Unable to think of a proper reply, Vienny lowered her gaze. Seeing her fall silent, McClart raised an eyebrow, seemingly drawing his own conclusions.

“If you think pretending not to care will help, it won’t. I heard you calling that man’s name in solitary confinement.”

Solitary confinement meant…

Vienny tried to recall the few rooms she had stayed in. If any place could be described as solitary confinement, it was the pitch-dark cell she had been thrown into the moment she was accused of practicing forbidden magic.

It hadn’t been that long ago, yet it felt like something from the distant past.

Had she really spoken the name Mc back then?

Vienny searched her memory. Having only just returned to that time, she could vividly recall the confusion and shock she had felt. She seemed to recall calling his name, at least faintly. He was the only person in the world who protected her; the one whose name alone could steady her heart.

As Vienny fell silent in thought, McClart took a step closer to her.

“Truth is…”

For once, he hesitated for an unusually long moment before continuing.

“Whenever you spoke the name Mc, it sounded as though you were referring to me.”

Vienny froze.

“Strangely enough.”

“…That really is strange.”

Murmuring as if entranced, Vienny slowly lifted her gaze. Even in the darkness, McClart’s blue eyes shone with startling clarity, like the purifying flames he himself wielded.

“Whoever that man was, if you forget him, your life will be far more peaceful.”

The sight of him speaking words of persuasion—words he’d never used in his life—felt unfamiliar. Perhaps he sensed his own awkwardness; he pressed his lips together, his expression faintly embarrassed.

Vienny parted her lips slightly. After a small flinch, she spoke in a careful voice.

“Forget him?”

“Yes.”

“Forget Mc and live warming the interrogator’s bed instead?”

Mclart’s brow twitched. Vienny looked straight at him and asked again.

“That’s something anyone could do. It doesn’t have to be me.”

“The one who may climb into my bed—”

Before she could finish, McClart cut in firmly.

“Will be you alone.”

Vienny’s expression went blank.

The man standing before her was McClart: the proud Inquisitor; the Holy Hammer of God; the man who had burned all of Tempe; the man who had led the witch hunts without hesitation. He was a man who had never betrayed his god.

And yet, from the moment she first laid eyes on him, Vienny had sensed it faintly but unmistakably:

Their ending would be the same.

It would always come to this.

“You’ll burn all of Tempe with purifying flames.”

“Yes.”

“Every wicked witch, without leaving a single one alive.”

“I will.”

Even if the path diverged, even if events unfolded differently in the end, McClart would still…

“Then what about me?”

For the first time, his immediate reply faltered.

Vienny did not wait for it.

“You know this already. I’m still a Grand Witch. My profane power hasn’t vanished—and it never will.”

She believed, with quiet certainty, that at the final moment he would choose her over the god he had served his entire life.

She believed it because she had already lived through it once.

And so she spoke without fear.

“The god you serve will never accept me.”

No matter how hard he tried, he would never succeed in making her a follower of Kairon.

McClart told himself that if she became a believer, he could keep her by his side. However, this was an impossible justification.

Perhaps he had already realized this, because he did not look surprised.

He lifted his gaze to the dark sky, where the moon was hidden, and murmured, as if to himself.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You’ll have to kill me someday.”

“I won’t.”

The answer came without hesitation, as though he had already asked himself that question hundreds of times.

“Even if I burn everything else. I will keep you by my side.”

No matter the place or time, his words never wavered.

At their familiarity, a smile surfaced on Vienny’s lips before she could stop it.

Standing close by, McClart noticed the faint smile and tilted his head, intrigued.

“Was it amusing?”

His thumb brushed lightly over the corner of her mouth, smoothing the curve that had appeared there. Vienny gazed quietly at McClart, who seemed unable to look away from her. Suddenly, she raised her eyes.

She thought his face looked brighter than before — and indeed, the clouds had parted to reveal the moon.

A red moon.

Vienny looked up at the crimson moon hanging in the sky, her gaze distant. The sight stirred long-buried memories.

She remembered the red moon that had flooded the bedroom balcony with light.

Her and Mc, gasping beneath it.

Her beast had declared that it would tear out its own eyes if it had to witness them.

The gaze of a god watching over a stolen species.

Blinking slowly, Vienny thought.

‘Could it be that all of this is nothing more than the cruel whim of a capricious god?’

