He knew there was a sensitive spot in her, one that could make her tremble with pleasure. And being a quick learner, once he found it, he never forgot it.

“Ah!”

Vienny clutched desperately at his clothes again, but with the collar attached to the cuffs she had no choice but to bury her head against his chest, her body trembling.

The chains clanked with every movement, emphasising her bound position. For someone who had spent a lifetime tying up criminals, McClart had never found the sound so provocative. The hardness in his trousers became almost unbearable.

“Ngh… ah!”

Unable to resist the pleasure coursing through her, Vienny arched her back, her moans growing louder. Her flushed skin spread from her cheeks and ears down to her neck, a testament to the increasing intensity of her arousal.

Watching Vienny tremble in his arms, McClart had to resist the urge to loosen his belt immediately, though he kept his fingers moving, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Finally she reached her climax, panting as if she might collapse at any moment. A warm, sticky liquid flowed between her trembling thighs, soaking his hand and adding to his excitement. Just as he began to lower her fully onto the bed, Vienny, her head still pressed against his chest, spoke in a trembling voice.

“Why… why…?”

“Hmm?”

“Is… is this just to torment me?”

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, McClart paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

“…What?”

“I didn’t even summon the crows… Yet you won’t take off the cuffs or the collar, and you… you just tore my clothes like this…”

She seemed to have misunderstood his intentions completely. Her words, spoken between breaths still heavy from the aftermath of her climax, contained a faint trace of reproach.

Reproach? From her, of all people – the one who usually acted as if she expected nothing from him?

If he’d really wanted to torment her, he’d have expected her usual stoic acceptance, a quiet endurance, as if she were simply resigned to his whims. But here she was, giving him a glimpse of her own frustration.

McClart had always felt a pang of disappointment at her indifference, though he’d long since come to terms with it. Managing his own turbulent emotions was overwhelming enough; expecting her to reciprocate was foolish.

And yet… only moments ago, Vienny had shown him the slightest shred of emotion, however faint. Incredibly, she had actually expressed reproach towards him.

“Only me… like this…”

McClart, momentarily speechless, lifted her chin and raised her eyes to meet his. Vienny’s eyes, red and slightly teary, wavered as they looked at him.

“Were you embarrassed?”

Her red eyes trembled at the question.

“Did you feel it was unfair to be treated like this when you had done nothing wrong?”

Her breath came in soft, trembling gasps through her parted lips.

“So you resented me for it?”

Vienny tried to turn her head to avoid his eyes.

“For not acknowledging your innocence and humiliating you?”

“P-Please… just let me go now,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

It was a clear affirmation. As he watched her stubbornly avoid his gaze, McClart felt an unusual surge of satisfaction.

The very fact that she had any feelings for him, however weak or resentful, filled him with a heady sense of exhilaration. That her feelings took the form of reproach didn’t matter in the least.

If she could feel even that much, then perhaps, as they continued to share these moments, she might eventually come to want something from him. Just the possibility of that was enough.

“Inquisitor… could you release me now?”

Startled by the long silence, Vienny looked up at him cautiously, like a wary little mouse ready to flee at any sign of danger.

Yes, he’d had that thought before. Like a mouse looking for the nearest hole if things got too dangerous.

But there was a difference now: this little creature crouching before him was already bound by a collar he held in his hand.

“I don’t want to.”

“Why…!”

“Didn’t I just tell you? It suits you.”

As his hand roamed over her waist, Vienny felt something unsettling in his touch, instinctively tensing and trying to pull away. But there was little room on the bed to retreat, and McClart easily wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

The chain rattled noisily as he drew her roughly toward him.

“And besides, wasn’t it more of a… service than torture?”

Vienny, her body rigid with tension, replied with a hint of indignation in her raised voice.

“How could you call it service?”

“Because you enjoyed it.”

Vienny fell silent, her gaze fixed on his hand, still slick with her juices. Watching her reaction, McClart let out a hot breath and undid the top button of his shirt collar.

“Since I’ve served so diligently, I think it’s time I received some appreciation.”

The truth was that he’d been struggling to control his growing excitement for some time now, feeling almost suffocated by it. The dizzy sensation had been building and somehow Vienny had unwittingly pushed him to his limit.

