Chapter 4
Anna tilted her head, observing Gremory’s face with keen interest.
“Now that you mention it, I can see the traits of the northern snowfield tribes. Her teeth are quite sharp, developed perfectly for tearing through meat.”
“I suppose crops like potatoes are scarce up there, which is why she hasn’t taken well to soup,” Chession mused, coming to a sudden decision. “From now on, give Mori only raw meat. If she was born and raised in the northern snowfields, she’ll have a natural immunity to it. Besides, parasite-cleansing magic is quite advanced these days.”
Fine, have it your way, Gremory thought, crunching through the bones of a raw chicken. Anna watched her jaw strength in pure awe.
“Do people from the north always have such strong jaws? It’s incredible! The large hound I used to raise made the exact same sound when it ate raw chicken.”
“It’s good to see her eating well,” Chession said with a satisfied smile as he headed for the door. “Next time, I’ll have them prepare the specific meats the northern tribes prefer.”
Fully resigned to her fate, Gremory simply continued gnawing on a drumstick, letting the world do as it pleased.
One week later, on a particularly radiant morning in early spring.
Even the gloomy Grand Ducal estate couldn’t ward off the fresh spring breeze. Intoxicated by the vibrant hue of the new sprouts, Anna began pestering Gremory for an outing.
“Lady Mori, I know you love your dark, atmospheric room, but I think the outdoors would be lovely too. Staying inside all day isn’t good for your health. Why don’t we go for a walk? I’ll bring the wheelchair.”
Anna moved as if Gremory’s silence were a resounding “yes.” She hummed a tune as she fetched the chair.
Gremory stood up from the bed without a fight. She had learned the hard way that resisting was futile; once, when she had tried to stay buried under her blankets, Anna had burst into sorrowful tears, wailing about how “terrified of the outside world” her poor lady was. Dealing with that scene again was far worse than simply complying.
Anna dressed Gremory in light outdoor attire and draped a white lace shawl over her shoulders. Gremory’s expression soured at the sight of the excessively bright colors.
Unbothered by her lady’s gloom, Anna beamed with pride at having successfully dragged her outside. She began pushing the wheelchair through the corridors.
“I’m so happy you came to this manor, My Lady. Serving someone as wonderful as you has given me a new lease on life. And it’s not just me—everyone feels it.”
Gremory crossed her legs and rested her chin on her hand, staring straight ahead.
Of course they do. I’ve been snacking on all the dark energy in this mansion.
Whenever she felt a bit peckish, she had consumed the lingering shadows of the estate, inadvertently purifying the atmosphere. The irony of a witch’s presence making a home “cleaner” was not lost on her, and it left her feeling distinctly annoyed.
A passing knight caught her eye. When they had first met, he had looked somber and grim, but now he approached with an unnervingly bright face.
“Lady Mori, you look as beautiful as ever today. Out for a stroll?”
“Don’t you go flirting with my lady! Come along, My Lady,” Anna chirped, steering the chair away.
After a week in this place, Gremory had developed two new skills: the ability to ignore people and the virtue of patience. She endured the humans around her as they blew their own trumpets and beat their own drums.
Anna took her on a grand tour—the gardens, the fountains, the spires, and even the chapel—all while chatting incessantly.
“I’m talking too much, aren’t I? Thank you for listening without getting annoyed, even though your ears must be ringing.”
“…”
“Actually, I don’t have any family or friends left to talk to. They all died eight years ago… during the plague, ‘Gremory.’”
“…”
“The way they died was so horrific, like they were possessed by demons… I was so shocked I barely spoke for years. But thanks to you listening to me, I feel like my old self again.”
Gremory barely listened. The personal tragedies of a maid were of no concern to a witch. She had released that plague to kill everyone, after all, so deaths were hardly a surprise.
Kill them all.
“Kill them, Gremory! Spread the plague and kill them all right now!”
“If you’re going to live like a bug, you might as well release the rot! What use is your power otherwise?”
“You piece of trash, how dare you resist? Create food before we all starve!”
As the memories flickered, Gremory’s dark eyes drifted to her lap. She was holding a bouquet—a collection of the prettiest flowers Anna had hand-picked for her.
