The master of the house had returned after being away, and Corinne, a servant, found the situation quite uncomfortable. It wasn’t that the master was particularly strict or demanding; rather, it was the fact that he rose earlier and went to bed later than any of the servants. It made Corinne uneasy. He couldn’t help but wonder about someone who woke up at such unusual hours. A few times, he had been startled to find the master silently wandering through the empty mansion in the early morning.

When Corinne expressed his frustrations to Moiria, she simply shrugged it off, saying the master was old and could no longer sleep through the night. It felt odd hearing that from Moiria, who appeared at least twice the master’s age. Even her sleeping habits didn’t support her claim—she seemed to get far more sleep than he did.

When Corinne subtly pointed this out, Moiria chose to gracefully ignore her. Hans, with his naturally laid-back nature, wasn’t particularly bothered by the master’s peculiar routine, leaving Corinne as the only one in the house who paid any real attention to the master’s early rising habits.

But that wasn’t the only thing that irked her. The master, seemingly with nothing better to do, spent his entire day near En, which Corinne found especially irritating. The master was so big that En often seemed to disappear whenever they were together. For Corinne, who found a small comfort in admiring En’s appearance amidst the weariness and burdens of daily life, the master’s presence felt like an annoyingly constant obstruction.

Of course, one might wonder if the Master wasn’t handsome himself, but Corinne’s preferences didn’t match the Master’s impossibly refined, almost otherworldly beauty. Moreover, the Master’s imposing size was so intimidating that Corinne often found herself subconsciously worrying for En’s safety whenever they were together.

However, En didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by the large man constantly following him. In fact, En had a surprising ability to make the Master work quite effectively. It wasn’t as if En deliberately asked the Master to do things, but somehow it always ended up that way.

After several days of watching this unfold, Corinne was convinced that his initial suspicions were correct.

Surely the Master must have hurt En in some significant way. How else could someone so big and intimidating be so easily at En’s mercy? Whatever had happened, Corinne was sure it was the Master’s fault.

This morning, as Corinne clutched his chest again after being frightened by the Master wandering around the mansion at dawn, a thought struck him.

Wait – were they even a couple?

Corinne tilted her head, trying to remember the usual interactions between En and the Master. Even considering En’s introverted nature, there seemed to be a noticeable lack of real closeness between them.

Could it be that they weren’t really a couple and the Master was just following En around?

…Surely, Master hadn’t just kidnapped En out of the blue, had he?

* * *

“Miss, miss.”

Corinne, who had been lingering around the lounge since morning with a look that suggested she had something on her mind, finally approached her cautiously.

“Hm?”

Corinne glanced around nervously, as if checking to make sure no one else could hear, then lowered her voice and asked hesitantly.

“Has the master been… dismissed?”

“…What?”

Vienny replied, puzzled. She tried to figure out who Corinne could mean by “the master.” As far as she knew, there was only one person she called by that title.

“Well, it’s just… he hardly ever leaves the house…”

Corinne had seated right beside her, speaking in hushed, serious tones.

“Since you call the master ‘Inquisitor,’ I assumed he must be working for some city’s security force. But I can’t help wondering—where in the world would they grant such a long leave in times like these?”

Vienny’s expression shifted subtly. She never imagined Corinne would draw such conclusions simply because of the title she used to address him. To be more precise, “Inquisitor” was just what McClart had always been to her; she had never thought of him in any other way.

She couldn’t correct Corinne’s misunderstanding, nor could she come up with a plausible excuse. Vienny decided to keep quiet for now. She had only recently been reunited with McClart and still didn’t know the details of how he had spent the last six months.

All she knew was that he had killed the High Priest and set fire to the Great Temple – actions that had effectively turned the entire world upside down. As she remained silent, Corinne continued to share her thoughts, which she seemed to have pieced together over the past few days. As far as she could tell, her conclusions were wildly speculative and far from the truth. Nevertheless, she listened intently.

With someone really listening, Corinne became more enthusiastic in her storytelling, until suddenly her expression turned serious and she furrowed her brow.

“But, miss,” she said, his eyes fixed on her lap.

“There are plenty of rags in the villa already.”

Corinne let out a sigh as he stared at the ragged piece of cloth on Vienny’s lap, now thoroughly frayed from her attempts.

“Miss, we’re always told not to give up, but sometimes it’s better to let go early and recognise our true talents.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Yes.”

