McClart, who should have gathered her into his arms without hesitation, didn’t move at all.

Only then did Vienny sense that something about the atmosphere was off.

Awkwardly lowering her arms, she forced her half-closed eyes to focus. She blinked slowly to clear the fog from her mind, and her surroundings gradually came into view.

This was not Ivelis’s room.

The man standing before her was not her husband.

***

Once her senses had returned fully, Vienny realized what she had just done.

Her face drained of color as she hurriedly tried to sit up. Having slept on the large sofa, every joint in her body protested as she moved. Unfolding her legs, she scrambled to climb down, but she stumbled and tumbled onto the floor. Having been stuck in one position for so long, her legs were numb and she struggled to push herself up.

Looking down at Vienny sprawled on the carpet, McClart wore an incredulous expression.

“Are you insane?”

The words that came out were, unsurprisingly, anything but gentle.

Vienny didn’t even have the courage to look up at him. Clutching her leg, she struggled and groaned, trying to force herself upright.

How ridiculous must she look?

Considering how vicious McClart’s temper had been around this time, the fact that he wasn’t grabbing her by the hair and hauling her up already spoke volumes about his restraint.

“Hah.”

Whether from panic or embarrassment, she couldn’t seem to steady herself at all. Even then, McClart simply stood there, staring down at her as if she were utterly absurd.

At this point, Vienny almost wished he would just curse at her and retreat into his inner room. Or at least grab her roughly, haul her up, and toss her into a corner.

What was so entertaining about watching her flail on the floor like a newborn calf?

“What are you doing?”

“…My legs are numb.”

Unable to bear his gaze any longer, Vienny answered in a small voice. Whether from embarrassment or awkwardness, the words came out barely louder than a mosquito’s buzz.

“Just how long were you sprawled out like that…?”

He sounded more baffled than angry.

With her head bowed low, Vienny spoke in a dispirited tone.

“If you just give me a moment, it’ll pass, so please… don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t mind it? When you’re sprawled right in front of my sofa?”

It had been him who scolded her before for not using the sofa at all.

Vienny swallowed the surge of unfairness rising in her chest without a sound. Instead, she planted both hands on the floor, intending to crawl away to a corner if she had to.

McClart watched her struggle—those scarred, skeletal arms straining—as if it were some kind of spectacle. A hollow laugh slipped from him.

“You really are something. What, should I step aside so you can sit back on the sofa?”

“If you don’t like it, then throw it out.”

As she inched away from him, Vienny shot back in a choked voice.

“You’ll think the sofa I sat on is filthy anyway, so wouldn’t it be better to toss it into the incinerator—!”

She trailed off mid-sentence.

Without thinking, she lifted her gaze and met McClart’s eyes, which were fixed on her expressionlessly.

Vienny’s lips parted, and she quietly looked away, bracing her hands against the floor once more. Thankfully, the awkward struggle had eased the cramp in her legs.

Just as she was about to push herself up, McClart, who had been watching in silence, strode forward, seized her upper arm and hauled her upright in one swift motion.

He seized her upper arm and hauled her upright in one swift motion.

Vienny staggered, looking up at him in shock. But McClart didn’t let go. Instead, he stepped closer.

The distance between them closed far faster than she expected. Startled, Vienny shuffled back instinctively, but the space she gained disappeared as soon as he moved forward again.

The next moment, her back hit the wall.

“I–Inquisitor?”

Vienny shrank into herself, eyes wide as she looked up at him. With his large frame looming so close, his shadow swallowed her whole.

“I hear you lived your life under constant surveillance by witches.”

“…What?”

“Vienny. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

Hearing her name spoken so abruptly, Vienny froze, stunned into silence.

McClart observed her reaction closely, then continued in a cold, even tone.

“The witches curse that name when they die.”

This conversation felt familiar — unsettlingly so.

The timing was slightly different, but she remembered it.

Back then, McClart had also learned her name through the witch hunts. And yet, she didn’t remember it being such a significant moment.

Unaware—or perhaps uncaring—of Vienny’s confusion at the conversation that had begun without context, McClart continued stubbornly.

“According to their testimonies, you were never alone for a single moment since the day you were born.”

Still not fully grasping what he was getting at, Vienny answered hesitantly.

“That… is true.”

Her ready admission made McClart frown. He studied her with clear displeasure before slowly parting his lips.

“Then there must also be witches who know of your daughter—or of the man who fathered her.”

Ivelis. And Mc.

The sudden turn of events left Vienny’s thoughts in disarray. The gloom and resentment that had weighed on her only moments earlier had vanished without a trace, leaving her feeling purely bewildered.

It was true that Ivelis and McClart had come up in their last conversation.

But was it really so important to McClart that he brought it up again like this?

Hadn’t he been away these past few days because the High Priest had been attacked?

Yet now, McClart spoke as though he had spent that time interrogating witches and prying into every detail of Viennny’s past.

“Weren’t you away to hunt the demons?”

She asked before she could stop herself.

At her question, McClart’s eyes narrowed.

“Demons?”

“The High Priest was attacked, so you went to capture the demons—”

“Who told you that?”

“I—I overheard it when I was being given my meals…”

“Tsk.”

McClart clicked his tongue sharply and cast a glance toward the door. For a brief instant, his vivid blue eyes flashed with a chilling intent, sharp enough to feel like k*lling air itself—but it vanished just as quickly.

When he looked back at Vienny, his gaze had returned to its usual cold detachment.

“That is not a matter you need concern yourself with.”

Perhaps it wasn’t.

Or perhaps, very much, it was.

If she traced things back to the very reason she had been dragged here in the first place, it was not a matter she could simply ignore.

“…If the High Priest isn’t coming, then isn’t there no reason for me to be kept here?”

“It is I who decides where you stay.”

When Vienny asked cautiously, McClart answered with a displeased frown.

“And more importantly—you’re avoiding the subject.”

It was clear now. McClart wanted to know more about Ivelis and Mc.

She couldn’t tell what, exactly, he was trying to uncover, but the topic itself made her deeply uncomfortable. Vienny angled her gaze away from his, trying to lower her head and look toward the floor—

Only for McClart to seize her chin and force her face up.

The abrupt motion made the chain connecting her cuffs and collar give a soft clink.

“The witches said there was no man who lay with you. Nor any daughter.”

Of course they would say that.

If he had tried to extract information from the witches, it was only natural that he would have failed.

Was he angry because he had learned nothing and had come here to interrogate her instead?

She couldn’t make sense of it.

What was there to be angry about?

“That’s because—”

“Did you meet a man while avoiding their eyes?”

Vienny’s lips parted and closed again. She blinked, feeling unsettled. She hadn’t been able to follow the conversation for a while.

She simply could not understand why this subject had resurfaced.

Even if he had failed to gain anything from the witches, why did it matter so much to him?

Why did he need to know so much about Ivelis and Mc?

Unable to answer, Vienny remained silent. After a brief pause, McClart changed the subject.

“Are they creations of your delusion?”

“They’re not.”

The reply left her mouth before she could think.

Hearing the unmistakable defiance in her voice, McClart’s expression hardened at once.