He decided to leave the rest of his work for tomorrow.

“Turn around.”

Truly, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

* * *

It was rare for her to wake up first. But even though she was awake, she found that she couldn’t move at all.

She had tried several times to push away the heavy limbs that were pressing down on her, but she had never succeeded. It was difficult enough when she was at full strength, let alone now, drained from a night of exhaustion.

Realising the futility of trying again, Vienny settled quietly into his embrace, watching McClart’s sleeping face with a steady gaze.

Suddenly he shifted, pulling her even closer. Then, without opening his eyes, he planted a light kiss on her forehead.

His breathing remained steady, barely audible, indicating that he was still asleep. But even in his unconscious state, he showed a tenderness that made her feel a strange warmth.

As she nestled her head against his solid chest, his familiar scent filled her senses. If she stayed still, she could hear the steady beat of his heart.

As she listened to its rhythmic beat, a sense of peace washed over her, as if her worries had never existed. A year ago, she could never have imagined such peace. In fact, she wouldn’t have dared hope for it even a few months ago.

She could no longer judge herself objectively now that she had begun to accept this life. The fear she once felt of this unfamiliar peace seemed like a distant memory, as if it had all happened to someone else. She slipped into this life as if it had always been her own.

Lately, life at Rave Castle had become the quietest time Vienny had ever known.

But was that really a good thing? She tried to ignore the persistent whisper of unease at the back of her mind.

What could be wrong with it?

“You tickle me.”

Startled by the sudden voice above her, Vienny looked up. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, watched her lazily.

“Every time you blink.”

Vienny stared at him, momentarily dazed, before instinctively trying to pull away. But his arm only tightened, pulling her closer.

“Were you trying to wake me?”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s all right. I needed to get up anyway.”

Despite his words, McClart didn’t release his grip for a while. He lay there, absentmindedly toying with her dark hair, as if he could stay like that all day.

The problem was Vienny herself; trapped in this position, her limbs began to feel numb. Eventually, unable to stand the discomfort, she shifted her shoulder slightly, and only then did McClart, as if snapping out of a trance, release his grip.

With swift ease he sat up, the bed suddenly feeling vast and empty as his large frame left her side.

The space he left behind quickly cooled, and Vienny shivered slightly as her own body began to feel the chill. She slowly sat up, feeling the absence of his warmth beside her.

She watched as McClart quickly put on his trousers and picked up his shirt. His broad, muscular back was riddled with scars not unlike her own.

“Are you going to pray?”

Near his private quarters, McClart had a special prayer room. Though he often seemed the most reluctant of believers, he never missed his morning prayers – even after nights spent with her.

“Just as you have the duties of the Great Witch, I have the duty to serve God.”

It was a surprisingly devout response from someone who spoke so casually of going to hell. Vienny realised, perhaps for the first time, how little she really knew about McClart.

To her, he was simply the Inquisitor – the High Priest’s most powerful weapon, the hammer of divine judgement. A man who wielded blue flames to drive evil from the earth.

And yet, now he was also the man with whom she felt safest.

Had McClart been trained to be an Inquisitor from an early age? Had he been taught that his only purpose in life was to serve God?

If so, what kind of prayer was he saying now, knowing full well that he was about to fall into hell with the Great Witch?

Clutching the blanket tightly, Vienny glanced at McClart’s back and cautiously asked her question.

“Is your daily prayer… a prayer of repentance?”

His hands, which had been buttoning his shirt, stopped for a moment.

“Well, I suppose.”

McClart replied in a blunt tone, then resumed buttoning his shirt. The shirt was buttoned up to his neck, which seemed a little suffocating, but it also revealed something of his character.

“I heard you met Dr Pepin.”

Seemingly unwilling to elaborate, McClart changed the subject in a brusque tone. Vienny followed suit, dropping her interest in the subject of prayer.

“Yes.”

A year ago, McClart had seemed to dislike Pepin. Whenever Pepin’s name had been mentioned, he had often reacted sensitively, so the same was probably true now.

She wondered if he might be angry, but fortunately there was no sign of anger on McClart’s face when he turned to look at her.

“Just stay in your room for ten days.”