Just as a strange, uncomfortable sensation began to prick at her chest, a bleating sound echoed from the distance.
Gremory looked toward the noise and froze. It was an absurd sight: Chession was approaching, leading a large, plump black goat on a rope. To a witch, it looked delicious.
Black goats were the favored offering of witches and demons. In the past, madmen who worshipped the dark arts would offer them as sacrifices. In exchange for a black goat, a witch or demon was bound by the laws of the Underworld to grant a single wish.
However…
“Ah, Mori. Out for a walk? Here, this is a gift for you.”
Chession smiled brightly and waved. Gremory was stunned. He’s giving that to me? Why?
Anna wheeled her closer. “Oh, will you be having this goat slaughtered for Lady Mori’s meal?”
“Yes. I heard that black goat meat is the favorite delicacy of the northern snowfield tribes. They used to eat it in secret because people thought the animals were evil, but these days, they enjoy it openly.”
“Wow, Lady Mori! You’ll get to enjoy the food of your homeland!”
“…”
Sensing its impending doom, the goat struggled desperately, but it stood no chance against Chession’s grip.
Damn it.
Gremory was in a bind. Whether he knew it or not, he had just formally presented a black goat as an offering to a witch. By the laws of her realm, she was now obligated to grant him a wish.
Just then, Chession’s adjutant came sprinting toward them. It was Hans, the man she had seen on her first day.
“Your Grace! The Crown Prince has arrived again, unannounced.”
“What? For what reason this time?”
“It seems… he’s here to complain about the time you insulted his mistress at the Count Speltz’s banquet.”
“Ha… over something so trivial.” Chession pressed a hand to his forehead in exasperation. “I wish that man would just disappear.”
The wish was spoken.
…Contract established.
For a fleeting second, Gremory’s eyes flashed a deep, bloody crimson. Simultaneously, the black goat collapsed, its soul extinguished instantly.
The people around her were too distracted by the sudden death of the goat to notice the change in her eyes. Anna started shouting about getting it butchered before the meat spoiled, and Hans hoisted the carcass onto his back to rush it to the slaughterhouse.
“So noisy. Let’s get you back to your room first.”
Amidst the chaos, Chession remained the only calm soul, quietly pushing Gremory’s wheelchair back across the garden.
Chession met the Crown Prince at the main entrance, having no intention of inviting the nuisance into the drawing room.
Back in her room, Gremory lounged on her bed and linked her vision with a crow to watch the scene unfold.
Severian de Inoren Brilliant. The man with the ridiculously long name stood in a tense standoff with Chession. Behind him stood the mistress who had supposedly been insulted, her face twisted in a venomous pout.
“Apologize. Don’t make this bigger than it needs to be, brother. Just bow once and it’s over.”
“You’re making this much fuss over the word ‘ugly’? Fine, if you insist. My apologies. Terribly sorry.”
“On your knees. Give her a formal apology.”
“I’m afraid I don’t feel like doing that.”
Gremory yawned. She had expected something impressive from a clash of imperial royalty, but this was pathetic. Even the degenerate leaders of the Underworld fought over nobler subjects than this.
Let’s see. The Crown Prince… his desire is to tarnish Chession’s reputation and take his place.
Chession’s popularity was currently at an all-time high. By banning witch hunts at the risk of his own standing, he had allowed women to live in peace and saved noble families from being ruined by petty accusations.
Having assessed the situation, Gremory gave a lazy flick of her wrist. Suddenly, the dark red thread connecting Hans and Severian became visible to her.
Then…
“You arrogant brat!”
In a sudden, uncontrollable fit of rage, Severian drew his sword and plunged it through Hans’s heart.
The world went silent. The only sound was the heavy thud of Hans hitting the ground.
“Uh…?”
Severian blinked, coming to his senses. He had just murdered Chession’s favorite adjutant without any legal justification. This would ruin his reputation in high society forever.
Gremory smirked.
There you go, Chession. Your precious adjutant is dead. I’ve given you the perfect excuse to beat that man to a pulp. Make sure he never dares come near this estate again.
And, as you’ve likely suspected, Hans was the Prince’s spy anyway. So, no great loss.
