Chapter 66
The teleportation scroll seemed to be written in ancient language and symbols.
Victoria, who knew more about magic than Anne, chattered beside her, explaining.
She said that if you used this magic paper, you could travel once to the location you desired.
“Got it, Anne? This is super rare—I’ve never even seen one before.”
Hearing its use, Anne felt grateful that Hannibal had been this considerate.
Ever since he had learned what family truly meant, he had been working hard to fulfill his responsibilities.
“You’re right.”
Anne gave a small smile and nodded. Meanwhile, Hannibal kept nagging Oliver, giving him constant warnings.
“Yeah, yeah, I know already. Enough, enough. You nag just like the Count.”
“That’s quite an insult. You asking for a duel?”
“Hmph, I’ll take on any challenge anytime.”
“Good. Then we’ll meet at the training yard after you return.”
Oliver carefully tucked away one scroll inscribed with the coordinates of the lord’s manor into his coat, then unfolded the other one that was set to the Witch’s Forest.
Hannibal explained at his side.
“Once this is torn, the three of you holding it will instantly fall right in front of the Witch’s Forest. You might feel dizzy or nauseous, but it won’t be too hard. Come back safe.”
Passing Oliver and Victoria, Hannibal gave particular emphasis as he looked at Anne: be careful and return safely. Anne pressed her lips tight and gave a firm nod.
“Alright, tearing now. Everyone, hold on tight—.”
Anne and Victoria each gripped one side of the scroll, and Oliver held the opposite side with strength.
Riiip— The paper split down the middle, releasing a burst of light.
The three of them vanished instantly within the brightness, while the paper darkened like charred ash and scattered into the air.
Thud— Crash—
It felt like leaping into the air with all their might, only to land heavily on the ground.
In the blink of an eye, while their bodies floated for just a moment, the scenery changed—and suddenly their feet were on grass.
Anne stumbled and fell from the shock.
“Ow, ow—.”
“Young Lady, are you alright?”
Anne had landed relatively well, though Victoria staggered beside her. Oliver, meanwhile, had toppled over onto his large bag.
“Uurrgh—.”
“Are you alright?”
Anne helped Victoria up, then lifted Oliver’s luggage.
We’re just here for a quick trip with the teleportation scroll, so why did he pack like it’s a full camping trip?
“Ah, well… I eat a lot. And since entering the Witch’s Forest usually takes a whole day, I thought I’d just light a campfire and cook outside.”
Noticing Anne’s stare, Oliver scratched his head with an awkward grin.
“…I see.”
So that’s why he even brought a frying pan dangling off the bag.
Anne had been worried, thinking time might flow faster in the Witch’s Forest, but judging from his supplies, they could survive there comfortably for a week.
“Is this… the Witch’s Forest?”
The woods weren’t just green—they seemed pitch black. Instead of fresh or clear, it looked like a giant beast with its jaws open, waiting to swallow them whole.
During the Witch’s Night, the forest had felt grand and overwhelming. Now, it felt damp and grotesque—downright frightening.
It was no wonder nobody dared to enter here.
“Yeah… creepy, isn’t it?”
“What’s the big deal? Let’s go.”
Oliver handed them a well-sharpened sword.
“Hannibal said that outside of the Witch’s Night, there wouldn’t be an actual entrance. And sure enough—there isn’t. You’ll have to cut through the undergrowth and branches.”
Since he couldn’t go in with them, Oliver looked at Anne.
“I will. Thank you.”
Anne gripped the sword and stood before the forest with Victoria.
The trees were so dense, they didn’t even seem to leave space for a person to enter. Huge trunks twisted together into one mass.
Anne poked the sword tip into the thicket.
Each time, the branches writhed and trembled as if they were alive.
“Ugh, gross—.”
Frightened, Victoria pressed tightly against Anne.
“You said we could bring her back even outside the Witch’s Night, didn’t you, Lady Witch? And… if the forest trees could just move aside a little rather than me hacking through them, I’d be grateful.”
Anne remembered how the branches had thrashed with a will of their own when she’d fallen before.
She felt that cutting them down would only enrage them further, so she politely asked—though still holding the gleaming blade.
At that, the trees loosened their tight knot, slowly parting to open a narrow path.
“Oh—wow, Anne! Amazing!”
Victoria squealed in awe, and Anne stepped in first.
“Be careful, both of you. Return safe. You absolutely must not get hurt—either of you.”
Oliver called after them.
“Yeah, wait for us—.”
“Yes, we’ll be back soon.”
Anne and Victoria waved and set off.
“Anne, you’ve been here before, right?”
“Yes.”
“What was it like? Is it different now?”
