Hans hesitated for a moment before answering.
There were a few complicated reasons for that.
First of all, their relationship wasn’t something that could be easily defined with a single label.
They weren’t lovers, nor friends, nor business partners—yet, at the same time, they were all of those things.
Of course, if he said that to Gretel, she’d scoff and demand to know what made some lowly human think he was on equal footing with her.
But if he denied it outright, she’d sulk for ages, and he’d have to spend even longer trying to placate her.
She was a handful in many ways.
So what was an explanation that would satisfy her while at least making some sense to him…?
A master and her pet?
“Hans?”
“Ah, yeah.”
“Why aren’t you saying anything?”
But even that didn’t feel like the right answer for Alje.
She was special, sure, but she was still a newcomer.
It was a matter of pride.
Or maybe it was just the hunter’s intuition—some things were better left unsaid.
“I was just thinking for a bit.”
“Is your relationship really that complicated?”
Of course, completely avoiding the question would only make it seem even stranger, so Hans ended up giving a bitter smile and settling on a vague response.
“…It’s just as you saw.”
When two entirely different beings formed a connection, complexity was inevitable.
They had different abilities, different perspectives, different ways of seeing the world.
Their lifespans were different, their experiences varied, and while one was swept along by the tides of the world, the other could stir those tides themselves.
Even humans, after living together for decades, still struggled to fully understand one another.
And if the gap was this vast, maybe even bringing up the word understanding was foolish.
A witch was still human, but a human could never be a witch.
Perhaps Gretel understood Hans, at least a little.
But for Hans, trying to understand a witch was an impossible task.
“I see…”
Then what about the girl in front of him?
Even if Alje had human memories, human perspectives, and human thoughts—she was still a monster.
Hans knew very well that coexistence between humans and monsters was impossible.
There were exceptions, of course, like familiars, but even witches considered those rare.
And really, familiars weren’t even monsters in the traditional sense.
So could he extend that same generous perspective to this girl?
Could he say she wasn’t a monster?
“More! Mooore!”
“Do you even know how much you’re drinking?”
Being the simple-minded hunter he was, Hans decided not to overthink it.
So what?
What did it matter?
Worst-case scenario, he’d die.
But if he had to die, being killed by such a beautiful girl wouldn’t be the worst way to go.
A man who lived by the sword had no use for complicated thoughts.
Those things only weighed down his grip and slowed his strike.
If you draw your sword, you cut.
If you don’t intend to cut, then don’t draw your sword at all.
That was all there was to it.
Besides, the sword Hans used to wield had long since melted into scrap metal.
All he had now was a short dagger.
“You said you needed to get used to the Labyrinth, old man!”
“…You’re getting used to it a little too fast.”
“I’ve seen this before. Whenever my mother had to talk to those crazy cultists, she’d down an entire bottle when she got home.”
For a moment, Hans felt like he had just glimpsed a very human side of the saint—someone who had been deified and worshiped like an untouchable figure.
While he was still processing that revelation, Alje got up from her seat without hesitation.
Despite all the alcohol she had downed, there wasn’t the slightest hint of a stumble in her steps.
She walked straight toward the counter, but unlike Hans, she didn’t seem to have the skill to find hidden stashes of good liquor.
Instead, the bottle she grabbed was the same cheap swill Hans had been drinking earlier.
“Blegh.”
Her face twisted in absolute disgust at the taste of the moonshine—a vile mix of bitterness, astringency, and the distinct, putrid scent of the Labyrinth.
It was the kind of drink that made you question why anyone would spend money on it.
And yet, Alje kept drinking without hesitation.
Even Hans, who had seen plenty of reckless drinkers in his time, was left speechless as she downed two full bottles in quick succession.
Clatter.
She carelessly set the empty bottles down on the counter, then mumbled absentmindedly.
“…I’m not getting drunk.”
Hans had thought she was drinking a little too boldly for someone unfamiliar with alcohol.
But now, it was clear—Alje didn’t seem to perceive alcohol much differently from water.
The first time she drank, she had only been startled by the unfamiliar taste.
That was all.
“Why the sudden binge? Do you want to get drunk?”
“My mother used to talk to herself sometimes”.
She’d say that when your heart feels heavy and your mind is unsettled, the best way to wash it all away is with alcohol… Haha.
Then she’d turn around and lecture me about how liquor dulls the mind and should be avoided.
”She said a lot of things, but the only part Hans paid attention to was the important detail—Alje’s heart felt heavy, and her mind was unsettled.“
Why do you feel that way?
“Because of those guys I beat up?”
“No… It’s not that. I already told you, I’ve decided to adapt to the Labyrinth.”
Even without an explanation, just looking around was enough to understand what kind of place this was.
Not just the physical structure, but the atmosphere, the way people moved, the way their eyes darted, the tension that hung in the air.
