“Saintleaf.”
That’s its name — and the fact that it sounds so similar to Witchleaf is no coincidence.
Saintleaf and Witchleaf are closely related plants.
The difference?
Witchleaf only grows inside labyrinths, while Saintleaf only grows outside them.
Their effects are different too.
Witchleaf repels weak monsters and neutralizes the toxins in monster meat.
“I know that much!”
“Oh? You do? Well, I guess that makes sense.”
“Yeah. I’ve used it a lot — not on myself, but on others.”
Saintleaf’s properties are as gentle and compassionate as a saint’s touch.
It’s an incredibly powerful painkiller — no matter how excruciating the pain, it can make you feel nothing at all.
With the right dosage and preparation, it can also be used as a sedative, anesthetic, disinfectant, or hemostatic agent.
“But… that’s been… dried and ground into powder?”
“Yeah. Fresh Saintleaf wilts almost immediately once it enters a labyrinth.”
In a labyrinth, even Saintleaf’s miraculous effects fade — just like a saint’s blessings.
The only way to preserve its potency inside the labyrinth is to dry it, grind it into powder, and seal it tightly.
And the effects of that powder are…Alje spoke with a disgusted expression.
Though she was an apprentice saint and often seemed ignorant of basic common sense, there were still areas where her knowledge surpassed Hans’s.
“…That’s a drug.”
Sex and drugs.
Even in a place as broken as this, those were the only “pleasures” people had left.
“What choice do we have? There’s nothing else.”
Life in the labyrinth was harsh.
People wore stiff, rough clothes made from monster hides, ate monster meat that was not only tasteless and barely nutritious but also often poisonous, and lived in homes filled with the stench of blood, filth, and monster excrement.
There was no need to even mention the nobility — the commoners, farmers, and even the most wretched beggars of a kindhearted city lived better lives than this.
At least farmers had their fields, and beggars could lie around without fear.
But in the toxic soil of the labyrinth, no ordinary plant could grow.
Self-sufficiency was impossible, and the only way to survive was through supplies occasionally sent down by the witches from the surface.
As for earning a living in this hell?
There was only one way.
“People here have no choice but to deal with monsters one way or another.”
Those brave enough to face monsters head-on with nothing but a sword became hunters.
Those who couldn’t… became gatherers.
But even gatherers weren’t free from monsters.
Their job required them to wander through every corner of the labyrinth, and sooner or later, they were bound to encounter those creatures.
Even when hunters gained more skill and experience, rising to the rank of explorers or guides — or when someone with rare abilities or connections to the witches managed to take on one of the labyrinth’s scarce non-combat roles — it made no difference.
Monsters were like a ravenous flock of sheep, and humans were the lush pasture they had their eyes on.
“Alje. Have you ever seen a monster? Outside the labyrinth?”
Hans spoke to her like she was just an ordinary girl, as if he’d momentarily forgotten her true identity.
“No. Never.”
“Of course you haven’t. That’s the whole point of the labyrinth — to lure in every last monster and trap them inside.”
That was the true nature of the labyrinth.
It wasn’t the ruins of some fallen ancient empire, nor an endless abyss filled with untold secrets and treasures.
It was a prison.
One you could enter, but never escape.
“Monsters are nothing like ordinary animals or plants. They’re not just dangerous because they’re strong — every breath they take spreads their vile corruption, twisting and polluting the natural world.”
The clearest proof of that was Witchleaf — blackened, corrupted, and capable of growing only in the labyrinth’s poisonous air.
“So what do you think happens to the people who spend their entire lives face-to-face with creatures like that?”
“…They become corrupted, right?”
“Exactly.”
With a smooth, practiced motion, Hans snatched the white medicine pouch from Alje’s hands and tucked it into his coat.
Despite the clear difference in their physical abilities, Alje couldn’t stop him.
It was obvious — she was still inexperienced.
“The merciful blessing of the Saintess… it falls upon even those who’ve been tainted, without discrimination. But, Alje — unless there’s a moment when you truly need this… Don’t let reckless curiosity ruin your life.”
Once you’ve tasted heavenly pleasure, the joys and sorrows of the mortal world start to feel… hollow.
Not that anyone knew whether the effects of Saintleaf even worked on monsters.
Hans’s words hung in the air like a faint echo.
Alje stared at him, eyes wide in surprise.
“That’s… surprisingly wise for something coming out of your mouth.”
“…Is your reaction really what we’re focusing on here?”
Hans grumbled.
“Anyway, it’s not like I came up with that. I heard it from someone else.”
What would a rough-and-tumble hunter like him know, after all?
As Hans muttered, Alje broke into a light, teasing laugh — and just like that, the tension in the air eased.
“…So what happened to the person who said that?”
She asked,“Oh, him?”
Hans’s voice turned dry.
“He kept going on about how he wanted to ‘reach an unattainable paradise.’’
“Then he inhaled a lethal dose of Saintleaf, joined a bunch of male prostitutes in some wild orgy… and died of a heart attack.”
“…..”
Hans gave a small, amused chuckle at Alje’s speechlessness.
In the labyrinth, this kind of thing wasn’t all that unusual.
For a girl who had only ever lived in a gilded cage, his words might’ve seemed a bit too blunt… but she’d have to get used to it eventually.
And honestly?
By labyrinth standards, this was incredibly polite.
“Alright, shall we head out?”
*
In the labyrinth, the concept of day and night was meaningless.
