“Wait.”
Hans stopped Alje, who had been about to approach him to heal him.
The world stretched and warped at the edges of his vision.
The pain was gone, but the sensation of warm, sticky blood trickling down his ear — and the eerie fact that he couldn’t actually feel it — only made the situation more disorienting.
The girl’s face was blank with shock.
For someone trained as a saint, tending to the wounded was second nature — and this must have been the first time her kindness had been repaid with violence.
“……”
“But… if I don’t heal you now…”
“Shhh.”
Even with his head spinning from the drug’s effects, Hans batted away her reaching hand and pressed a firm finger against her lips, silencing her protests.
It wasn’t just the fact that Alje was a monster — if Gretel’s reaction was any indication, the fact that she was a saint was a secret that couldn’t be revealed.
And with the witch’s gaze possibly still lingering on them, there was no way they could risk exposing her miraculous powers.
Or at least, that had been his clear-headed reasoning before he took the drug.
Now, his thoughts spun in dizzying circles, chasing old conclusions.
But through it all, one thing remained constant — his relentless instinct for survival.
Driven by sheer survival instinct, Hans forced his drug-clouded body to move.
Staggering, he leaned heavily against Alje.
It occurred to him, distantly, that Alje had been injured too.
And yet the girl showed no sign of pain — her face remained calm and clear as she supported him without hesitation.
“Home… do you… remember?”
“Uh!….ka!”
“Take… me there.”
It had been a mistake.
Hans hadn’t lied when he said he’d quit the drug — his body was no longer used to it.
The dose that had once felt barely enough was now overwhelming.
A hollow pleasure and electric shivers raced through his nerves.
His mind knew well the futility of this high, had learned that lesson the hard way.
But his body betrayed his better judgment.
Still, he didn’t collapse into the alley like some pathetic addict.
No , the only reason he stayed upright was the pair of slender arms supporting him.
Arms far too delicate for their incredible strength, holding him steady with ease.
As the world spun and his senses distorted, Hans looked up into the girl’s face.
And in that moment, a realization struck him like lightning.
It wasn’t just innocence or ignorance — that wasn’t enough to explain it.
Maybe… the reason Alje seemed so indifferent to violence and killing wasn’t because she didn’t understand danger.
Maybe it was because nothing in this world could actually threaten her.
*
Staring at the perfectly healed fingers, as if they’d never been severed, Hans lost consciousness — that strange thought his last before the darkness took him.
Alje walked through Heimvig’s eternal night, where the line between day and darkness never shifted.
Hans’s unconscious body hung limply over her shoulder, his weight nothing to her despite his broad, muscular frame.
It was almost ridiculous — the reason he hadn’t woken wasn’t his injuries or pain but the overwhelming dose of the drug he’d taken.
Dried Saint’s Herb was notorious for its addictive properties, precisely because it was such a potent anesthetic and painkiller.
But in Alje’s memory, that powdered form was only ever used in one case —To ease the agony of those too far gone to be saved.
The mortally wounded, whose deaths were imminent.
Here, in the labyrinth, that had become routine.
Without realizing it, Alje shivered.
Hans’s body was strong and heavy with muscle, but in her arms, he felt light.
Effortless.
“Ugh ……..”
What felt heavy was the weight of the city’s eyes.
The scent of blood trailing from her, soaking into the fabric of her cloak.
Of course, blood always flowed from her chest — a never-ending curse she had long grown used to.
But the scent of another’s blood…That scent made her tense.
It wasn’t human instinct — it was something closer to a beast’s.
“Home… Where was home again…?”
Of course, the girl didn’t understand the weight of her own words — nor did she dwell on it.
Nor did she question why no one interfered as the two of them staggered through the dangerous streets of Heimvig.
In this city, the sight of blood was a taboo.
And anyone who broke that taboo was bound to face a witch’s punishment.
If someone was seen bleeding and still moving freely, there were only two possible explanations: either the witch in charge was particularly sadistic and was toying with their prey, or punishment had already been delivered.
In either case, no bystander would dare get involved.
Hans didn’t exactly look “fine” — his eyes were clouded and unfocused, his ear still dripping blood.
He looked worse than the average addict wasting away in the alleys.
“Someone… Someone help…”
The words rose instinctively to Alje’s lips — only to wither before they escaped.
In Alje’s world, helping others and receiving help had always been a given.
She didn’t fully understand how much of that came from her own special status , but even in her innocence, she had learned one thing.
In the labyrinth, no one offered help.
No one received it, either.
No matter how oblivious she was to malice, even Alje couldn’t ignore the stench of a world where everything was rotting.
