Her shoulders trembled as she twisted her body, trying to put distance between herself and the woman, even though she had no idea where to go. She stumbled forward until she saw a bluish flame burning fiercely in the darkness ahead and froze.

Within the flames stood a middle-aged woman with melted, distorted skin, her wide, furious eyes fixed unblinkingly on her.

The woman held out her hand, her voice full of conviction as she said.

“Your duty is not over.”

Vienny wanted to escape, but her body felt bound, as if tightly restrained. She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to hold back a sob.

Just as the woman’s rough, reddened hand was about to grasp her arm, the ground beneath Vienny suddenly gave way, as if collapsing into a dark abyss.

Instead of falling, she felt herself slowly sinking, floating downward in a way that felt hauntingly familiar. As she faded into the darkness, the woman’s piercing voice echoed in her ears.

“You’ve found the beast that will bring about the end, haven’t you?”

With a sharp gasp, Vienny’s eyes flew open, her vision swimming in a soft, wavering blue light. She stared blankly, her breath quick and shallow.

“Vienny?”

Her lips parted as her rapid breaths escaped.

“Was it a nightmare?”

McClart, his face tense with concern, gently massaged her stiff arms, as if trying to ease her out of her rigid state.

Vienny stared at him blankly, slowly grounding herself in reality as he wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. After a few moments, she began to recognize her surroundings, blinking slowly as tears, which she hadn’t even noticed, dampened her lashes.

“Perhaps you needed more rest.”

McClart murmured, looking troubled. He reached out, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to check for a fever. The cool touch seemed to clear her mind a little.

“I’ll have Moiria prepare some medicine. Try to sleep a bit longer.”

As his broad frame moved away, Vienny instinctively reached out and grasped his arm. Though her grip was gentle, it was enough to stop him.

“Why?”

“I’m fine.”

“If you nearly fainted after just once, I’d hardly say you’re fine. Don’t be stubborn and—”

“I really am fine… so please, just stay with me.”

McClart, who had been about to fully sit up, paused, gazing down at her intently.

In the dim room, his blue eyes seemed to almost glow, bringing back fragments of her recent dream. Vienny’s voice was barely a whisper, tight with lingering fear.

“I just want you by my side.”

Though he frowned slightly, he lay back down beside her without protest. His skin was cool to the touch from the open air, though a slight sheen of sweat lingered from the fiery encounter they’d shared just moments before.

As Vienny rested her head against his chest, she pieced together the last of her memories before she’d passed out. It struck her how uncharacteristically intense he’d been, as if the distance he’d maintained had suddenly shattered. Every touch, every look he’d given her had been charged with a raw, unbridled desire he’d kept at bay for so long.

Feeling the unmistakable tenderness in his actions, the restlessness that had plagued her for days began to settle into a sense of calm.

How strange it was. She hadn’t imagined that, after so long, she would find more comfort than pain in their closeness.

“If you’re in pain, say so.”

McClart murmured, still sounding a bit worried despite lying back down as she’d asked. His serious tone nearly made her laugh.

“You always say that.”

He often repeated those words to her, especially during their most intimate moments. Did she truly seem that fragile? Or perhaps he was simply taken aback by the force of his own desire…

“You rarely speak your mind.”

He replied, his voice steady but laced with a subtle concern beneath its cool tone. Though his words seemed detached, there was a weight of worry he couldn’t quite hide.

As Vienny looked up into his troubled eyes, she reached out, her fingers gently tangling in his disheveled silver hair.

He looked surprised, his eyes widening, but then he relaxed, allowing her hand to play through his hair.

“I thought… you didn’t want me anymore.”

“What?” he replied, staring at her in confusion. “…Want you?”

As he processed her words, he frowned.

“Because I didn’t touch you?”

Hearing the disbelief in his voice made her feel slightly embarrassed. She withdrew her hand and looked away.

“You hadn’t even kissed me…”

Saying it out loud, Vienny realized it sounded like she was whining. No, it wasn’t just the tone—it was, in fact, a small complaint.

McClart turned fully toward her, propping himself up on one arm.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.”

“You were unconscious for six months,” he continued, his gaze steady. “I had to watch you without knowing when—or if—you’d wake up. Naturally, I was anxious.”

With his free hand, he gently brushed her earlobe, his roughened fingers tracing along the edge of her ear before gliding down her neck.

The touch felt like a blend of comfort to soothe the remnants of her nightmare and an unspoken attempt to rekindle the warmth between them. Her skin trembled beneath his fingertips.

“If I’d known you were thinking such strange things, I wouldn’t have held back so foolishly.”