“Yes. Compared to now… before it was like a shop open for business. Now, it feels like a store closed for the night.”
Just as late-night visitors aren’t welcome at a closed store, the forest too seemed reluctant to let them in, grudgingly yielding a path.
“What about the Witch? How did you even meet her, Anne? That’s incredible.”
“It wasn’t me—it was the Lord who met her. I just happened to be there.”
She had no choice but to reveal Hannibal’s contract with the witch, but she could never tell them she herself was the contract’s substitute.
“And when you see her, you’ll definitely be shocked.”
“Right, right! I’m already shocked! This is so exciting!”
Victoria was brimming with childlike wonder, as though on her first adventure.
Anne smiled faintly, knowing how astonished she’d be when she saw the witch—who looked exactly like her.
They walked for quite some time, until Anne’s legs began to ache. At last, a faint glow appeared in the distance—the Witch’s Altar.
“Wow—.”
As they neared the altar, the forest grew dazzlingly vibrant.
Victoria was mesmerized by the brilliant flowers and trees, while Anne inhaled deeply the pure, insect-free air.
“You brought the prayer paper, right?”
“Yes.”
They each placed their written prayers upon the altar and offered a short prayer.
Anne’s was about Hannibal’s contract, offering Clayde blood in payment. Victoria’s was a repentance prayer, confessing her past and asking for mercy.
When their prayers were done, they tossed the papers into the torch beside the altar.
Whoosh— The flames suddenly surged high, then slowly diminished.
Clink— Jingle—.
A faint ringing of bells echoed.
“I told you to bring me Count Arthur.”
The witch Moira appeared, leaning casually against a stone monument.
“L-Lady Witch?”
Victoria gasped, covering her mouth in shock.
The resemblance was uncanny.
If Hannibal looked like Moira’s twin, then Victoria looked like her daughter—their features almost identical.
“Oh my, and who’s this? Did I really have such a lookalike descendant? Adorable.”
Moira chuckled, though her laughter always carried something eerie and sly.
Anne studied her quietly, then spoke.
“I’ve come to offer the blood of the Claydes in place of Hannibal Clayde.”
At Anne’s words, the witch turned her gaze.
“That’s easy enough. But why should I accept someone other than Victoria? And you, Anne Ferro—you promised to bring Arthur to me!”
Her furious voice made the entire forest rumble.
“The condition of the contract was Clayde blood. Lady Witch, please keep your word.”
“Why should I? You didn’t keep yours! You—!”
“I know what you truly desire. But that contract wasn’t with me. Since you’re asking something outside its terms, I believe you owe us another kind of compensation.”
Anne slowly raised her head, meeting the witch’s eyes directly.
The witch’s gaze burned with such fury it seemed it could incinerate someone in an instant.
The air, once pure, grew unbearably heavy, pressing down on Anne’s body.
Her breath grew shallow, but she didn’t waver.
Finally, Moira let out a sharp laugh.
“Such impudence. Do you think my request is so difficult that it must be repaid with granting your wish? I want Clayde’s loyalty—that’s a vow passed down for generations!”
“Then allow me, just this once, to earnestly beg you.”
Anne knew well the weight of the oath between Moira and the Claydes.
But she also knew that Moira treasured the Clayde family enough to bless them. That gave Anne hope.
“More precisely, it’s a request from a descendant you cherish. In exchange, we promise to bring you Count Arthur Clayde in the future.”
“So—you’ll wash away the debt with Clayde blood, then ask me to grant your request in return for bringing Arthur later?”
“Yes.”
As Moira’s displeasure mounted, Victoria stepped forward, kneeling at her feet.
“I beg you as well, Lady Witch. Please.”
Even after so many centuries, the violet eyes and flowing silver hair reflected back at her looked just like her own.
Moira sighed, then looked at Anne again.
“Hah. Clever girl. So what is it that you want?”
No price involving a life could be asked.
And Anne had no wish to barter her own life, either.
She had only one true desire.
“As Clayde blood, please comfort the soul that was lost. That is my request.”
I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.
Tears welled in Anne’s eyes as she clenched her fists. Victoria looked at her, voice trembling.
“Anne…”
In truth, both of them had been burdened with sorrow all along—plagued by guilt.
It was a sin. A lifelong yoke, whether anyone else knew it or not.
And Anne understood Victoria’s pain better than anyone.
“That’s truly all you want?”
“Yes, with all my heart.”
Under the flickering torchlight, Anne’s brown eyes glistened red with tears.
Moira brushed her long silver hair back and finally spoke.
“…Very well. I’ll grant your insolent and impertinent request in full.”
