From the way McClart was looking at her, she felt as though he might go much further at any moment.

Although she wanted him to become her Mc again as soon as possible, this felt too rushed, no matter how she tried to frame it. Perhaps she simply wasn’t ready yet.

Looking back on her life so far, she thought that starting things off like this might be how it was meant to happen. Yet it left her with the unsettling feeling that she was betraying Mc for no reason at all.

To steady her racing heart, Vienny deliberately avoided McClart’s gaze and took a slow, measured breath. Even so, McClart remained close by, looming over her and lost in thought.

The hand that had been stroking the nape of her neck slid down to her shoulder and traced slowly along her upper arm.

“In… Inquisitor.”

When she called to him in a small, trembling voice, the slow-moving hand stopped short. Vienny felt she needed to bring him back to his senses first—then speak to him in a more rational state.

“You’ve confirmed it now, so… this should be enough—”

“I tasted your blood.”

The hand that had paused began to move again—this time rougher, more impatient.

“And because of that, I desire you.”

A large hand slipped easily beneath her loose clothing and pressed against her bare skin. From her side to her navel, then slowly up along her abdomen to the hollow between her br*asts.

“I don’t know what it is you want me to stop.”

With each movement, her clothing was pushed higher, bunching upward.

“Wasn’t this what you wanted?”

“No.”

“Are you trying to cling to chastity now? Don’t make me laugh.”

McClart sneered. He settled his hand on the soft curve of her br*ast. Her n*pple stiffened instantly at the touch of his thumb.

Noticing this, he pinched the hardened bud between his thumb and forefinger and twisted it lightly. A sharp, painful thrill shot through her, mingling with an unwelcome sensation of pleasure.

“I-I’m a wicked grand witch, after all— ngh!”

Vienny barely managed to swallow the sound that threatened to spill from her lips, gulping down dryly.

No matter what she said, McClart didn’t seem inclined to listen. The hand that had been pinching her n*pple spread wide, kneading her br*ast roughly. At the same time, his heavy weight pressed down on her once more.

A hot tongue touched the skin where her neck met her shoulder.

McClart sank his teeth into Vienny’s shoulder, biting down as his breath dampened the nape of her neck. A vivid red mark bloomed where he had bitten. Checking the mark he’d left behind, McClart twisted his lips.

In his blue eyes, faint satisfaction and savage desire tangled together.

“Hah… you’re the devout… sword of Chiron, Inquisitor.”

Panting, Vienny squeezed her eyes shut and forced the words out. The instant she deliberately enunciated the word sword, the hand kneading her chest came to an abrupt halt. Without realizing it, Vienny held her breath.

“Yes. You are a grand witch.”

His hoarse, desire-filled voice was right by her ear. He was still steeped in l*st.

Yet, unexpectedly, he slowly withdrew his hand from beneath her clothes. He stood up straight as though he had never lunged at her.

For a moment, Vienny wondered if he had been pretending. Her gaze involuntarily shifted towards the front of his trousers.

It wasn’t an act.

“It would be best for you to sleep now. Tomorrow, you’ll rise early and go to the prayer hall.”

Leaving Vienny sprawled there in disarray, McClart stood and spoke coldly. Lying there in a daze, Vienny only understood his words once he had moved some distance away.

Scrambling to sit up, Vienny called after his back.

“Me… to the prayer hall?”

“Prostrate yourself and beg the god for mercy.”

Without turning around, McClart replied as he poured water into a cup.

“If you swear to follow the will of the divine, that merciful one will not turn away.”

“…What?”

“I will take you in.”

Vienny made no attempt to hide her stunned expression.

“You do know I’m a grand witch, right?”

When she asked in a dazed voice, McClart shot her an irritated glare.

“You will no longer be a grand witch. You’d do well to fix that mindset first.”

So, in short, the man was declaring that he would convert her. Very much like a devout follower of Chiron.