The witches’ illusions projected an imitation of the outside sky, but whether it was day or night, the place remained steeped in a gloomy half-light.
As the two of them stepped out of the tavern, the number of stares clinging to them had lessened compared to earlier.
After all — a witch had already passed through.
“Hey, old man.”
“Yeah?”
That wrapped up today’s plans — and after meeting with Gretel, they were pretty much done for the foreseeable future.
So what next?
Head home, kick back, and laze around.
Hans had a stash of money tucked away in his safe — enough to keep him idling for a while.
And when those funds ran dry?
He’d drag himself out again and head back to hunting.
That was the routine for most hunters.
The only difference was that most of them didn’t have a sturdy little treasure trove like Hans did — so their breaks never lasted quite as long.
Most of the people in the labyrinth were like that — simple, blunt, and driven by their desires.
That also made them easy to predict.
“You got it?”
“…Got what? Oh, the Saint’s Herb?”
The voice behind him, light and quick-footed, didn’t belong to the girl who’d been trailing after him until now.
“Yeah, I got it. You know how much this amount is worth?”
“Are you gonna use it?”
The girl behind him was unlike anyone he’d ever met in the labyrinth.
Or… maybe he had met someone like her, long ago, outside the labyrinth.
But those memories had long since faded — dim and colorless.
In truth, meeting Alje was almost like meeting that kind of person for the very first time.
Because the Hans who had lived outside the labyrinth… and the Hans who survived within it… were two completely different people.
In a very negative sense.
He’d lost everything.
Forgotten everything.
Had to learn it all over again from scratch.
“You’ve used it before, right?”
The girl he’d first met had been so pure that she hadn’t even sensed the quiet, dangerous edge to his presence.
And maybe that was why Hans had decided to take Alje in — even knowing what she really was.
The whole “life debt” thing?
Her value as a potential Saint?
All of that was secondary.
The unfamiliar sparks curiosity, and beauty stirs desire.
The girl was both unfamiliar and beautiful.
That was why Hans had brought Alje along.
Even though he had the strength and means to protect her if he wanted to, he still chose to drag her through the dangerous depths of the labyrinth — taking risks he didn’t need to take.
He told her all kinds of stories about the labyrinth.
The raw truth was crude and ugly — the kind of thing that made your skin crawl.
He showed her the filth, made her smell the rot.
He pushed her to grow used to the labyrinth’s horrors — and at the same time, he hoped for… something.
Even Hans hadn’t been entirely sure what it was he’d been hoping for.
But now… he was starting to understand.
“…Yeah. I’ve used it. Pretty much everyone who lives in the labyrinth has, at some point.”
“Don’t use it anymore.”
The way she spoke still carried a hint of childishness — that same stubborn, pouty tone she often used when she didn’t get her way.
“If there’s one thing I know better than you, it’s how dangerous that stuff really is. Seriously — it’s no joke.”
But even beneath that childishness… there was worry.
Genuine concern.
Even after seeing and experiencing all the labyrinth had to offer, Alje still hadn’t lost her instinct to care about others.
Of course, it had only been a day.
There was no guarantee she’d stay the same forever.
And yet… Hans, contradictory as ever, found himself both hoping she would change and desperately wishing she wouldn’t.
“Haha, I won’t. I’ve already quit, anyway.”
“Really? I heard that’s not an easy thing to do…”
Hans turned his head so Alje couldn’t see his face, a bitter smile creeping across his lips.
It hadn’t been easy — that much was true.
But no craving or withdrawal was ever stronger than his will to survive.
Or maybe… the searing pain of his struggle had simply burned away the emptiness and dried up his thirst.
“I mean, I am pretty amazing, after all.”
Hans hadn’t been strong enough to pull himself out of the swamp on his own.
He’d only managed to stand again because he’d found a reason to.
A reason to keep fighting, to keep struggling in this hellish labyrinth.
And, well — maybe a helping hand had reached down and dragged him up when he couldn’t do it alone.
Probably.
And now… the girl standing before him, looking up at him with those worried eyes, was becoming one of those reasons, too.
The confusion inside him tilted just a little further in one direction.
Of course, Hans wasn’t blind to his own ugliness.
Somewhere in his twisted heart, there was a part of him that wanted to see that beautiful, pure soul become tainted — that wanted to witness the corruption of something innocent.
But… even so.
“You’re still alive, Hansel.”
Hans couldn’t help but hope that Alje would always stay… Alje.
Despite her true nature as a monster, she had been the one who, from the very first moment they met, had willingly placed a blade into his hands — a girl without a heartbeat, yet with a heart warmer than anyone else’s.
Even if the harshness of the world someday wore down that kindness and turned it into something else…Hans wanted to delay that moment for as long as he could.
And for that, he was more than willing to tighten his grip on his dagger.
“I was worried when you didn’t come back after a few days.”
By the standards of the world outside, it was night.
In the back alleys of Heimvig, where even the witches’ watchful eyes sometimes strayed.
Had it been a mistake to take a shortcut through this shadowy place to get home faster?
No, not really.
In this labyrinth city, the whole place was practically one big back alley.
And yet, despite that, all forms of violence were strictly suppressed.
But not even the witches could prevent every disturbance across the entire city before it happened.
That wasn’t their way.
Their punishments came after the fact — swift, brutal, and made into examples.
And besides, the labyrinth was full of people who didn’t care if tomorrow never came.
“I’m so relieved you’re safe.”
And then, malice — an old companion of every hunter — stepped out to block his path.