* * *

Since the High Priest’s arrival, Pepin’s confidence seemed to grow, as if bolstered by the priest’s authority.

Using the excuse of treating Vienny’s forehead wound—a task the High Priest had instructed him to handle—Pepin regularly found reasons to visit her. Though McClart appeared reluctant to open the door to his private quarters, he couldn’t easily refuse someone claiming to be there for medical treatment.

Pepin persisted in staying close to Vienny, subtly preaching about the High Priest’s mercy, as if he were attempting to persuade her. Even if the High Priest had decided on a course, McClart doubted that Vienny would be set free, so she tried not to dwell on it too much.

No matter how resolute McClart was, he couldn’t entirely curb Pepin’s persistence. In the end, Pepin managed to secure permission to remove Vienny’s shackles for a day.

“The High Priest is a compassionate man, showing you, a Grand Witch, more love than you deserve.”

 Pepin remarked, holding tightly to the leash. Though the shackles had been removed from her ankles, a chain was now fastened around her neck; Vienny couldn’t decide which was worse. The way Pepin referred to this situation as mercy made her want to scoff, but she didn’t dare show it. Instead, she followed him silently.

The absence of a blindfold was another mercy granted by the High Priest, though it came with a cost. Vienny now had to endure countless hateful stares directly. Perhaps the High Priest had deliberately removed the blindfold, intending for her to see her surroundings—a calculated move to make her feel the harshness of her reality and perhaps even wish to escape it.

After betraying the witches’ base in exchange for her life, the High Priest likely believed that survival was Vienny’s top priority. It was no surprise he would try to use this as leverage to persuade her, and Vienny played along quickly.

She couldn’t let them see her true desire for eradication. If they realized how deeply her intentions clashed with the High Priest’s plans, who knew how they’d react.

“He mentioned you looked pale from lack of sunlight,” Pepin added, feigning concern.

Now, Vienny found herself on a forced walk, led like a leashed dog. She wondered if McClart, constantly absorbed in his work, even knew about this outing. Not that she planned on asking Pepin.

It would be a relief if McClart were unaware and only discovered it later, angry enough to throw her into solitary confinement. The sight of the pristinely dressed High Priest unsettled her, filling her with an unease she couldn’t shake.

The High Priest wanted her power. Why, she didn’t know – and she had no interest in finding out. Vienny had no intention of repeating the same cycle she’d narrowly escaped, especially not here.

“Becoming a servant of God means receiving such generous care.”

Pepin remarked in his usual insincere tone. He’d never be able to guess her true thoughts.

McClart had already made it clear that he had no intention of letting her go. From the day she had first met the High Priest, it had been clear that McClart’s views differed from his. No matter how powerful the High Priest was, it seemed unlikely that he would openly declare his intention to keep her alive in the face of opposition from Chiron’s most powerful Inquisitor. At the very least, the High Priest maintained the appearance of listening to all voices, if only for appearances’ sake.

Borrowing Pepin’s words, she was finally able to see sunlight again, thanks to this generous care. The last time she had seen the sun was during the incident at the corpse disposal site; since then, she had been confined to her room for far too long.

When she was in the underground prison, at least she’d see the sun once a month during her escorted trips to McClart’s office. But now, confined to McClart’s private quarters, there was no chance of leaving the building unless specifically brought out.

She half-expected to be led back to the corpse disposal site, yet surprisingly, they took a normal path. Since her arrival here, she had always been unconscious or blindfolded while being moved. This was practically her first time actually seeing her surroundings.

Though she tried to keep her eyes lowered, Vienny couldn’t resist stealing glances around her, subtly taking in the sights of the inquisition center.

The sound of conversations, everyday noises, the clatter of horses’ hooves, even the occasional laughter—all these sounds had been absent from her world for so long. She found herself pausing, stopping in her tracks, simply to absorb them.

“When His High Priest asked me to take you for a walk, I assumed there was something he wanted you to see.”

Pepin laughed softly as he pushed Vienny forward. She took a few steps, her gaze drifting blankly to the castle wall.