The thought made her head swim, nausea curling in her stomach. She shifted that blood-red gaze back to the man standing before her.

“Even if you fall into h*ll?”

“H*ll?”

“Even if you fall into h*ll for not k*lling me?”

The moment she waited for his answer stretched unbearably long, like eternity. His lips—pressed into a hard, straight line—slowly parted, and a blunt, unwavering voice emerged.

“Yes.”

Although the red moon was clearly visible in the sky, McClart did not look up to see it. His attention was fixed on the crimson eyes beneath his hand.

Even as her mind drifted further into a haze, Vienny understood.

In that moment, McClart had chosen her once again.

“Even if I fall into h*ll.”

A radiant smile bloomed across Vienny’s face — a smile McClart had never seen before, one that was completely filled with happiness.

A violent headache tore through Vienny’s mind.

Yet an immense joy, so overwhelming that it eclipsed the pain, crashed over her like a tidal wave.

The emotion swelled until she could no longer contain it; not speaking of it felt impossible. Her lips parted of their own accord.

“Actually… that’s true.”

Affection spilled from her lips, warm and overflowing. It felt as though a tightly clenched bud had burst open all at once. Vienny let the emotion wash over her.

It was gentle. Warm. Soft.

So ordinary, so tender, it was hard to believe it came from a Grand Witch whom everyone despised.

McClart, caught by the brightness of her smile—so radiant it felt wasteful to blink—stared at her as though bewitched and asked stupidly.

“What…?”

“Mc.”

The name that had always scraped against McClart’s nerves melted into his ears like sweet cream in this moment. Bathed in crimson moonlight, Vienny looked unreal—achingly beautiful.

“I was calling you, Inquisitor.”

McClart’s blue eyes flew open wide.

Seeing his disbelief, Vienny laughed.

Or at least she thought she did.

She realized a little too late that her vision was tilting strangely. The focus in her gentle red eyes wavered, and then her fragile body swayed and collapsed.

McClart, who had stood there as though he had been hit on the back of the head, caught her as she fell. His face drained of all color.

“Vienny!”

‘It was you from the very beginning.’

Whether her final whisper reached him, she could not know.

Her blazing red vision went dark. 

***

The feel of the bedding was incredibly soft.

Still with her eyes closed, Vienny let out a faint groan. A throbbing headache and an unfamiliar dull ache hit her all at once. Whimpering, she tried to open her eyes, but she couldn’t. A large, rough hand cupped her cheek.

“Vienny.”

She frowned as she struggled to open her eyes. They felt dry and heavy, as if she were waking up after a long sleep. When the blur gradually came into focus, she recognized the man looking down at her.

It was McClart.

He was looking at her with unmistakable concern.

“You must have been exhausted.”

Strangely enough, he was wearing a loose-fitting shirt. Even his silver hair, which he usually slicked back with almost excessive neatness, was tousled. Judging by the brightness around them, it seemed to be broad daylight, but his relaxed appearance didn’t reflect that at all.

Come to think of it, what had happened last night?

They had gone for a walk in the garden, and then—

Vienny slowly blinked and parted her lips.

“Inquisitor?”

“Hm?”

When she called to him in a low, hoarse voice, a crease formed between McClart’s brows. Gently brushing the messy strands of hair away from her face, he bent down to take a closer look at her.

“What are you saying all of a sudden?”

His hand traced her forehead and cheek as though checking her temperature. When he moved down to her nape, which was soaked in cold sweat, McClart’s expression became even more serious.

Vienny lay there obediently, blinking vacantly, while he examined her. Then, suddenly, she noticed something strange about the view beyond his face.

The wallpaper in the Inquisitor’s private quarters was dark-toned and lavishly patterned. Compared to that, the bright, cream-colored wall behind him felt entirely different, evoking uncanny memories of her marital bedroom.

No… not just the wallpaper. Everything.

This wasn’t the Inquisitor’s private chamber in Rave Castle.

The moment this realization struck, Vienny jolted upright.

The sudden movement sent a wave of soreness through her body, bringing to the fore aches she hadn’t noticed until now. Most of all, the lingering sensation in her lower body was unmistakable — it could only have come from being thoroughly entangled not long ago. At most, only a few hours could have passed.

“…Mc?”

After confirming her location, Vienny looked up at McClart in disbelief and called to him. He looked even more bewildered.

“What is it? Did you have a nightmare?”