“How long are you going to hold her skirt? It’s inappropriate.”

“Oh, right! Of course.”

Pepin stammered, quickly letting go of her skirt and taking a step back, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Now that Vienny was clean, her scars stood out sharply against her pale skin, each mark a stark contrast. To Pepin, there was something strangely compelling about the texture of those scars, even though an inquisitor’s eye would probably see them as flaws or signs of past sins. McClart’s hardened demeanour seemed to reflect this – a look of disgust, as if he found her appearance repulsive.

Sensing the tension, Pepin bowed his head, trying to stay compliant under McClart’s piercing stare.

“Treatment will be conducted daily at 11 a.m. You may go now.”

Pepin, disappointed at not having the chance to inspect more of Vienny’s body, swallowed his frustration and stepped back. Despite his tendency toward irreverent comments, even he wouldn’t dare voice such dangerous thoughts in the presence of an inquisitor wielding divine power.

As Pepin exited quietly, a thick silence settled over the room, leaving only Vienny and McClart. He remained still, his gaze lingering on her briefly before he began a slow, meticulous inspection of the room.

He checked under the bed and examined the floor, as if searching for any signs of misdeeds on her part.

‘Once he’s satisfied there’s nothing suspicious here, he’ll leave,’ she thought. Vienny moved silently toward the corner, hoping to stay out of his way, all the while praying he would finish quickly. She kept her head lowered, wishing she could vanish from his relentless scrutiny.

Despite having inspected every corner of the room, McClart did not leave. Instead, he stepped toward Vienny, who crouched timidly in the corner.

She barely registered the shadow looming over her before his rough hand seized her arm. He turned her sharply, inspecting her as if she were livestock, his eyes coldly looking her visible scars. Just as abruptly as he had grabbed her, he released her, causing her to stumble. She caught herself against the wall, struggling to regain her balance.

“Is it the power of those red eyes?”

“Pardon?”

“I asked if you’ve bewitched Dr. Pepin with your red eyes,” he repeated, his voice edged with distrust. His gaze bore into her, as though searching her face for a hidden confession.

McClart wiped the hand that had gripped her with a handkerchief, his eyes still fixed on her with a cold, unflinching stare. Though he asked it as a question, there was a certainty in his tone that left no room for doubt.

Vienny looked up at him with wide, confused eyes, her face twisting slightly as she hesitated before answering.

“No.”

“And I’m supposed to believe the doctor ensnared himself?”

McClart’s voice was sharp, each word a pointed challenge.

‘Foolish Pepin.’ he thought bitterly.

Did he really think McClart couldn’t see through his desires? Pepin usually kept his distance, careful to control his impulses. But today he had crossed a line and put himself squarely in McClart’s sights. Why had he been so reckless?

Still struggling to catch her breath, Vienny forced herself to speak, her voice strained.

“He… I’ve never tried to… influence anyone.”

Her words were slow but intentional, an attempt to defend herself while treading carefully under McClart’s piercing gaze.

“My eyes have no power,” she added, her voice steady despite the tension between them.

“That’s a ridiculous claim you’re making now. What did you hope to gain by tempting the doctor?”

McClart’s tone dripped with disdain, making it clear he had no interest in her side of the story. Of course he wouldn’t. Why would an inquisitor ever believe a Great Witch’s denial?

But Vienny couldn’t let such an accusation go unchallenged, especially when she had done nothing wrong.

“It wasn’t me,” she replied, her voice steadier now. “So there’s nothing more I can say.”

Her firm reply seemed to stir something in McClart. His lips twisted slightly and his voice grew colder, tinged with contempt.

“What a convenient excuse,” he sneered, his words mocking and filled with disgust.

“Couldn’t you have offered your body if not those eyes?”

Vienny’s already pale face, which often gave her a sickly appearance, now looked as if it might collapse at any moment. The humiliation and shame she thought she’d never feel again was choking her, and she looked down, her heart aching as if it might break.

“You seemed rather comfortable with the doctor’s touch.”

“No, it’s not like that.”

“But if you were trying to seduce the doctor, your only asset would be your body.”

If Vienny had indeed tried to seduce Pepin, as McClart suggested, she would have had nothing to rely on but his desire. Given the witch clans’ reputation for licentiousness and promiscuity, McClart’s assumption seemed only natural.

