Tears streamed down Luise’s pale cheeks. Then a large hand gently cupped her face. Calloused, rough, hardened fingers brushed away the wet trails on her skin.

At his touch, Luise lifted her tear-filled eyes. In Shed’s gaze, she saw the warmth of the boy he once was.

“I’ll never leave you alone again, Luise.”

His heated whisper fell upon her lips. Luise could not resist it. Resigned, she lowered her long lashes and closed her tear-soaked eyes. She willingly received the emotions carried by his lips.

Their mouths met and heat spread between them. The searing, fervent sensation pierced her. Long dulled by pain, her senses stirred to life, one by one.

His intoxicating scent, the softness of his lips, the warmth of his body, his breath grazing her cheek and the sweet taste that melted her whole being — Luise had no strength left to resist his whispers.

She yielded helplessly. Shed pulled her into his arms, drawing her in even closer. As though he would burn away every misfortune flowing through her body. As though he would drink down the curse in her blood.

For a moment, Luise felt as if she had become an ordinary woman in front of him. One who could love like anyone else and be granted simple happiness, no different from anyone else’s.

🌺⟡───⟡🌺 🌺⟡───⟡🌺

Giselle sipped her tea as she looked at the woman seated opposite her.

A pale face, not yet free of illness. A taut, rigid expression. Long chocolate-colored hair cascading down. And eyes the color of the forest.

“It was you. Luise.”

Clink.

Giselle set down her cup. At once, the slender fingers resting in the woman’s lap shrank back. The rough fabric crumpled, rustling sharply.

“No wonder. For a maid, you carried yourself with far too much learning.”

Giselle recalled her memories of Liana with a bitter smile, touched by hollow resignation. She remembered her neat and dignified posture, her faint air of grace, and her unyielding poise — qualities that no servant should bear so naturally. These were not qualities that could be acquired merely by serving nobles. They were refinements that came as easily as breathing.

So that was the truth behind the unease.

‘Shed Lester must have known all along…’

Only now did she grasp why her half-mad former fiancé had been so fixated on a mere maid. She had once heard whispers—that he had served the young lady of the Ideana House, and that when the family met their ruin, he had even demanded to see the body himself.

Giselle’s fingers drifted along the handle of her teacup, a gesture that did nothing to ease the unease curdling inside her. The thought left her with no comfort—only the bitter sense of being an impurity, caught and crushed between the weight of their grand, merciless game of love.

She let a smile twist her lips, hollow and sharp, and drew in the acrid scent rising from her cup. What use was resentment now? Against the storm of heavier troubles pressing down upon them, love and marriage were nothing more than dust, scattered and fleeting in the wind.

“You’ve changed so much.”

Her voice was haughty, yet laced with bitterness. Even as she spoke, she thought the words were far too light, too careless. They could never capture the weight of all that had happened.

“I left you free because I judged you wouldn’t try to run.”

Fingers interlaced tightly, Giselle kept her voice steady. Until now, she had allowed Luise—the demon—to remain unbound in her chambers. From her behavior, it had seemed there was no danger of escape or rebellion. But that never erased her crimes.

Perhaps she understood this, for Luise slowly closed her eyes. It was the weary, resigned gesture of someone who had long anticipated such an end.

Only then did Giselle feel she had begun to truly understand Luise Ideana. This frail young woman, who always seemed so yielding, had deliberately chosen silence, deliberately taken her place among the powerless.

Outwardly, she appeared breakable—as though the faintest blow might shatter her, as though malice and insult alone might grind her into dust.

But that, laughably, was the mistake. She was enduring. What others mistook for weakness was, in truth, a penance she had chosen for herself, a way to atone for her guilt. And so she bore the slaps, the curses, the scorn—not merely calmly, but almost willingly.

A foolish path, Giselle thought. Yet at the same time, perhaps it had been the only path Luise had to survive.

‘The fact she endured all that and still kept her sanity is a miracle…’

The mere memory of Dietrich’s experimental notes drew a scowl to Giselle’s face. Had Luise not clung to evasion, repentance, or resignation—some irrational defense—she would long ago have either gone mad, or sunk into corruption like Dietrich.

In that sense, Giselle respected her deeply. But in the end, she was still a heretic.

“You know, don’t you, what fate awaits a heretic?”

Giselle quietly slid forward the papers, the pen, and the ink resting at the corner of the table. They were the documents of the heresy trial.