His fingers trailed from her shoulder down to her collarbone, pressing gently into the hollow with his thumb. She felt as if every sensation in her body was converging there, a mix of ticklishness and sharp thrill that made her instinctively pull her neck back slightly.

“To think you’d worry about making a living—as if I seemed so unreliable.”

He clicked his tongue, though his hand continued its deliberate path, moving lower to rest against the flushed skin of her chest.

His finger traced a slow circle around her ar*ola, skillfully avoiding direct contact yet still igniting a surge of tension in her body.

Breathing unevenly, Vienny stammered.

“I… I’m sorry if I made you feel uneasy.”

“You don’t need to do anything in this mansion. Just enjoy yourself. No one will say a word against you.”

The statement sounded like a suggestion, but there was an undercurrent of insistence, almost a command.

Vienny let out a shallow breath as his hand gently kneaded her and raised her gaze to meet McClart’s. Their eyes locked effortlessly, and she saw the unquenched desire swirling in his blue eyes. Yet his touch remained light, almost reverent, as if she were a fragile porcelain doll he feared might shatter.

“Do you want to clip my wings?”

His hand froze mid-motion, his breath catching. In an instant, the steady rhythm of his breathing stopped, and an intense fear darkened his gaze.

Confronted with the sudden chill of his reaction, her heart sank. It was as though she had touched a deep, unspoken fear within him, one that threatened to engulf them both.

She reached out, gently cupping his cheek, feeling the roughness of his skin beneath her palm.

‘You’ve found the beast that will bring about the end, haven’t you?’

The haunting words echoed in her mind, but she focused on the warmth of his face in her hand, grounding herself.

The sharp, accusatory voice lingered in her thoughts. She hadn’t known how to answer back then, but now, her response felt certain.

“You don’t need to clip my wings. I won’t leave.”

This man was her beast—the one who had laid the world at her feet, her beast alone.

Noticing something shift in her gaze, a ripple passed through McClart’s blue eyes, like the surface of a still lake disturbed. His hand, which had paused, suddenly pulled her closer, and Vienny, lying defenseless, found her face pressed against his broad chest.

Holding her tightly, as if he could lock her within his embrace, McClart spoke in a low voice.

“If you truly want to be useful, then keep tending the garden.”

“But that…”

“When the flowers bloom, we can sell them.”

He pressed his lips gently against her forehead and murmured.

“Keep tending to the garden.”

With her head nestled against him, Vieny struggled to raise her gaze, her round red eyes seeking his.

“Flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think we can sell them?”

“Of course.”

The idea of selling flowers struck her as something entirely new. She had never considered selling anything before, let alone flowers.

“I’ve never done any selling before.”

She admitted, though a glimmer of excitement crept into her voice. Despite her uncertainty, this felt like something she might actually enjoy.

“…but it might be okay,”

She added, a tentative hope blossoming within her.

Vienny remembered the bustling scenes of the village she had visited days before, merchants chatting freely in the crowd. Though it might be difficult for her to approach strangers the way those merchants had, she remembered the warm responses she’d received from them. Everyone she had made eye contact with – merchants and passers-by alike – had been kind to her.

Having always been surrounded by hostility, such reactions felt strange yet refreshing. It gave her a sense of confidence, suggesting that not a single person in the village recognized her as the Great Witch.

Perhaps it would be better to engage with people who saw her as ordinary rather than clinging to tasks where she felt talentless. But then, who would teach her about selling?

“Are you planning to do it yourself?”

Snapped back to reality by McClart’s sharp question, Vienny looked up at him in surprise.

He was frowning deeply, clearly displeased.

“Then who will?”

Vienny asked, her curiosity piqued.

McClart pressed his lips into a thin line, hesitating. After a moment of silence, he finally replied, a hint of reluctance in his tone.

“I know a merchant…”

“A merchant?”

“Yes, so you just need to focus on tending to the garden.”

He seemed eager to change the subject, wrapping up the conversation quickly. Still, she figured he wouldn’t suggest selling flowers without a plan, so he must have had a merchant in mind.

Accepting this easily, Vienny nodded, and McClart let out a soft sigh. Then he pulled her in for a tight embrace before letting her go.

“And we should combine our sleeping arrangements.”

He murmured, sounding as if he were resigned to the idea, muttering to himself about how he was in trouble. It seemed to be a continuation of his earlier remark about not being able to hold back if they kissed.

Given his history of furiously pursuing her whenever they crossed that line, it was clear that he was exercising immense restraint now. But just because he was holding back didn’t mean he wasn’t affected; ever since she’d woken from the nightmare, Vienny had been acutely aware of his strong, heated presence beside her.