“Then what is it?”
“…That witch.”
Hans had the distinct impression that Alje was deliberately avoiding saying her name.
“Gretel? What about her?”
“I don’t like her!”
The words burst out before she could stop them.
Then, realizing what she had done, she glanced at Hans hesitantly and clamped her mouth shut.
But Hans simply smiled and gestured for her to continue.
She wasn’t completely unaffected by the alcohol, after all.
Or maybe she was just too focused on something else to properly read Hans’s expression.
It was an emotion befitting a girl her age—clumsy, impulsive, and unrefined.
But in the Labyrinth, such emotions were rarely welcomed.
“It’s hot, she’s violent, and she was way too rude to you… I just don’t like her.”
“I see.”
As Alje pouted and voiced her complaints, Hans simply nodded.
It wasn’t agreement, nor was it disapproval—just a neutral response.
“Well, you are a saint, so I suppose it makes sense for you to be naturally repelled by witches.”
“That’s not it…!”
“Isn’t it?”
That was when Alje realized—just a little too late.
The shift in atmosphere left her momentarily speechless, her mouth opening and closing as if struggling for words.
Hans spoke again, his tone soft but firm.
“That’s all there is to it, right?”
It was true that Alje was still immature when it came to human relationships.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t be badmouthing someone she had kissed right in front of another person, expecting sympathy.
But at least she hadn’t crossed the final line.
“…Yeah. I guess that’s it. Hmph.”
Still, Alje was terrible at hiding her emotions.
No matter how much she tried to downplay it, her cheeks puffed up in irritation.
Hans soothed her, though he knew that if any other newcomer had acted this bratty, they’d have gotten a fist to the face.
But Alje was a beautiful girl, his lifesaver, and most importantly, a saint.
In terms of status, she was on par with a witch.
Of course, she wasn’t quite perfect as a saint, so she wouldn’t receive the same level of treatment as Gretel.
But compared to a mere hunter like Hans, she was undeniably a far more noble existence.
“It might be frustrating, but try to understand. Thanks to Gretel, both you and I can live comfortably in the Labyrinth.”
“…Comfortably?”
“Witches are practically the rulers of the Labyrinth, after all.”
But the reason Hans was so lenient with Alje had nothing to do with status or power dynamics.
He simply wanted to be.
After all, Alje came from the outside world.
The Labyrinth might be hell, but that didn’t mean the world outside was a paradise.
Innocence was a rare thing no matter where you went.
Hans had urged Alje to adapt quickly to the Labyrinth, but that was just practical advice.
Deep down, though,He wanted her to remain pure.
He had seen countless newcomers become tainted by the Labyrinth, turning into just another hunter or gatherer.
But if Alje truly adapted to the Labyrinth…She would become something else.
A mimic monster.
A creature whose existence was so uncertain, so undefined, that it only persisted as an urban legend.
Hans would understand—with his own body—why such a thing could exist.
He wouldn’t be able to take responsibility for bringing a monster into the city.
But at the very least, he would be the first to pay the price for his foolishness….Not that those were the thoughts occupying his mind at the moment.
“…Drinking doesn’t really make me feel better.”
“Well, liquor isn’t meant to make you feel good.”
Unless you got your hands on the high-quality stuff hidden away by the tavern owner, most of the alcohol circulating in the Labyrinth was awful.
It was more likely to ruin your mood than improve it.
“Then what does make you feel good?”
Hans didn’t mind admitting that drinking wasn’t particularly enjoyable.
But that question was just as difficult to answer.
Even in a hellhole like the Labyrinth, there were still some things that could bring happiness.
The most basic, the most instinctual of them all…Hans’s gaze unconsciously drifted downward.
“Your eyes are creepy!”
Snapped out of his thoughts, he quickly looked back up….He still had quite a bit of self-restraint, all things considered.
Compared to the hunters who had no choice but to seek comfort in the mimic-like prostitutes that roamed the Labyrinth, his ‘partner’ was far younger and far more beautiful.
Hans was naturally indifferent to most things, after all.
Had it been another hunter who found Alje among the corpses that day, they might have known she was a monster and still lost their minds, pouncing on her without hesitation.
Of course, Hans hadn’t done that.
Which was why, instead of being digested in the stomach of some creature, he was sitting here, sharing drinks with her.
Not that it really mattered—without Alje’s help, he wouldn’t have made it out of that corpse-filled wasteland alive anyway.
“Well… there’s always that. Or, there’s this.”
Trailing off ambiguously, Hans reached under the counter and pulled out something that wasn’t alcohol.
A small pouch filled with white powder.
It looked exactly like the witchgrass powder Hans had been using—except for its color.
And it was the same pale hue as the hazy smoke that had been drifting near the ceiling when they first entered the tavern.