“If the inquisitor loses interest in you, you’ll end up like that too.”

Four bodies hung on the wall – three men and a woman. Vienny’s eyes fell on the female corpse. The limbs dangled lifelessly, skeletal and shriveled, as if all moisture had been drained from them long ago.

The face, left uncovered, was twisted and blackened, with the head tilted at an unnatural angle, as though the neck had snapped. Loose, sagging skin clung to the bones, barely holding together, making for a grotesque sight.

“The inquisitor will see to it that you end up either burned or hanged, so stop scheming and bow to His Eminence,” Pepin continued.

Standing still, Vienny sensed him drawing closer behind her. His hand, which hadn’t touched her in some time, landed on her shoulder. His fingers traced slowly over her bare skin, unmarred by recent wounds. She instinctively flinched, pulling her shoulders inward.

“You should be grateful that anyone would take interest in a witch’s vile body like yours.”

Pepin’s whisper, intended to break her spirit, was accompanied by his breath against her ear, a sensation that irritated her deeply. Vienny straightened, lifting her head a little higher.

The female corpse before her had clearly been dead for days. Her clothes were stained dark red, bearing the marks of torture that had likely continued until her final breath.

Vienny’s eyes lingered on the woman’s face. She had always assumed witches were burned at the stake, yet now she saw they could also be hanged. It was unsettling to learn this in such a way.

The dead woman was someone Vienny recognized.

“Why is that witch…?”

“Hmm? You know her?”

Pepin asked, jerking the chain attached to her collar as if threatening to strangle her. He glanced up at the wall.

“She was a rare one we managed to capture alive. Oh, would you like to hear something interesting?”

The hand that had rested on the back of her neck slid forward, his fingers brushing along her collarbone. It felt as though Pepin was embracing her from behind, his strong chemical scent filling the air.

“The witch coveted your place,” Pepin sneered. “She begged for her life and offered to be the informer instead of you. I had my suspicions, but it seems witches truly have no loyalty to their own kind.”

He clicked his tongue, pulling Vienny closer with even more force.

“One thing is clear, you have earned the hatred of your fellow witches and there is no place for you in this world. I suppose you made peace with that when you chose to betray them?”

The pressure on her collarbone intensified as his grip tightened. Though Pepin was a doctor, he was still a man, and his strength was considerable. The bones wouldn’t break easily, but she could already feel a bruise forming beneath the pressure.

Vienny gritted her teeth, struggling to bear the pain. But despite her efforts to remain silent, a small moan escaped her. Pepin, his head close to hers, chuckled at the sound.

“At least your value has gone up. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Vienny bit her lip, fixing her gaze on the decaying witch, as if the corpse were mocking her. It seemed to say that no matter how she struggled, she could never escape the fate of being the Great Witch. Wherever she went, her life would always be like this—miserable and trapped.

Yes, her life was always destined to be like this. She accepted it easily; as long as she was alive, she would never break free from this cycle. So there was only one option left for her.

“This is still better than ending up like that.”

Vienny lowered her head, trying to make herself smaller. Seeing her retreat, Pepin assumed she was frightened and seemed to enjoy it even more.

To reinforce his impression, Vienny hunched her shoulders even further. She clenched her fists tightly, hiding them under her arms, and bit her lower lip out of habit, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.

“You went outside the fortress wall?”

McClart’s sharp voice greeted her the moment she stepped into the private chamber. He had agreed to remove her shackles, but apparently hadn’t been informed of where she’d been taken.

Vienny could feel his irritation. His voice cut through the air, cold and demanding.

Perhaps she had gone further than McClart had anticipated, sparking his anger. Regardless, Vienny had nothing to say in her defense; all she had done was follow wherever Pepin had dragged her.

After showing her the bodies hanging on the fortress wall, Pepin had even led her to the moat to see the corpses floating there. It seemed he wanted her to be horrified by the gruesome sights.

So, Vienny had kept her head down, forcing herself to tremble as much as possible. By the time they returned to the interrogation center, Pepin seemed pleased, calling the day’s outing a productive one.