She understood it all too well, yet she refused to be misunderstood in this particular way. Vienny had endured all manner of slander and accusations—being labeled a filthy traitor to her clan, a beast that had sold its soul to a demon—and kept her composure. But now, a dizzying frustration tested her patience once again.

“Is that what you want?”

“My desire for your filthy body?”

McClart retorted indifferently, clicking his tongue as he muttered with disdain.

“Even the gods would reject your corrupted body.”

Acceptance was never what she had sought. Vienny held back any further words that might fuel McClart’s anger, choosing instead to bite her lip and remain silent.

“So, are you admitting you seduced the doctor with your body?”

“As you said, that would be impossible with this filthy body of mine.”

“Then it must be the power of those red eyes.”

Despite receiving her reports for the past six months, McClart still didn’t trust her. Vienny had never sought his trust, but now his constant suspicion was making her uneasy. If his doubts deepened, he might stop listening to her altogether.

With half of Tempe already in ruins, the rest of the witch hunt would be easy enough without her information. But if that happened, Vienny would have nowhere to turn. Everyone would eagerly build a pyre for the useless Grand Witch, perhaps as early as tomorrow.

She genuinely didn’t want to be burned at the stake.

“Then test it yourself,” she challenged. “If there’s any evil power in my eyes, you should be able to sense it.”

It was said that the Inquisitors were blessed with a holy power that made them highly sensitive to magic. Their abilities had already proven themselves when they first entered Ifen, the land of demons, before moving on to cleanse Tempe.

The demons of Ifen, who wielded magic similar to holy power, had suffered greatly from the Inquisitors’ abilities due to their opposing natures. In the end, all of Ifen was purified in blue flames. In the end, it wasn’t much different from what happened in Tempe.

But at least the demons of Ifen had resisted. Unlike the witches of Tempe, they hadn’t let themselves be hunted down without a fight. Surely McClart knew by now that Ifen and Tempe were very different cases. Yet he refused to put his doubts to rest.

“Now you intend to target me?”

McClart’s rigid, stubborn question made Vienny’s eye twitch slightly. She had no idea how to prove her innocence. After cooperating quietly for six months, she couldn’t understand why she now found herself in such an absurd situation.

Was McClart beginning to see her as expendable? Was he searching for an excuse to burn her at the stake?

“In these past six months, have you even once felt enchanted by looking into my eyes? Or are you now afraid you might be?”

Vienny’s usually submissive tone carried a faint note of defiance. McClart noticed it too, letting out a low, mocking laugh and muttering irritatedly.

“Listening to your nonsense is a waste of time, but I suppose I should confirm your eyes are indeed useless before presenting you to the High Priest.”

Ah, so that was the reason.

Only then did Vienny remember why she had been moved to such a proper room in the first place. The High Priest of Chiron was a figure of great importance, and every action he took carried tremendous weight. For someone who usually stayed in Chiron’s capital, travelling all the way to the heart of the Tempe witch hunt was a remarkable event indeed.

Of course, this explained McClart’s unease. What he might have once overlooked, he now couldn’t let pass, no matter how minor.

“So, after each treatment, you will stay with me.”

Still, the words were hard to process. Confused by the absurd turn of the conversation, Vienny accidentally looked up.

Seeing McClart’s endlessly serious expression, Vienny asked in a bewildered tone, “What does that have to do with determining the… usefulness of my eyes?”

“If you’re hiding some evil power, it will be felt. In the past six months, we haven’t even spent ten days face-to-face, so now I’ll have to keep you close to confirm it.”

As he said, Vienny and McClart had only met about once a month, each time lasting barely an hour. During those encounters, Vienny had kept herself as reserved as possible, rarely even lifting her head. It was true—he hadn’t really had a chance to examine the supposed power of her red eyes.

If her red eyes were truly the issue, something would have happened long ago, wouldn’t it?

Vienny’s urge to argue back was growing, and she bit her already chapped lips in frustration. The cracked skin finally split, and a small bead of blood formed, spreading its metallic taste across her tongue.

Only then did she remember—she didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

“…Do as you wish,” she said, her submission, as always, swift and unresisting.