Luise’s gaze lingered on the words written at the top. Slowly, she inclined her head. Hellfire. The endless end she had always known would come.

The records spoke clearly: Dietrich Lester’s sentence had already been nearly carried out. Once the remaining high priests arrived, the final rites would be sealed, and he would be consigned forever to some nameless grave.

And now, it was Luise’s turn.

Her fingers closed tightly around her wrist. The mark where Dietrich had branded his curse still burned, raw and unyielding. Even now, as she faced Giselle, the uncontrollable power within her surged and pulsed, threatening to break free without warning.

“I’ll never leave you alone again, Luise.”

She recalled Shed’s tender words. And with that, it felt as if everything was enough.

‘At this rate, I don’t know when I might lose control of my power.’

Dietrich had been a clever man. He had left her with the curse she feared most. What terrified her was that her unchecked strength might harm the people she loved.

Yes… she had always known she would meet this end. She had never believed she could go on living like this forever. Meeting it a little sooner changed nothing.

But there was one thing she wanted to ask.

“Giselle, do I carry only sin within me?”

Her calm question made Giselle run a hand through her long blue hair. It was not an easy thing to answer.

“…No one lives by sin alone. But if there are sins, then punishment must follow.”

Giselle turned her gaze away, unable to meet Luise’s eyes. Just the sight of the heresy trial documents made her temples throb.

Yes, if she could, she would declare her innocent. That was why she had reported Dietrich’s research in detail to the central temple.

But the reply had been:

[Destroy all of Dietrich’s experimental journals, and carry out the sentence upon the demon.]

Raised among those in power, Giselle knew exactly what those words meant. The sins of the temple would be erased in silence, and every blame shifted onto Luise Ideana. Their stance would not waver.

This matter was entwined with power—political, economic, religious—every strand tangled together.

“Too many people already know you hold that power.”

The battle with Dietrich. The witnesses had been too many, the rumors impossible to suppress.

“If you were pardoned, it would be the same as the temple endorsing black magic.”

The law was clear. One exception would open the door to countless more.

At that, Luise fell into silence for a moment. Then she spoke.

“…Very well. I will follow the temple’s will.”

“Follow… it?”

So easily? Giselle’s eyes quivered. Did she truly understand what it meant—to accept the sentence of hellfire? Suspicion flickered across her mind, and in that moment—

“But you will not lay a hand on Eve.”

The words, so yielding at first, ended with a sharp, barbed hook.

“That is my condition.”

Eve’s sin had not yet reached the public ear. If the temple let her go, it would not stir outrage.

“But that child bears the power as well…!”

“Eve is innocent.”

Luise met Giselle’s gaze. In acquiring black magic, she had made countless sacrifices, albeit against her will. Because of that, she could never be free of guilt or escape judgement. But Eve was different. She had never harmed anyone or misused her power.

“Regrettable as it is, thorns that overrun the garden must be cut away.”

Giselle shook her head. Innocent or not, black magic itself was a crime. No one who lived by an immortal curse could be left to endure. The temple was conservative, merciless toward heresy. They would never spare a demon’s child.

“…Even if those thorns never wound another flower or tree?”

“The temple must always be prepared for the worst.”

“For the worst?”

Luise’s voice was full of scorn, her words like a bitter laugh. The temple’s so-called ‘preparations’ had allowed High Priest Dietrich to run rampant. Now, they were seeking to kill an innocent three-year-old child, a victim if ever there was one.

As if she knew this, too, Giselle slowly closed her eyes, then opened them again.

“Because of Dietrich, we can only grow stricter.”

To avoid another disaster like this one, every sprout and every root had to be cut away, even if it was the temple itself that had created the victims through negligence.

Then, for the first time, a cold gleam appeared in her eyes.

“…Giselle, the only reason I sit here so quietly is because I have something I wish to protect.”

Luise’s voice fell cold.

Giselle narrowed her eyes, her brows drawing tight with unease.

“…Are you threatening me now, Luise? This is no simple matter!”

“…It is simple.”

“What are you—!”

“It must be a simple matter.”

Luise reached across the table, picked up the ink bottle, and poured its black contents into the teacup intended for sweets.

Instantly, the clear red tea inside the white porcelain cup turned black. The cup brimmed with the black fl*id, almost spilling over.