It was true that she had wished to escape the fate of being a grand witch—but not like this. Not in this way. And in the first place, it wasn’t something she could simply refuse even if she wanted to.

“It won’t be too late to warm the bed after you’ve repented according to the will of the god.”

McClart, seemingly oblivious to Vienny’s shock, drained another glass of water in quick succession. It looked as though he was trying to cool the heat surging through his body.

Though the imposing bulge at his waist showed no sign of subsiding.

“Inquisitor, I think you may be misunderstanding something—”

Just as Vienny finally managed to gather herself and open her mouth, McClart hurled the glass he was holding.

Crash!

The cup struck the wall far from Vienny and clattered loudly as it shattered across the floor. Startled, Vienny flinched and stiffened, her shoulders drawing in.

In her wide eyes was reflected McClart’s savagely contorted face.

“It doesn’t matter whether you have a husband or a daughter.”

The voice he growled out sounded like a beast’s threat.

“If you dared to dream of another life, abandon it—and prepare yourself to become a devout follower of Chiron.”

His blue eyes locked squarely onto her.

“You will never leave my side.”

***

At dawn the next day, she was truly dragged to the prayer hall.

Everyone nearly fainted at the sight of a wicked grand witch setting foot in the sacred hall—but McClart alone remained unperturbed as he tugged on Vienny’s cuffs. He even went so far as to teach her how to offer prayers.

‘What do I do…?’

She no longer understood what was happening. She felt so lost that she nearly prayed in earnest out of sheer desperation.

Of course, no matter what she did, a non-believer’s prayers would never reach a god.

Fortunately, her time in the prayer hall was brief. After greeting the morning sun, Vienny was taken straight back to McClart’s private quarters.

After that, breakfast was prepared.

The difference from the previous day was that her meal was no longer placed on the floor. Instead, it was set on the table—directly across from the seat McClart occupied.

“We’ll gradually increase your prayer time.”

McClart spoke calmly as he picked up his cutlery. Had they heard them, the words would have caused priests to clutch their throats and collapse on the spot.

Vienny couldn’t bring herself to pick up the wooden cutlery that had been set out for her. She could only stare at him, stunned.

Had McClart lost his mind?

No — there was no reason for a man who had seemed perfectly sane yesterday to have gone mad overnight.

Unless…

Had drinking her blood caused something to go wrong?

What if he truly was the beast destined to bring about the end?

“Why aren’t you eating? …Ah.”

McClart put down his tools, stood up and walked over to Vienny. Without hesitating, he unlocked her handcuffs. The collar remained, yet even this small change gave her an overwhelming sense of freedom.

She stared blankly at her newly freed wrists, then looked up at McClart as he returned to his seat.

“Eat properly.”

“Th—”

At a loss for words, Vienny pressed her lips together instead. When she quietly began to eat, something was nudged toward her plate.

“What are you even eating?”

“…What you’re looking at.”

“That explains the state of your body.”

Although it was a familiar way of speaking, hearing it like this still made it sound particularly unpleasant. Vienny cast an uneasy glance at the bowl that had been pushed towards her. Inside was meat, torn into bite-sized pieces.

In the past, when she knew nothing, she would have wondered if it was poisoned. But after everything she’d been through, Vienny could see beyond his blunt, rough behavior.

Even so, did he have to talk like that if he really wanted to take care of her?

“You know, Inquisitor.”

“What.”

“They say all misfortune comes from the mouth.”

“What?”

She could feel the incredulous stare fixed on her, but Vienny pretended not to notice, focusing instead on her meal. McClart let out a disbelieving huff, but didn’t overturn the table or do anything else dramatic. As he watched her efficiently finish the meat on her plate, he quietly nudged a serving of neatly deboned fish towards her.

When the meal began, the dishes on the table had been clearly divided — what belonged to McClart and what belonged to Vienny. By the time it ended, however, their positions had become completely jumbled, to the point where it was impossible to tell whose was whose.