So Alje wandered through the identical-looking alleys, feeling the familiar path twist and blur in her desperate mind — yet she still couldn’t bring herself to ask the countless watching eyes in the city for help.
But Hans’s bleeding still hadn’t stopped.
Even knowing that a hunter’s body was far tougher than an ordinary person’s and that the effects of the sacred herb were circulating through him, Alje grew more and more anxious.
Rows of houses stretched ahead — identical, weathered, and uncaring.
Which one of these was Hans’s home?
Heimvig had its own way of marking addresses, but that was something beyond Alje’s knowledge.
Even in his drugged sleep, Hans shifted and groaned softly.
Or maybe… it wasn’t a groan.
Maybe it was the gasp of someone lost in a haze of pleasure — or just the meaningless mumbling of someone slipping deeper into sleep.
“Ugh……”
But to Alje’s ears, it already sounded like the death rattle of a man on the brink of his last breath.
The only reason she hadn’t already used a miracle right there in the street was the absolute limit of her self-control.
Because the witches were terrifying.
Carrying Hans on her back, Alje grabbed the handle of the nearest house and pushed the door open.
Of course, in a city this dangerous, locking your door wasn’t optional — it was essential.
Even if open violence was forbidden, thieves were plentiful.
Crunch.
But the flimsy lock couldn’t withstand the girl’s strength and snapped instantly.
As Alje pushed the door open without hesitation, a near-scream burst from inside.
“What—what the hell!?”
A hunter.
Thankfully, he was alone.
Alje gently set Hans down and closed the door behind her.
The sheer boldness of breaking the lock and barging in—while the owner was clearly inside—left even the homeowner in shock.
But he was a hunter, and while his mind reeled, his body reacted instinctively.
It wouldn’t have mattered whether he reached for the poker next to him or his weapon hanging on the wall.
The twisted piece of metal that had once been a lock flew through the air.
Thud.
It struck the man’s face with perfect precision, his head snapping to the side as blood sprayed from his nose.
In the dark, his white teeth flashed against the red.
“Argh! Wh-what the—!”
The fact that he hadn’t lost consciousness right away was impressive.
And it was true—Alje’s youthful, delicate appearance had likely made him underestimate her.
But even knowing he was a hunter—a battle-hardened specialist who made his living fighting monsters—how easily this fight ended was almost absurd.
Without a hint of hesitation, Alje grabbed the dazed man’s hair and slammed his head against the wall.
Once.
Twice.
And then again.
Bang!
Bang!
When she finally let go, the man—now unconscious—slid down the blood-smeared wall and collapsed to the floor.
Without sparing him a second glance, Alje hurriedly laid Hans down on the bed.
The bed was far too dirty to be a proper place for a patient, but that was the reality everywhere in the Labyrinth.
There was no helping it.
Closing her eyes, she lowered her voice and began to sing softly.
“[The lonely star without a friend rests inside the lily of the valley.]”
It was a heavenly melody—one no ordinary human, nor even a monster, would ever be allowed to hear.
Its gentle notes wrapped around the wounded with a quiet warmth.
Slowly, the deep tear in Hans’s ear began to heal.
Watching the wound close, Alje let out a breath of relief.
“…Whew, that should be okay.”
She wasn’t ignorant—just innocent.
She could remember the path she’d taken and retrace her steps if she needed to.
And if she focused, she could pick up on clues hidden in people’s words and piece them together.
From Hans’s and the witch’s reactions, it was clear that Alje being a saint was a secret that had to be kept.
And since Hans had told her to use the miracle only inside the house, it seemed the witch’s gaze didn’t extend into people’s homes.
Even though there had been violence and bloodshed, no familiars had shown up—at least not yet.
Feeling a wave of relief wash over her, Alje slumped against the wall to rest.
But soon enough, she got back up.
“Hmm.”
Alje’s delicate eyebrows twitched this way and that, as if she were deep in thought.
Soon enough, she started moving again.
She wiped the blood off the walls, gathered the scattered teeth from the floor, and arranged them neatly in the unconscious man’s mouth before using her miracle once more.
Of course, such rough and improvised treatment wasn’t enough for a full recovery.
The bloodstains on the ground remained, and while she’d locked the door again, reattaching a broken metal lock with brute strength alone was beyond her capabilities.
Well, it couldn’t be helped.
After all, the girl was still inexperienced.
With a soft grunt, Alje hoisted the still-unconscious Hans onto her back once more.
She deliberately left the blood smeared around his ear untouched.
Clumsy though her methods were, there was no doubt—she had the potential to become an excellent resident of the Labyrinth.
Of course she did.
The Labyrinth was, after all, a place created to imprison creatures like her.
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