If Corinne said that much, it really must be beyond redemption.

Vienny looked down at her lap with a slightly dejected expression.

She hadn’t intended to create anything elaborate. She just wanted to mend a small tear in her clothing after seeing Corinne do it so skillfully, leaving hardly a trace. She’d been so impressed that she wanted to learn, thinking it might be useful to focus on something like this whenever her mind felt unsettled.

It had seemed simple enough from the sidelines, but actually handling the tiny needle required a surprising amount of finesse.

“This is exactly the kind of thing I was hired to do. Leave these tasks to the expert.”

Corinne said firmly, unable to watch her turn the fabric into a rag any longer. With a sense of finality, he took the cloth from Vienny’s lap.

Vienny, who had been rather proud of this being her best attempt yet, looked wistfully at the cloth before reluctantly setting the needle aside.

“Now, miss, you should stick to what you’re good at!”

His encouragement left Vienny blinking, slightly dazed.

What she was good at.

The only things she had ever learned to do in her life were feeding beasts with blood, shedding her own blood, and sharing the knowledge she had gained from those dark practices. Ever since the witch hunts began, her life had been an endless cycle of torture, recovery, hiding, feeding beasts her blood, getting captured, and escaping…

That was it. That was all there was.

When she realised that this was the entirety of her life, Vienny felt a shock. Now, without the powers of the Great Witch, there was really nothing she could claim to be good at.

“Well, I’ll get back to work!”

Corinne murmured, then suddenly seemed startled. He quickly apologised and hurried out of the lounge.

Vienny watched her go, still dazed, when a large shadow fell over her from behind. McClart had entered through the door opposite the one Corinne had left.

“You don’t look well.”

Vienny looked up at McClart, who looked down at her with his usual calm, seemingly unaware of how much he had disturbed her lately.

He was now officially branded a heretic, having killed the High Priest and set fire to the sacred temple. No longer an Inquisitor, McClart was forbidden to enter the capital of Chiron.

And it wasn’t just the capital; given Chiron’s reach, McClart would probably have to remain hidden in this mansion for the foreseeable future.

With so much having changed—likely as much for him as for her—he seemed undeniably different from the man she had last seen six months ago.

The strangest thing was that he hadn’t touched her. Apart from their reunion kiss, there had been no meaningful contact between them.

He hadn’t asked her for anything; in fact, he seemed to be keeping his distance. True to his earlier words, he simply stuck to his gardening.

They spoke easily enough, but their conversations were no more intimate than the casual exchanges he shared with Moiria or Corinne.

When they first reunited, Vienny had been sure he saw her as someone special – after all, he had turned the world upside down for her. But now, with everything in upheaval, their relationship felt strangely undefined.

No longer the Inquisitor and the Great Witch, she struggled to understand what could still connect them.

How long could they go on like this? How would he live from now on? And what would happen to her? Were they really just going to stay hidden together in this mansion? And what exactly was that supposed to be?

“…Inquisitor.”

McClart, sensing the weight in her voice, looked down at her with equal gravity.

After a moment’s hesitation, Vienny asked cautiously.

“Do you have any other work… besides being an Inquisitor?”

“None.”

Vienny’s gaze faltered as Corinne’s earlier comment about “earning a living” echoed in her mind.

Earning a living.

When she thought about it, both she and McClart had lost their former powers, which meant they would have to find new ways to support themselves.

She had a future now, and she couldn’t spend it idly watching sunsets. In that future, McClart would probably be with her. But how would they survive in the meantime? McClart would need a job, too.

He was skilled in combat, so perhaps he could make use of that at some point, but as for herself, she had no idea where to start.

Since arriving at the mansion, she had done nothing but rest, eat, sleep and tend to the garden.

Seeing Vienny’s expression grow even darker, McClart raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Why are you asking for a job?”

Unwilling to admit that she was worried about her livelihood, Vienny hesitated, then lowered her eyes. Fortunately, she managed to come up with a reasonable excuse.

“I can’t keep calling you ‘Inquisitor’ forever.”

McClart raised an eyebrow, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him either.

“Is there a title you’d prefer me to use?”

“Not particularly,” he replied. “Call me whatever you like.”

“I’ll… take some time to think about it.”

Without any clear ideas, Vienny managed to buy herself some time with her vague answer.

McClart frowned, as if something was bothering him again, but Vienny didn’t notice; she was too absorbed in her growing concern for the future.