrew.
“I am curious about how a saint managed to enter this place and why she’s still unharmed… But that’s not my concern.”
Do as you please, Johanes.
If having her healing powers in a place like this helps you survive, why would I oppose it?
”Her tone was indulgent, like she was permitting livestock to bear offspring. Of course, Hans had no choice but to nod.“
“Well, I don’t care what you do with her.”
The term “same species” wouldn’t be accurate.
Those who wield powers beyond human limits were essentially a new breed of humanity.
Unlike Alje, whose abilities and mentality as a saint were still incomplete, Gretel was a full-fledged witch.
“Just don’t let me catch you. Hmm? What use is a dog that wags its tail at just anyone, rather than its master?”
“Ugh, as if I have a choice.”
“Don’t be sarcastic.”
Another tug.
The strength behind it was only slightly above average, meaning Hans could have easily broken free if he wanted to.
But he let himself be pulled in.
Before they knew it, they were both standing.
Their height difference became all the more apparent, prompting Gretel to grumble and lightly kick his knee.
“Bend down.”
Obligingly, Hans did just that.
Since she was short, Gretel had to stand on tiptoe for quite a while.
Reaching out with her small hands, she grabbed Hans by the collar and pulled him in for a kiss.
Their bodies tangled together.
Given their roles as a hunter and a witch, they spent more time apart than together.
So, their “greeting” upon reunion had long since become a familiar ritual.
But today, the usual salty taste carried a few other hints—concern, relief, impatience, and even a tinge of jealousy.
More than her typically dishonest words, her body’s response was far more honest.
Through it, Hans understood her feelings.
Why she hadn’t pressed too hard on the mysteries surrounding the saint.
Why she hadn’t gotten as angry as he’d expected over him bringing another woman here.
This kind of unexpected encounter wasn’t planned.
When he first introduced Alje, he had even braced himself for the possibility of a few buildings catching fire.
Because he had almost died.
Even as they kissed, Hans gently stroked the back of Gretel’s head.
Normally, she would’ve snapped at him for treating her like a child.
But at least in this moment, she stayed quiet.
A sigh—whose it was, he wasn’t sure—drifted between them as they finally pulled apart.
Gretel, panting slightly, reached into her pocket and pulled something out.
A doll—the same kind that had protected Hans from lightning before.
No, not exactly the same.
It was shaped like Gretel, just like the previous one, but unlike its lifeless glassy eyes, this one had a spark of life in them.
No, it was even moving.
Their eyes met.
It had the same reddish-brown hue as Gretel’s.
“That will protect you.”
She handed it over with the arrogant confidence of someone who never expected rejection.
That was just so like her.
Hans chuckled.
Hans smiled and tucked the doll away.
“And it’ll be watching too. To make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”
But for some reason, those last words didn’t seem to be directed at him.
Gretel left once again.
She was a witch, which meant she never had the luxury of idling around.
She had only stopped by upon hearing the news that Hans had survived.
The thugs who had fled under the witch’s pressure would probably be too scared to return to the tavern for at least a few hours, meaning, for today at least, he was free.
Humming a tune, Hans pulled out the expensive liquor the old man had hidden away.
Even after Gretel was gone, Alje remained silent.
Hmm, was the scene too much for her to handle?
Then again, judging by appearances alone, Alje looked older than Gretel.
The girl seemed somewhat withdrawn.
Hans wasn’t good at comforting people with delicate words, so instead, he simply set down a wooden mug in front of her.
Thud.
Golden foam splashed up, and Alje blinked wide-eyed at the loud noise.
Hans grinned at her.
“Drink.”
“……”
“This is the best thing when you’re feeling down.”
Unlike the cheap swill Hans had downed earlier, this was a liquor of an entirely different quality—one meant to be served to witches, not the kind of bootlegged stuff sold to a lowly hunter like him.
Was she allowed to drink it?
It didn’t matter.
The tavern owner would just assume Gretel had taken it.
And even if that weren’t the case, he should be grateful the tavern wasn’t reduced to ashes.
Alje hesitated briefly before squeezing her eyes shut and downing the entire mug in one go.
“Hey, if you drink it like that.”
“Kehek.”
Unless she was used to alcohol, of course it wouldn’t sit well.
Alje coughed and sputtered, struggling to keep it down.
While Hans lamented the waste of such fine liquor, Alje set the empty mug down with a thud and mumbled.
“…One more.”
“What? You just spat it all out.”
“Hurry, old man.”
“Why does your way of addressing me keep changing…? Never mind.”
Hans wasn’t sure if Alje’s emotions worked the same way as an ordinary person’s, but meeting a witch—someone who could turn her body into dust with just a flick of a finger—was enough to terrify anyone.
He was just used to it.
Pouring her another drink, he watched as Alje, despite her previous struggle, boldly lifted the mug and downed it again.
This time, she didn’t cough or spit it out.
Her smooth motion made Hans unconsciously lick his lips, as if he, too, was tempted to take a sip.…Wait.
Now that he thought about it, he had been pouring drinks for Alje this whole time and hadn’t had a single sip himself.
That crazy bastard sharing his booze?
Impossible.
But by now, Alje had moved on from drinking from the mug—she was drinking straight from the bottle.
Gone was the novice who had choked on her first sip.
She was handling the liquor better than most seasoned drinkers.
Even after downing so much, the only sign of intoxication was a faint flush on her cheeks.
“…Old man…”
“What.”
Her voice dragged slightly, but for someone who had just downed an entire bottle of strong liquor, she still sounded incredibly clear-headed.
Well, it would be ridiculous for a monster to get drunk.
With flushed cheeks, Alje stared at him for a moment before casually asking:“So, what’s the deal with that woman?”
“Huh? You should’ve been able to tell. She’s a witch. Her name’s Gretel and,”“No, no, not that.”
In the dimly lit tavern, the lingering warmth had yet to fade.
Wisps of smoke curled along the ceiling.
Amidst it all, Alje’s amber eyes gleamed.
“What’s your relationship with her?”