Sophie had a dream.
In the dream, she returned to the wild forest of her childhood, isolated from the world, to the dilapidated wooden hut where she had lived for as long as she could remember.
The sour, moldy smell, the stuffy air, the damp, clammy touch, and…
Grandmother.
That gaunt-faced Old Witch, always with a bitter expression, lying half-asleep beneath a ragged blanket, occasionally mumbling.
“Sophie, you must remember your mother’s lesson.”
Sometimes, when Grandmother woke, she would fix Sophie with those ghostly green eyes; even after so many years, that hollow, chilling gaze could still make her tremble in fear.
“Never trust any human.”
Grandmother would scoop up that bony, ancient black cat, stroking its wiry fur as she repeated in a low, hoarse voice, “Remember, never trust any human.”
“Their strength is feeble, but their tongues can twist black into white. The moment a witch gives her heart to a human, she’s not far from death…”
Can witches die too?
Sophie blinked in confusion.
Witches are immortal.
This was a truth everyone knew.
Born with a special bloodline and gifted in magic, once awakened to their talents, they could remain eternally youthful and undying.
To them, death was such a distant, foreign word.
But Grandmother would never lie to her.
Hoo.
Sophie awoke.
Opening her eyes, she saw stars twinkling through the darkness outside her window.
In the distance, lights glimmered. Ever since Lord Green had sponsored her research, this once impoverished little town had grown steadily richer—now even lavish enough to boast thousands of glowing windows.
She stretched lazily and sat up.
“Maybe, it’s time I left.”
The witch Sophie looked around the room Lord Green had prepared for her, a touch of regret in her gaze.
She had lived for many years, in all sorts of houses.
Grand palaces far grander than Radiant City, and squalid alleys in filthy slums.
She had assumed countless identities.
Sometimes, a graceful noblewoman attending a lavish ball; other times, a diligent seamstress hard at work.
But…
With a trace of sadness in her voice, Sophie murmured, “Still, this is the first time I’ve dreamed of my childhood home since I left.”
That memory, meant to be buried and forgotten.
“To be honest, by custom, once my identity as a witch is exposed to humans, I’m supposed to go into hiding.”
No one had ever taught Sophie this.
But the rules and knowledge passed down by blood were never to be defied.
Sophie had seen too many tragic examples.
Like the witch who fell in love with a demon hunter and chose to live in seclusion with him—only to discover that so-called true love was a deception from the start.
When The Church used the demon hunter as bait to lure the witch into losing her magic, she was captured and refined into the legendary Philosopher’s Stone through a secret ritual.
Or the witch who hid her identity in a border town, moved by the simple kindness of its residents.
One day, war broke out; enemy forces besieged the city, and famine threatened. She used black magic to conjure endless food, even led the people to drive out the invaders—only to be betrayed for a sack of gold, tied to a Crucifix and burned alive by those she had saved.
So many examples had taught Sophie that Grandmother’s warnings were never wrong.
Even Sophie herself, if not for her research, would never have gotten close to the villagers and let her identity slip—nor been trapped by the Anti-Magic Shackles…
A merciless witch is invincible; no one can hurt her.
But the moment she has feelings, the moment she gains mortal traits, she’s not far from death.
Sophie was not ready to die.
She still had more research to complete, to prove her genius.
“So, although I feel a little sorry.”
Sophie cast a complicated, lingering glance around the cozy room, “But Mr. Green, even for your sake, I really have to go.”
Sheltering a witch was a grave crime.
Sophie didn’t want to put her savior in a difficult spot.
She slipped silently out the window, leaving as quietly as she had arrived, not taking a single memory with her.
However.
When she landed lightly on the ground and veiled herself with magic, Sophie’s curiosity was piqued for the first time in a while.
What reaction would that Lord have, when he found his kindness trampled?
Honestly, though she had changed identities and wandered the world, she had never met someone as conflicted and complex as Green.
Should she take another look?
She glanced back at the study, its lights still blazing even in the dead of night.
“As a nobleman with caster’s blood, why is he so obsessed with caring for the people?”
Sophie was puzzled.
In these barren lands, across the continent, those blessed with magic were always exalted.
They were nobles, lords, born rulers far above the common folk.
No one could threaten their lofty status, save perhaps the witches.
So even though Green had inherited his family’s estate at such a young age, and had once acted so recklessly, his rule remained as solid as ever.
Shouldn’t someone of his stature see the common people as mere dirt? Why, then—why did he care so much about their feelings, even risking a tarnished name?
Sophie truly couldn’t understand.
Unconsciously, she walked toward the study.
“How’s the potato cultivation going?”
Green’s clear voice drifted to her ears.
“Not well at all, my lord.”
The Brown Knight’s honest voice replied, “Because of the accusations from the priests, many people are hesitant.”
“Didn’t you tell them this was my order?”
Green asked calmly.
Sophie slipped quietly into the room, studying Green’s face flickering in the candlelight.
“My lord, I did—but,” the Brown Knight ducked his head in shame, “the people are all resistant. They say, since this crop was invented by an evil witch, it can’t be for any good. Besides… there are a lot of rumors going around.”
“What kind of rumors?”
Green tilted his head curiously.
“Well, um, my lord…” The Brown Knight’s cheeks turned a little red.
“Speak.” Green smiled.
“Many of the townsfolk say, the inventions you’ve promoted were all because you were tempted by the witch, planning to use them as a trap, and when the time is right, you’ll offer everyone up as a sacrifice to the evil god.”
Facing Green’s innocent gaze, the Brown Knight seemed to run out of courage and slumped, spilling the rumors at last.
“Oh, I see.” Green scratched his head in apparent distress. “Ah, seems there’s nothing to be done.”
Giving up?
Sophie wasn’t surprised.
After all, even the kindest person would be angry to see their good intentions so trampled.
As a noble and exalted caster, Green was already unusually lenient for not punishing them.
“Looks like I’ll have to get tough.”
Green’s tone shifted, suddenly cold.
“Tough?” The Brown Knight looked at him, confused.
“Brown Knight.” Green didn’t answer right away, but stood with a flourish and sighed. “As lord, my power in this domain is absolute, isn’t it?”
“Of course, my lord.” The Brown Knight replied without hesitation.
“In that case, my edicts—do they have any right to refuse?”
Green tapped the table with his finger.
“If I say plant potatoes, they plant them. Sophie has already said, the long winter is coming. If we don’t store up food, do they want to starve?”
There was a hint of killing intent in Green’s voice.
“But The Church… The priest said if you stop promoting potatoes, he won’t interfere in your personal hobbies. Otherwise, he’ll report you to the bishop.”
The Brown Knight sounded worried.
“So, Brown, do we just sit and watch people starve when the long winter comes?”
Green asked.
“Anyway, isn’t that what other casters have always done throughout history?”
The Brown Knight was still confused. “They’re just commoners—if they die, can’t more be born?”
“Always been that way?” Green shook his head. “Sorry, Mr. Brown. In Fallen Leaf Town, my rules are what matter.”
“But the temple, the bishop…”
The Brown Knight hesitated. “And, is that witch really trustworthy?”
“Whether Sophie is trustworthy doesn’t matter. What matters is…”
Green’s words brooked no doubt. “Since she’s signed an agreement to be my servant, then—no matter who it is, even the bishop or High Priest, without my permission, no one can lay a finger on her!”
Bang.
He slammed the table.
“Because I already told her: this Fallen Leaf Town is her home.”
Home?
Sophie stared at Green, stunned.
In the candlelight, the figure that had once seemed so frivolous now appeared so tall in her eyes.